Day 307 – Sculptures and ski slopes. (Ukraine)

Kiev is a fascinating city and it was quite a task to narrow down the list of possible activities to squeeze into the three days that we had allocated to Kiev. One of the must-sees that we decided on though was FashionPark on Landscape Alley. Our host told us about it and showed us some photographs and the project looked fascinating. Kiev Fashion Park is the first project in a movement to install Ukrainian designed works of modern art in various locations around the city, including sculptures, benches, and play equipment. The park is located at the top of a hill but fortunately there is a funicular which we were able to catch on the way up, and the main street of souvenir shops runs down the other side of the hill. We struggled at first to find the park, but because we’d seen photos of the sculptures we knew what we were looking for. The first item that caught our attention was an amusing statue of a dozen pillows stacked precariously on top of each other; an angel blowing a trumpet perched at the top. When we spotted this we knew we were on the right track so followed the path and sure enough there were several more angels atop wobbly piles of cushions. An entire wall was covered in blue and white mosaic which at first we just thought was a nice pattern, but having walked the length of it we realised that there was a cat face at the end of it, the mouth of which was open and big enough for a person to stand inside, and it dawned on us that the whole wall was in fact a long blue cat with dozens of legs. The heads of a cat, a rabbit and an elephant of the same style were placed near this wall, each of which had an open mouth which doubled as a humorous novelty bench. We walked the length of Landscape Alley, passing a play park representing Alice in Wonderland, a bench with sculptures of a blanket and pillow sprawled on it as if it was used as a bed, a bench in the design of sunglasses and various other amusing works of art. And everything was covered in snow which not only made the whole experience more exciting visually, but added an extra dimension of fun when sliding down the Alice in Wonderland slide and posing for photos on the benches.

The great thing about staying with locals, which is why we used Couch Surfing as much as possible (we stayed with a Couch Surfer every single night in Ukraine), is that they can give you advice that you wouldn’t be able to get from a guide book or a website, and often they can show you places that wouldn’t even feature on any sort of tourist trail. Our hosts in Kiev were a perfect example of this: they took us to the Obolon brewery (Blog Day 306 – A bomb shelter and a brewery), told us about Fashion Park, helped our decision making regarding visiting Chernobyl (also Blog Day 306 – A bomb shelterand a brewery) and gave us advice on skiing options (below). In fact most of what we did in Kiev was on the back of suggestions from them, but they took us to one place that even most locals wouldn’t know about. Very close to a very beautiful section of waterfront there is a huge concrete tunnel which was built above ground during WWII and was intended to be used as storage for food, weapons and people. Unfortunately they didn’t get around to it quick enough and the project was dismissed at the end of the war, leaving this incomplete concrete eye sore in what is now quite a desirable area of the city. There is nothing set up there suggesting that it is of any significance and its current use is as a hang out spot for teenagers, junkies and the homeless who have left mounds of litter all through the interior.

Whilst staying in Kiev we went skiing at Vyshgorod which was our second and unfortunately last time on this trip. The first time was in Bosnia Herzegovina (Blog Day 268 – TheSarajevo Siege and the 1984 Winter Olympics) where we went to a particularly difficult mountain and had an exhausting day tackling the runs which held the Winter Olympics in 1984. The slopes around Kiev are very small and basic, catering solely to beginners, so our two experiences of skiing on this trip were completely opposite from each other. Whilst a challenge is good and we really enjoyed our day in Sarajevo, it was kind of nice to have a relaxing day of easy skiing where we could focus on more than just making it down the hill alive. The great thing about skiing at Vyshgorod is that it only took half an hour to drive there from our hosts’ house in Kiev so we were able to fit it into just an afternoon, which was plenty seeing there was only one slope.

Day 306 – A bomb shelter and a brewery. (Ukraine)

Leaving Cherkasy and heading towards Kiev we could feel the temperature dropping well past the -2°C or so that we’d become accustomed to in the last couple of weeks, and by the time we got to Kiev it would have been closer to -10°C. It is funny how the body becomes accustomed to its surroundings though; when it drops to 15°C in the evenings in Melbourne we put on jumpers, trousers and even – yes it sounds ridiculous, but honestly – jackets; in Scotland when spring sets in after winter and it starts reaching 12°C in the afternoon we strip off down to t-shirts; and we became accustomed in the same way to these desperately low temperatures and found ourselves considering anything higher than -5°C to be warm and it had to be well into the negative teens to be “chilly”. There had been a few days of uncharacteristic warmth (as in only a couple of degrees below 0) in Kiev just before we arrived and it hadn’t snowed for a little while, meaning everything on the ground had solidified and turned into very slippery ice, stuck to the ground in lumpy piles. This of course causes much amusement as long as you can either stay on your feet or keep your car on the road depending whether you’re walking or driving, but poses quite a hazard for those who struggle to do those things. Fortunately the drought was broken the night we arrived so everything was covered in a much more manageable layer of fresh powdery snow, but sadly that soon turned back into packed down mounds of slippery ice.

