Kandids in Kiev

 A statue for Babushka women

 What do the drivers do when the tourists are in the museums? Vladimir was great! He was our driver here in Kiev.

 Bible study at one of the three remaining shuls in Kiev.

Authentic Soviet jackets for sale in the market.

 The view from St. Sophia.

 An important church in Kiev.

 Ukrainian design - the cupolas resemble a woman's skirt.

 Closeup of a gorgeous piece of art in St. Sophia. Each of these elements is a hand painted egg. See below for a larger view.

 No Starbucks in Kiev, but we found the bagel joint next to the temple.

 View looking into the temple. During the Soviet time, all temples were closed and churches destroyed. This temple became the stage for the Muppet Theatre. In 1991, post Soviet, the temple reopened.

 Larger view of the art piece made of eggs.

 I've gained 3 kilos. The culprit? Too many blinis! This one was poppyseed and honey. |OMG!!!!

Gaudi in Kiev

The streets are steamy hot;
Anna tells us we can escape through a courtyard,
and walk parallel to the main boulevard. I think we are finding refuge, but what we really find is...
A delightful park!

 Reminded me of Gaudi parks in Barcelona

The prince and the little prince.

 Part of the fountain includes a small male dog...he is peeing!

Babi Yar

One of the biggest discoveries on this trip has been my appalling lack of knowledge about history.  Thankfully I read Catherine the Great as part of my homework prior to heading to Russia ~we also invested in a Great Courses lecture series titled Russia: From Peter the Great to Gorbachov.  We made it through many of the lectures delivered in monotone by a terribly bright but boring U of I professor. If not for those lessons, my appreciation of what we've seen would have been purely cosmetic...a wow factor based on the fact that the architecture and art was created before any modern technology.  I share this embarrassing confession as a preface to this post about Babi Yar.

I studied Babi Yar in various religious school classes taught by enthusiastic Jewish educators to less than receptive grade schoolers who would have much rather slept late and watched cartoons than be carpooled off to Sunday school. Four decades later, I dredge up a scant recollection that Babi Yar is a place where Jews were killed in a forest in a mass grave.  I don't recall the time period as this refrain is common in Jewish history - persecuted and hated, the Jews are murdered. For some reason, my memory bank has this episode happening centuries ago. This is relevant because part of the horror comes from the recognition that the killers were not pagans or Middle-Aged crusaders. They were young German soldiers. Soldiers who marched Jews from their homes in Kiev to a large forest. Stripped them naked. Lined them up and shot them in warm blood. The lines were for efficiency so one bullet could be used to kill several people. The often wounded, but not yet dead, mothers, grandmothers and toddlers toppled into a large ravine. When researching Babi Yar after we returned, there are several black and white photographs of this ravine taken from German airplanes, presumably scouting for a location - which makes it ever more chilling and horrific.

33,000 people were murdered in this fashion over a two-day period, making it the largest single massacre in World War II.  The Germans continued to use this site for subsequent killings throughout their 104 week siege of Kiev.

Today, Babi Yar is a large grassy park. It is visited by young mothers with strollers. There is a single menorah - one of the smallest monuments we have seen in all of our travels - to recognize the place in terms of visitors wanting to honor the Jewish victims.  The Soviet memorial is 20X the size of the Jewish one.  Soviet soldiers were forced to dig up the corpses of the dead Jews, gypsies and the mentally ill and burn them.  The Nazis tortured many souls.

While we are in the park, we see a group of 30 or so Reform rabbis from around the world who are currently in Kiev. They are seated in a circle under the shade. There is a security guard and an ambulance - both there as first responders in the event there is a threat to this group. I am both impressed and saddened by the need for this precaution. (There is not a lot of anti-Semitism in Kiev these days, but there are always crazies out there, notes our guide, Anna)

 Lilies and carnations on the steps of the menorah.

 The place where Jews were shot. 

 The meeting of Reform rabbis. Security guard behind the speaker.

 Stones on the steps of the menorah.

 A plaque donated by the Jewish Community of San Francisco to donate to help restore some of the few remaining gravesites. The Soviets destroyed all Jewish cemeteries.

 A few flowers by the ravine.

 A sculpture in the park depicting the children who were murdered. Look closely under her neck and you will see 2 bullet holes.

 The Soviet memorial to its own soldiers.

 Looking down the ravine.

  The Nazis took Ukrainian children to work in their factories. This memorial commemorates those children. Most were returned under Soviet rule only to be sent to the gulags.

 This is the only memorial to Jewish victims of Babi Yar.

 Yahrzeit candle by the menorah.

 And now children play in this park...

 How can angels frolic on the same place the beasts roamed?

Just because I love this picture!

A little girl we met in Moscow or more accurately, she collided with me and wanted to play. I actually remembered how to.....play.

 

The Art of the People

This morning I go to the Russian Museum.
Apparently this is not a common stop in St. Petersburg - either for Russians or foreigners.
Unlike every other place we've been, there are no queues to get in. It is Sunday morning and drizzling. ''Is everybody in Church?'" I ask Julia. No, no one goes to church, she says. I find this remarkable given that we have spent 8 days visiting churches. In any event, it is a welcome relief not to be pushing through hoardes of impatient, sweaty tourists led by guides  jabbing the air with small umbrellas or Viking Cruise Lines paddles as everyone elbows their way into one after the other 'must see' destination.

