Kiev

Day 6 – I Was Born under a Wanderin' Star

***

The moment of truth. Trial by fire. Work is a cruel bastard and robbed me of my guide, so I’m left to face the city on my own. Aim: to see as much of what I have already seen once again. Equipment: city map (maybe the only specimen available in Prague – when I dared to inquire about a Kiev guidebook, my question met with vacant stares, shaking of heads and an offer to take Baghdad guidebook instead) and the determination to survive. I head to the nearest metro station, following the route I’ve walked so many times in the dark of night but never in daylight. Merciless sunrays rob it of much of its charm – a common peaceful city street.

More fingers-pointing and hands-waving to save myself from starvation. I still feel like an idiot whenever approaching a shop assistant, but I’m not inclined to die from hunger. Though today, I’m more likely to die the slow death of a poor wretch being baked alive. If it was hot yesterday, what would this kind of weather be called? Hellish flames? Microwave oven?

The map folded in my backpack, I hit the streets, no plans in my mind, just the joy of wandering freely wherever my legs carry me. Going here and there, up and down, following familiar routes, taking less-familar short-cuts. Barely stopping to buy and thirstily gulp new and new bottles of cola. Looking into the map to plan my way? Bah, that’s below my dignity. Who says that women have a bad sense of direction? I generally know which way to go, so I head there and hope for the best. And sometimes I even get where I want to. Watching the whirl of streetlife, creeping along with my camera, taking sneak pics. Street vendors. Street people. Charming chaos, splendid swirl. The hearbeat of the city at its best.

As the sun sinks lower in the sky (but burns with undiminished strength), I reluctantly bid farewell to the city centre and go to pursue my last task – to check the stop where I shall board the airport bus tomorrow. Waste of time, my inner voice protests, the bus stop is right next to the metro stop, finding it will be a piece of cake. So why bother with checking it beforehands? But it’s better to be safe than sorry. I get off the metro and mingle into the swarm of crowds around the central railway station. I confidently head towards the main street... but there is no main street in sight. Confused, I look around and spot a bus station. Dozens of platforms, dozens of buses (and those privately-looking cars again, the drivers prowling around, looking for their prey). The place wasn’t that busy, was it? But it was late in the evening when I was here last Thursday, first setting my feet on the Kiev ground. I wander around, checking the signs at the bus stops, the signs in the windows of the buses. No mention of the Boryspil Airport. How about asking somebody? In English? In Czech? I’m not in the mood for an elaborate pantomime. Finally a bright idea enters my mind. I’m at the main railway station, yeah? There must be an information desk somewhere. Proud of my sparkling deduction, I waltz into the hall and look around over the heads of people, trying to spot the saving „Information“ sign. Nothing. I turn like a weathercock, screwing up my eyes. Finally! Deep in a corner, a glass window cowers – with the sign only in cyrillic alphabet. Well, why not try. Miracles happen. I approach the window to see a small room behind it, brightly-lit... and totally empty. Abandon all hope... Looks like I’ll have to crawl to my host and meekly admit my incompetence. When I’m about to shamefully return to the underground world of metro, another underground passage catches my eye. It obvioulsly leads to train platforms but... From somewhere deep in my mind a memory springs up, a memory of a walk through an underground passage with my bag in my hand and my eyes eagerly taking in the impressions of an unknown city. I dive inside, and when I emerge into the bright sunlight on the other end, suddenly everything is there. Main street, single bus stop. And a kind driver who presents me with a copy of the timetable when he spots my effort to scribble the departure times on the back of a used trolleybus ticket. The very first timetable I see in this part of the world.

Day 7 – Sayonara

***

OK, it’s time for sayonara... Returning the key to the reception, I’m awarded with a warm smile and an invitation to come again. At the end of our partly-Russian, partly-Czech and completely cordial chat, the receptionist even writes me their phone number on a piece of paper – maybe I’ve mananged to help them get rid of their suspicion towards foreign guests? I set out on a walk to metro, following the same route as on the very first evening, along the busy avenue, passing the tank. Everything goes smoothly, maybe too smoothly. Waiting in the crowded main hall of the airport. Taking a seat near the gates, waiting for boarding. The only establishment selling refreshments in the area is proudly titled Irish Bar. It doesn’t look very Irish except for the obligatory pic of a harp but what could be a better proof of the deeply-rooted Irishness of this place? An English-speaking couple sitting next to me are all worried about their flight, which had the boarding time almost half an hour ago and still nothing happens. To divert themselves, they strike up a talk, inquiring if Kiev is a common place for Czechs to go on their holidays. Hardly, my friends, even far-away Thailand is a more frequent destination. Then I depart to enter my aircraft (good old Boeing / Belfast again), leaving them to their little worries of life. The captain isn’t one to say much, so I don’t even know when he fly out of the Ukrainian airspace, making a definite full-stop after my trip. What remains? Handful of trolleybus tickets, couple metro tokens (one blueish and one greenish to make a compromise) and a Mount Everest of memories. I’d like to think of me returning when I can...

THE END

Appendices:

Delirious Overview
Pearls Of Wisdom
Artifacts

Days 0 & 1

Days 2 & 3

Days 4 & 5

Days 6 & 7