Personal exploration, growth and total immersion in one's work (142Cong.Rec.E376)

More than two years ago, I took a test that determined that, on a scale with 5 being the best, I speak and read Russian at a level 2. I tried, I really did, to maintain my language skills while in London, but it was clear upon my arrival in Ukraine that I was way behind. Many of my colleagues are native or heritage speakers, so they speak and read at level 3 or above. My supervisors believe, and I agree, that a level 3 is much more ideal for doing one's job. And so, two weeks after settling into Kyiv, I fled town for a language immersion trip. 

The goal of my weekend in Chernigiv was to bombard myself with so much Russian as to jump-start my language skills. And indeed, it did. During my time staying with my host mother Lyudmila, I only heard English a few times, including when I taught her how to say "watermelon." But I also got a crash course in Ukrainian culture, as viewed through the spare bedroom of Lyudmila's flat on the outskirts of town (left). As we walked through the adjacent forest, she picked berries for me to eat right off the bushes, and when we strolled through downtown, she took photos of me next to nearly every fountain (right).

 

Coincidentally, before I knew I would be doing the immersion trip, I had signed up for a day tour of Chernigiv. Luckily, the city is full of interesting sights, so there was little overlap during the back-to-back weekends. Both visits, we stopped by Transfiguration Cathedral, one of the oldest cathedrals in Ukraine. It was built in the 11th century, but it was burnt down and reconstructed in the 18th century. Only a bit of the the original structure can be seen on one of the towers (left), but nonetheless, once inside, you definitely feel like you are stepping into ancient history (right).

 

Both times, we passed by, but didn't enter, St. Catherine's Cathedral, a restored 18th-century church that can been seen from many directions, including from the town's lengthy pedestrian boulevard (left). It also can be viewed from the Citadel, the site of a medieval fortress that once defended the city (right). The church itself has a connection to conflict: During World War II, it was badly burnt while being used as a storage room by the Nazis. 

 

Nowadays, more love than war appears to be made in the city. In one park near the municipal building, there is a pergola where lovers demonstrate their devotion with symbolic locks (left). Another tradition, at least according to the four brides and grooms who were being photographed during my second visit, is to have wedding shots taken in Detinets Park (right).

Another common photo op in the park is at the Shevchenko sculpture, where people shake the hand or share the bench of the Ukrainian writer (top left). But in my opinion, the best vistas to put in your viewfinder are those of the Desna River (top right). From the same viewing platform, you can look across the city's hills to see its many church towers (bottom).

The most prominent columns are the spire and bell tower of Trinity Monastery. During the second visit, we made it to the monastery with 10 minutes to spare to climb the bell tower (top left). I got quite the glute workout as I scaled the stairs to the top, where I could look back to the cathedrals near the Citadel (top right). It also provided a good view of the monastery cathedral (bottom left). I was able to snap only one shot in the cathedral before I was shooed out because services were starting (bottom right). 

 

A little further down the road and quite a bit less obvious is another monastery, known as St. Anthony's Caves for the ascetic who established similar underground religious retreats throughout the Kyiv area. The caves consist of three churches, the first of which appears quite traditional (left). But as you head further into the hill, the churches become more, well, cave-like, such as one that has become a shrine to its namesake saint (right). 

On the way to the hill, we passed a small rise known as the Black Grave, one of the largest surviving 10th-century burial mounds, named after the Black Prince who supposedly founded the city (top left). The mound sits right across the street from Eletsky Monastery (top right), which now functions as a convent (bottom left). Compared to the other cathedrals in the city, this one seemed to have a woman's touch, with much more brightness and lightness (bottom right). 

 

On the other hand, Pyatnytska Church had quite a manly feel, possibly due to the nearby wooden sculpture of Prince Igor the Brave (top). Unfortunately, the church was closed for repairs, but I did attempt to tap into its treasures by participating in the ritual touching of a stone from the original structure (bottom left). In the same park sits a statue of Bogdan Khmelnitsky, a Cossack leader who called on Russia to help free Ukraine from Polish rule. Of course, Russia seized the opportunity to become rulers themselves, much to Khmelnitsky's regret, so in a symbolic move, after the fall of the Soviet Union, the statue was turned so its back faced Moscow.

On our way to Chernigiv the second time, we stopped in the village of Kozelets, home to the Cathedral of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin (top). People go out of their way to visit the church because of its impressively high and uniquely colored iconostasis (bottom left). We were lucky enough to also be granted access to the basement burial place of Natalia Razumovsky, respected for refusing to sacrifice love for reputation and, ultimately, gaining renown by founding the church (bottom right).

I can't hold back any longer: The real reason I signed up for the second trip was because it included a tour of Chernigivske Beer, an InBev product (top left). We donned necessary but unflattering safety gear (top right), so we could walk through the factory, right past the mash tuns (middle left) and bottling conveyors (middle right). On the way to the tasting room, we saw the factory's many varieties of beer being readied for distribution (bottom left). I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a dozen beers lined up to be sampled -- even if one label bore a familiar non-Russian word, Budweiser (bottom right).