Ukraine

NOTE TO READERS: This is Part 2 of my travel blog on Ukraine. Please read Part 1 first, beginning below this entry. The following entry contains graphic descriptions which may be disturbing to some readers. Please proceed with caution. Thank you.

One of the most fascinating guys I met in Kiev was Gabriel. Gabriel ran the E-commerce division of Reader's Digest before quitting his job to travel the world for a year. He has no idea what he will do at the end of this year, but he said the trip has been worth it and he is confident that another E-commerce job awaits. Gabriel told me that his solo travel was most difficult in Bangladesh, where he really stood out to the extremely curious people, and in West Africa, where the residents proved to be extremely aggressive towards him. He loved traveling solo India, Rajasthan, Morocco, and in the Kashmir region of northern India and Pakistan. Gabriel is going back to India in 2 weeks, and promised to keep in touch. Stay safe, and we will be looking forward to hearing your updates!

The email confirming my Chernobyl visit came right after I finished talking to Gabriel about it. The trip was on! The last thing the confirmation message specified was that we were to wear no shorts, tank tops, or open-toed shoes or sandals. Hummm. This got me to thinking. What exactly was I getting myself into? Should I wear my baseball cap and line it with aluminum foil? Beware what you wish for, because you might just get it, I told myself. OK. Deep breath. This was it. I was going to the sight of the most toxic nuclear disaster of all time. On purpose. Needless to say, sleep did not come easily that night.

Our group for the tour of Chernobyl boarded the minibus for the trip early the next morning. We had to submit our passport numbers several days beforehand for special Visas issued by the Ukrainian Government to visit the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, an area set up by governmental authorities after the disaster to cordon off the site permanently. The area is heavily guarded, and our passports were checked several times going through the multiple checkpoints.

The trip took about 90 minutes and on the minibus they played videos outlining the Chernobyl disaster. On April 26, 1986 Chernobyl nuclear reactor number 4, while undergoing a low power test, caught fire and an unstoppable chain reaction began which resulted in the radioactive core melting down. This caused a steam explosion, followed by a second explosion from the ignition of generated hydrogen mixed with air. The second explosion blew the top off of the reactor and its building, exposing the radioactive reactor core to the open air. A huge cloud of lethal radiation spewed forth into the atmosphere and was then blown by the prevailing winds across Europe. According to Wikipedia, "Four hundred times more fallout was released [at Chernobyl] than had been by the atomic bombing of Hiroshima." Chernobyl remains the worst nuclear accident in history, and is the only level 7 instance on the International Nuclear Event Scale. Wikipedia states that, due to the intense radiation released into the surrounding environment during the accident, "farming or any other type of agricultural industry would be dangerous and completely inappropriate for at least 200 years. It will be at least two centuries before there is any chance the situation can change within the 1.5-mile Exclusion Zone. As for the #4 reactor where the meltdown occurred, we estimate it will be 20,000 years before the real estate will be fully safe." How long is 20,000 years? To put it in perspective, the Last Ice Age ended about 10,000 years ago.

From Wikipedia. "The reactor had many safety measures built-in, but they could easily be shut off or circumvented. The Chernobyl scientists had too much faith in the reactor and wanted to proceed with their experiment at all costs, so they disabled many security features, believing that a major incident would not occur. Among the systems that were disabled were: ECCS (Emergency Core Cooling System), LAR (Local Automatic control system), and AZ (emergency power reduction system). From the start, the experiment's parameters went beyond the normal safe conditions of the reactor. This was further compounded when the chiefs on duty while the experiment was being carried out ordered that the safety systems be further circumvented."

We also saw promotional movies from the 1970's and early 1980's showing life as normal in Pripyat, a town of 45,000 people created 2 km away from the Chernobyl plant for the workers to live in with their families. We saw people shopping, swimming in meets, and spending sunny days on the town square. They even showed families in Pripyat having fun snowball fights in the woods. The films obviously were made to draw new workers from around the Soviet Union to the massive Chernobyl nuclear complex. Pripyat is a ghost town now, however. Everyone was evacuated by bus within 48 hours of the accident, never to return.

Here is a shot or us approaching the first checkpoint at the 30 KM Outer Ring of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. The authorities do not allow photos of the actual checkpoints or of certain areas of the site close to the reactor itself for security reasons. Here we are driving under service pipes elevated over the road, added after the accident.

Inside the 30 KM checkpoint but outside the deadly 10 KM Inner Ring is this building, used as a headquarters for the area. We were led inside the building and were debriefed.

This is a blast map of the Chernobyl incident. The explosion in reactor 4 took place at 1:23:45 a.m. The wind was blowing towards the west that day, so the areas west of the reactor got the worst contamination. On the second day the wind shifted towards the north, spreading the radioactivity in that direction. If the wind had been blowing to the south or southeast that April 26, all of Kiev with its beautiful golden churches very well could be nothing but a ghost town now.

