Chicken Kyiv

On our last evening in Kamyanets, we based ourselves in the Hotel 7 Days lobby, lounging lackadaisically on a semi-circular leather divan like opportunistic picketers. We went back once again to the Old Town, only this time we took a marshrutka to avoid all the hassle. While walking around we met a Ukrainian Polish couple and a Russian family. And it dawned on me just how much Russian was spoken in the town. You know by the Russian replies to Ukrainian questions. I must say at this point my knowledge of both tongues is rudimentary, enough to distinguish between the Ukrainian words for thank you, please, yes and no from the Russian.

We were witnessing the demographic consequences, two centuries on and counting, of the Empress Catherine's drive to settle southern Ukraine in the late eighteenth century. Bessarabia, Crimea (to which our attention would turn shortly) and the steppes south of central Ukraine were acquired by the Russians at precisely this juncture in history, wrested from Ottomans suzerainty and ratified by the 1774 Treaty of Kuchuk Kainarji. This subsequent influx of Russian settlers occurred under the aegis of Prince Potemkin, Catherine's lover and an influential notable, to whom she delegated the responsibility of building up New Russia.

The 9 1/2 hours on the train between Kamyanets and Kyiv was bearable. We booked all four seats in the cabin so it became a makeshift first-class. Our conductor this time round was a cheerful middle-aged lady, and it made all the difference. Her maternal fuss was infinitely more endearing than the morose nonchalance of the last conductor we encountered, who spent most of his time trying hard to blend in in an adjourning testosterone-fueled chamber full of macho-poseurs half his age.

News that particular morning was particularly sobering. We learnt that three Metro stations in the centre of town were closed and that there was a tip-off about bombs being planted in two of them. (Turned out to be a hoax.) Meanwhile, according to the Kyiv Post, a government insider had confided that a decision had been reached to sanction the use of force to resolve the entire Euromaidan situation. On the Maidan, protestors were rebuilding and reinforcing their barricades. And so it turned out that on both our trips to Kyiv thus far, we didn't really venture into town.

Below: from our previous stop-over in Kyiv, pre-Lviv. From top to bottom, St Volodymyr's Cathedral, a patriotism-infused family outing and members of the Dynamo Kyiv squad with their latest signing.

When we did venture out anywhere, it was one in the afternoon and we didn't get further than the Metro station closest to our hotel. The Bakkara Art Hotel used to be a river cruise ship, and is now moored on the western shore of Venice Island in the middle of the Dnieper (Dnipro in Ukrainian). A room on the river-facing side of the hotel commands fine views of the Kyiv Lavra.

Also, it was snowing when we got out of the hotel. Not the paltry wisps of snow we encountered earlier on the trip, this particular bout came down in flurries. All before us was blanketed in white, Mary's veritable Winter Wonderland. It was bound to happen at some point on this trip. I just didn't expect it to be held back until almost halfway through our trip. But praise God, until this point we haven't been hindered by any of the early winter snowstorms reported for the past two or three years.

Below: Mary posing with our lissom snowman. We haven't named him. Maybe we can call him Victor, since it looks like he won't last till spring. Next, reliving our childhoods and our pre-wedding shoot.

It was quite enough for Mary, who was quivering with excitement. For once it wasn't the temperature. We wandered about the Hydropark, as our area was called. In summer people would come and lounge on the river beaches. In winter, the shops would hire out cross-country skis. We were in that no man's season between the two, and so had the entire place almost to ourselves.

Above: Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding.

This off-season silence would very much characterize the tenor of the following week.