Kiev, Part 2

Church and monastery buildings of the Pechersk Lavra

The second day in Kiev, we visited the Cave Monastery (Pechersk Lavra), a site where about a dozen early Christian monks settled in the 11^th century with the intention of spreading Christianity throughout Kievan Rus. After viewing several of the monastery buildings, we descended through a long, narrow tunnel carrying candles. We passed by several caskets, presumably containing the mummified bodies of those thousand-year-old monks. The caskets had glass lids, and the bodies were wrapped in robes in such a way so that no part of the actual body was visible, so the “natural mummification” that occurred in the caves had to be taken on faith. We emerged (were disgorged) from the cave/tunnel into a shopping area where I purchased an egg painted with an icon (virgin & child).

Guide describing the Chernobyl atomic plant melt-down

During the afternoon, we visited a museum dedicated to the Chernobyl disaster, which occurred some 30 – 60 miles north-east of Kiev, at a site near the borders of Ukraine, Russia and Belarus. I hadn't realized that it was so close to what is now Russia. A person involved in the early clean-up and remediation of the area spoke to the group through our guide, Evgeny.

That afternoon, we also visited Baba Yar, a pit where 100,000 Jews were “disposed of” by the Nazis early in WWII. The fact that the victims had been Jews was covered up after the war, and the area was memorialized by the Soviets as the site of the massacre of 100,000 Russian citizens. Later, we also visited a synagogue – not on the itinerary, but a couple on the bus asked if we could stop there. It was in our Guide to Kiev.

Grass covers the earth over those massacred
at Babi Yar

The following day, I didn't go on the tour of the folk museum, but rather stayed in the room and wrote postcards and read until early afternoon. Afterwards, I went to the post office and mailed the cards (and a couple of other cards to Lis’ family) which was something of an adventure, for which I used my spotty Russian. Then I walked on my own through a part of the city we had seen on the bus tour the day before – past the Great Gate, past Saint Sophia, across the square towards St. Michael’s, looking for the Ukrainian National Museum.

I finally found it--buying a T-shirt and a Ukranian blouse for Ella Diane along the way--but there was only about an hour left to visit the rooms before it closed. It was clearly a remnant of a Soviet-era museum, with the main entrance room, up a staircase, exhibiting a red flag with hammer and sickle and shining works depicted on either side of it. There were also a couple of paintings on either side depicting awful winter mud and chaos – perhaps illustrating the great patriotic war, which is what the Russians call WWII.

Soviet-era Ukrainian National Museum near Kiev's main square

The rest of the rooms exhibited pretty straight-forward, historical museum-type displays, with artifacts of the period ranging from pre-historic to recent times: paintings of nobility and Metropolitans (Eastern Orthodox bishops), swords, chairs, crockery, an ox-cart, etc. I hadn't realized how significant early (Aegean) civilization was in the area, but there were many early (5 – 3 centuries BC) Greek vessels and plates and amphorae.

When the museum closed, I took a quick trip to a small, wooden, rather make-shift building nearby that housed numerous gold-rimmed icons in the Eastern Orthodox style. Could they have been stored in the basement of the museum and brought out for exhibit after Ukrainian independence? No one could tell me the history of that small, wooden chapel-like structure near the museum, a huge church looming behind it on the main square of Kiev.

Small building full of icons next to the museum.

I walked so much that day that I developed a charley-horse in my left leg (calf), and it has been giving me trouble ever since. And the right leg (hip and knee) have been bothering me since the beginning of the trip (back in Berlin), so walking is becoming something of a problem, quite apart from the problems I've had breathing, especially after catching the cold in London. It seems to be improving now, though.

Last Trip Abroad

My trips seem to become odysseys: long, convoluted, crisscrossed voyages—partly planned and partly spontaneous—in which I hope to experience and learn as much as possible wherever I happen to be. I love to explore history, interact with people, gaze enthralled at the surrounding landscape, and generally enjoy the ambience of a place with its unique sights, sounds, and smells. All this is easier to do when traveling alone.

Part of learning and growing, for me, is to write about what I experience, and to photograph whatever grabs my attention. Reviewing words and photos then brings things into focus and consolidates memories. For most folks, a trip is a vacation, a time to relax and stop having to pay attention. For me, a journey is most often an adventure—a time to be alert and to stay tuned in, because the great Unknown—that for which I’m always searching—is fascinating, needs to be attended to, and could get out of control.

Usually there’s an initial impulse or a theme for a trip. While I was still a working scientist, a scientific convention was often the trip’s focal point, and then I might plan a stopover at some city along the way to see a relative or old friend, or I might stay an extra day or two in the convention city to visit museums and other local sites.  Since retirement, though, I've gone to more exotic spots and done fluky things I'd just read about in magazines or heard about on the radio.

My trip abroad, in the summer of 2010, was some of all-of-the-above, a crazy quilt of places I had never yet been during three years of living in Europe, at three different times in my life, or of places I had been previously and wanted to see once again on a “Last Big Trip.” I had never before visited the British Museum, although, with a recent interest in archeology, I have come to realize that many of civilizations finest artifacts are sequestered there. I wanted to see Russia again, after having spent a couple of months in that sprawling country during the summer of 1992, shortly after the collapse of the USSR. And I wanted to explore the south of France, the Midi, because I had slighted that part of my favorite European country (yes, I’ll confess, I’m a Francophile) during the three years I lived on the continent.  I also wanted to see my daughter and her family who, at the time, were living in Berlin.

So, how could I fold all of those bucket-list items into one trans-Atlantic trip before I stopped flying altogether (as I intended after the trip)? First, I made a reservation for a river-cruise tour of western Russia that included Moscow, St. Petersburg, and quaint villages in between. There were trip extensions to Ukraine, Estonia and Finland, which countries I had never visited, so I signed up for those, too. Then I coordinated with my daughter to find the best days for visiting them in Berlin. While doing this planning, I heard on PBS radio (Pipedreams) about an organ tour in the south of France that might fit my itinerary. It seemed like a fascinating and artistically satisfying way to visit Le Midi. I also coordinated, loosely, with a couple of European friends. Then I constructed a tentative itinerary, with scheduled commercial tours “set in stone,” and the times between them more open and flexible. Altogether, the trip lasted a little over two months, but I believe I saw and did almost everything I had hoped, before that last trans-Atlantic flight back to the U.S.

I used to love to fly, but during the past decade or so, that fondness has turned to abhorrence. I intend henceforth never to take a plane anywhere unless someone pays for my first-class ticket (or at least business class). But for this time, since there was no other way, practically, to get to Europe than by plane, I bought the cheapest round-trip flight I could find to London, and a five-country Eurail Pass for getting around Europe once there.

The next several blog entries—mostly derived from trip journals—will chronicle my “Last Trip Abroad” in the summer of 2010