We boarded the minivan again after the debriefing and drove through the town of Chernobyl itself. Reactor 4 got its name from the town of Chernobyl, but Chernobyl is much further from the reactor than Pripyat. Some former residents, displaced by the accident, actually petitioned the Ukrainian government to return to their former homes after "decontamination," and this has been allowed in recent years. Only about 200 former residents have been allowed to return to the Exclusion Zone, and their average age is 76 years old. When they pass away, no new settlers will ever be allowed to return. Doctors and deliveries from a grocery store come to them once a week - twice a week during the harsh winter. Many residents have said that they do not feel at home anywhere else, and that they just want to live out the rest of their days in their own homes working their own land. Our guide told us that "they have the same lives as people in other Ukrainian villages; they just don't have as many neighbors."

In addition to these 200 residents, the Exclusion Zone is also home to about 4000 workers responsible for the environment in the area. The workers have staggered 15 days on, 15 days off schedules to lower their overall radiation risk. Their families are not allowed to stay in the zone.

We passed this small church in Chernobyl that is 250 years old. The returned residents still use it to perform their own services and pray. It actually was being used while we were there. We paused and listened as prayerful voices behind the gate lifted their song to God.

A glimpse of two of the current Chernobyl residents.

Our next stop was at what is left of the "Liquidated Vehicles," vehicles used during the disaster evacuation and decontamination. These vehicles carried such a high level of radioactivity that they were put out of service and dumped into this graveyard. Something remarkable about the vehicles is that there used to be many more. We were told that most of them now have been sold by the government as scrap metal. We were to keep off the grass here, as the radiation in the vegetation is much higher than that on the asphalt.

As if we needed to be reminded.

This is the Graveyard of Ships. During the decontamination process, several ships containing supplies were brought up the Pripyat River. Due to radioactive contamination they were junked here, left to rust away. We saw a decontaminated building nearby that used to be a ship repair facility, but is now used by the commission which handles the Exclusion Zone forests. Grass and forest fires can make the radioactivity mobile again and burning is tightly controlled.

We then passed agricultural areas where thousands of infected cattle and pigs had to be shot and where their bodies were disposed. I had not thought about farm animals being victims of the radiation too. The Chernobyl Museum in Kiev, which I did not have a chance to visit, displays photos of deformities in animals as well as humans that the radiation caused. Specimens of animals born with deformities after the accident can also be seen, including an eight-legged baby pig.

Many small villages that used to be located around Chernobyl have almost disappeared, reclaimed by nature during the past 23 years. Forests are flourishing in the Zone and many wild animals have returned, including hares, horses, foxes, wild boars, and even rare species such as the lynx and eagle owl. The reproductive and survival rates among these animals is much lower than normal, however, and research is continuing. The Ukrainian government even designated the Zone as a wildlife sanctuary in 2000.

Here is a shot of one of the buildings currently being reclaimed by nature. I was surprised at how quickly nature can wipe out signs of man, and began to realize that the Exclusion Zone is very probably our best indication of what the earth would look like 23 years after a nuclear war.

"Decontamination" of the area was done by scooping up layers of the radioactive soil and moving it 1-2 kilometers from the city, where it was dumped into one concentrated super toxic area. Some of the contaminated houses and buildings were destroyed and some were decontaminated and left to be reclaimed by nature or are still in use today by those who live and work in the zone. The buildings and homes still standing were decontaminated by spraying fire hoses on them until the measurable radiation on them was reduced to "acceptable levels."

When the accident happened, radiation had to be dealt with and fires had to be put out. Many unimaginably brave people, knowing they faced certain death, entered the reactor to do what had to be done. These people knowingly gave their lives so that others would live. Many others, including pilots called to fly relief into the accident area, were not told of the radiation risk until it was too late. This is a monument to those disaster workers who fell at Chernobyl. It was placed on the 10th anniversary of the accident. The monument was created not by professional sculptors, but by surviving members of the fire department that took part.

Here are two close-ups of the monument. The terrified yet determined looks in the firefighters' faces tell the story in a way that I cannot.

We drove closer to get our first glimpse of the reactor itself. 5 Km out we passed a field that formerly was the site of a village. The accident so contaminated the village that every building in it had to be destroyed and turned under in the soil. The Chernobyl complex actually had 4 reactors online the day reactor number 4 melted down. Here I am standing in front of the four reactors with a drainage ditch leading to the cooling pond. From left to right in the picture you can see reactors 4, 3, 2, and 1. Reactor 4 is to the left of the first striped smokestack.

I was very surprised to learn that after the concrete sarcophagus was put over reactor 4 and the area was decontaminated, reactors 1, 2, and 3 were put back online to produce power. Our guide explained that Ukraine at the time relied on the Chernobyl facility for around 10% of its electrical needs, and simply could not afford to scrap the remaining 3 operational plants. The last operating reactor, number 3, was finally shut down in the year 2000. Reactors 1, 2, and 3 are still in the process of being decommissioned.

Two more reactors were under construction the day number 4 melted down. Here I am in front of reactors 5 and 6. Number 5 was almost ready to come online. They still stand today exactly as they did on April 26, 1986, looking as if the workers have just gone to lunch.

Normal background radiation in a large city like Kiev runs anywhere from 12 to 20 micro-roentgens on a Geiger counter. The radiation readings at the 30 Km checkpoint read about 18. Inside the 10 Km Inner Ring levels began to go up dramatically. In the above pictures the readings on the asphalt were about 60, and the readings on the grass, just steps away, ran to about 120.

