UKRAINE, AN UNKNOWN FAIRY TALE about my trip in 2019

On 15 May, the journey to Ukraine began with a flight to Warsaw. Polish gloom was evident in the dark-clad flight attendants and sombrely dressed travellers at the airport. There was a serious, sombre atmosphere. 

The arrival in Ukraine was light and airy. The Soviet-era hotel overlooked Maidan Square, but was surrounded by culturally valuable buildings with a small Orthodox church in wood that betrayed Scandinavian roots. 

The second day marked the beginning of our introduction to the Orthodox world: a visit to the ochre-yellow St Volodomyr Cathedral, built in the 19th century by Alessando Beretti in neo-Byzantine style. It was a different world of religious people, women wearing headscarves and beautiful icons in which I recognised familiar faces. The many copper or gold-coloured elements and the many altars are intended to have an edifying effect on visitors, but they are of a different order than our churches, lavish with many praying and relic-kissing women who devoutly burn candles and bow for favours, always respectful with their headscarves. 

A tour of the Jewish quarter of Podol, where Golda Meir came from, and the former city walls with their gate formed an introduction.

Then we drive to the centre, where beautiful old town houses, reminiscent of 19th-century St Petersburg, line a large square with a Cossack equestrian statue in the middle: an identifying icon of this population.

To the left of the square is a 17th-century clock tower in bright blue and white, the entrance to the Sofia complex with a counterpart on the other side of the vast square, and the rebuilt St. Michael's Church in cobalt blue. The church itself was built in 1037 by Yaroslav the Wise, plundered by the Mongols in 1240 and left in a state of disrepair until 1633, when it was rebuilt. The complex is the seat of the Russian Orthodox Church with an adjoining monastery, symposium buildings, a bakery and another beautiful small Cyril Church. (12th century)

The cathedral itself is a magnificent example of Byzantine architecture, modelled on the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul. Unique in its colouring and variety of towers: green, gold, white and brick red. A magnificent combination of round shapes, one wonderful sculpture, comparable to the architecture of Frank Gehry in Bilbao in our time. Inside, beautiful frescoes everywhere on the walls with floral ornaments around the arches and round ceilings. Mosaics from other times and yet universal (large Madonna) and a wooden sarcophagus with Scandinavian-style austere symbols, including crosses, a touch of Christianity. The Vikings were here long ago and expanded their empires.

The abundance of gold and silver is incorporated into the altar (if you can call it that). Again, the founding paintings, Mary with the child and Jesus with the Bible, are incorporated into the whole. The painting is surrounded by ornamental sculpted forms that reflect light profusely as a symbol of enlightenment.

Then we walk around and past the Andreevsky Cathedral, an example of Russian Baroque, in emerald green, studded with golden pearls, prominently situated on a hill, commissioned by the Russian Tsarina Elizabeth. Too elegant with too much gold and, for me, bordering on decadence.

Finally, we walk to the cobalt blue St. Michael's Cathedral, home to monks who cared for the wounded from Maidan Square during the revolution. This cathedral has been rebuilt and is a counterpart to St. Sophia Cathedral.

In the afternoon, we visit Baby Yar, where 34,000 Jews were shot by the Nazis in a pit, with a moving monument commemorating the dying creatures. The sadness rises from the ground, sits in the leaves of the trees and takes root in the minds of those present. It takes shape in the twisting figures of the memorial. Here, the spirit of the past still lingers.

On the third day in Kiev, we walk through an amazing complex of churches, monasteries, gardens, bell towers, museums, domes and views from the high right bank of the Dnieper River, simply impressive splendour: the 11th-century Pechersk Lavra, seat of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. We walk through part of the underground passageway system, with dead monks, prayer rooms and devotional chapels, and we constantly encounter the modest, head-covered believers burning candles. Such faith is no longer seen in our country.  The special geological structure that guaranteed a constant temperature was suitable for mummification. It was oppressively hot and young brothers in long black robes appeared everywhere. What does this have to offer in these uncertain times? Meaning and structure? They maintain the complex and welcome the many visitors. Our lean guide with great dedication: Anatoli points out the founding intention of the many paintings in an altar, in many styles, including European, originally created to work visually for illiterate people and to enlighten the mind in the lavish golden ornaments that framed them. Yet there is still a mysterious perfume for the soul in these works and their frames. They have absorbed and retained the emotion and inspiration of their creators and continue to radiate this to their visitors.

