Kiev, Redux.

Almost two years ago I visited Kiev.  It was a whirlwind trip lasting less than 48 hours in between Minsk and St. Petersburg.  I saw as much of the city as was possible walking from sun up to sundown, and then I was gone.  It was only enough time for an impression, a feeling of the city.  It wasn't enough to form an opinion.  So when I decided to take a post-America, pre-school jaunt through Ukraine with the ultimate goal of visiting a friend in Odessa, I knew that I wanted to go back to Kiev and make up for all I didn't see and relive all that I did.  

Maidan Nezalezhnosti: Christmas style.

Babi Yar.

Going back to Kiev took me back not only to a physical place but also to a state of mind and self from which I had moved away without really realizing it.  As I walked the street to my hostel where 2 years earlier I had wandered for almost an hour at midnight dragging bags so heavy that my arms were shaking in search of an unmarked dvor (alleyway) that would lead me to my bed, I realized how much stronger and independent of a person and traveler I have become because of such instances that forced me to the end of my rope.  As I stepped out on the street the first day and breathed in my first breath of 9 degree, snowy air, I was reminded of the days after days after days that I stepped out of my apartment in St. Petersburg into the bitter cold that took my breath away so I could go to Smolny, the place where I realized that I’m in this Russian thing for the long-haul.  As I walked along the Dnieper, I remembered sitting on a riverboat in the summer sun contemplating my life after seven months spent living abroad and wondering how I would go back from an experience so impactful to my world.  More than anything I realized that even though life is moving me forward, it is also spinning me in circles and taking me back to people and places and feelings that were in the past and bringing them into my present.

Free Yuliya.

Pechersk Lavra.

Kiev was as beautiful in the snow as it was in the summer sun.  It was striking to have experienced the city at both extremes of the climate spectrum.  This trip to Kiev was far from a whirlwind.  I had five days of exploring museums, wandering the catacombs of the cave monastery, hanging in Bulgakov's childhood home, catching up with a CLS friend, and sitting/reading/writing in my fave Kofe Haus.  I was able to soak in the city and the people and the atmosphere and the language.  In short, Kiev was the perfect start to my Ukrainian adventure. 

Sakartvelo followed me to Kiev...KHACHAPURI ACHMA:) 

Lizyonok: Then and Now.