We again boarded the van and drove even closer. I started to get worried. Exactly how close were we going to get? We finally stopped and got out for a few minutes at this point, a mere 200 yards from reactor 4. We had to be careful taking pictures here because we were closely monitored and the guards would not allow pictures of the fence, right below the frame of the photo. The yellow scaffolding is part of reinforcement efforts in recent years to shore up the concrete sarcophagus, put in place to entomb the reactor, but which is now beginning to collapse. It has been estimated that the sarcophagus still contains enough radioactive material to destroy Europe. A new sarcophagus currently is being built and is scheduled to be ready by 2012. Here I am standing 200 yards in front of Chernobyl reactor number 4 and the sarcophagus. What you cannot see is my heart beating wildly while the picture was being taken.

The Geiger counter reading where I was standing, right in front of the sarcophagus - 256 micros! The reading inside the sarcophagus? 3000 - not micros, but full roentgens!!!! Everyone get back into the van! Quickly!!

We next drove to the other side of the reactor buildings. Cameras absolutely were not allowed due to security concerns. Intense decontamination of the remaining reactors in the building have brought the readings immediately around the rest of the plant to around 30 - 60. Looters have hit the exclusion zone many times over the years for things like scrap metal, and intense security is needed at the facility itself even today to combat the possibility of terrorists gaining access to the large amount of remaining radioactive material. Here we visited a memorial to 30 firefighters and plant workers who died battling the initial tragedy. Each was named individually with their own plaque in an outdoor garden setting with a sign above all reading, "Life for life."

As we left Kiev that morning, the guide stopped at a store to pick up several large round loaves of brown bread. I had assumed that it was going to provide the driver and himself lunch during the tour. As we walked away from the memorial garden I saw that he was carrying the big loaves in his arms. "Follow me," he said as he led us to a railroad bridge near the reactor building which spanned a section of the Chernobyl nuclear facility cooling pond. We carefully stepped from tie to tie on the bridge until we were out in the middle. Our guide then broke off and handed us each large fistfuls of the bread. "Watch this," he said, and he tossed a piece as big as his hand down into the water. We all watched as the bread splashed and floated about 20 feet below. Suddenly there was a boiling in the water and a huge mouth appeared from below, vacuuming the bread down like a grain of rice. The creature headed back for the bottom and we stared in disbelief as its long, dark body slid past. I could not believe it when the great fish's tail finally smacked the water's surface. "What the hell was that?" I gasped in horror. "Catfish," the guide replied, tossing in more giant chunks. "Catfish live here in the cooling pond. They have done well in the warm water from the plant, and the radiation does not seem to have affected them adversely. In fact, the conditions here actually seem to favor them." My eyes were glued an epic battle below between three of the behemoths for more food. "How big are they?" I asked. "The catfish? Some here are maybe 3 meters. There used to be one here that was really big - huge. They have very large mouths, no?" My mind quickly did the math. 3 meters - what was that, 8 feet? 9 feet! A little OVER 9 feet! And they do have very large mouths, yes. They looked like they could suck down a toilet. "Do they grow that big because of the radiation?" I asked. "No no, they grow to that size normally." I wasn't buying it. My mind flashed to the Simpsons TV show where the fish in Springfield's nuclear cooling pond routinely appear with 3 eyes. I wondered exactly how tough a catfish had to be to become king of the Chernobyl cooling pond? This thought lingered in my mind as the guide threw another chunk up onto the bank of the pond and we watched as one of the monsters leapt out with an audible smack onto the sloped concrete. A full four feet of his slick body was exposed before he grabbed the morsel and rolled back into the toxic pond's dark depths.

We then drove from the reactor to the town of Pripyat, founded in 1970 to house the workers of Chernobyl and their families, 2 KM away. Here I am at the Pripyat sign. I don't think I'll be putting this picture on this year's Christmas cards.

When the accident happened, there was no siren or warning for the people of Pripyat. A small explosion could be heard, but that was not unusual and no one took any notice of it at the time. Word began to get around town, though, that something was wrong. Radiation is silent, odorless, and colorless, and the people had no idea they were already being dosed. Curious people from town began to walk to this bridge to get a look at the plant smokestacks to the right in the distance. They could see small fires in the plant's smokestacks and stood to watch. They barely noticed the cool breeze blowing in their faces. They did not know that the breeze was blowing the lethal radiation from the plant directly over this bridge and through their bodies. When we drove over this bridge the alarm on the Geiger counter emitted a shrill whine for a few seconds. Our heads jerked around. The meter read 1600. This after extensive decontamination and the passage of 23 years.

It took 2 days to evacuate everyone in the Zone on buses. Over 120,000 people were removed from the affected area, which now stretched to 3000 square kilometers in the Ukraine and 2000 square kilometers in Belarus and Russia. The Soviet government, then in power, tried at first to cover up the incident. Radiation then began to drift over areas of Western Europe, and the Soviets finally had to come clean. Due to this cover up there are no official numbers as to how many people died from the radiation at the time or years later. We were told that doctors were forbidden by the Soviet government to list "radiation" as a cause of death. Our guide said that unofficial estimates count the dead, either directly or indirectly related to the accident, "in the hundreds of thousands." People are still dying from radiation-related illnesses today, 23 years later, and this trend will undoubtedly continue into the foreseeable future. Pripyat became a ghost town literally overnight. Here is Pripyat's once bustling town square today.