The Kiev metro is a textbook example of the Soviet style, of which we have seen so many on this trip. The stations are ornately decorated and highly policed and are typically built very low underground (especially the central ones), doubling as potential bomb shelters. In fact Arsenalna station which is one of the more centrally located ones in Kiev is 105.5m underground, claiming the title of world’s deepest train station. 100m might not seem like a lot when it’s running flat on top of the ground but catching the escalator from one of these deep train stations to the surface of Kiev demonstrates just how far it is. The escalators aren’t slow, in fact they are much faster than the ones I’m used to, and they still take several minutes to take you to the top. A few times we came across a broken escalator, but fortunately they switched them around so that you had to walk down but could still catch the escalator up.

We had planned to visit Chernobyl, about 140km from Kiev. To visit the still highly unstable exclusion zone you have to travel with a guide and tours must be organised with a minimum of 10 working days notice in order to receive all the necessary permits and paperwork. We did organise our tour in time, but unfortunately the company we had gone through pulled out with only a few days to spare and no one else would/could take us on at that short notice. We considered driving out ourselves anyway, seeing if we could see anything at all, or maybe we could try and follow on with another group once we got close. We realised that this was a pretty stupid idea though, considering just how dangerously toxic the whole area is and the fact that without a guide we would have had no idea what to look at anyway and would probably just end up driving around in circles, endangering ourselves and not even seeing anything anyway.

On the bright side, this gave us the opportunity to go on a tour of the Obolon brewery which our hosts were attending on the day on which we had planned to visit Chernobyl. Visible from our hosts’ apartment and only a five minute walk away, the Obolon brewery is Europe’s largest brewing facility, producing not only beer but also other alcoholic drinks, soft drinks and natural mineral water. We donned the fine looking disposable lab coats and hair nets that we were presented with for sanitary purposes (you know, the ones made out of the white papery/meshy material) and followed the group of 25 or so into a classroom where we were shown a very exciting and informative video about the brewery. Well it was probably informative. If you can understand Ukrainian. We signed some documents which we were assured by our host were ok to sign and followed on as we were marched through the corridors of the brewery. Our host translated some things, but regardless of the language barrier the massive scale brewing process was fascinating. The scale was just so huge and every process was completed in huge motorised production lines which snaked around the rooms on several levels. We kept getting left behind because we were so enthralled by each intricate stage in the procedure and as we couldn’t understand the words being said to us would just stand there, mesmerised, and forget to follow the group. On conclusion of the tour – which was free by the way – we were given goody bags of their produce and merchandise, including calendars, pens, posters, other various bits and pieces and even some beverages. We were disappointed though that we weren’t given any beer to try.

Day 303 – “Honey, you’re in the wrong home.” (Ukraine)

Cherkasy isn’t a location that seemed especially desirable to visit; it’s not famous for anything or particularly note worthy and there’s not much there, if anything at all, for tourists to occupy themselves with. It’s about 500km from Odessa (our previous destination) and Kiev (our next destination after Odessa) though, so we thought we’d try and make the most of our couch surfing prowess and look for a host somewhere between the two locations. We’ve found before that this is a fantastic way to plan a route as it encourages you to visit places you wouldn’t otherwise think of stopping in, and gives a unique incentive to experience towns that really are off the tourist trail. So we searched for hosts anywhere between Odessa and Kiev, and when a host accepted us in Cherkasy, a town of 250,000 residents located about 200 km South of Kiev, we jumped on the opportunity and made the arrangements.

