A Love-Hate Relationship with Kyiv's Marshrutkas

I love almost everything about Ukraine--but I'm not so sure how I feel about the Marshrutkas.

During my teaching trips to Ukraine I commuted to and from seven law schools in Kyiv, mostly by Metro, but occasionally by Marshrutka, or private bus. One of the schools, the National Aviation University, was some distance from the nearest Metro station, and so this required a long trip by Marschrutka. These were an adventure! Packed to the gunwhales with dour commuters, the traveler must pass the fare--two and a half hryven--from passenger to passenger up to the driver, who is the ultimate multitasker. He will be negotiating traffic, talking on two or three different cell phones, answering questions from passengers and all the while changing money arrayed in little cardboard boxes or envelopes on the console next to the driver's seat. It is absolutely insane. Also insane is the degree to which these buses will become packed with standing commuters--last week Tetiana and I rode a bus which had an advertised capacity of about 45 passengers--we counted something like 80! It is confusing to say the least, especially since the windows are usually caked with grime or fogged and iced over.

Yesterday I rode my last Marshrutka for this trip, and I didn't shed any tears of regret as I got off of that bus.

Thoughts on the Metro

Early in the week I did not ride the Metro, as I was commuting to and from Kharkiv. Now that I have ridden it several times, I renew my sentiment that the Metro is my favorite mode of transportation. It is a mammoth system which must have required enormous allocation of resources to build. It also serves a vast segment of the population--hundreds of thousands of people ride every day.

I have always been fascinated by the demeanor of the people riding the Kyiv Metro. There is mostly silence as the throngs descend into the cathedral-like underground structures of the Metro, and as they ride. As you descend on the long escalators, you can see the faces of thousands of people pass by you coming up. It is almost as if you can read the history of the people in the eyes of old women, workers, the young and fashionable, the handful of small children. I find the Ukrainian people generally very open, friendly, happy and even joyous--but not on the Metro. Perhaps it is memories of darker years which the Metro may symbolize. Perhaps it is an odd feeling of solitude and detachment one feels in the midst of a sea of strangers. Whatever the source, riding the Metro is a unique experience.

Teaching in Kyiv

Today I had my first class sessions at the law schools at Taras Shevchenko University and the National Aviation University.

It was my first time at Taras Shevchenko, which is one of the premier institutions of higher learning in the country. The campus is very close to the historic center of Kyiv, across the street from Taras Shevchenko Park and near the Universityet Metro station. The law school is located in the main "Red Building" facing the park. It is one of the finest schools I have ever scene, with beautiful classrooms, galleries and lecture halls facing the street or an inner cloister. My teaching assistant, Tetiana Rogozianska has told me much about the University, as it is where her parents met when they were both law students. We lectured in a grand lecture hall located on an arched hallway containing the portraits of University rectors and deans dating back to the 1830's. One of our students told us that this hall was reserved for "the big guys"--special guest lecturers who come to campus--I guess I have now made it as one of "the big guys."

After lecturing, Tetiana and I ate in the students' cantina, located in a grand oval chamber with a richly painted vaulted ceiling. The frescoes depict the muses of learning. The food was excellent and Tetiana and I had a nice chat over the meal.

Later, on our way to catch the Marshrutka to the National Aviation University, Tetiana took me into the amazing Volodymyrska Cathedral for a few minutes (that is the one with the striking gold stars on the blue domes).

I'll write about the Marshrutka journey in a later post--but it was (as two years ago) quite an experience.

The class at National Aviation University was small but attentive and sharp. One of the students, Irina, was with me two years ago in the same class (held, incidentally in the same lecture room).

Back from Kharkiv to Kyiv

Today I taught a lecture on direct examination to the two Kharkiv classes. The last class ended at about 4:00, and Tetiana and I then dashed to the train station and boarded for the return trip to Kyiv. Below see an outside shot of the amazing palace-like train station in Kharkiv. For the benefit of my grandson, who loves trains, I also include a picture of the train we rode back to Kyiv tonight.