Storefronts and former restaurants lining the town square off Lenin Street. I thought back to the films of Pripyat we had seen on the bus. Women were grocery shopping right here. This was a very busy place, especially on the days of the evacuation. Imagine having just a few hours to get your family and your most valuable possessions together and onto a waiting bus, never to return to your home again. There were still hot spots on the square reading 500-600.

An abandoned apartment complex near the square.

For some reason moss seems to absorb the radiation even more than the other vegetation. The readings on the asphalt here were around 130. The readings on the moss growing through the asphalt, however, were over 1300, more than 10 times higher. Wikipedia says that a robot sent into the reactor itself has returned with samples of black, melanin-rich fungi that are growing on the reactor's walls. We were instructed to stay off the moss, and we did our best to jump over it where we could.

One of the spookiest areas of Pripyat was the abandoned amusement park. This area is one of the most contaminated in town because the open area of asphalt here was used as a landing area for emergency helicopters flying over the reactor site. Choppers picked up radiation from the air and deposited it here when they landed. There was something about a place of so much innocent family fun and recreation standing vacant at ground zero that made my blood run cold.

Abandoned bumper cars in the park.

Blue eyes that have seen it all.

The remains of the rusting swing ride.

Pripyat's Flying Boat ride.

The ghostly Ferris Wheel dangles its empty cars in the wind like extinguished lanterns against an overcast sky.

Yellow flowers growing through the radioactive asphalt.

A building fire escape with a ghostly apparition painted on the side.

Exterior of the Pripyat swimming facility.

It looks as though looters have gotten here too. Where is this radioactive material being sold, and, more importantly, for what is it being used?

The building's gymnasium. Notice that the metal basketball goal has been stripped.

The abandoned swimming pool. We saw films of swim meets taking place here in happier times.

The swimming pool's high board. The pool is approximately 18 feet deep.

Graffiti on the swimming pool tiles.

The abandoned swim timer made me think of a similar one I saw at the pool of my alma mater Emory University in Atlanta.

We were able to visit an abandoned apartment block, a time capsule of the days of Soviet urban planning.

An abandoned apartment bedroom.

An apartment living room, its shelving units stripped bare and floor slowly rotting away.

In one of the apartments I found a fading calendar on the wall forever stuck on April, 1986. It actually took me a minute to grasp the gravity of this display, and when I did a cold chill ran down my spine. The calendar reminded me of one in my own kitchen at home, only the family living in this apartment was never able to attend the dentist appointments, birthday parties, or school picnics that most families keep track of here.

Our last stop in Pripyat was a school attended by the children of the city. We walked quickly through the overgrowth and in through the front door.

In the school's hallways I could almost hear ghostly echoes of laughter from children long ago.

The gymnasium's floor is now unstable, so we were not allowed to walk inside.

The sight of a clock without hands on a deserted schoolroom floor was a bit disturbing somehow.

The last room I entered was the school cafeteria. I volunteer in the lunchroom and in the library of my daughter's school in the Athens, Georgia area, and this part of the Pripyat school affected me the most of all.

Lowered sinks along one wall of the cafeteria where small children would wash their hands before meals.

On the floor of the left hand side of the cafeteria was a dark pile of what I initially thought was trash (see large cafeteria shot above). I moved closer to the pile as I walked around the room taking photographs. Backing up for one shot I glanced down to make sure I was not stepping on anything and something about the pile caught my eye. I turned around and seconds later jumped back involuntarily. The pile did not contain trash at all. The pile contained hundreds of small gas masks, apparently adjusted to fit children.

I can only imagine how frightening it must have been to be a child here on April 26, 1986, herded into a corner of the cafeteria and told to put on one of these masks. I wondered what it must have been like standing there, looking around at all of your friends and teachers wearing masks too, while a slow silence fell upon the room as everyone began to realize the gravity of the situation. The ensuing chaos must have been terrifying.

I retreated through the hallway, visibly shaken. I turned a corner searching for the school's exit and saw a pair of children's reading books dropped on the floor next to broken windows. The illustrations in particular struck close to home. Besides the language of the stories, these books easily could have been found in my daughter's Lower School library. I have re-shelved books very similar to these many times myself.

My last look of the school was down this hallway. I left with my hands shaking and my eyes full of tears. The school in Pripyat still stands there today, silently screaming while it gradually reduces to peeling paint, radioactive dust, and a host of disturbing memories which are best never forgotten.

We were told that the radiation we received during our hours in the Exclusion Zone was the equivalent of two transatlantic flights. Still, as we left the zone each person in our party was scanned for lingering radioactivity. We put our shoes and hands in special receptacles in these machines at the 10 Km checkpoint. If anyone tested too high their clothes would have to be removed and burned, and their bodies subsequently put through the decontamination process. This actually happened to a Dutch photographer some time ago who spent too much time walking around the woods of the Exclusion Zone. It was a heart-stopping minute as our scans took place, but we all passed and were allowed to exit.

