For three years I lived in Kyiv. You know what is funny is that there were a few times I hated it there. This was particularly the case during 2020, when not only did we have COVID-19, but the fires from the Chornobyl exclusion zone were hammering Kyiv. At this time you would struggle to comfortably breathe without humidifiers in your home, and it smelled like someone was burning a fire next to you. A few other times I was experiencing some culture shocks, or was tired of being quite exhausted, racing across the city to teach English, while managing a Ph.D. and living in a tiny Kruschovka flat. Things did change, especially as COVID restrictions were lifted and I began to integrate better, and actually thanks to COVID i switched to remote work and part-time studies, giving my life a considerable degree of freedom and more income in fact.
Yet as I explained before, I loved Kyiv’s beauty from the start, and as I lived there I discovered more places to explore (walking to random places during COVID was a big part of this when you’d nothing else to do helped), more exciting nightlife, new people, etc. I didn’t quite fully appreciate it though till last year, when I felt I couldn’t go back.
I described my visit last September to Kyiv, and life felt very normal. A week later we had the strikes and a reminder things weren’t the same. The other week when I was there, sharply reminded me of that, as the attacks have today. Today I was checking in on people I know there, finding out what they’ve experienced and ensuring they’re safe while sitting in the safety of Uzhhorod.
I want to describe my visit to Kyiv though. I believe it can demonstrate the even sharper surreal and defiant life there.
Me and my wife took the train from Uzhhorod in the evening. A 16-hour journey, and a whole compartment of four beds for the whole cost of 30 euros for the two of us. A few weeks prior to this, we were taking a train from Derby to Luton airport in the UK, a 2-hour journey (maybe less) and people were standing and sitting between the carriages, and I overheard someone say they paid 120 pounds to stand. The UK is a joke, honestly.
The journey is quite a romantic one, especially as you pass through the Carpathians, after which I fell asleep quite comfortably before waking in the morning not far from Kyiv. One disadvantage though was they decided, for some reason, to put the heating on. It was 20+ degrees. No idea.
Upon arrival, I was incredibly excited. We rented a flat right on Kreschatyk, probably the main street of Kyiv, full of shops, locals, and tourists wandering along from Maidan square. We’d be within walking distance of everything, and it meant we’d not have to rush or take an overpriced taxi to go back home before curfew if we met friends centrally, which we would.
The atmosphere of the city those first few days was high and I was delighted to be back. While we had a couple of brief sirens, no one seemed to really even blink. Not that long before we had the incident with the wayward drone shot down over Kyiv, and a few Shaheed drone attacks, yet most people brushed them off as easily dealt with. This perhaps now, seems a little reckless.
Those first few days involved hanging out in bars, going to restaurants to have cuisine we can’t get in Uzhhorod (Tatar, decent Georgian food, Thai, and McDonald’s even- don’t judge), seeing friends, a day-long BBQ by a lake in Obolon before watching Eurovision. And we were genuinely discussing whether to come back to Kyiv. It felt like home. We missed the vibe, the excitement, the choices, the places to walk and explore
Well, it all changed one evening. It was the night that many Kyiv residents said was one of the loudest since the war started. The sirens went off at night, and we were unsure what to do. We dozed back to sleep before being awoken to the loud banging, which I initially mistook while asleep for someone banging bins or something, and we went to the corridor in the flat. Of course, whether out of morbid curiosity, a desire for some experience of the war, or a human desire to know where a danger is, I had to take a look to see what I could spot. I saw the air defence firing upward, though I could not work out where from and could it hear it clearly.
After time in the corridor, the application eventually went off to declare the raid over, and, after the nerves calmed down, we went back to sleep. On the topic of sirens, in central Kyiv, they seemed very quiet in some attacks, only going off when it seemed more serious. That was interesting to me they’ve managed to adjust that, as in Uzhhorod they seem to go off full blast.
The next day was difficult. I felt tired from the interruption to sleep, yet people seemed to be functioning okay. I admire this resilience. We yet again went out in the evening with friends, had drinks, and saw life going on to its full extent, walking among the blossoming chestnut trees and the sun-soaked streets. Of course, everyone was talking about the previous night, yet, people refuse to stop living their lives. It is admirable, of course, but I, a cowardly Uzhhorodite, am not used to such things.
The night after was uneventful, though we were better prepared by making a bed in the corridor with a power bank, water, and pillows, in case we needed to spend time there again. This would come in handy the night after when once again the strikes were loud. After the first siren we went straight to the corridor bed, and then around 30 or 40 minutes later heard the air defence once more. It was short, and then we fell asleep, until the siren went off again to announce it was over, and we could go back to bed. The sirens this time, both before and after, came on, which made us worried, and realised it was serious.
The next day was our last day and Vyshyvanka day. Friends were trying to convince us to stay, yet, after last night’s attack once more, and the sense of anxiety and tiredness, we had lost that enthusiasm, and longed for safe Uzhhorod. Yes, it is privileged to have this choice, and I admire those who persevere. Yet, it is a choice I have, and one we made. Perhaps were I single, and my wife single, we’d be more willing to take the risk. It is part of being married, I suppose, to minimise danger to yourself more.
For vyshyvanka day we had my wife’s mum send our vyshyvanki to Kyiv as she had them. First of all, the fact she could send it to us, almost next door, in two days, is a testament to the amazing nature of Nova Poshta. Second, this allowed us to dress appropriately and fulfil our previous tradition to go to Kontraktova Plosha and have a photo next to the Bohdana Khelmytski statue. One we missed last year.
The day was spent working from cafes with friends and then drinking some beers again (and spotting a fella sticker in one bar) before eventually taking the train back to Uzhhorod. I was very sad to leave my friends and Kyiv again. I will miss the busy streets, the general atmosphere, the business, the bars, the cafes, the restaurants, the sense of a living vibrant metropolis with people from all over. Uzhhorod has a far more provincial feel where everyone knows everyone, which has its charms but I think I am a bigger city person in some ways now. Though it’s not the same nor will it be for a while. Yet the last couple of weekends I fully enjoyed in Uzhhorod, making new friends, going out, basking by the river in the sunshine, and being able to walk everywhere, is also a great joy here. Plus the air is clean and the noise considerably less.
Stlll, my heart will always be with Kyiv, the city that defies russia every day it thrives, that has stood so much in its history, and stands today, and will always stand. I await returning.
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