Ukraine

       

Blue Scream of Jeff (check out his blogs) and I were married in 1994. Half of our two-week honeymoon was spent in my ancestral homeland of Ireland.

St Michael's Cathedral, Kyiv

To celebrate our 10^th anniversary, we decided to go to Jeff’s ancestral homeland, which he thought was Russia. We only later discovered it was actually Belarus.

While we knew the history of Russia, essentially all we really knew about its geography was that it was vast. What to see, where to go and how to get there were our main questions.

A travel agent – remember those? – recommended a cruise: “The Footsteps of the Tsars.” It sounded amazing. Unfortunately, it was 28 days long, and neither of us had that much vacation time, or the money to pay for it.

But as we looked through the brochures, one river cruise checked the boxes: Ukraine. A river cruise down the Dnieper, starting in Kyiv, and making stops at towns and villages along the river to Odessa, then across the black sea to the Crimea and Yalta. It allowed us to visit places of incredible beauty, learn the culture and a little of the language, and visit places of history while seeing how everyday people lived.

Most of the people in Ukraine spoke Russian as well as Ukrainian. I knew a little bit of Russian, I could say please, thank you, yes, no, count to 10 and ask, “What is that?” I could also say my name is Ekaterina Eduardovna Prizhnovskaya, the female version of Jeff’s surname before his great grandfather changed it to Price. (And yes, I can also write that in cursive Cyrillic; thanks for asking.)

Children's traditional folk dance recital

At the time, Viking Cruises was a fledgling business that catered more to Europeans. We were one of only six American couples on the cruise. Our guide tended to point out things she thought would be of interest to “You British people,” such as the site about which Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote The Charge of the Light Brigade, which occurred during the Crimean War. Imagine a busload of British, Australian and American tourists reciting that poem from memory.

There were quite a few cultural shocks in Ukraine at the time. While in Kyiv, we discovered there was only one ATM in the entire city. When we spoiled Americans asked why, our tour guide gave us a vague smile while looking at us as if we were a group of slow-witted children and said, “We have only had independence for 13 years.”

Thinking of our own country, we had no ATMs 13 years after gaining our independence. Then again, in 1794, we didn’t even have light bulbs.

Another shock at the time was being told before touring places in the countryside that there were only “primitive toilets”, which consisted of a hole in the floor surrounded by a lovely ceramic ring – bring your own toilet paper. Surely, this couldn’t be true of a European country in the 21^st century? While it has probably changed since then, it was certainly true then.

Performance in Novaya Kakhovka

This year, as the Russians invaded, and the news reported that all men between the ages of 18 and 60 were required to fight in the resistance, I was reminded of a question someone asked back on our tour in 2004 about the average life expectancy in Ukraine. While we thought it might be somewhat lower than in Western Europe, we were not prepared for the answer the guide gave us. We were told it was 62 for women and 59 for men.

Surely not!

Why?

Again, the sad smile as she spoke the single word: Chernobyl.

The people who lived near Chernobyl weren’t evacuated soon enough, and later, they were allowed to return too soon. The result was that many people developed cancer.

And of course, having independence for only 13 years, they had no cancer hospitals, and could not afford to go to other countries for treatment.

The Odessa Steps

Indeed, age 35 appeared to be a turning point. We were told many of the Babushkas we saw in the parks were not as old as we thought. While young people were stunningly beautiful, once one hit 35, their hard life caught up with them and a look of old age began to creep in with alarming speed.

Ukrainians did not sit around feeling sorry for themselves. They are dynamic, proud and generally happy people, kind, and fierce in their loyalty. They were happy to explain their traditions and have us foreigners experience their culture.

We saw the skill of the horsemen when we visited Zaporizhia, watched performances of Hopak dancing, and tasted the Ukrainian version of Moonshine, homemade vodka, that packs a burning punch far stronger than anything available in a local liquor store.

The onion-domed churches were works of art inside and out. The Odessa Steps were far more impressive in person than on film, and everywhere were beautiful parks.

Livadia Palace, Yalta

There were stray dogs around, but they were cared for by the people who lived in the towns. There was almost no litter because every morning the Babushkas went around picking it up. They saw it as their purpose.

In Yalta, the Livadia Palace is worth a visit not only because it was a residence for the Romanovs, but also because it was the site of the Yalta Conference, with phones and strategy rooms that were used by Churchill and FDR still in place.

Ukraine was a country of contrasts and extreme beauty, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to see it. To see places I visited reduced to rubble now is heart-wrenching.

Lives have been lost because a despot wishing to drag Ukraine back to the bad old days of the Soviet Union has gone power mad. It is heartening to see the resolve of the Ukrainians against the invaders.

No one knows how this war will turn out, but I’m reminded of a line from a Cold War era song by Sting: I hope the Russians love their children, too.