Unlike Monday, today's ride was mostly in the dark. I met another memorable personality on the train--a big, voluble and gregarious man named Slava, We chatted about Ukraine, Russia, America, Salt Lake City, Utah, etc. while he proceeded to lay out his dinner on the little drop down table before him. Oh my--a loaf of bread, a liter or two of apple juice, another liter or two of some alcoholic beverage, an entire can of olives, and two huge containers of ham--these were topped off by sunflower seeds, more drinks, and a couple of rounds of tea delivered by the uniformed functionaries in clear glass cups held by intricately wrought silver drink holders. I think it took him two and a half hours to finish eating.

I later fell asleep during the return trip, and awoke just before we reached Kyiv at about 10:15 p.m. Tomorrow we teach at the Taras Shevchenko University and the National Aviation University.

The Birches Seemed Dream-like

After about three hours of sleep I met Tetiana Rogozianska at 6:00 a.m. for a wild taxi ride to the main Cathedral-like Kyiv train station, and then a six hour train ride to the eastern city of Kharkiv. We found seats in one of the cars, which soon filled up with a variety of travelers--old and young. We spent the first hour or so of the journey talking about the teaching assignment. I then had much opportunity to watch the fascinating countryside slipping by outside the window. Only an hour out of Kyiv the landscape was amazingly open and sweeping, with snow covered fields surrounded by thick stands of trees. There were many small villages, most with very old brick railway stations, a few fence lined streets and old houses with freshly painted yellow, green or blue doors and woodwork. I saw an old couple pulling a small sled on a rope through the trees lining the railroad tracks, a couple of old horse carts and many uniformed militia guards at sleepy railroad crossings.

I gazed for hours at the endlessly fascinating landscape passing through the window, every coop, shed and dacha has fine paintwork and trim. Most beautiful were the trees, thick stands of maple and beech, their branches filled with migrating birds. It was a misty, cold and icy day, and truly "the birches seemed dream-like on account of that frosting."

Adventures in France

I left Salt Lake City on Saturday at 4:45 p.m. on Air France, and had one of the great travel adventures of my life. The plane was completely booked. There was not a single free seat on the plane. In fact, our takeoff was delayed for about a half an hour while the captain plead for four passengers to come forward and volunteer to leave the flight and take another one Sunday and a $600 Delta credit. Presently four older gentlemen left, and we were underway. I found that my seat was in the center of the center aisle the second row from the back, near the galley. I was surrounded by what appeared to me to be a Danish or Norwegian ski team—they were speaking some Germanic language (but not German or Dutch) in any event. I had previously set my watch by Kyiv time, and tried to sleep shortly after dinner. I succeeded in getting three or four good hours of sleep. I essentially hunkered down in the midst of my Norse sports team and slept.

All went well as we proceeded across the Atlantic, over Greenland, Iceland, Ireland and England and we had made up all the time we had lost in Salt Lake City on the ground. However, as we crossed the English Channel and flew towards Paris, heavy winds picked up and the pilot instructed the flight attendantds to buckle up. We then went through the wildest flight I have ever experienced. The plane was thrown around like a rag doll, up and down, side to side. The thing creaked and banged, and everyone held their collective breath. I was actually starting to feel a little quesy, and I noticed a similar reaction from other passengers. It got progressively worse, and as we descended the last hundred feet toward the runway, we were being thrown around so violently that I feared a crash. The pilot put the plane down, and the passengers burst into spontaneous applause.

