26/07/08
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Full steam ahead to Kiev
A 210 mile ride to Kiev. Not being there in time to meet Anneke didn't bear thinking about, so it was full steam eastwards along the E40. Coming over a rise in the road, I noticed a distant figure flagging me down. My first speed trap!
According to the nice policeman's radar gun, I'd been going at 80kph in a 50 limit. I got to sit in the driver's seat of the police Lada while his colleague (the slightly less nice policeman) took me through some of the finer points of the Ukrainian highway code. The speed limit on this motorway would halve from 100kph to 50 whenever you passed a town sign, and go back up again when you passed a similar sign with a red line diagonally across it. I suppose I could have guessed this from the relaxed way in which the locals were ambling across the fast lane, but anyway - I managed to dig out the word for 'fine' from my Russian phrasebook, which seemed to go down well. 200 Hryvnia (pronounced 'greevna' - about £22) changed hands and the nice policeman ventured a couple of comments about Chelsea FC. 'Da - Roman Abramovich!' I replied, at which they both laughed heartily, shook my hand warmly and motioned me on my way. After all my preconcieved ideas about what the police in the fomer Soviet countries would be like, I was heartened by how straightforward and polite the encounter had been - these guys had been professional and friendly throughout.
By 2pm, I was within the city limits of Kiev and wondering how long it would take me to find the hotel by guesswork alone. The map from Expedia pinpointed the hotel's location with fabulous precision but was wary of committing itself to the existence of any streets at all. The map in Lonely Planet looked pretty good, but didn't have anything resembling the address of the hotel. My best clue was that the map had a place on it which matched a word in the name of the hotel. It seemed like a good starting point, and off I went. It didn't help that many of the central avenues were closed because of it being the weekend of a particularly important religious festival (1020 years since the foundation of the Ukrainian church) and that everywhere was crawling with policemen. As I passed one particular group for the third time, the now-familiar flourescent baton waved me over. This time I knew the drill: passport, international driving licence, expression of bewlidered innocence. I explained where I was coming from and going to, and pulled out my Lonely Planet map. The policemen pointed out a road that skirted the centre, heading north by the side of the river, and one of the first things I saw after turning the corner was the very welcome hotel sign. By 4.00, I had the bike tucked away in the underground car park and was loitering noncholantly in reception just as Anneke arrived.
Over the next 2 days, we covered the centre of Kiev thoroughly, by foot, funicular railway and Metro. The grand Soviet-era metro stations had come highly recommended, and they were worth a look. The Monastery of the Caves - one of the main highlights of the city - was a good hike up the hillside from the metro station, but worth it for the cramped, candle-lit tunnels with the mummified corpses of monks set into niches, attracting the sincere devotions of long queues of locals. Walking back to the centre against the tide of the main festival procession, it was clear just how religious a country Ukraine is. People from every walk of life - old people, sick people, youths, soldiers, dozens of grey-bearded priests each attended by two or three younger priests carrying spare hats in boxes - pressed down the street, carrying banners and chanting different things. We took the metro back from 'Arsenala' station to Independence Square, scene of 2004's Orange Revolution and today the same thriving hive of activity that you'd expect in any major city, complete with a prominent MacDonalds sign.
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