The van returned us to the building inside the 30 Km ring where we were debriefed initially. Safe food brought in from the outside was cooked on site, and we ate lunch while speaking in subdued tones about the day.

I slipped behind the scenes after lunch and got this picture of the Chernobyl kitchen. The food was actually pretty good.

We had been told that no new settlers are allowed into the Exclusion Zone, but this statement is not exactly true. When we left the building after lunch we found that all around the grounds lived several families of very friendly cats, many with young babies. At least one was pregnant. They came up to us to play, but we backed away, hesitant to touch them.

Our van pulled away from the parking lot on the return trip to Kiev and I looked back one last time. The youngest residents of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone remained behind to enjoy the afternoon in the grass, completely oblivious that their home is in perhaps the most dangerously toxic place Planet Earth has ever known. I said a prayer, closed my eyes and turned around, unable to view more.

The sun and moon shine equally upon us all, I thought.

Here is a link giving current information on Pripyat, its history, and its survivors. http://pripyat.com/en/

This link will take you to the Wikipedia article on the Chernobyl disaster. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chernobyl_disaster

Next: Budapest

This is Kane, from Bateman's Bay Australia. I met him in the breakfast room at the hostel in Krakow and he was a really interesting guy. Bateman's Bay is on the south coast of Australia, and Kane surfed the Pro Junior Surf circuit for 5 years! I thought he kind of looked like a surfer. He plans to return home to work for 2 months and then take off again, possibly heading for the Philippines this time! Good luck Kane, and good surf!

I didn't plan on visiting Ukraine when I left Athens, but it kept coming up while talking to other travelers on the road. I heard Lviv, near the Polish border was a great undiscovered place, and my wanderlust got the better of me. I did not know the language, the alphabet, or even have a Ukraine guidebook. Could I do it? Ukraine it was! Time to go off of the map!

Instead of taking a direct train, I took the advice of the Lviv hostel owner and took a local bus to the border and then walked across. The minivans were absolutely packed with locals carrying everything they could hold, from suitcases to strawberries. In addition they chatted and yelled the entire way in Ukrainian, while many ate paprika flavored Lay's potato chips! There was no English in sight at all, except for the paprika Lay's. Here is an intimidating shot of me walking the mile or so to the border. My rolling duffel wheel was slowly disintegrating, so I dragged it on one wheel most of the way!

I grabbed another local bus on the other side and rode in the heat. I noticed that each and every time we passed a church, the older Ukrainian lady sitting in the seat beside me quietly crossed herself and bowed her head.

The bus stopped at the train station and I had to take a tram to the hostel. I used my Iphone translator to get a tram ticket and was on my way through Lviv. I immediately noticed that things in Ukraine were grittier, and I had to watch myself. Walking through the streets with my bags I must have really stood out because everyone seemed to take notice of me. I just stayed alert and kept dragging along. The Kosmonaut Hostel was in a very old building, but the staff was very nice and helpful. There were no keys or lockers, which made me nervous at first, but I had no problems. There is some unwritten rule among hostellers, and trust is something I have been able to count on everywhere I have gone.

The Common Room/Kitchen of the Kosmonaut.

A great portrait of Lenin in the kitchen!

A very funny sign above the desk! Or was it?

In the hallways of the building. "Uh, is this wiring up to code?" "Code? Ukrainian wiring is best in world!" "Uh, OK. Maybe I'll lay off the hair dryer anyway."

As I said, it was a very old building. The toilets even had signs posted not to flush any paper at all, but instead put it in the garbage cans in the bathroom or the pipes would explode, with disastrous consequences! Here are the building mailboxes, still in use.

This is the new city square. Impressive for a city of 800,000 that most Americans have never heard of!

The Opera house. The prices are still very low to keep the culture accessible to the masses.

People walking in the park. The parks in Europe are always full of folks out socializing. I really miss this when back home. Where are the people in America? Shopping malls? We need more common areas people use like this one!

A proud Ukrainian man and his daughter near the Opera's fountain.

People sleeping on a park bench in the evening.

Fashionistas hanging out in the park.

There was a commotion in one end of the park and I went over to check it out. I was VERY surprised to find a huge crowd of people around a group of...Native Americans?? They were performing Native American dances and songs to a thrilled crowd in Lviv! Later that evening I saw them again hanging out in the square with a bunch of admiring Ukrainian groupies! I keep running into this interest in Native American cultures all over Eastern Europe. Interesting!

The next morning I had to address my failing bag. One of the uprights of my rolling duffle had snapped, so I rummaged through my tool kit and a box of parts at the hostel and came up with this solution. I used plastic wall anchors to anchor the screws through pieces of flat metal, and then duct taped the crap out of the whole thing. The Native Americans are being faithful to their native culture, and, with the Southern staple of duct tape, so am I. At least I didn't sing Freebird while I was working.

The only Ukrainian guidebook I was able to scare up was a Lonely Planet. Lonely Planet is not my favorite, but it was all I had to go on. It turned out to be very wrong on a number of counts, starting with the Lviv city walking tour. It had many wrong turns, and all the streets were listed in English, although the Cyrillic alphabet was the only thing to be seen in Lviv! So I decided to try living a day like an immigrant in the U.S. who does not speak the language and who does even know the alphabet. It was quite disorienting and a big challenge, to say the least. I really have a renewed respect for those people. I think it is something all students should have to try. This is what I was able to learn on my "immigrant day." This small church, St. John the Baptist, is the oldest in Lviv.

