Fashionably cold

We tried to be, at least. But I was looking like a puffed up penguin with my long johns on. We brought along skirts as we were going to the Caves Monestary and we had to put them on if we wanted to enter. We also need to wrap scarves around our heads. Imagine that. Bomber jacket, jeans, boots, long skirt, scarf wrapped over my head. I was a walking fashion disaster. Another tourist (I presume, due to the "western" way he was dressed - clean jeans with no embellishment, Northface jacket, and essentially a "western" look) smiled widely and winked. Oh boy, we looked hideous alright. It was raining. So go figure how we looked as we traipsed across the compound with an open umbrella. No, no photos taken to remind ourselves of how we looked. We were also a sight putting on the skirts and stripping in public. Nevermind, tourists!

The incredible thing is, we did not have to dress like that until we GOT to the caves. Right. So we walked a long distance looking like incredibly fat women who have no fashion sense, when we didn't have to. We finally figured that out when we didn't see any more signs and every Russian school kid there on an excursion was staring at us. Dang, they put the sign right in front where we got in, so not knowing how to read cyrillic, we presumed it was for the entire compound. Nope, we only had to do so when visiting the caves where the saints are still residing (read - mummies).

Frightfully cold when we got there. The compound was so huge, we got lost. Bumped into 2 Chinese girls. They told us how to enter the compound. They are currently studying in Ukraine. Imagine that!

We had to hide in the churches in the compound to keep out of the wind. It was raining and so cold the rain fell as ice. Hurts a little when they splatter on my face. We are not allowed to take photos in the caves. We purchased a candle each. A mother rushed through the door and hurriedly wrapped a skirt around her daughter, who had been waiting on the bench. There were loads of devotees and we all lined up to enter the narrow tunnel, which was all gleaming white against the candle light. I cannot imagine how a hefty, tall Ukrainian/Russian will fit through the tunnel. There was very little light in the cave. The wax was dripping off so Cheng tilted the candle and was gestulated again, a little old lady to keep the candle upright. Why? We walked through and finally there they were. The line then got a little fuzzy and devotees flitted from one saint to the other. Like in the church, they prayed and kiss the glass casing which housed the mummified saints. I peered into the glass and couldn't see any bones or skin - they were all very well covered up with red fabric. I didn't feel the serenity which I felt in the churches. A few turns about the cave and we were out. We were in another room where they offered prayers. It was gold gilted. As we could not take photos, I did a voice recording of what I'm seeing on my phone. An old lady tapped me and waved me off to keep my phone. Dang. Faux pas again. One thing I can remember - the ornate gold finishing around the paintings. And on one painting of Jesus Christ, they looped a chain full of rings across the painting. Why? No one can explain it to me in a language I understand. I was a little overwhelmed by the gleaming gold and the hustle and bustle of devotees kissing each glass cased painting. Sadly, I can have no more out of this place. Though it is a UNESCO heritage site, it is strangely lacking in information for foreign travellers. The other (very brief) English sign we came across later in another cave was something along the lines of
"No laughing
Dress in long skirts
Wrap your head with scarves
Please respect the sanctity of this place!"
Yup, the exclamation mark was on the sign.

We could see the Dnipro river from the monastery. It is beautiful. But it was too cold to walk along the river. I would have froze, I'm sure. "Pardon" (pronounce in French) when a long-bearded priest in black robes opened the door which very nearly touched us. Wow, they speak French! We walked higher up to another church. We stripped outside the church. It was very beautiful from up there. A lady asked Cheng to take her photo, but Cheng was too freezing cold to take off her gloves and just wanted to run into the church. So I did it. Gorgeous. My lousy camera did not do the view justice. There was a procession going on in the church and we were not allowed in. When we could enter later, I was very touched by the scene of a young couple (very fashionably dressed) with their heads bowed, hands locked together and praying. In the church, which seemed pretty new to me, were of course frescos. These were in light, baby colours and the church had sunlight streaming in. It was a cheery-looking church. Next to the church was a cemetary.

Staggering in the cold, we finally made it to the upper caves. I was shaking so badly in the wind that my photos turned out really bad. Rushed into the nearest building. Cool, turns out they now use it as a gallery for Ukrainian artists. And I bought a painting. I've never done this overseas before. Then I thought of how I was going to lug in home. Madness. And the rain? Pure madness. We dashed about the compound in a haphazard manner, just to duck from the cold. Ran into an exhibition on literary heros, I suppose. I no read/speak Ukrainian/Russian. It was still very interesting to see their old songbooks, novels. One can only wonder if they are of Ukrainian nationalism or communist propaganda. No matter. I leaned against the glass and was gestured (again!) by the caretaker in a tongue I have no clue about. We were in the compound for 4 hours. Crazy, we had to get food. I was so happy when we sighted a little tavern cafe. It was what I imagined a viking hangout would look like. Wide, stocky tables and benches. Small alcove for the barista made the coffee. All set against the white walls. But this had a TV blaring Friends, Charmed in Russian/Ukrainian. The hot chocolate was ... plasticky. Too much creamer I think.

Back in the hotel, we had to get water. Well, the hunky concierge could understand that we wanted to get to a supermarket, but he did not know how to verbalise the directions to us. So we walked on. Dang the cold! Later, the bell guy caught up with us and showed us to the government store. So nice! When we were back in the hotel, upon knowing where we were from, he told us he's been to SG, Malaysia and Thailand. Wow! But back then he could not speak English. I asked whether it was on holiday or on work, but I couldn't really hear the reply. Oh yes, did I mention the hotel we got transferred to (to be closer to the client's office) has no lifts.

And we had to iron our working clothes for tomorrow. The ladies who brought the stuff in are also very nice, smiley and all. Hmm... everyone in this tiny hotel so far has been nice, except for the receptionists. I attribute it to lost in translation. (1 Nov 2006)