Lviv

I would never have visited the Ukraine and, in particular, discovered Lviv were it not for Covid. We need to get back to the UK to see our families and greet the impending birth of a bro for Young Seb. Even before reading Sue Palmer’s hilarious but gritty account of hotel quarantine in HMP Airport Hilton this was always the very least attractive option. So ten days in a third party country is the way to go for those who must. The Special chose Lviv.

What a result! Lviv is Lvovely!

I had no idea, and I am sure that you did not either, that it was once part of the Austro-Hungarian empire. It’s more Hapsburg than even Vienna. According to Wikipedia the city became the fourth largest in Austria-Hungary by 1910. It is chokka  with Belle Époque public edifices and grand tenement houses. Our little apartment is sited in the Lviv Theatre of Opera and Ballet building, built in the Viennese neo-Renaissance style.

A stroll around Lviv is up there with Vienna, Paris or any great European city. As I a Euro-cissy myself, this is right up my boulevard. You are never far from a croissant and a cafe noir on a pavement cafe. It has a good brewing industry too. But the great thing is that, unlike Vienna, you do not have to shake out five euros for a coffee. The cost of lviving (no more!) is amazingly lvow. The basic essentials are so cheap; a box at the opera costs just ten GBP a head! And we have booked one to see Turandot for tonight. My kind of town

The ninety eight year old Turkish republic has that tradition of state funded high culture too. Not for nothing was Kemalism called Turkish socialism. The Turkish Devlet Opera ve Balesi do wonderful work. Funnily enough the last time we saw Turandot was at the Aspendos amphitheatre in Antalya some eight years ago. It was magic. The trouble is Turkey’s wretched AKP government hates both opera and ballet. It has been hung out to dry during the Pandemic and I wonder if the nine regional companies will survive. Lviv by contrast loves its European heritage and is justly proud of it.

I have just remembered that our first grandchild Daisy was born on that evening when we went to see Turandot in Aspendos. How weird if history repeats itself for our fourth! Grandchildren are like buses. In eight years just one and now, with the middle daughter Harriet announcing a second as well, four have come along at once!

If you want to know the practicalities of travelling via Lviv to the UK search “Ukraine” in Come Fly with Me . Kim and John Fed have both posted detailed accounts there which will guide you through the process. If you want more useless tosh about Lvife in Lviv read on.

Our first night was in Hotel Villa Stanislavsky. These Hapsburg era villas are proper villas, grand bourgeouis residences (a slideshow of our first couple of days are at the end of the post). Our walk around the area next morning revealed that the large building at the end of the road announced itself as the Lviv Hospital for Venereal Diseases. I applaud the dedication of health professionals everywhere but thought it inappropriate in this case to give them a clap.

The city has so much greenery. Hundreds of trees and lots of parks and green spaces provide a massive green lung. İt underlined again for us how important nature spaces are in city planning. We spent the day exploring on foot. Travel by car is to be avoided if you can, as the city traffic is dreadful. Many of the streets are narrow and cobbled. There is a tram system which I always love to see (so European darling!). They need, I think, to restrict traffic to taxis, trams, cycles and commercially essential vehicles.

The built landscape is just awesome. And when twilight comes the colours are stunning as you will see in the photographs, none of which have been edited. The city is beautifully illumined. For the most part lamps are hung from the overhead tramway network, making them very unobtrusive and they are all low powered. When it comes to lighting less is more. Original historic street lighting, or good copies, are also used. The clubs, bars and restaurants that make up the vibrant night life all seem to be cleverly and tastefully underlit too. The city is young and the overall effect is effortlessly cool. We were the only seniors in sight and nobody would know we were over 60 anyway (shut up!).

To add to the joy the Spokeperson and natural Leader of Kalkan’s Ukrainain community (membership currently 1), John Fedorowycz and his elegant consort Amanda are in town. His family hail from Lviv so we are benefitting massively from his experience. His tips to date have all been right on.

The only fly in the cold cream is the language, attempting which is like trying to speak with a mouthful of marbles. The alphabet, which uses the Cyrillic (Russian for difficult) character set is ludicrously unlike English and well beyond the scope of a Westerner to master. Two days of determined endeavour using a rather useless and inflexible app have only taught me “I am eating cheese (Я їм сир)”. To make things worse the Ukrainians, like the Turks, do not seem to want you to learn their code. My determined efforts are met with universal bafflement which is quite deliberate I am sure. I suppose they might have difficulty with my accent and the fact that I am drinking a beer or eating cake might not help, but still!

I have a suspicion that John does not know his lingua materna either because he has not offered me any assistance in this area. I will flush this out on Saturday as the four of us are meeting up for dinner followed by watching the England v Ukraine match in a public space (can you believe we get this as well?). This is a risky enterprise in my view as whilst the local women are all tall, slim and stunning (“The Ukraine girls make me sing and shout” Lennon McCartney) the men are short, wide and somewhat menacing looking.

So I suspect if he knows any Ukrainain he will be using it at the top of his voice when Ukraine scores whilst all I will be able to shout is “I am eating cheese”.

Enjoy the pictures