Hopelessly lost, I saw these children in the street playing with their puppy.

A cool church.

Skaters in the park. I fantasized about being Tony Hawk and walking up to them in Ukraine. What would they do?

Gunpowder Tower, now a restaurant, but once a part of the city's defenses.

The Greek Catholic St. Michael's Church. The sanctuary is baroque. After the Czech Republic, I was surprised at how many people in Ukraine seemed to be involved in the church.

A great cross in front of the church.

I believe this is the bell tower of the Dormition Church, which is Ukrainian Orthodox. It would be interesting to see how that differs from other denominations. Again, the varied architecture is astounding.

I looked and looked, but have absolutely no idea who this man is. He looks very important, tough. Perhaps he is hailing a cab. "A cab! I need a cab! No, I am so important that I need THREE cabs! THREE I tell you! And perhaps an iron."

This is a cool-looking sign to give you an idea of what I was dealing with all around town.

The Bernardine Church and Monastery courtyard. It was very quiet and peaceful in here.

A man doing a very thorough job of sweeping up the courtyard.

There was a book sale going on right outside. I thought the statue was appropriate.

A man pondering "Cyrillic for Beginners."

The Town Hall, on the Old Town Square.

A large crowd had gathered at the Town Hall, but when I got there, all I saw was this strange metal thing and people staring at it while taking pictures. What in the world was it? A sports trophy? One of the crown jewels? One of the monoliths from 2001: A Space Odyssey? This must be how our Super Bowl trophy looks to about 90% of the world....

Some boys hanging out on the corner admiring the metal object as well. All were absolutely spellbound!

The Old Town Square in Lviv, on the UNESCO World Heritage list. Houses could be built around the square with three windows tax free. Houses with four windows only belonged to the extremely wealthy.

The black domes of Boyim Chapel (1617), the burial chapel of Hungarian merchant Georgi Boyim and his family. It made me think, what could we do today to be remembered 400 years from now? How many millions have lived in this area and have been completely forgotten over time?

A beautiful girl in the square.

A window painter on the square looks up at an unexpected visitor.

Very beautiful lion balcony with flower boxes above. It is the little details like this that I love about Europe. They are real, not just plastered on the sides of McMansions.

The courtyard of the Armenian Cathedral, built in 1363! Just imagine - this church was here basking in sunny afternoons for 129 years before Columbus ever came to America!

At the end of a quiet alley in Lviv. I have never seen a ladder quite like this one.

This is the copper-domed Transfiguration Church, built in the late 1600's. It was the first church in the city to revert to Greek Catholicism after Ukrainian Independence in 1991. It is easy to forget how such an old place as the Ukraine can be such a young one at the same time.

The incredible interior of Transfiguration Church.

A man in the window across from the church.

All over town I saw men in parks playing chess out in the sun. Often crowds gathered around to watch and offer advice. These guys look like they don't need much help, though.

Back at the Kosmonaut. My bed is center bottom.

One of the interesting people I met in Lviv was Sam, from Toronto Canada. He stayed at the Kosmonaut for a while before finding an apartment in Lviv for the summer. He still comes over to hang out at the hostel sometimes, though. He is due to start school in Berlin in September. Sam is 30 years old and was a freelance editor before deciding to come to Europe. He said that he decided on Lviv because it gives him the right combination of history, adventure, and great people. He also knows Cyrillic, and told me that it is a snap to sound out the words if you know the alphabet! Great to meet you Sam, and good luck in Europe!

A lady hanging laundry in the courtyard of the hostel building. When it started raining later in the day she ran back out and reeled it all back in.

A visit to Lychakivske Cemetery is a must while in Lviv. Lonely Planet calls it "the Pere Lachaise of Eastern Europe, "with the same sort of overgrown grounds and Gothic aura as the famous Parisian necropolis." It contains numerous graves of Ukrainian heroes, and, because Lviv was at one time in Polish territory, it also contains graves of some 2000 Poles who died fighting Ukrainians and Bolsheviks from 1918 to 1920. It must be a difficult thing being buried on foreign soil. It was fascinating walking around looking at the flowers and pictures left as mementos in the gloom.

Near the cemetery was the Museum of Folk Architecture and Life, an open air museum, much like other places in Europe, displaying a wide variety of historic houses from all over the country. It was very difficult to get to, accessible up an unmarked lane practically going through people's backyards! I had to ask for directions at least a dozen times. I had thought ahead to get the lady at the front desk of the hostel to write the name down for me in the native language. I felt like someone wearing a helmet with a note pinned to his shirt - "If found, please call this telephone number." The kind Ukrainians just looked at my note, glanced knowingly at each other, and pointed up the hill through the woods. I finally found the park and saw this great traditional Ukrainian house with moss growing on the roof.

Here is the inside of a old-time Ukrainian schoolhouse. Not a laptop to be seen here kids, so stop complaining.

I also loved this very cool wooden church. Notice the fence has a roof built over it so that it can double as a hay drying rack.