After visiting the imposing war memorial: the artist poignantly depicted the suffering of the 10 million who starved to death: a bleeding bird, its wings trapped in steel latticework and copper nails, rods in a long undulating row like ears of corn, representing the many who perished. Two modest angels lead to the monument past a starving child. Stalin unscrupulously drove 10 million Ukrainians to their deaths by starvation because they refused to give up their plots of land and switch to agricultural collectivism, the tangible horror of a dictator and of communism.

Then we visit the Second World War museum, the Nazis. A young historian guides us around the many relics and photos of those affected. The pain and suffering are embedded in the walls, in the objects, in the mothers who lost five sons, and can be felt by those who talk about it. The involvement is great; the war is not over. It hangs like a toxic black cloud over the minds and bodies of the younger generation. Injustice does not pass.

The last day brings a playful visit to the palace of the fugitive Yanukovich. Beautiful gardens with imposing buildings on a kind of water reservoir, lake.

His bad taste did not appeal to me. Everything expensive, elaborate, wood from Lebanon and inlaid, crystal tables, a boxing room, gym, private chapel, curiosities, mother-of-pearl vases, a stuffed crocodile on the table, parvenu to the max, discord everywhere.

 The gardens were a breath of fresh air, with a giant dacha and a modern white guest house for Putin (he has never been there)  by a babbling brook with high banks and a small bridge,  lovely surroundings. You cannot outsmart nature; it organises itself into beauty, improves humanity.

In the evening, departure for Lviv, arrival in pouring rain and bumpy ride from the bus to the hotel with our suitcases. An old city, one monument that does not allow cars, belonging to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Habsburgs, and later Poland, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and familiar European. Beautiful old town houses, Renaissance churches, Baroque mixed with strange elements such as the Armenian church, more like a courtyard. Italian influences (Italian garden like in Tuscany). An imposing opera house, with the large Rynok Square and an unforgettable icon museum: the Andrey Sheptystsky Museum. I have never seen so many icons in one place, brilliant in colour, with wonderful stories, ranging from sophisticated, professional, classical Marys with the child to the free (naive???) canvases or panels that expressed people's faith in other times and what occupied their minds: hell and heaven, motherly love and death.

After a few days, departure in pouring rain by night train at around 8.40 p.m., arrival in Odessa at 8.30 a.m. A special experience, the incessant clattering and shaking of a somewhat old train that never stops. Quite cosy. Lulls you to sleep.

At 4:30 a.m., at the break of dawn, a glimpse of the passing landscape. Light green vegetation everywhere with openings of farms: Chagall-like pink or yellow wooden houses with elegant white windows in a huge green environment. And flowers everywhere in the yard: purple irises, again and again, as Van Gogh painted them.

Arrival in Odessa, a city founded in 1240 by a Turkish Tartar named Hacibey, ruled by the Turks until 1789, then conquered by the Russians and renamed Odessa in 1794, the fourth largest Russian city, with a Mediterranean feel. It was built by Italians and mainly by a cousin of Richelieu, with wide French streets. The enormous charm of the city is immediately apparent, a mixture of East and West, of Turkish, Russian and European, later Polish art deco. It is a magnificent city with a 19th-century opera and ballet theatre, neo-Gothic palaces and beautiful 19th-century mansions reminiscent of Paris and St Petersburg. However, there is an immense amount of restoration work to be done. Perhaps it will be possible to attract capital? First, a long-term stable government is needed. Or will it be Russian financiers?

The world-famous Potemkin Stairs (Fr. Buffo) have been ruined by a contemporary banal architectural blunder, which would be better off disappearing into the sea.

The Museum of Fine Arts, a classic pink palace belonging to a Polish count, houses interesting Impressionist and earlier works, such as Vrubel and Repin, and attracts visitors with its interest in the old nobility, as seen in 19th-century portraits and a peculiar underground connection to the Black Sea.

Our 19th-century galleries also find their counterpart here, beautiful sculptural galleries with exclusive shops.

Furthermore, there are beautiful parks and a magnificent, monumental art deco palace in dark green, dating from 1900, designed by a female Polish architect.

A walk along the Black Sea in the wide park alongside it with a broad avenue and a large, striking sculpture, past the intriguing portrait of Pushkin in front of the current town hall.

He stayed here for a long time. A confrontation with a rich Russian past.

More works from my travel to Ukraine >>