THE THINGS WE DO...: Wandering the streets of Lviv (07/24/05)

THE THINGS WE DO...

by Orysia Paszczak Tracz

Wandering the streets of Lviv

I did it twice, and hope to do it again this year. The last two Augusts, after bidding farewell to my tour groups at the Lviv Airport, I stayed behind for a week on my own. Not that I didn't enjoy being the mother hen for the group for 16 days, but during that time there is no extra moment for anything else.

With this extra time, I had no plans other than to meet with a few people and to see the city. And oh, did I see it! Each time, for a whole week, I wandered the streets and loved it. I reveled, I luxuriated, I wallowed in the pleasure of being in Lviv.

The first time, I stayed with a family on Ivan Franko Street, near Stryiskyi Park. This was an old Austrian-era building, with very high ceilings and windows, and an interesting courtyard. It was a 10-minute walk to the center of the city. I would leave around 10 a.m., walk toward town, past the small Stryiskyi market of flower and produce vendors, cross onto the small picturesque Hrushevsky Street, and wind up at Shevchenko Boulevard. Prospekt Nezalezhnosti/Independence Plaza is just further down. Around 7-8 p.m., if I had no other plans, I would walk back "home."

Last year, I stayed with a family on the outskirts of the city on Vyhovsky Street, nearer the airport, and close to the Pivdennyi Bazar (an enormous indoor and outdoor shopping mall) and BAM [transliterated as VAM], the big supermarket. It was way too far to walk downtown, so this time, I would take the "marshrutka," or mini-bus, to the center. For 1 hrv, it is an educational and entertaining ride. You get to see the neighborhoods and the people.

And you can stop a marshrutka practically anywhere. While they do have regular stops, you can also just raise your arm about waist-high, pointing your index finger down, indicating you want him to stop here. If you get in via the back door, you pass your hryvnia down by other passengers. If there is change to be had from a larger bill, it will find its way back to you.

A treat I will remember for a long time is getting on the marshrutka on August 24, Independence Day 2004. As I settled down, I noticed the song on the radio. It was Kvitka - our Kvitka - Kvitka Cisyk, singing "Ya pidu v daleki hory"! She was followed by Ruslana and Sophia Rotaru.

Lviv is fascinating. No wonder its inhabitants are so fiercely patriotic - fanatical, even - about their city. I don't blame them one bit. This spring, Lviv celebrated its 749th anniversary - seven and a half centuries. For North Americans, where something a few hundred years old is "ancient," this can be mind-numbing. But in Lviv, in Ukraine and in Europe in general, old really means old.

If you're walking through the Ploshcha Rynok (City Hall Square), the Ratush, and are surrounded by the town buildings from the 16-18th centuries (a UNESCO Heritage Site), or are passing the Arsenal from the 1400s, or walk down Virmenska Vulytsia (Armenian Street - possibly the oldest in the city, from the mid-1200s) - or enter any of the old churches - you can't help but be surrounded by antiquity, culture, history and heritage. And it's all so normal, so natural.

Once I arrived downtown, I'd pick up a few newspapers and decide where to stop for coffee. What a problem! Either Veronika (on Shevchenko), a pastry shop and restaurant to die for, or the Viennese Cafe on Prospekt Nezalezhnosti, where eventually you will run into everyone and anyone you know from Winnipeg to Manhattan and Kolomyia - the coffee shops and restaurants of Lviv are truly delightful.

One favorite is U Pani Steftsi, on the main boulevard, near the bookstore building (ah, the bookstores ... but that's another story) and across from the Khudozhnyk gallery and gift shop. Pani Steftsia serves delicious Ukrainian cuisine, inexpensively, in a beautiful Ukrainian village-style decor. The serving staff is dressed in elegant Ukrainian costumes. Halia, one of the waitresses, is drop-dead gorgeous - a true Ukrainian beauty. But be sure to be there early in the afternoon, because they often run out of some favorites by evening. Another lovely Ukrainian-style restaurant is Oselia, on Hnatiuk Street. You're eating in a folk museum!

There is beauty, elegance and history at every step. The doorways, courtyard gates, windows with their window boxes, store signs and monuments all have such fascinating architectural and artistic details. One building on the corner of Ivano Franko and Hrushevsky streets has stylized sunflowers in the stone ornamentation around the main entrance. The Ukrainian touches are part of the architecture of many periods.

Through the courtyard gates on Virmenska Vulytsia, you can glimpse sunlit hanging kylyms on the balconies in the surrounding chiaroscuro. The old and used book market on Ivan Fedorov Square, appropriately surrounds the imposing statue of the 16th century first printer of Ukraine. For something completely different, there's Toronto Pizza on Bohdan Lepky Street.

The history is there not only in the monuments and the various historical, cultural and architectural plaques on particular buildings (in the whole country, it seems every building, street and even tree has some significance). The street and other place names tell you how old the place really is.

Vysokyi Zamok (the high castle or fortress) really is just that, the highest spot in the city where a fortress once stood (recently the Lviv City Council voted down the mayor's grand plans to rebuild the fortress). Nyzkyi Zamok (the low castle or fortress) no longer remains, but the name does, in a city square where it used to be. The Valova (rampart) and Pidvalna (at the rampart) streets tell you where those ramparts actually were back in the 1200-1300s, and some stone walls and tunnels remain to remind you.