A traditional living room/kitchen set up. Looks cozy.

None of the pathways at the museum were marked, and about halfway around the main loop trail various tiny paths led off, seemingly aimlessly, into the woods. Despite my best efforts and asking about 6 different employees, all ways led back to the same point. How frustrating! People complain if a place is "too touristy," but is having a single sign, or even an arrow, being "too touristy?" I retreated, adjusting my helmet, and trying not to drool.

Down the street from the hostel was a fantastic Ukrainian cafeteria. This place was great because you could see the food and point to what you wanted. I got this huge spread - my only meal of the day - for $4.50 U.S.! It was solid and basic - potatoes, chicken, meat soup, some Cole slaw-type salad and some fruit crepe thingies. As my grandmother used to say, it will stick to your ribs.

My last night in Lviv I went out with my new friends from the hostel to a place nicknamed the Cavern Club. It was basically a Ukrainian speakeasy, hidden from the street without even a sign! You have to go up to the unmarked door, give the password (something to the effect of "Ukraine Forever!") - in Ukrainian and NOT Russian, and they will let you in. You descend below street level into this underground bunker done up with awesome Cold War propaganda! A band even came around playing violin, accordion, and a drum, while everyone sang songs to glorious Mother Ukraine! Fantastic! Thanks everyone for such a great, confusing, and very memorable time in Lviv!

OK, I'll fess up. I didn't go Ukraine just for the love of adventure. I had a lead on something. Something big. I heard wind of the possibility of actually being able to take a tour of - could it actually be possible? - Chernobyl Nuclear Power plant, the one that blew up and melted down in 1986, resulting in the world's worst nuclear accident. Wow! What better place to go on vacation! I made the necessary calls, submitted the extensive information, and booked my train to Kiev. Maybe I was going to be able to go, and maybe I wasn't, but I was going to try. I got to the Lviv train station for the night train to Kiev. That is Lviv spelled on the building.

Here is my nice sleeper. They even brought me hot tea and little cookies! The tablecloth made it feel just like home.

Sunset from the sleeping car.

I was hesitant about taking night trains in Eastern Europe, because all reports pointed to them being notorious hot spots and dangerous. I locked everything up and prepared for the worst. I had no reason to worry though. About two hours later Vasily got on, and we quickly became friends. Meet the good man Vasily!

Vasily has 2 boys, age 23 and 24, and was taking the night train to Kiev to "look around" for the day. Vasily was formerly in the Ukrainian military, but badly injured his left soldier in a vehicle accident and is now on pension. He enjoys fishing in the summer and ice fishing in the winter. He seemed like the kind of guy who would get along with my Father-in-Law, also ex-military who loves to fish. Great to meet you Vasily, and good luck! I hope you will be able to read this!

Well, I got in to the hostel in Kiev at 7:30 in the morning in the cold, pouring rain. It took a while to wake up the attendant from the door outside, but he finally let me in, dripping wet. Even though check-in was not until 1 pm he still let me store my bags and take a much needed shower. I then took off to see Kiev, which turned out to be a little more touristy (read: I could navigate the city without getting hopelessly lost every two seconds), but there was still very little English to go on. Here is the World War II memorial. Kiev suffered terribly during the war, with 80% of its residents homeless when the city was finally retaken by the Red Army in November 1943.

This is a view over the modern-day city of Kiev, with the Dnipro river running through it.

Another monument on the city bluffs, with beautiful gold domes in the background. This is where I was heading.

I ended up at the Lavra, a monastery popular with pilgrims who believe it to be the holiest ground in the entire country. The Lavra holds two sets of caves and several subterranean churches dug into the hills under the monastery, containing numerous glass caskets of mummified monks who died at this reclusive retreat. Their bodies were naturally preserved without embalming by the caves' cool temperature and dry atmosphere. Lonely Planet says that "the mummies survive even today, confirmation for believers that these were true holy men." This is the entrance to the lower caves.

Gold domes on sale this weekend at Target! Doors open Friday at 8 am! Financing available!

A holy man making his way up the hill.

Gold domes overlooking the courtyard.

The entrance to one of the caves is in the Church of the Raising of the Cross. Cameras were not allowed into the caves. When you go down you buy a candle, light it, and descend narrow, twisting steps down while squeezing past people coming back up. They definitely are not for the claustrophobic. People in a religious frenzy down there go to a glass casket on one side, bow, kiss it, and then go to the other side to did the same. With all the crying and lit candles flying back and forth, I was amazed that no one caught on fire. The Moravian Lovefeast candle guys at church would have had massive heart attacks! Mummified monks wearing their best vestments were on display under glass, some with their black, mummified hands poking out! Wow - talk about creepy! I also went to the Farther Caves, which were even smaller and more claustrophobic if that is possible. Later back outside in the fresh air a group of (this time) live monks ran down the hill chanting, actually carrying one of the glass caskets! Hundreds of pilgrims appeared out of nowhere and crowded around while the monks performed some mystical ceremony far beyond me. Here is a good shot of one of the monks in his black, flowing robe.

Here is a shot of the glass casket through the crowd.

The seven-domed Church of the Nativity of the Virgin (1696).