That was just the beginning of the adventures. Next, we taxied to the terminal, but the pilot soon announced that due to winds of 75 to 100 miles per hour, the airport had instructed that it would be unsafe to connect the gangway to the plane. So we sat just outside the terminal for about an hour and a half, the plane shaking violently in the wind. Meanwhile I was alarmed as the time to board my connecting flight to Kyiv came and went. Finally, about five minutes after the scheduled takeoff of my Air France flight to Kyiv, we were given the go ahead to leave the plane. I ran down a long hallway of moving conveyers to the nearest information board, which must have been a quarter of a mile away. There I noticed that the Air France flight to Kyiv was also delayed for a few minutes due to bad weather. I found out the gate and terminal numbers and followed an endless stream of signs. Presently the signes brought me up several levels to a high speed tram station! I boarded the tram and then exited at yet another maze of walkways leading to my departure gate. And there I waited as the departure was pushed back again and again. Finally, about two hours after the original departure time, we were allowed to pass through the boarding station—

But the adventure isn’t over—instead of walking directly out to a plane, we were shown a staircase, which went directly down onto the tarmac, where we were placed in a waiting bus (with no seats). It was freezing, with high winds and blowing snow, and the doors were kept open at least twenty minutes while all of the Kyiv-bound passengers boarded. Then, we drove around the mammoth airport for about twenty minutes—and parked, with the engine running for another ten or twenty minutes. Finally, they opened the bus doors and we were ushered to a little cement tower with about six flights of stairs, which we climbed, luggage and all, and were then ushered into a plane! It was bizarre! But, I am now safely seated in my Air France flight to Kyiv. I hope the rest of the journey is completed without incident.

November Itinerary

I just booked my flights to eastern Europe and the Middle East for this November. I will be traveling to Kyiv by way of Detroit and Amsterdam on Saturday and Sunday, November 7th and 8th. On Monday November 23rd I will travel from Kyiv to Tel Aviv, Israel by way of Prague, arriving early in the morning on the 24th. I will then spend five days or so in Jerusalem, and fly home from Tel Aviv by way of New York City on Sunday the 29th of November.

My itinerary allows for me to have about three days of unscheduled time in Kyiv at the end of my teaching responsibilities, which will enable me to explore some of the sights I missed during my 2007 trip. For example, I want to spend more time in Pecherska Lavra.

One of the big adventures for me will be finding my way from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, and then to Hebrew University (which is technically on the east or Palestinian side of the 1949 Armistice Agreement Line), especially since my flight arrives in Tel Aviv from Prague at something like 4:00 in the morning! My nephew (and Jerusalem resident expert) will no doubt give me pearls of wisdom about how to get to his house, but from what I can read online, the best solution is to take a Sherut (or shared taxi van) from the airport right into Jerusalem. More about this later.

Journey Home: New York to Salt Lake City

The final leg of my journey took me on a nighttime Delta flight to Salt Lake City from JFK airport. I found myself sitting next to Elder Shtrbachka, a young man from Novisad, Serbia who is one of the first full-time LDS missionaries from that Balkan country. He will serve for the next two years in the Utah Salt Lake City North Mission. A member of the LDS Church for only nineteen months, I was impressed with his intelligence, good humor and courage.

After eating dinner on the plane, I was able to sleep for about four hours before landing in Salt Lake City just before midnight. Thus ends my journey of more than ten thousand miles.

Journey Home: Kyiv to New York

The flight from Kyiv to New York lasted about eleven hours, passing through the airspace of Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, Lithuania, Sweden, Norway, England, Ireland and Canada. On the trip I had a delightful visit with Mariana, a twenty-one year old Ukrainian woman from Lviv who was traveling to Northern Virginia where she will be working for a year in an internship. She represents the best and brightest that Ukraine has to offer--a smart, courageous and humane Ukrainian young person with endless possibilities. She spoke of the difficulties someone in her circumstances has in trying to find a foothold in her native land.

After a grueling flight, I arrived at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York, where I went through passport control, customs, and then had to recheck my luggage and go back through security screening before waiting more than four hours for my connecting flight to Salt Lake City.