Our hosts were laid back, very cool and impressively artistic, joining us in the evenings to have exciting conversations about all sorts of subjects, but leaving us to take care of ourselves during the day. We only stayed there two nights, so we had one full day to explore. We had noticed on our way into Cherkasy the previous evening, and we could clearly see from the grey blanket of apartment blocks surrounding the one we were staying in, that this town was a classic example of the Soviet style. As we drove from our hosts’ apartment to the centre of town we wondered how we would ever find our way back. Our directions were something like “turn right at the Soviet apartment block, then keep going past the Soviet apartment blocks until you get to a Soviet apartment block where you should take a left...” And how do people remember which building they live in? We did hear a few amusing stories during our extensive time in ex-Soviet countries about people arriving at the wrong apartment, unlocking the door with their key, entering the apartment and continuing on with things like watching television or cooking dinner, and not realising they were in the wrong apartment until someone else came home. The same jokes are made about China. It is an amusing image, but in actual fact it is such a sad reflection on the effects of communism. If we didn’t laugh about it, it would probably make us cry.

So as far as we could tell our impressions of Cherkasy were true – there really is nothing of great interest there, for an outsider anyway. During our day of exploring we saw a lot of Soviet apartment blocks and not a whole lot else. There were a handful of older, more beautiful buildings in the city centre, but other than a couple of cafes there wasn’t a whole lot to keep a tourist occupied. It is such an important part of travelling though – and one of the main reasons to do it by car – to see these places that you wouldn’t usually go to unless you had to; to witness how people live in all sorts of localities including those that aren’t picturesque, exciting, historically important or home to someone or something famous.

Day 301 – A discotheque and a film set. (Ukraine)

We had a couch surfing host in Odessa lined up, but before we could go and meet her we had to find someone who could align Trevor’s wheels. When we’d bought two new tyres in Romania (Blog Day 289 – Threatening to spontaneously combust), now almost two weeks and about 1,500 km ago, we’d been advised to get the wheels aligned after driving about 300 – 500 km. Having spent €210 on the tyres, we felt we owed it to ourselves not to wreck them by driving around on them wobbly for too much longer so it really needed to be done sooner rather than later, and it was really starting to get later. We price checked a couple of places on our way into Odessa and ended up returning to the first one where we had been quoted 180 Hryvna ($21) for the full caboodle. While we waited for the job to be done another guy who we assumed worked in the yard, but actually we have no idea who he was, came in to see what our story was. He was very excited by our trip, studying all the stickers on the car and asking questions about individual countries and flags. He was so enthusiastic about helping us out and was adamant that he could surely offer us some sort of assistance, so when he found out where we were headed (towards Scotland) he insisted on giving us the phone number of an acquaintance of his called Alex who lives in London. He wasn’t exactly sure when he’d last seen Alex and was a bit vague as to how they knew each other but he suggested that perhaps we could go and stay with him. Of course we gratefully accepted the scrap of paper on which he wrote the name and phone number, but we were just imagining rocking up in London and ringing this fellow: “Hi, is this Alex? Um, we met a friend of yours in Odessa a couple of months ago who said maybe you could put us up. No sorry, we didn’t ask his name. No sorry, I’m not really sure how you know him...”

Odessa is Ukraine’s city of beach resorts, where tourists go to get sun tans and drink cocktails on the sand, and we’d heard a lot of glowing reports about it being a beautiful and exciting place. This couldn’t have been further from our first impression of the place though. The buildings were greyand drab, the roads were potholed and the traffic noisy, and everything was dirty and crowded. It probably didn’t help that it was raining – something that supposedly only happens four or so times every year, but the suburb where we stayed was one of the grottiest of all the ex-Soviet suburbs we’ve seen. The grey cement walls were covered in graffiti and any paint that had been applied to any trim was peeling off. The “lawns” and “gardens” were squelchy patches of mud and the uneven road surface was covered in deep brown puddles, litter floating on the surface. It was very difficult to imagine this being the desired destination for holiday-makers in summertime, but we are aware that the suburbs aren’t exactly where they aim for.

When we arrived at our host’s house she was out somewhere so we were greeted by her boyfriend who asked us if we wanted to go to the party that his girlfriend was already at. Other than eventually managing to get out of him that it was a “tourist club” we couldn’t glean any information on what this event was or whether or not we wanted to go. So we decided to go. We walked a bit then caught a bus and walked a bit more and found ourselves at some sort of community hall. Still we had no idea what we were actually going to – we were really struggling to get any information about anything whatsoever from our male host. So in we went and met our host for the first time, who made me look like a giant! (For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m barely 5 foot and generally shorter than anyone over the age of about 11.) The room we entered reminded us of a late primary school/early high school “disco”; there was a DJ in the corner, a line of trestle tables set up with crisps, chocolate and soft drinks, and a group of about a dozen people around our age letting loose and dancing energetically to a selection of pop music. Still not exactly sure what the point of this event was we threw ourselves into the mix, making the most of it and enjoying the simple fun. It was only after we’d been dancing for a while that we eventually spoke to our host, the one who had invited us through the couch surfing website, and found out that the group was some sort of uni club dedicated to tourism and travellers and that this event was just for the sake of fun, loosely celebrating New Year. It was nice to have finally found out what it was that we were gate-crashing!

We spent the following day exploring the old centre of the city and we discovered that this part of town was actually quite magnificent with its Renaissance architecture, wide boulevards separated by sprawling squares sporting classical statues, trendy cafes and classy restaurants, shadowy residential lanes, views over the port and bits and pieces of quirky modern art dotted along the streets. The main landmark of note was the famous Potemkin Stairs (more commonly known by Ukrainians as their Soviet name – the Primorsky Stairs) which were made famous in 1925 by Sergei Eisenstein’s silent movie “The Battleship Potemkin”, and have since been featured in other works of art. We were intrigued when we arrived at the top of the magnificent set of steps to find that parts were closed off by work tape and cones guarding piles of rubble, scrappy wooden structures, canvas mats, shards of metal, sandbags and rusty cannons. The vantage point at the top of the stairs allows you to clearly see a large section of the port, and watching the view whilst noting the unusual items laid all over the stairs, we descended the 200 steps. We realised that this must be a film set and as we reached the bottom of the flight this was confirmed. A lovely parkland area runs adjacent to the staircase and this was filled with actors dressed as soldiers, all sorts of war-time vehicles, directors and cameramen arranging furniture and tents and fake snow and elaborate settlements and buildings. Having made our way back up the 200 steps we watched on for a while, intrigued by the action, but still completely unaware of what the movie might be that the filming was for. We found out later on that the director is a famous Russian director and that this, his latest work, was quite high profile in the area.

Day 300 – Friends with the EU Babysitters. (Border crossing Transnistria to Ukraine)

Exiting Transnistria was disturbingly simple. We’d been expecting all sorts of questions, searches and requests for bribes, but all we got was a quick passport check and a surly farewell wave. The Ukrainian side of the crossing was a bit more serious though. It was quite clean and the buildings were modern and functional. When we arrived, there were about a dozen vehicles lined up in queues waiting to cross, and a female officer was working her way through the cars looking inside the boots and backseats and taking paperwork from the drivers to one of the booths up ahead. As we watched and waited we noticed a burly stern-looking bald fellow in a navy uniform who seemed to be overseeing the operations, casually but purposefully meandering around the cars, subtly observing from a polite distance. When he turned away from us we saw that the back of his jacket had the EU logo on it and we made the assumption that he was probably part of some anti-corruption supervision project.

He didn’t pay any attention to us until it was our turn to be processed and we were directed to drive up to the front of the queue, at which point he focused his attentions on us. As it turns out he was German and we were correct about what he was doing there. He was surprised to hear that we’d had no problems leaving Transnistria as that’s usually a pretty lawless border post and he’s heard some horrific stories from other Western Europeans making the crossing. His Polish colleague and an EU appointed Russian translator joined him to find out what this group of funny foreigners in their eccentric vehicle was up to. We found out a bit about what their jobs entailed and they were very interested in our trip, asking loads of questions about various aspects of it, specifically but not limited to other borders. The Polish guy advised us about the crossings between Ukraine and Poland: the main one near Lviv is apparently horribly busy and often involves hours and hours of waiting in queues, but there’s a much smaller one close by that’s usually much quicker and simpler. This was great advice which we took on board, even though when it came time to do that crossing we didn’t actually follow his advice. I’ll explain that when we get to it.

We stood around the car chatting to these EU officials while our paperwork (passports, Carnet, insurance etc) was being handled by the Ukrainians. They didn’t interfere at all with the process but just the EU presence was obviously enough to keep them in order, whether legitimately so or not. We weren’t asked for anything unseemly, or anything at all in fact, and even though they were really confused by us our documents were moved through promptly. I’m fairly certain that we weren’t actually processed; they just moved us through as quickly as possible so as not to cause problems for us – the friends of the EU babysitters. That in itself doesn’t feel like it’s in keeping with the nature of an anti-corruption project, but we weren’t about to kick up a stink and get up on our moral high horse about how it’s unfair that we got special treatment. Being different has worked against us in many situations, but every now and then it acts as a blessing.

The odd thing about the way we planned our route, going through Moldova to Transnistria and then Ukraine, is that according to our passports we never left Moldova; we have stamps for entering Moldova, and then stamps for entering Ukraine, but as Transnistria didn’t stamp us in or out there is no record of anything in between.

