The next morning, we headed straight
to the station to make a decision on where to go next. We were considering
moving on to the Crimea but needed to check out ticket prices. It turned out,
it only cost 250hrn (£25) to get second-class tickets (a private four-person
cabin) down to Simferopol (Ukrainian: Сімферополь; Russian: Симферополь), from where we could
get a bus down to the coastal town of Yalta. We seized the opportunity and
bought tickets straight away. The train left at 8.15pm, leaving us half a day
to see everything else we wanted to in Kiev. We stood aside to consider the
best plan, only to be harassed by a crazy beggar-woman shouting, from what we
could tell, complete gibberish – not Ukrainian, and certainly not Russian.
Making a quick escape, we took the metro to the Chernobyl museum.
The museum should have been directly
by the station but the signposting was nightmarish and the address didn’t
correspond to any logic, so it took us over half an hour and several enquiries
before we finally stumbled upon it. It was worth the effort though; the museum
was huge, the staff friendly and the audio guides thorough (if anything, a
little too detailed at times, including a lot of personal stories). The
approach to the tragedy was tactful and informative, with thousands of archives
including personal and official documents, graphs, charts, models, videos and
photographs, and even an interactive model display which transformed to show
exactly how the catastrophe actually occurred. There were facts in the audio
guide which I had been completely unaware of, such as the fact that the event
was hidden from the public and from international governments until long after
the damage was spreading across Ukraine, Belarus and Eastern Europe. I also didn't realise how many workers had put themselves at risk and died for the
sake of saving others, nor that three of the reactors are still in operation to
this day.
The last room of the museum, which was
essentially a memorial, finished the tour perfectly. The entrance to the room
was the frame of one of the churches destroyed by the radiation in the
aftermath of the disaster, and the ceiling was covered in a black and silver
world map, with lights depicting the location of all the nuclear power plants
in the world. On the back wall were photos of all the children whose parents
had been affected by the radioactive explosion, as it is unknown what health
problems they will have to suffer in the future.
It was several hours later before we
finally left the museum and took the metro back into town, but it had been time
well spent, especially as we’d been unable to visit Chernobyl itself, not
having booked far enough in advance. Once in town, we walked up the hill to the
unique century-old House with Chimeras (Ukrainian: Будинок з химерами;
Russian: Дом с химерами), which was built by the eccentric
Kievite Wladislav Horodecki and is covered in phantasmal figures such as
elephant trunk storm drains and the figures of rhinos, antelope, giant frogs
and mermaids. As if all this wasn't progressive enough, Horodecki also had
three stories built on one side and six descending the hill on the other. We weren't able to see the interior, but this was
considered equally avant-garde at the time, with an ice room for food storage,
a wine cellar, a laundry room, a garage for carriages and even a room for
Horodecki’s cow to guarantee fresh milk at all times.
The presidential building is also
located on this street and, as a result, both entrances are protected by
guards. On the way out, as I was talking to Alexia, I could swear one of them
did an impression of me. Anyway, we decided to make our way to the famous
Zoloti Vorota, golden gates (Russian: Золотые ворота, Ukrainian: Золоті ворота), which were reconstructed and reopened in
2007 as an exact replica of the main Kiev gates, from the remains of the
original, which were constructed during the height of Kievan Rus. When we got
there, however, it turned out that this was the exact spot where we had been
the previous night – we just hadn't realised that these were in fact the gates.
It was now approaching five o’clock
and we had around an hour to spare before we needed to head back to the hostel.
Making the best use of the remaining time, we walked up the road to St Sophia’s
Cathedral (Ukrainian: Собор Святої Софії or Софійський собор, Russian: Собор Святой Софии or Софийский собор). The
cathedral and its grounds were beautifully kept, and the architecture of the
cathedral refreshingly unusual, a mixture of brick and whitewashed walls,
topped by thirteen green and gold cupolas. St Sophia’s is Kiev’s
longest-standing church and was built in the 11th Century by Ярослав Мудрый (Yaroslavl the Wise), the founder of Yaroslavl, who is also buried
inside the church. It was built in commemoration of the victory of Kievan Rus
over the Pechenegs (Asian nomadic tribes) and was named after the famous St Sophia’s
Cathedral in Constantinople. Seeing this beautiful structure was the perfect
way to end our few days in Kiev. The views of the lit-up city from the top of
the bell tower were stunning and somehow liberating; I felt far away from
Yaroslavl and my obligation to be there, as though, just for a while, I were
free.
Soon, however, it was time to be
getting back to the hostel. We bought supplies for the train on the way before
packing our things at the hostel, eating the leftover soup and heading off to
the station. Mounting the escalator, I had yet another bizarre experience with
a stranger, this time a Muslim guy who tapped me on the shoulder and told me to
‘put some clothes on,’ by which I can only assume he was referring to my
cardigan, which had slipped off one shoulder in the rush. I was so shocked that
I didn't even realise the audacity of this until I’d already automatically
obeyed and he’d walked off. I was probably also distracted by my soaring stress
levels, as by this time we were running really late, having stopped for the
lads to buy beer. We got onto the train with only three minutes to spare, and
even then we couldn't find our cabin. The conductor approached us irritably and
demanded to know what we were doing standing in the corridor. We explained that
we were just trying to find our cabin, and Sean added incredulously, “We’re not
just chilling out!” Finally reaching our
own little cabin was strangely blissful; we had made it onto the train, and we
had our own little space all to ourselves.
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