The Russian Museum is about as much as a 'must see' as I can imagine. After all, I can see Monet in the Art Institute.   After a visit to a smaller museum in Moscow and getting a taste of Russian art, I am now eager to see more Serov, Shishkin, Konstanin and a few others whose names I can neither spell nor pronounce.

The museum is the former residence of Grand Duke Michael, the brother of one of the Nicholas Csars. It is GARGANTUAN.  (Í've clearly run out of adjectives to describe the size, beauty and opulence of these places).  Gallery after gallery of stunning pieces.  We are about to head back to the hotel and Julia says...do you want to see the art of the people?  I'm thinking she means Soviet people? What people? I've learned it is wise to say yes to whatever suggestion the guide makes - the best stuff is not on our printed itinerary. Yes, I do. We scurry up another flight of stairs around two corridors and past three guards to the Árt of the People.

What you see here is the work of unschooled, simple peasants and villagers.  Craftsmen and women who learned at the knees of their grandparents how to sew, chisel, sculpt, knit, bead, embroider and paint.  The collection reflects the stories and traditions of people who observe custom and ritual; who recognize fellow kinsman by the color of  thread and design of an emblem.  As Julia said, I admire this art more than the great painters. These people were not educated. They didn't go to school to learn how to paint.  Amen.

Forgive the photographic quality of these next pictures...I couldn't figure out how to turn off the camera flash so had to rely on my iPhone. Steve Jobs is good, but no match for the Nikon.

All of these items were created in the 1700 and 1800s.

 

 Sidesways view of horse carving

  

Snapshots

Buffets  intimidate me. There is  just so much food and so many delicacies and if you eat too much, you get a stomach ache. That's the experience right now trying to summarize the last three days here.  It has been rich, bountiful, and humbling. From the grounds of Peterhof where Peter the Great designed several ''trick' fountains to the tour of the Russian museum where it was like a ghost town (foreigners don't come here - they don't want to see Russian artists, says Julia) where I saw treasure after treasure to another day extending well beyond midnight as we meander back to our hotel from the best dinner we've had yet in Russia after the ballet - we are stuffing ourselves with the sights, tours, exhibits and even the car time is spent noting one after the other monument, palace or bridge where someone was conquered or victorious. In a single day, we stand at the banks of the Gulf of  Finland from the rooms Peter the Great occupied and hours later, in the very salon where Rasputin was murdered. (The Rasputin exhibit includes a wax dummy, but authentic papers from his autopsy as well as black and white photos of his corpse.) I have vertigo from so much history raveling and unraveling each day.

Russia has inspired longings to write poetry, paint with oils and season with dill.  I have also learned to drink Vodka neat, mumble Thank You, Please, You're Welcome, Excuse Me and Goodbye quite adequately in Russian, and manage rather with one carry on bag. I am thankful I brought my unattractive, but comfortable gym shoes and left the fashionable high heels in the closet. I have also discovered a bathtub is a decent washing machine if one supplies concentrated liquid detergent and some sweat equity.

Today we flew from St. Petersburg to Kiev. Reflecting on the last 8 days in  Russia, I am struck by the richness of this culture.  I feel a deep connection to my own heritage and imagine/fantasize there may be some distant link between the Zimberoffs and the Romanovs.  I can never imagine these people as a threat to us.  Which was my mindset coming over here.  Russians are sturdy, straight forward, passionate, nuanced, resourceful and very clever. They don't have much of a sense of humor, but certainly appreciate irony. There is much to respect and admire and I have done my share of both over the past week.



Hopefully our pictures will do better justice to our experiences than my words did.

 Peterhof - view from the palace to the Gulf of Finland.

 Peter the Great had dozens of fountains on his estate. The gardens are glorious.

 Lead ballerina in Swan Lake. As it turns out, seeing this performance was on my bucket list. Grandfatheréd in!

 Another bride. Finding brides and grooms has become an objective of my wanderings around each city. She was the best.

 View from Peter's ''smaller'' palace. He was very strategic and placed his palace on the banks of the Gulf of Finland so he had a great view of approaching enemy ships.

 One of his surprise fountains. You step on cobblestones and get sprayed. All of these fountains operate solely based on gravity. Absolutely no electricity. Sheer engineering and design genius.

This is the real swan lake. It is in the Summer Garden. 

 Birdhouse in Peterhof.

 Statue of Adam. Sorry boys, your parents are corny!

 Photo of Rasputin after he was murdered.

 One of the fountains operating purely through gravity.

 The children here are absolutely gorgeous.

 Another bride and groom.

 Brent didn't have to die to go to heaven when we pulled up to the Russian Vodka Room #1 Restaurant, which also houses the Vodka Museum.

 Peterhof - this is where the royals lived.

 Vodka Museum - one of the only places Brent didn't sit out much of the tour. He sipped his way through it.

 They called St. Petersburg the Amsterdam of Russia. Yep.

 Inside of the private theatre in the home of the duke who killed Rasputin.

 Brent got soaked by one of the trick fountains.

 Our guide Julia.

 The art gallery at Peterhof.

We took a canal ride on Friday night. This was at 10:45 p.m. All naural light. I am obsessed with the White Nights. One of the best parts of this trip thus far has been the fact that we stay up past midnight and we're not watching TV or working on the computer.

 Party boat on the canal during our river trip.

 View from the river at 11 p.m.

 Workers outside. Almost midnight!

 Sky at midnight.