Day 295 – Chisinau. (Moldova)

The overwhelming image we got of Chisinau was how ex-Soviet everything seemed. The buildings were a collection of matching grey concrete blocks, the roads were beautifully laid out but had not been maintained for 50 years, the piping was all overground, and there was a general sense of grey blandness. This is in no way an attack on the Moldovan people, or even my impression of them; it’s just a result of Communism’s harsh hand laid on the country for such an extensive period of time.

The first item on the agenda for our self-tour of Chisinau was the Chisinau Brewery, brewer of “Bere Chisinau” and owned by Efes. Our directions were vague but we found our way, hoping we’d be able to land one of the guided tours that we had heard existed. As we pulled up in the car park we noticed that everything looked very closed up, but when the two sets of automatic doors at the front entrance opened as we approached, we thought “oh, maybe it is open after all”. A smiley grey-haired lady and a sturdy balding man sat behind a desk in the foyer, behind which hung a huge map with the location of each Efes brewery in the world lit up with a small globe. We asked about having a guided tour but without a word of English it was made quite apparent that this would not be possible. At first we thought they were being dismissive and rude, but the lady then went on to explain why it would not be possible. First she pointed at the next few days on the calendar, crossing her arms in front of her chest in the universal sign for “no” at each day. Then visibly impressed at herself for having such a brain wave she scuttled around the edge of the desk and gestured at a pot plant. By crouching down, then raising her arms and standing up straight she imitated the plant growing, and by opening her hands and waving her fingers she acted out the sun beating down on the plant. We realised that she was saying that in summer the tours run, and when she showed the plant dying she was telling us that in winter the tours don’t run. We were thoroughly impressed by this show of common sense and her insistence at doing everything within her power to communicate with us. All too often we try to communicate with people and with only a little will on their part we would manage, but so many people are not interested in making the slightest bit of effort. This lady was the perfect example of how anyone can speak to anyone else; convey a basic message, with a little bit of thought and effort.

We went searching for the National Museum, this time with an exact address which matched up with the map we had. At this address though was a small boarded up brick building, the type of building that in most places you’d assume hadn’t been in use for several decades, but in this ex-Soviet setting could easily still be home to a museum. We did a block around it to see if we could find an entrance but no, this building really was completely dilapidated and out of use. We were just going to drive down the street assuming that we’d probably been given the wrong street number and hopefully the street name was correct, but then we realised that just across the road was a very National Museum looking building. We parked on the icy pavement outside and approached the stately pre-Soviet stone structure.

It was a surprisingly informative and extensive museum housing an unusual variety of artefacts. There was a lot of Soviet propaganda – both pro and anti, some of it was specific to Moldova or Chisinau, some was relevant to the entire region. There was a huge selection of personal items that had been owned throughout the past few centuries; everything ranging from furniture to razors, paintbrushes and books to car accessories. A wide variety of different styles and periods of artwork led onto a room dedicated to fine china and ceramics. Even a tee-pee was set up as part of a display about various war uniforms, weapons, tactics and stories. Probably the most impressive part though was the very detailed 10 or so metre wide war diorama depicting WWII. That we could have spent hours looking at, observing all the tiny details that together told the grand story.

The Moldovan national monument, a structure that closely resembles the Arch de Triumph only on a much small scale, is opposite the Government building, separated by a wide boulevard designed for military marches and displays. As it was mid January most of Europe’s Christmas markets had closed down weeks ago, but Chisinau’s one was still running at full pelt on this wide expanse of road. Queues of families waited to have their photos taken in one of the Christmas/Santa/winter scenes that were set up in a line of booths. Several Mr and Mrs Clauses meandered around the market speaking with children and handing out goodies. One Mr and Mrs Clause were even running a miniature train on wheels.

We had lunch in a fine example of a Russian/Eastern European canteen, which like so many places we found completely by accident. This style of eatery is part of the culture of this region that we have really grown to love and enjoy. They tend to be very basic and relatively cheap (although not necessarily the absolute cheapest option), but the food is tasty and filling and much more varied than what you’ll find at a lot of other cheap restaurants. This type of eating probably isn’t for everyone – it’s certainly not very luxurious, but the down-to-earth comfort and anonymity that we found became something we really appreciated.

Getting famous.

Our latest media appearance:

http://www.thescottishsun.co.uk/scotsol/homepage/scotlandfeatures/article4857145.ece