Photos: Ukraine

zheniar — Sat, 24 May 2014 21:35:00 GMT

How does it now feel in Kyiv

zheniar — Wed, 14 May 2014 21:31:00 GMT

As the plane starts its descent to Kyiv hovering over the vast golden fields, I feel the free spirit in the air. The skies are bright and blue. Have you ever noticed how the sky away is never like at home?

Whizzing through the deserted terminal opened for Euro 2012, pausing just briefly for a relaxed smiling girl то check my passport (what a difference with tight control in Russia!), I wait for taxi watching black ribbons flying solemnly over the blue and yellow national flags. The country's mourning victims of the recent fire in Odessa.

A chubby wooden bear, a forgotten remnant of the Moscow Olympics-1980, is still cheerfully greeting visitors, if a bit faded, beneath the freshly spurting shrub. For twenty-three years since Ukraine has broken away from Russia, two countries co-existed tersely neither like neighbors nor like brothers, and now there’s an unannounced war.

The roadsides of the highway to Kyiv soaked in luscious green dapple with the faces of the candidates for the upcoming presidential elections, jumping at passersby from the big boards. “To live in a new way!” “Social protection is the priority!” “Pray!” “I will get Crimea back!” The sight of mighty Dnieper backed by steep hills with gilded churches lurking in the curly groves brings a relief - the ancient river, witness to many a turmoil over the centuries, is as calm as ever.

The “W” word is looming, in a complete dissent with quiet airy streets of the Ukraine’s capital. The mighty chestnuts, an everlasting symbol of the city, are in full bloom, and lilac dissipates its heady smell over the gorgeous sea of green sparkled with the golden domes.

“I wish we use more force! Our fighters have no practice shooting at people!”

“In Bosnia, they gave the time for citizens to leave and cleared out the space!”
“Could you ever imagine we’d live at times of war?!?”
“It’s scary… We are waiting for invasion...”
“We’ll make it!”
“What can I tell you? Besides the politics, the life is going on”.

The friends and family are richly filling me in. In just four months I haven’t been to Kiev, the country had shed off its sullied president giving a hope of taking a course to Europe and democracy, only to meet covert resistance of its big neighbor. Despite the peaceful atmosphere in the capital, there is a feeling that my country now is in the state of war.

The posts of Facebook friends from Moscow flashing the fighter jets in preparation to the Victory day parade seem eerie. The radio alerts the citizens to possible provocations in the major cities, as advised by counterintelligence. By 9th of May the streets of Kyiv empty. Our courtyard in downtown from the early morning fills with the buses and the ambulance: police and Guardia are using it as the strategic post. I bring the apples to the men in uniform. “You are probably bored to spend here all day!” -- “Better be bored”, – responds the captain with the weary face. Police in Kyiv is attentive and polite, though a bit perplexed as to what to expect. They are still here by the evening. The sound of a siren somewhere in town makes everybody jump. Luckily, the holiday weekend is over without much ado.

The Kyiv population majorly supports the powers that be. Next to the box “For renovations” in the grandeur Volodymyrsky cathedral, a box for needs of the Ukrainian army quickly fills in. My parents, working pensioners, send donation by text every time there’s a call on air. Radio runs the programs addressed to military, quoting messages of support from all over the world. From time to time, blocks of political ad invite the citizens to join the forces of people’s resistance.

“Praying for the relief from aliens…” – the ancient prayer suddenly becoming an acute request echoes the vaults with precious frescos by the 19th century famous Russian painter Victor Vasnetsov. Priest calls to pray that God enlightens enemies preventing them from further crimes. During the service unexpectedly enters Mrs. Tymoshenko, a former prime minister, two years ago jailed by the ousted president and freed during the February uprising. Nicknamed the “Gas princess”, she is said to be an accomplice of counterfeit gas schemes sucking millions dollars from the state budget, and a protégé of Mr. Putin.

Mrs. Tymoshenko is surrounded by close circle of her allies and bodyguards, hobbling visibly as she slowly walks to the confession desk. Other parishioners are quickly dismissed by the priest, who leads her gently to a chair next to altar. “I should watch out not to sin anew”, – chuckles a woman next to me, crossing herself. A cameraman runs around clicking the shutter, however, the people don’t buy the image of a faultless victim - lately the golden-plated politician ratings have dived.

The central streets of Kyiv look like an open-air memorial, with debris of the barricades still there, surrounded by neatly assembled piles of cobblestone and stacks of tires used as the weapons. The parts of streets are being paved anew at the account of some private business. The heaps of flowers and impromptu monuments to the fallen are everywhere. The most tragic sight is Instytutska street leading up to the government quarters, the place of the fierce February fights, now renamed after the Heroes of the Heaven’s Hundred (A Hundred is a military unit in the self–defense forces). The photos of civilians killed in the confrontations are tied up to the trunks of the trees marked with the traces of the snipers’ bullets. The faces full of hope, big smiles, sad eyes, playful dimples and thoughtful looks; young guys, teenagers and old men, of different parts of Ukraine and different nationalities, though united by their will for freedom bigger than the life. Wrapped with the garlands and warmed up by candles, with the brief stories of their lives and deaths, surrounded by washed out pages of handwritten poems flipping in the wind. Men are sighing deeply, women quietly crying reading the simple words: “Mother, forgive me, don’t cry, I shall return to you next spring as a bird”…

The taxi driver on the way to airport questions legitimacy of the temporary government: “It all had started with the students protests in support of European integration, then opposition had joined in and just divided chairs in the cabinet. I don’t trust any of them – they have been stealing from the country for the last 20 years, while the people have been patiently working. What can I say – Ukraine is incredibly reach to survive so many people snip from it”.

Trust definitely is the issue, with more than 20 candidates running for president and the Eastern regions still shaken by separatists heated from outside the boarder. Talking to people I realize – the story behind the conflict is much deeper than the politics – it is about Ukrainian history, starting from this very place where Kyiv was founded more than fifteen hundred years ago to grow into the center and the beginning of the Kyiv Rus (a thousand years later, the name was taken by the Russian empire). It is about history of people constantly fighting for their freedom and history of the relationship with the neighboring Russians, feeling pain from loosing what they considered a part of their own. However, the easiest route to unity is a mutual respect based on non–interference. As the wise have said: “If you love somebody, set them free”. That’s what the Russians still have to comprehend.

The face of Fuji

zheniar — Sun, 11 May 2014 05:38:59 GMT

It was 16 minutes before arrival when I realized I have come to a wrong place. Station Fuji, a small industrial town, was nothing like a foothill village with ? picturesque view of the sacred mountain to behold. No wonder – I was overwhelmed by the kaleidoscopic change of shrines, palaces, neon–lit streets and lavish cherry blossoms during the last few days. Saint Fuji asks for inner peace and reverie to open its face.

A rare car disturbed the blissful emptiness of sleepy Sunday morning, gates shut, doors closed, shops with no lights. I melted in the cosiness of hiding place beyond anyone’s reach. Abruptly, gusts of wind ruthlessly twisted the umbrella and soon it was completely ripped apart. Rain soaked through the clothes washing my skin. Prospective of a pleasant walk had faded.

Just then amid the haze popped up a hut with smoking chimney, man standing at the door. With an incredulous look through its lace–curtained windows I caught a glimpse of people lunching in the warm yellow light. It offered shelter beckoning me to enter, fighting with fear pulling me away. “It’s a strange culture. What if everyone stares at me when I enter? It’s safer staying outside alone”. The thought has stung. How often in life have I passed opportunities fearing people?

Before I knew, I headed back finding myself in care of a quietly smiling woman. Nodding softly, she led me to the table. Relieved, I ordered soup by pointing to the picture on the menu and looked around. Behind the flowerpots, the cook moved briskly concentrating at the steaming stove, white towel wrapped around his wrinkled forehead. Two girls stirred pans and cleaned the plates. A couple next to me sat silently in disagreement. I trusted. It was safe.

The trust was swaying me while finding out that the trains had halted due to strong winds, and learning how to get to bigger station over the phone, provided by a rail employee speaking no word in English; while searching through the jungles of hieroglyphs for the right bus, and hoping to be in time for the train, riding in total silence save for the whisper of the falling rain.

Tokyo met us with the cheerful sky. I knew instinctively the shortest way to my hotel, cutting through labyrinth of streets. I felt accepted by the tribe. I recognized the place – it was the planet Earth, my home. I thought the silhouette of mountaintop appearing briefly in the window of bullet train on the way back might have been the mighty Fuji.

Photos: Unforgettable Japan

zheniar — Tue, 6 May 2014 20:09:00 GMT

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Photos: Ukraine

How does it now feel in Kyiv

The face of Fuji

Photos: Unforgettable Japan