Around the Ratush (city hall), a district that is a UNESCO Heritage Site, the street names remain from the beginning of the city, telling of the early merchants and residents of the area: Serbska (Serbian), Ruska (Rus'), Halytska (Halych) and, now, Staroyevreiska (Old Jewish). This last one was originally called Starozhydivska, but because of the implication - in Russian, not Ukrainian - that "zhyd" is a pejorative term, the logically convoluted post-Soviet politically correct term won out. In general, the old Polish street names have remained, but Russian ones have not. And, to the consternation of the Russians, Dudaev Street remains, the first one named in honor of the fallen Chechen freedom fighter.

The names of shops, taverns and restaurants are quite descriptive, especially the ones beginning with "pid" (under, or at), meaning under the sign or statue of: Pid Zolotym Olenem (under the golden stag), Pid Levom (under the lion), Pid Sviatym Dukhom (under the Holy Ghost).

The various guilds (bratstva) of early centuries are also remembered on the streets where they were established: Drukarska (printers), Shevska (shoemakers), and Teatralna (theater). As to the images of lions in this City of Leo, there are probably thousands, as statues, bas reliefs on doorways, wrought iron signs, on billboards and in art in general.

On Independence Plaza, the park stretching about five blocks from the opera to Shevchenko Boulevard, old men play chess and checkers, mostly in concentrated silence. But every so often a sudden cheer goes up as someone wins. The plaza at the elegant Taras Shevchenko monument is a meeting and gathering place. The very moving bronze "wave" next to him tells the history of Ukraine on one side, and the tragic and victorious history of the 20th century on the other. "I'll meet you at Shevchenko," is a common phrase.

On Sunday afternoons into evening, a group of mostly older folks gathers here for singing. A crowd forming a huge concentric circle sings its heart out, and it sings the old folk songs as well as the patriotic songs from the two wars. They also sing the songs of exile in Siberia and formerly secret patriotic songs of resistance and imprisonment from the late 1940s and 1950s. I enjoy listening and joining in because, except for the latter, I know these songs from my childhood in New Jersey. I grew up with them. It is interesting that the youth of Ukraine in general no longer know these songs - or folk songs in general. They grew up on the "estrada" - pop songs (at least these include Ivasiuk's songs, and now Ruslana has popularized the folk stuff in a modern way).

The bases of the Shevchenko statue, as well as the shrine to the Mother of God and the Mickiewicz statue further on are usually covered with bouquets of fresh flowers by the end of the summer weekends. Traditionally, brides leave their bouquets there as part of the wedding ceremonies.

I look forward to the serendipity that happens in Ukraine. In 2003, as I walked down one street, I noticed in a window a poster announcing the launch of a new book by Iryna Senyk ("Metelyk Spomyniv"). It would be held the next day at the Museum of Ethnography. When I arrived, I was floored at the number of people there - and not only regular members of the community, but the "smetanka" (cream of the crop) of Ukrainian cultural, political and former dissident society.

It was a pleasure to see many guests from this side of the ocean, including a representative of this newspaper, clergy from the U.S. and Canada, and the Honorary Canadian Consul, Dr. Oksana Wynnyckyj. The generous sponsors of the book, Mr. and Mrs. Oleh Iwanusiw of Toronto were also present. It was an elegant, cultured event, and I was pleased so many former political prisoners were now able to enjoy the fruit of their former tortuous lives.

In August of 2004, I participated in the glorious celebration of Independence Day. In the afternoon there was a concert in the Park Kultury (Amusement Park), with various ethnic groups of Lviv bringing greetings and performing. Lviv residents of Belarusian, Greek, Armenian, Jewish and Tatar backgrounds sang and danced.

The Belarusian choir was especially applauded when they ended their segment with "Nalyvaimo, Brattia" in Ukrainian. The lyrics of the song and the choir's enthusiasm were welcomed by the audience. One could only think of the sad fate of their countrymen in Belarus. It was strange that the Armenian and Tatar spokesmen brought greetings on this Ukrainian Independence Day in Russian.

And, while their performance was applauded well later, it did not go over too well with the audience that when the representatives of the Jewish community were introduced to bring greetings, no one came out on stage to do so.

The mistress of ceremonies was an elegant woman from the Greek community who spoke fluent Ukrainian. And that community was represented by a talented Ukrainian young lady, Ilona Kuchynska, who sang a number of songs in fluent Greek.

On the evening of Independence Day, I went down to the opera, joining thousands of revelers to see Ruslana and other winners of Eurovision. I did see and hear her, and from where I stood in the massive crowd, she was about 2 inches tall. It was such a joyous, enthusiastic yet peaceful gathering of so many people of all ages, many in embroidered shirts and blouses.

The best serendipity happened in 2003, on Horodotska Street, right behind the opera. As I turned onto that block, there in living color, on an enormous billboard, was a Kozak holding a mug of Lvivske pyvo (Lviv beer). He was the spitting image of Slavko Nowytski, yes, our Slavko. True, it was the Slavko of a decade or two back, but the very same one. And his daughter Tusia was right next to me as I gaped at "his" face.

I'll be back this August, this time wandering the streets of both Lviv and Kyiv. Maybe I'll run into one of you, dear readers. I hope so.

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