So, we went to Ukraine…

… and I wasn’t really planning to tell you about it. We went on a whim; the original plan was Tajikistan but the logistics weren’t working out and Ukraine seemed cheap and interesting. But now the decision feels eerily prescient, as if we knew it wouldn’t be waiting for us in its current form much longer, as if I was aware there would come a more opportune time to reflect on the experience rather than just facing a bout of writer’s block.

I can’t say things weren’t already brewing. When we visited in October, Ukraine was technically at war. But in the cities we visited, Kyiv and Lviv, the war might as well have been in another country and the people told us as much. People chose to speak Ukrainian despite all knowing Russian, and speaking the latter would even get you some suspicious side-eye in Lviv. No one we met affiliated with the more pro-Russian eastern part of the country and, although they absolutely remembered their Soviet past, they clearly looked with optimism toward their more European future.

I liked the country a lot more than I thought I would. I was expecting the drab, monotonous buildings I picture when I think of Soviet architecture, all function and no form. Instead I was met with wide boulevards, colorful buildings, and little Easter eggs in every corner – a clock made from a wine barrel, a lamp post mosaic-ed with stained glass, a baroque angel statue holding up an edifice. I felt the same way about the people. I obviously knew the Hollywood stereotype of the menacing Ukranian henchman to the Russian antagonist couldn’t be right, but their language is harsh and their country is cold and perhaps for those reasons I was expecting a population that was a little hard and gruff. I found the exact opposite, encountering the type of warmth and kindness that doesn’t wait for you to ask for help. I grew fond of the smiles that felt more striking on their pointed Eastern European features.

I remember in particular our tour guide in Kyiv, Kat, who spoke with us passionately about the country’s past while walking us around the city. She told us about the cossacks, a self-governing martial society who lived in the frontier and protected the country from hundreds of years of invasion, and how their spirit of defense and independence helps fuel the current Ukrainian identity. She also told us about the mixed feelings some of today’s older generation has regarding the Soviet Union: they remember free apartments for every family (even if they’d never actually gotten off the years-long waiting list to receive one) and promises for a better life.

As we walked, Kat pointed out beautiful old buildings that had survived “the war.” The German and Russian armies met in Kyiv during World War II and 6 million Ukrainians lost their lives (over 40% of the total losses of the USSR). Before-and-after pictures show a city that was completely razed. Images in the news lately remind me of these photos we saw, and I can’t help but feel the tragedy of a building surviving the German onslaught only to fall at the hands of the Russians who helped protect it.

I’ve been re-evaluating all my other memories of the trip in a similar way. After Kyiv we went to Lviv, which was quaint and charming on the outside but very spunky underneath, full of irreverent counter-culture movements and overtly anti-Russian attitudes. We stumbled upon a bar in an underground dungeon whose “host” greeted us with a fake kalashnikov demanding a password and then handed us a menu where the “About the Owner” section basically said “f*ck you Russia, come at us.” What will Putin do if he finds himself governing over this strong, unruly group?

We also toured Chernobyl and the post-apocalyptic scene we witnessed there feels more foreboding today. When the nuclear disaster happened in 1986, the adjacent town of Pripyat was evacuated. The people were told they would be gone for 3 days but were never able to return, leaving behind a porthole to a world where humans suddenly disappear. Nature has taken over entirely, with main city roads resembling hiking trails. We visited a kindergarten (the young town had 15 of them) where all the nap-time beds and cubby holes were still in place, ravaged by vines and animals (wolves, mostly).

When the disaster occurred, a huge cloud of radioactive particles blew over most of Europe and even as far as Canada, causing illness and birth defects in unknown numbers. It was safe(ish) for us to go because the amount of radiation from just walking around the site for a day isn’t a huge deal and our guide carried a Geiger counter to show us the hot-spots. However, I have to imagine that any serious disturbance to the soil (say, from a stray bomb or war plane) could be devastating.

We were lucky to have Jack’s sister, Lily, join us for much of the trip. When the recent news hit, she reached out to our tour guide Kat to see how she was doing:

“About the situation – I’m in Kyiv. We woke up after explosions. Now we are waiting for new ones. Some people are in bomb shelters, some spend this day in metro. We are scared, but this is our country and we will defend it. It is a great tragedy that such crime is happening in 21 century in the center of Europe…”

Kat’s studying to be a doctor and I keep wondering what that means in the middle of a war.

Below are some of our favorite pictures from Ukraine but you can find more in the Photos tab.