Walking uphill from the Lower Lavra I really did a double take when this guy passed me. I'll call him Tremendously Tall Man! He must have been at least 7'6". Notice that the lady he is holding hands with is actually on a raised sidewalk! The guy has to be the Ukrainian Yao Ming!

The entrance to the Upper Lavra through Trinity Gate Church, from the early 12th century.

The Great Bell Tower, 174 steps to the top. I chose to trust Lonely Planet on this one.

Trinity Gate Church from behind.

Dormition Cathedral, actually just rebuilt in 2000 after being destroyed during WW II. Astounding.

Another fantastic church in the Upper Lavra. It was hard to keep up with them all!

I exited the Lavra, my head spinning with gold. Wow! And then to top it all off there was an actual funeral letting out of one of the many chapels there. I stood on the sidewalk and watched weeping Ukrainian carry rose stems with the flowers cut off as what appeared to be Boy Scouts carried the casket outside. I could only wonder what this story told. I quietly paid my respects and moved on.

Later walking back to the Metro I saw this interesting tree gate.

The subways in Kiev were amazingly deep. I think they were built to be nuclear bomb shelters. You go down this really long escalator for like 2 full minutes, get off, and then go down another one for another 3 minutes. It felt like I was going coal mining.

Walking around a typical street in Kiev.

Guess who's coming to town? Alice Cooper!! Welcome to my nightmare, Kiev!!

I asked the hostel owner's Ukrainian wife if she knew of any good places to eat cheaply nearby. She said, "Yes, just down the street you will see a big spoon. They have good local food very cheap." "Really? That's great! What is the name of it?" She looked at me quizzically and replied, "It is called 'Big Spoon,' only in Ukrainian!" So here, ladies and gentlemen, is the famous Big Spoon!

Inside Kiev Lodging Hostel. Which one is my bed? Hint: always look for the red pillow!

The living room at the hostel...

and the nicely appointed kitchen.

At the hostel I met Taylor from Chicago. He has been at Warsaw University since February and was traveling with friends from school after the term ended until mid-July. Taylor works as a paramedic at an Emergency Room in Chicago. He loves medicine, but says that full-blown medical school might be too much of a commitment. He may become a Physician's Assistant instead. Taylor loves to travel, but is now focused on getting through school. Have fun in Europe this summer Taylor! It was great meeting you and your friends!

An outdoor cafe in Kiev. You get the feeling that they really try to enjoy the good weather while they can.

A protest going on in the open right down the street. This is the kind of thing you would never see during Soviet rule just a few years ago.

Independence Square in downtown Kiev, the heart of the city. This square was ground zero for Ukraine's Orange Revolution in 2004, when the historically passive Ukrainian population successfully protested the disputed election results (and their candidate's mysterious disfiguring dioxin poisoning) in their trademark orange color and learned that they really did have the power to change things in their young country. Go Ukraine!

A fountain in the square.

A close-up of the whimsical House of Chimeras, now used as a presidential administration office.

Frogoyles!

The looming Weeping Widow House.

One of the signs I was trying to follow around the streets. "Which way is the...oh never mind."

A skateboarder in the park. It seemed to be popular here.

An interesting outdoor amphitheater.

I unexpectedly found a bridge covered with hundreds of locks and tied ribbons. Mystified, I asked a nearby Dutch TV crew about them. They told me that it is a tradition for a couple in love to come here, fasten a lock to the bridge as a symbol of their undying love, and then throw the keys off the side!

No, this isn't St. Louis. This is the Friendship of Nations Monument, celebrating the 1654 'unification' of Russia and Ukraine. Word has it that Ukraine accepted the monument grudgingly, at best. It has now been joined by statues of Cossacks and other Ukrainian heroes at its base.

The Kiev waterfront.

The National Philharmonic.

Any idea what movie this billboard is advertising?

The stunning St. Michael's Monastery. Boy, what I would give to have the gold dome concession in this town.

Another shot of St. Michael's.

St. Sophia's Cathedral. At what point exactly does the gold just run out?

I didn't expect to find Mark Twain singing Ukrainian folk songs at St. Sophia's, but there he was....

And you thought New York City parking restrictions were tough....

A lady selling flowers on the street. What have these eyes seen?

Near the Botanical Gardens stands St. Volodymyr's Cathedral, one of Kiev's most beautiful. It was built to celebrate 900 years of Orthodox Christianity in the city.

St. Volodymyr's interior. I did not expect Kiev to be such an amazingly beautiful city. There seemed to be a breathtaking sight at nearly every turn.

Prayer candles.

One more of St. Volodymyr's Cathedral.

A lady, apparently bored with all the churches, naps outside.

Conjoined twins outside Kiev University.

There were very fancy sports cars being driven all over the city. Porsches, Hummers, and high-end Mustangs to name a few. Mob money? Hummm.... No, that couldn't be it. But where were they coming from? And then I saw this sign. FINALLY!! Bentley Ukraine!!

The last Lenin statue left in Kiev, a rather subdued affair. It looks like Ukraine is doing just fine without you, thank you very much Sir!

Chernobyl seemed exciting from a distance, but when the email finally came confirming it for the next day it was actually a bit frightening. What the hell was I doing?

Next: Ukraine Part 2 – A Visit to the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant