Follies -- you gotta love 'em!

                Well, maybe not everybody loves 'em, but Theresa and I have always felt a special fondness for what’s known in architecture as a “folly” – defined in our dictionary as “an often extravagant picturesque building erected to suit a fanciful taste.” It might be the house built like a ship’s bow in Hansville, or what we call the Harry Potter house on Nob Hill Avenue in Seattle.

                Or it might be the Gorodetsky House, also known as the House of Chimeras, right here in Kyiv.

                Named for its architect, Vladislov Gorodetsky, who lived in a grand apartment on the top floor when the house was completed in the first years of the 20^th century, the “folly” here is not so much the shape of the building, but the adornments. Gorodetsky (and we are drawing on a detailed Wikipedia entry here if you want to know more – including why they call it “chimeras”) was a big-game hunter, and decided he wanted this luxury apartment building to reflect his passion.

Eagle conquers dragon whilst rhinos look on.

                With quite a bit of imagination thrown in. Yes, there are the traditional game animals – elephants, large-antlered deer, etc. But there are also fat-bellied frogs on the rooftop, an eagle conquering a dragon on the side corner, various sea monsters.

             The house is on a street that now also includes some official buildings of the office of the president of Ukraine (which also owns Gorodetsky House), which means the street is closed to vehicle traffic. That makes it much more user-friendly for tourists like us, leaving us free to stand in the street, look up in amazed appreciation, discover new detail after new detail, and shoot lots of picture.

                You can’t go inside – otherwise I’m sure we would have shared a photo of what Wikipedia says is chandeliers “depicting huge catfish strangled in the stems of lotus flowers.” Well, no matter. There was more than enough on the outside to satisfy our love of a good folly…and add one more exclamation point to our time in Kyiv.

What color is Kiev?

We are wrapping things up here in Kiev, leaving on Friday. We can't help but think about this in the context of other trips we've taken in the line of work. I was musing about "our places," thinking about what they would be if they were colors.

Inside a church; the red is so incredibly rich.

For example, Uganda is definitely green. Nothing as green as those banana leaves! And Ghana a rusty red - the Harmattan blowing that red dirt everywhere. Sarajevo? I might think of it as grey because of the blocky buildings with their pockmarked walls, but I don't. I think of the red, pink and peachy roses everywhere - and how those colors pop against the grey. So Sarajevo is rose colored.

And Kiev? When we first arrived the leaves were still on the trees and everything was yellow. And the bulb-domes are that shiny, shiny gilt, so you'd think Kiev's color would be gold. But now that we've been here awhile, I think Kiev is really like a bright kaleidoscope.

Podil's bright buildings

They love their colors! Down the street from us is a bright red huge office building, with the usual cream baroque scrolling decorations - it's one of many, some bright yellow, many a light blue, some greens too. This weekend we were wandering in the neighborhood Podil and climbed a knobby hill to look down on the brightest rooftops in some buildings tucked down into a ravine.

And at night on weekends, the streets are lit up with colorful lights in different shapes. At first we thought they were Christmas lights and figured we'd never see them lit. But we were wrong - they are just there for color. And they're so pretty and festive, they just make you smile.

 Khreshchatyk St., a pedestrian street on weekends

Of course, this shouldn't be a surprise. The traditional costumes are full of color, and there are flowers everywhere, not just painted on the souvenir trays and matryoshka dolls (though there too!).

A side street - they like their lights!

People are often carrying armloads of flowers they've bought from a flower market; there are huge flower markets in the "underpass malls" that are everywhere. And of course, the churches, being orthodox, are covered inside and out with colorful frescos and decorations. Every bare space is covered; little arches in towers have pictures of saints in them like Advent calendars.

Every nook and cranny ...

So when we think back on Kiev, we'll think golden domes, sure. But beyond that, we'll see in our mind's eye the brightness of a city that loves color.

Traditional wreath on non-traditional tourist

The halls are alive (with the sound of music!)

                How could you possibly pass up the opportunity to hear a Ukrainian musician perform Mozart on 

an accordion?

Philharmonic Hall, waiting for the big show.

Well, maybe you could – but we couldn’t, which is why we hoofed it over to Kyiv’s Philharmonic Hall for a concert titled: “Buttons, Buttons….”

It was a reference to the bayan, a Russian version of a chromatic button accordion, and the concert was a tribute to (and very much with) bayanist Sergiy Grinchenko, in honor of his “60^th anniversary of birth and 40^th anniversary of creative activity.”

There were big old button accordions everywhere! And small ones, squeeze-boxes, as well. In the hands of the master, of course, throughout the

Posters of his past shows in the lobby.

evening, but also performed by virtuoso players from Ukraine, as well as a boy from Kazakhstan who couldn’t have been older than 15. They played classical. They played traditional. They pulled sounds and emotions out of those big boxes that we would not have thought possible.

And more: There were folk dancers and singers and bands. There were endless versions of the balalaika (or related instruments) – tiny ones with almost a banjo-like sound; a giant bass with a triangular body measuring at least four feet on a side and with just four strings; another with at least 30 strings. There were percussion instruments large and small, clappers and gongs and cymbals and various rattling devices. A violinist threw herself into a passionate folk melody, her long hair flying over her brightly colored clothes as she tossed her head.

There were speeches throughout, by (we think) various professors and others to attest to Sergiy’s great accomplishments; one band sang its tribute, and one musician offered his in a poem. And after nearly every musical number someone in the audience fought their way to the aisle and rushed up to the stage bearing a bouquet, until the

Alas, no photos allowed during the show. But here is Sergiy (in
the black shirt), after the concert, with a few of his flowers.

stage resembled a Costco florist section where everything had fallen on the floor.

All of this contributed to the length of the show, 2 ½ hours, and we were beginning to wonder if it might never end, when it finally suddenly did. It could have been a bit shorter for our tastes (or perhaps it would have helped if we understood more than a word or two of the language), but it was a wonderful evening – and a full house, with a very enthusiastic audience.

This will be our final cultural event of this relatively short trip, and it made me think: If we were to assign a theme name to 2013, Theresa and I could make a good case for this: “The Year of Eclectic Music Performances in Grand Halls All Over the Place.” In fact, this has been one of our favorite things about the year, and one of the great side benefits of our travels.

                In addition to the bayan extravaganza, we have been fortunate enough to enjoy, among others:

• Operatic duets in the intimate chandeliered lobby of Sarajevo’s National Theatre, not to mention, in the elegant main hall (which never stopped holding performances throughout the bombardments of the siege), Carmina Burana (with a chorus of more than 250) and a spirited performance of “Brilliantin” (“Grease”!) by music students…dressed in 1950s American gear, singing in English and speaking their dialogue in Bosnian.
• Highly improbably, Bonnie Raitt belting it out from the stage of the tall, slender, wedding-cake grandeur of the Vienna State Opera House.
• Peter Brooks’ reimagining of Mozart, in his “A Magic Flute” in Llubjana, Slovenia.
• The spectacle of Die Walkure as part of Seattle Opera’s periodic production of Wagner’s Ring Cycle

  

  Bill, bemused by the program of events at the Opera House.
   Can you spell any of them out?

  in McCaw Hall.
• And now, in Kyiv – at the National Opera House, Madame Butterfly (Ukrainians, dressed as Japanese, singing in Italian), and later a more culturally pure production, Natalka Poltovka, with traditional Ukrainian costumes and spirited dancing.

Eight months, five countries, six different halls, well over a dozen events. Tickets have been $20 or less for most of the performances, approaching ten times that for Bonnie and the Valkyries. And with all these shows, there has hardly been a dud in the lot.

Interior of Kyiv National Opera House

If we were to point to one thing that has impressed us the most, it would probably be the remarkable passion for music, and for culture in general, that we have seen in the audiences in Bosnia and in Ukraine. We were amazed in Sarajevo that every week, there would be at least three or four attractive events to choose from; and then we came to Kyiv, where there may be that many events in a single night, and there’s not a single day – including weekdays – without something going on in the way of classical music, ballet, or theater. (Four performances per day on weekends at the Puppet Theater, for goodness’ sake!)

But even more: In both cities, the audiences aren’t dominated by people our age, as is usually the case at home. Whether it’s because of the extremely affordable prices or the society’s values, all of these audiences have an even mix of young people in their 20s or 30s. And most remarkably, to us, there are also significant numbers of children attending every performance, including the operatic duets where we all sat on straight-backed chairs, barely 10 feet away from the singers.

                Yes, the seats can be hard and uncomfortable, and maybe some of the performances lack a certain level of sophistication (although the musicality is generally top-notch). But these shows will be some of our fondest memories. I mean – if you haven’t heard Mozart on the button accordion, you haven’t heard Mozart.

Going down...WAY down!

On our way to visit the Lavra Caves Monastery, Theresa and I first had what, if not actually a religious experience, certainly could make a person GET religion: we traveled on the Kiev Metro. 

Actually, the Metro itself is fine. It is getting down to it that is the exciting part. The tunnels are extremely deep underground to get beneath the river, which flows in a sort of wide canyon through the hills of Kiev.

So you get to the Metro trains by plummeting hundreds of feet, down on the longest and fastest escalators we have ever seen. And I do mean plummeting: both of us nearly fell over backwards on our first ride as we stepped onto the stairs and were jerked forward and down at a startling speed. Hang on, folks, and watch out for whiplash! 

And then, after what seems like an eternity, you arrive at the bottom, and face the opposite challenge -- getting off. It was a little leaving a ski lift without skis. (Just take a look at the photo. Those people on the right aren't fuzzy because the camera is out of focus; they are just whizzing past, going up as we are going down.)

As it happens, our friends from Wikipedia tell us that the metro station where we got off to go see the caves, named Arsenalna, is 346 feet deep -- and one of the deepest subway stations in the world. At that one, you actually take two of these long, fast escalators...and you begin to wonder whether, when you reach the bottom, people will be speaking Chinese (or whatever is on the opposite side of the Earth from Kiev).

A pilgrimage to the caves

The importance of Orthodox Christianity is evident everywhere in Kiev, with golden domes of churches dotting the sky in all directions. But there is no more important religious site here than Kiev Pechersk Lavra, or the Kiev Caves Monastery, and this weekend Theresa and I decided to pay it a visit.

Fixtures of the Kiev skyline. This is St. Mikhayil's.

                “Lavra” means monastery, and there is indeed an active monastery still at this riverfront site, which dates to the 11^th century when a monk named Anthony came here from Mount Athos, in Greece, making himself a home in caves (some of which had once been used by Vikings, so it is said) and planting the seed of the Orthodox church in this region.

                But if Anthony’s life was monastic and simple, what you are first struck by today at Lavra is opulence and grandeur. It is a sprawling, walled complex with grandly decorated churches and monuments in every direction, each dome seemingly larger and more brilliantly burnished than the last. And it is filled with people: visitors like us, of

The prayer table was always full.

course, but more than that, devout churchgoers filling their bottles with water from the holy spring or scribbling prayers on little pieces of paper to take into the cathedral and offer up.

                Then there are the caves. Two sets of them – one older and with just one level, one a bit newer and with three levels. We hired a guide, Aleksander (who turned out to be an English teacher at a local university) to take us through the Near Caves, where Anthony moved soon after his arrival, and which were used by monks for several hundred years after that.

                This may be a major tourist destination, but it is also one of the holiest sites for the Eastern Orthodox church, and it is treated that way. Photography is not allowed; women must have their heads and legs covered; everyone holds a tall thin prayer candle while walking through a maze of tunnels no more than six feet tall and not really wide enough for two people to pass, though somehow we did. (We Americans were a little freaked out at the proximity of candles, fringed scarves, bundled-up squareish grannies pushing and shoving to get to the “holy relics.”) The candlelight

Inside the church of All Saints. Stern faces on the ceiling!

reflects off white walls; there is the sound of chanting, praying.

                Semicircular indentations, like the openings to small ovens, are everywhere along the sides of the passageways. Aleksander explains: When a monk died, his body was put in tombs in the walls. Three years later, they pulled the body out. If it was intact, “uncorrupted,” it was a miracle, and the monk was canonized. If not, well, he was removed. All through the tunnels, glass-topped coffins lie in recesses in the walls – 73 of them in these Near Caves, all of them saints wrapped in religious vestments, sometimes a pair of mummified hands visible. People stop and cross themselves, kissing the coffin top, before moving on.

                We visited the tiny cell of the founding monk who lived here – never leaving these caves, and eating the regular fare of bread and water – for 16 years. His small church is adjacent, and the prayers of the pilgrims echoed off the cave walls.

                Back above ground, we wandered some more and gave up trying to get into the large cathedral

Priests come here as tourists, too! We saw these three hop into a big black
car and leave a few minutes later.

where there was a line two or three hundred yards long; finally, with tired feet and empty stomachs (we need more than those monks), we went to a nearby restaurant.

But after eating and before returning home we stopped one more time at Lavra, now with its churches brightly lighted and gleaming white and gold in the night. Incredibly, the line for the cathedral was still just as long. But we saw people going in a side door and followed; the stairs took us to a balcony above the church floor.

Choirs were singing from our level on both sides of the altar, behind which was an absolute wall of gold ornamentation. Illuminated only by the flames of hundreds of prayer candles and the distant lights in the choir lofts, this wall looked like nothing so much as a river of molten gold that had poured down  from above, cooling and solidifying into large nuggets and masses. Below us people stood (there are no pews in these churches) and chanted or sang,

crossing themselves and bowing. The voices of the choir reverberated off the walls in the half-darkness; it was a solemn, gorgeous scene.

We went back down the stairs and walked through the courtyard, where the music, broadcast outside on loudspeakers, followed us into the night.

First impressions

View from our flat's back balcony at sunrise

We had no idea, really, what we would find in Kiev. But our first day here we walked the length of the main drag, the unpronounceable Khreschatyk Street, and beyond as is our way. This city is incredibly beautiful! Full of energy, combination of history and cosmopolitan.

Gleaming gold domes pop up on the rooftops of the churches, one piling on top of the other. There are so many that at one point we counted 11 domes on one church!

And then right next door, so to speak, there are huge walls of projected videos on the modern buildings. Our first night in our flat I was startled by the outline of a giant crow on our window - then I saw it was one of these projections from a nearby building. Apparently, Halloween is all the rage here - crows, grimacing pumpkins, flying witches are all hugely present on the high-rise screens.

Eat your heart out Fremont: Here's the real Lenin!

It seemed to us that dancing is a big deal here, though people look puzzled when we say that. But that first day we ran into a jitter-bug contest on the street, which is closed on weekends. (Seattle people take note: Can you even imagine closing, say, all of Broadway, Pike Street, Queen Anne Ave. - take your pick - every weekend so people can just walk and wander?)

The dancers were amazing. And then that night we were walking through an underpass to get across an intersection and we saw a huge crowd of people gathering. We wondered what the heck they were doing so stopped to watch as a band started playing and the crowd started dancing some sort of old-style Ukraine dance. ( It seems this event is famous, featured on NPR the same night we saw it. Thanks, Laura, for sending.)


And monuments: They like their monuments. Huge buildings and over-sized statues. Furs too. Though it's been extremely mild here, stylish young women are sporting fur vests, always worn with 5" high heels of course. The furs are beautiful, and we can't help but stare. But they are just a bit too close to the animal they came from; our American sensibility is alive and well.

Bill said he'd buy me one .

We've had the obligatory dumplings and cranberry vodka (so-so), but been too busy for the borscht yet. Our flat is very nice (air b&b) and we are gradually settling in; we've had many conversations about the difference between living someplace for a stretch and traveling through. You don't have to figure out the plumbing to travel through!

And we are in awe of the journalists we are meeting. Young people who have such intensity of purpose, who are so single-minded about doing away with the "wrong-doing" of those in power.
"Can you smell the corruption?" one asked us. And we can, oddly. I have never seen a Bentley before that I remember. And we visited a church (Orthodox of course) where two young buff men in leather jackets, thug-like, pushed their way to the front to press their heads against the glassed-in picture of a saint to pray. They may have been on their way to a family gathering, but we've seen too many Sopranos episodes to believe that - or maybe we hang with the wrong crowd these days.

So all is interesting, all new - and we blindly stumble along because of the language. It's a two-step process: figure out a Cyrillic letter's sound, then put it together with its companion letters, then discover that all that effort leads to a word we've never heard. Then head for the dictionary. Or we slowly sound out letters painstakingly only to discover the word is "Kiev," which has many different spellings.

We are reminded of our old friend Spiros from Greece, who said we sounded like kindergartners sounding out letters. Too true!

Off to Kyiv!

We have had a lot of suggestions for the title of this blog, such as "Under the Ukrainian Ice" (thanks Eric) and "Freezikraine" (thanks, Sarah) . And mostly, "Doesn't everyone want to go to Ukraine in November?" But we'll be optimistic and stick to our theme (though "sky" not "sun"!)

Yes, we are off again, this time to Ukraine for a short trip, relatively speaking. We'll be gone 4-6 weeks, depending on the work. We're working again for the organization we were with in Sarajevo, doing what we call "sustainability assessments." That sounds very bureaucratic, but it's mainly seeing what non-profit investigative media groups in Ukraine need to continue their super important work. We'll interview and report - as well as explore a place we admit to knowing almost nothing about.

The weather looks, at least from afar, to be similar to Seattle for the beginning of the trip. After that, well, we expect that Bill will be getting one of those Cossack hats. I promise to resist the mink coats (maybe!).

We have had little sticky notes all over our kitchen with words spelled out in the Cyrillic alphabet in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to learn a little. And we have flash cards too; what was that backwards R again? And the H that is really an N? We'll see how it goes ... we joke that it will take us so long to read a sign that by the time we figure out it says "Danger" the thing will have fallen on us.

It has been said that we are addicted to these trips, that the longer we are home the more our eyes wander, so to speak. There is something to be said for that, we admit. But we like home too, so it's bittersweet, as usual. Still, those golden domes beckon ... and think of the stories we'll have!

Read along if you'd like - this is our version of a journal and we'll try to keep it updated. The camera is packed!