Journey Home: The Apartment to Borispol Airport

I arose early this morning to complete my packing, close out the apartment and prepare for the trip home. Olga Kupriyevych arrived a few minutes after eight to tell me goodbye. The apartment manager, Evgeniy, arrived at 8:30 and I was off to the Borispol Airport. It was a cold, foggy morning in Kyiv with the trees appearing like ghosts on the side of the motorway. I had a nice talk with Evgeniy of the drive. He is age twenty-six, married, with two children. He has abandoned a career as a teacher to pursue the real estate business, as he found that he was unable to adequately support his family with teaching.

At the airport I checked in at the Delta counter, went through passport control and customs, and sat down for a long wait of about two hours in the terminal. An hour before takeoff, the passengers on my flight to New York were lead as a group through screening, and I finally boarded the Delta 737 at about noon. This time, the plane was able to come directly to the gate, and I did not have to be transported by bus between the terminal and the plane on the tarmac. We took off at 12:30 and I left Ukrainian soil behind in the fog.

A Final Walk Through Kyiv

Though it is a cold and overcast day, I left the apartment at mid day (after packing) and took a final ride on the Metro and a walk through the streets of Kyiv. I rode the Funicular, saw St. Michael's, walked past St. Sophia's, visited St. Andrew's, browsed on the Andriysky Spusk, and ended up in my gazebo on the promontory overlooking the Dnipro. From there I said my goodbyes to this great and ancient City, and took my leave.

The Funicular in Action

Its Fun, Funny, even Funky. The Funicular is a unique nineteenth century trolley system that runs from the Poshtovo Ploscha Metro Station (which is almost at elevation of the Dnipro River) up the steep wooded hillside to the top of the Volodymyrska Hill Park. It is one of my favorite attractions in Kyiv, as it evokes the period of late Tsarist Rule of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. There are two cars, each suspended from a huge steel cable, like counterweights on a grandfather's clock. Thus when one car ascends from the riverside station, the companion car at the top of the hill begins a smooth descent. The cars are both custom constructed at a nunique angle so that the passengers in each of the compartments are always sitting or standing upright. The ride is very smooth and very quiet, hardly disturbing the birds sitting on the boughs of the surrounding trees. In fact, one has this surreal sense of detachment, leaving the crowded Metro and the busy Kyiv sreet and then boarding the Funicular as if entering a separate peaceful world. So far I have ridden the Funicular six times, as it is a very convenient way for me to get either to the Volodymrska Hill Park, to the Monument to Prince Volodymyr the Great (the "Baptizer"), to St. Michael's of the Golden Domes, or to the Andriysky Spusk.

Thoughts About Packing

I imagined that packing to go home would be a breeze, since I had brought an entire suitcase full of gifts for the law students. This suitcase is now entirely empty. However, last night and today I began to think of all of the things I intend to take home, including many gifts for my family. I decided to make an attempt to put everything in this suitcase. I gathered together everything and began filling the suitcase, finding to my delight that everything fit in, albeit somewhat tightly. Then I realized that I had not even put a single book in the suitcase.

Now I am exploring other options, such as loading two computer keyboards in my carry-on hanger bag, holding my largest book in my hands (a one volume set of Tolkien in Russian), and fitting a few books in my briefcase.

Fortunately, the most valuable possessions I take home--my friendships, my memories and the written descriptions of my trip--do not occupy any space in my luggage. All of my luggage could be lost enroute home, and I would still retain forever the most precious gifts from Ukraine, to treasure and cherish forever.

Olga Prepares to Battle the Thought Police

Yesterday, Olga was very indignant when she heard that the Metro officer had ordered me not to take photographs of the statues of the artists, writers, musicians and scientists featured in the Universityet Metro Station. When she met me this morning in the station she immediately suggested that I finish taking pictures of all of the statues. I said that it was okay, and I didn't mind, but she insisted, and then said, "If you are challenged again by the officer, I will ask him by what right he would deny you the privilege of taking photographs!" So I proceeded to take the remaining pictures, albeit with a wary glance over my shoulder should my Antagonist confront me again today. But my Protector, Olga, appeared ready to go to battle for me, and despite her diminuitive stature, she is a real fighter.

