Lviv Final Countdown

Every fule kno that Paris has a historic cemetery. In Père Lachaise lie interred the bones of Oscar Wilde, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison of the Doors and countless others.

But Lviv too has a an equally beautiful necropolis, the Lychakiv Cemetery where many Polish writers and artists lie buried alongside Ukranian heroes and memorials for the fallen in various wars and occupations. Much of it is wooded and full of birdsong. It is a place of peace.

The Lonsky Prison Memorial Museum which I visited later on the same day is a very different place. A place that has been kept in its original condition to show the pain and harsh conditions suffered here. The prison was built in the 1890s and served throughout the 20^th Century as a political prison for the Polish, Nazi and Soviet regimes. Its darkest hour was in 1941 just ahead of the German advance when some 1,000 prisoners mostly Ukranian Resistance Movement were shot in 6 days during 1941 by the Soviet NKVD. But the history is tangled; there were Polish victims and Jewish victims of the Nazis too.

It is a dark narrative. What a relief to emerge into the sunshine and share a prosecco with the Special prior to a second concert at Lviv’s wonderful concert venue, the Lviv Organ Hall.

Brought up by a repressed widowed mother and handed to the Royal Masonic School for Boys at the age of nine my emotions, I can tell you, are well defended. But I was surprised by a sudden welling up and the hot stab of a tear as the concert opened with a magnificent Bach Fugue. I had to keep a lid on for much of the beautiful performance of  Vivaldi’s masterpiece, as the violin and organ handed the themes between them. The music soared around the vaulted hall. The contrast of the evil and inhumanity of the 20^th Century with the magnificent setting and the glorious music of the Renaissance was too much.

On to supper with Amanda and John (whose own father was carried off by the Nazis in 1944 at the age of 17 to work as forced labour on a German farm, never to see his parents again) and then that England v Ukraine match! I have written enough on Facebook about that. We were decidely restrained in our celebrations as the atmosphere in the bar deflated like a punctured ballon within three minutes of the kick off.

Every day has been eventful in this delightful city. Most of all we have enjoyed wandering in the parks, which are all over the city and walking the lovely squares and Italianate avenues and boulevards. The city has a vast number of magnificent buildings. Many of them are religious in origin and most are still serving devout audiences. Lviv seems quite a devout place but the faith seems to sit happily with skimpy summer dresses and a relaxed, ubiquitous drinking culture. I am fine with that kind of faith.

I wandered off by myself some days. On one such I discovered Potockı Palace with its ravishing interiors and fine collection of 17 and 18C art. Because one is wandering in a fug of абсолютно незрозуміле багатослів’я often you do not know what you are looking for until you find it.

Thursday found us back at the Organ hall for our fourth and final performance. This time some great Baroque pieces and then to meet J and A to watch the semi final at the same place. The atmosphere this time was so lame that they started the game without the sound, just banal muzak. John had to get up and request(in fluent English) that they put the sound on. They obliged. The commentary, despite being in Ukranian, was pretty understandable and went something like this

“досить незрозуміла Harry Kane!!! багато слів, про які я Harry Kane!! справді не маю уявлення Harry Kane!!”

The company with the sole exception of us seemed inclined to want an Italian victory. I am glad we will be back in the UK for the final.

Friday I wandered off again and, buried in a wooded park, I came across an amazing circuit of the Way of the Cross. I followed the walk through all 14 stations on the way, fascinated. I encountered a friendly squirrel at one point as you can see from the slideshow. Then a ride on the tram to check out the railway station and get in touch with my inner spotter.

So finally here we are preparing to go out for our last meal and wander through currently our favourite city in the world. We shall return. But first the family awaits and the arrival of a new grandson. He is knocking hard at the door, but hopefully will hang on until we get there. Inşallah