So, here I am in Ukraine, thanks mostly to the relaxed visa restrictions for EU nationals. I didn't know what to expect, and now that I'm here I still don't know. Kyiv is such a strange melange of different things that it's hard to summarise. If I had to try, I'd say that Kyiv is great and leave it at that.
How so? Well, to begin with, the architecture. I don't know how best to describe the sheer beauty of so many of the buildings here - I'm no architect or art critic - but there is a huge variety, from the iconic communist monstrosities to the centuries old golden monasteries of Pechersk Lavra. Buildings are wonderfully painted in pink, blue, green, yellow, though never all at once. On one occasion I was swept back to the beautiful pink excesses of Jaipur, India.
Speaking of excesses, two things come to mind. Firstly, having found a taxi and some people to share it with at the airport, we entered town to the rousing reception of a level-10 storm. Lightning flashed more often than I could blink and within minutes the streets were flooded. The other excess was just as powerful to behold - the Second World War memorial overlooking the River Dnipro. This is the subject of the picture you can see on the right - a 102m tall metal woman, nicknamed "Tin Tits." On the shield, the hammer and sickle of the Soviets.
One area in which I most definitely struggle concerns language, as I had predicted. I neglected to bring with me a phrase book, and the only two people I have met so far to speak even the most basic English have worked for fast-food joints in one of the many cavernous underground shopping centres. I managed to teach myself quite a few Cyrillic letters on the way over, by comparing names in English and Ukrainian in a bilingual in-flight magazine. It's been a lot of fun, actually; I always enjoy myself most when I feel that I'm learning. It would help though if I learnt a little bit faster.
So, I have a couple more days until I head West to Lviv, which I'm told is the polyglot sister to Russian Kyiv. Should be good, but I like it here too and my only worry is that the cities that appear later on my itinerary compare poorly with this exciting capital.
PS. On an unrelated note, it would appear that I am finally to become a published writer, of sorts. The New Statesman has accepted a letter of mine to publish - not exactly a first novel deal but a great start, and something to treasure.
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