In the cafe down the road, we have a late breakfast of black tea, 2 hardboiled eggs, slices of yellow pepper and cucumber, Ukrainian meats, roll and butter. While we eat I look out onto the street. Suddenly there is much blasting and beeping of car horns as an entourage of cars adorned with flags joins our street from a side road. We have no idea why the cars were waving flags. The streets are strangled with traffic - mainly, as mentioned yesterday, black Mercedes, or Toyota, 4 X4's, or some sleek Mercedes or BMW saloons, all with blacked out windows. Is that for privacy or because of the hot weather in summer? Cars park where they like on the pavements.
We notice that there is a proliferation of shops with designer label titles - Adidas, Nike, United Colours of Benneton. This (and the posh cars, including the unusual number of 4x4's on the road), indicates that image seems to be important to some people here.
Our tour of "old Kiev" starts at 12 noon in Independence Square, and so does the rain, which buckets down for the whole 3 hours, leaving us all drenched. Reg and I are glad of our waterproof walking boots. Our tour guide is Galina, a young Ukrainian woman who it turns out really knows her stuff. We tourists in the group are a motley crew - 2 from UK (us!), a young Russian woman, a young Romanian man who is of Hungarian stock and speaks perfect English (and about 7 other languages),2 older people from Boston, America who are currently missionaries in Russia, A Turkish man, and a Methodist minister from Ireland. (what are the chances of a trainee Methodist local preacher (me) meeting a Methodist minister on a tour of Kiev?)
The tour whizzes by. Galina has a natural talent for making Kiev history really alive. We learn that Ukraine is fiercely proud of its 21 years of independence, having been crushed by various countries throughout its history, especially it would seem, by the Russians. Many of Ukraine's beautiful churches and national heritage buildings were razed to the ground by the Russians; Christianity was outlawed by the Soviets when they took over Ukraine in 1918. Some churches have been rebuilt as exact replicas of the originals. The churches are stunning, especially the insides, bedecked with gold, icons, paintings and beautiful ceilings. Orthodox Christianity is the national religion. Galina estimates that 80% of people in Kiev are Christians.
I remark to Steve, the Methodist minister, that all the opulence and finery seen in the Orthodox churches here couldn't be more in contrast to the plain, down-to-earth Methodist chapels and churches. Steve and I have a really good discussion about his ministry in Ireland, and how my church in Bristol is involved with Messy Church.
It's still teeming down with rain. We are shown some interesting outdoor modern art, mainly unusual sculpture; also a picture by Banksy on the side of a building, depicting the Ukrainian woman prime minister Yulia Tymoshenko who's been imprisoned by the president of Ukraine as his way of getting rid of the opposition party. The Ukrainians believe that the charges against Yulia are "trumped up". We explain to Galina the significance of the world famous Banksy to Bristolians, as he heralds from our home town.
Towards the end of the tour there's a children's (and I guess adults) play area sculpted in concrete, telling the story of Alice in Wonderland. The sculpture includes a lovely slide which a couple of our party persuade Reg to go down. It's still raining hard, and at the bottom of the slide, unseen by Reg, and the rest of us actually, is an exceptionally deep puddle. Reg lands squarely in the puddle, bottom first, with a big splash. Men will be boys, and as Reg's trousers are already sodden, the wet behind doesn't make much difference.
Reg and I arrange a tour around the Kiev underground monastery for tomorrow, with Galina as our guide.
We find a really good, cheap, self service place for lunch, where we can try a great variety of Ukrainian food. We are so impressed, we return there for our evening meal.
We finish off the day by buying a bottle of shower gel in a local supermarket. The assistant refuses to take our Ukrainian 10 hryvnias note and starts to smile. I'd mistakenly left a Polish 10 zloty note in my purse and am trying to give her that. It takes the assistant, with the help of a male colleague, a few minutes to make us understand our mistake.
What are we like? Such is life with the Parkers.
I remark to Steve, the Methodist minister, that all the opulence and finery seen in the Orthodox churches here couldn't be more in contrast to the plain, down-to-earth Methodist chapels and churches. Steve and I have a really good discussion about his ministry in Ireland, and how my church in Bristol is involved with Messy Church.
It's still teeming down with rain. We are shown some interesting outdoor modern art, mainly unusual sculpture; also a picture by Banksy on the side of a building, depicting the Ukrainian woman prime minister Yulia Tymoshenko who's been imprisoned by the president of Ukraine as his way of getting rid of the opposition party. The Ukrainians believe that the charges against Yulia are "trumped up". We explain to Galina the significance of the world famous Banksy to Bristolians, as he heralds from our home town.
Towards the end of the tour there's a children's (and I guess adults) play area sculpted in concrete, telling the story of Alice in Wonderland. The sculpture includes a lovely slide which a couple of our party persuade Reg to go down. It's still raining hard, and at the bottom of the slide, unseen by Reg, and the rest of us actually, is an exceptionally deep puddle. Reg lands squarely in the puddle, bottom first, with a big splash. Men will be boys, and as Reg's trousers are already sodden, the wet behind doesn't make much difference.
Reg and I arrange a tour around the Kiev underground monastery for tomorrow, with Galina as our guide.
We find a really good, cheap, self service place for lunch, where we can try a great variety of Ukrainian food. We are so impressed, we return there for our evening meal.
We finish off the day by buying a bottle of shower gel in a local supermarket. The assistant refuses to take our Ukrainian 10 hryvnias note and starts to smile. I'd mistakenly left a Polish 10 zloty note in my purse and am trying to give her that. It takes the assistant, with the help of a male colleague, a few minutes to make us understand our mistake.
What are we like? Such is life with the Parkers.
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