I finished my pictures, just as the Antagonist appeared in the archway. I was able to quickly take his picture to complete my set before he spotted me. The series is suitable for framing.

"Keep Your Hands and Arms Inside the Vehicle At All Times"

It is difficult to describe the speed with which the Metro cars arrive in their various stations, and the speed with which they depart. Yesterday I barely got on the car when the tail of my overcoat was caught in the door. Two days ago I saw an old woman fall in the doorway and she was only rescued by three men just before the doors closed. Olga tells me that the Metro can be a dangerous place for children, and that is very nerve-wracking escorting a child by the hand into this underground world. This video was taken this morning at the Universityet Metro Station. Note that this is not rush hour, and so the number of riders is unusually small. It is said that over one and a half million people ride Kyiv's Metro system each day.

(Incidentally, the English speaking voice you hear faintly in the background is the Protector, Olga, urging me to take more pictures of the statues in the Metro station so that the Antagonist will emerge from his lair to challenge me again.)

Travails of a Pedestrian

Kyiv should be the quintessential pedestrian's paradise, with a miraculous and awe-inspiring subway system which can move one and a half million passengers a day, with more city parks than any other major European City, and with such beautiful and inviting streets. But, as in other things, the forces of commercial interest are squeezing out the little guy. I have been amazed at the brazen gall of the drivers in this City. Crossing a street, even on a "walk" light and in a zebra stripe, can be a frightening experience. Drivers barely swerve around you if you are in the crosswalk. Few traffic controls are enforced, and the sidewalks appear to have become secondary highways for the fat Mercedes, BMW's and Lexus's so prevalent on the road. Tuesday night, for example, when we were stuck in absolute gridlock traffic returning home from the National Aviation University, we had to watch for cars behind us as we walked along the pedestrian path through the trees to the Metro Station.

As I walked through the City this morning, I noted also that most of the sidewalk space is occupied by cars parked overnight by their owners in front of their apartment buildings. And to reserve spots in the public right of way, people have begun to install steel framed locks which can be locked in an upright position to prevent other drivers from "stealing" your place on the sidewalk.

The Literature Police in the Universityet Metro Station

This morning as I was passing through the Universityet Metro station, I noticed for the first time the beautiful and ornate artwork of this station. Most of the Metro stations are like underground public cathedrals, built during the Soviet era as kind of monuments to the state. Each station has a different motif and style. The Universityet station, I now see, has a literary theme in keeping with its name and proximity to the Taras Schevchenko University and other schools in the district. I was fascinated by a series of a dozen or more large busts which flank the two walls of the central underground chamber, and so I got out my digital camera and started taking pictures. An officer in a blue uniform with an officious little cap came running up to me, shouting for me to stop taking pictures. He didn't explain what the great harm would be in taking pictures of the busts of Pushkin and Tolstoy and other Russian writers, and I didn't ask him. I suppose that the stifling totalitarian mindset of seventy years of communist tyranny are hard to shake off. I only wish I had been able to take a picture of the little minion who reprimanded me.

Passing By Grid Lock on a Snowy Evening

I had quite an adventure getting home from the National Aviation University this evening. This was due to a massive traffic jam that appeared to affect the entire city, from the center of the city outward for several miles, as far as the Polytechnichni Metro stop. We first became aware of problems when our bus stopped for several minutes near the large campus that gives its name to the Metro station. Finally, after several more minutes, Olga and I and a few other daring souls got off of our stranded and idling bus and walked through the snow to the wide pathways running through a stand of trees at the edge of the campus. We trotted along with a throng of other pedestrians under the snow covered trees, feeling a little like participants in Robert Frost's poem, "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening," trudging through the snow "between the woods and frozen lake" while repeating over and over the lines, "and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." There were also many cars who followed us up over the curb and shared the sidewalk with the pedestrians. After several hundred meters, we finally attained the Metro station, whose warm depths felt very comforting to the frustrated traveler. When I got home a few minutes later to the Lva Tolstovo Plaza, I heard a cacophony of vehicle horns out of my window, and looked out to the site pictured above. The gridlock continued for about two hours, until a solitary police officer showed up with white gloves and whistle and little by little cleared out the traffic.

Helping Hands on the Metro

There is an old Russian proverb, Старость--не радость (I guess one translation would be, "Old age is no fun"). I saw a touching demonstration of this today on the Metro in the Vokzalna Station. A very feeble woman, quite aged, was exiting the subway car with an armful of parcels, when she tripped and fell directly in the doorway. One of her parcels fell partway into the crack leading down to the tracks. Immediately three men, one middle aged and two teenagers or young men in their early twenties, sprang to her assistance, and without a word lifted her gently up and gathered up her parcels, leading her to a bench on the platform, where she sat weeping. One of the young men, with pierced ears and a red streaked Mohawk hair style, had reached quickly into the crack between the car and the platform to retrieve her last parcel. By this time the train was rushing out of the station, and the last I saw, this poor little soul was seated in tears on the bench.

There is an innate goodness in all people regardless of their nationalities, religions, political persuasions or (in this case) the color of their Mohawk. It is comforting to know that the spirit of peace, cooperation, compassion, friendship, good humor and Wisdom runs strong in every human heart.

Afterwards, I discussed this little incident with Olga, and she commented on how the Metro is really a place for healthy adults, and not for children, the elderly or the handicapped. She said that when children are brought on the Metro, that parents will scarcely dare to let go of their hands.

First Impressions of the Grand City on Foot

I have just returned from a three and a half hour foray into this great city. Here are some random first impressions:

It is bitterly cold this weekend. I slept very well during the night without any covers, due in large part to the high BTU output of the Soviet-Union-Era steam heating system in the building (complete with Soviet-Union-Era paint in many layers preventing one from turning off the unit or turning it down). Indeed, the apartment has been so cozy that from time to time I have opened a window to let in a little cool air. Thus, when I left the apartment this morning, I was unprepared for the bitter cold.

I walked first up to Taras Schevshenko Park. There were many people walking their amazingly well behaved little dogs on the east side of the park. On the south side, in a little walled off plaza are a multitude of stone benches and tables. Under a gazebo was a lone man with a chess board, I suppose waiting for his opponent for a chilly match. There were others in the park, including two or three women sitting on benches, and an old man in an ornate military uniform with braided cap, walking, absorbed deep in thought. In he center of the park is a soaring bronze statute of the writer, Taras Schevshenko.

Walking in the immediate neighborhood of the apartment, I was struck by the vibrant commercial and entreprenuerial spirit in this city. Everywhere people are doing business--in storefront shops, in basement restaurants and pubs, in kiosks on the street, on makeshift platforms at curbside, on the street itself or on the sidewalk. Everywhere people are selling, advertising, doing business. Flowers are for sale at the corner, vegetables under a green awning. And everwhere the advertisements are pervasive, emblazoned in streaming banners from tall buildings, neon lights atop steel frames, on temporary billboard signs, and in hand-scrawled or printed fliers. These are pasted on telephone poles in such thick layers, that the original metal or wood is long obscured, buried under the alluvium of commerce.

I next ventured for the first time into the underground world of Kyiv. My head is still swimming. There is an entire subterrean world in this city, and, at least in this weather, the underground city is more massive and vibrant, if possible, than the one at street level. At the corner of nearly every major intersection there is a staircase leading underground, and underneath the intersection is a kind of mall lined with little shops, or by people hawking things from tables or platforms. It is also warm and dry below ground, and the snaking and twisting corridors were full of people. At intersections boasting a Metro station, the below ground commercial world is more ornate, tony and upscale, as these passageways are also connected to the vast Metro or subway system of the city. Much more about the Metro in a later post.

After a few hours of exploration, I found the grocery store in Mandarin Plaza and returned home for a bite of lunch and a rest. More later.