The first few days of the trip were a whirlwind and when that first Saturday came, I was told Ivegeniia, Halyna, and Andrew would be taking me for a tour of the city, which I had not fully seen yet. Andrew is the nineteen year old son of Tanya, a teacher at Gymnasium 18. He spent last year as an exchange student in Leadville, Colorado. I was looking forward to seeing him.
The plan was to tour the city, have lunch, make it back to the hotel for the late afternoon, then go to Tanya's home for a traditional Ukrainian dinner.
Ivegeniia and Halyna picked me up at my hotel at 9 a.m. and we walked across the street to board the bus to the center of town. Andrew would meet us in the city. Lutsk is a city of 200,000 people on the Volyn river. The city and region have at times been part of Lithuania, Poland, the Soviet Union, and now Ukraine. Lutsk residents and their ancestors were used to be a part of something else, but they were also resolute about being part of Lutsk.
Once off the bus, we traveled down some cobbled streets where we ended up at a large church, its spire jutting what appeard to be at least 100 feet above the roof into the brilliant blue sky.
Unfortnately the church was closed, so we were only able to see from the outside.
Next, we continued down the old streets, lined with small single homes behind crumbling or wire fences, toward the river. At the bottom of the last street, we were greeted by a building right out of a short story; there were stone icons staring out at us from the wall; there were angels and demons and others that resembled Greek gods. There was a four foot stone wall circling the home. Ivegeniia explained this was the studio of her mother's neighbor; he was a famous artist in Lutsk and one of his statues graced a downtown park that we would see later. He was a troubled soul, his only daughter having been killed a couple of years ago. He used his art to grieve.
Behind the wall nearest the river was a scrap heap that I would have characterized as a landfill. I was told this was his store of possible materials. Ivegeniia knocked on the huge wood door, but received no answer. We scouted the inside of the yard, finding fountains, more icons, and his cat. In a few moments, the artist came to the door and we were introduced. He did not speak English and he quickly asked if I had any American coins. I did not have any in my pockets, but promised to send some back to him with Ivgeniia. He bid us goodbye, and we continued our tour.
The plan was to tour the city, have lunch, make it back to the hotel for the late afternoon, then go to Tanya's home for a traditional Ukrainian dinner.
Ivegeniia and Halyna picked me up at my hotel at 9 a.m. and we walked across the street to board the bus to the center of town. Andrew would meet us in the city. Lutsk is a city of 200,000 people on the Volyn river. The city and region have at times been part of Lithuania, Poland, the Soviet Union, and now Ukraine. Lutsk residents and their ancestors were used to be a part of something else, but they were also resolute about being part of Lutsk.
Once off the bus, we traveled down some cobbled streets where we ended up at a large church, its spire jutting what appeard to be at least 100 feet above the roof into the brilliant blue sky.
Unfortnately the church was closed, so we were only able to see from the outside.
Next, we continued down the old streets, lined with small single homes behind crumbling or wire fences, toward the river. At the bottom of the last street, we were greeted by a building right out of a short story; there were stone icons staring out at us from the wall; there were angels and demons and others that resembled Greek gods. There was a four foot stone wall circling the home. Ivegeniia explained this was the studio of her mother's neighbor; he was a famous artist in Lutsk and one of his statues graced a downtown park that we would see later. He was a troubled soul, his only daughter having been killed a couple of years ago. He used his art to grieve.
Behind the wall nearest the river was a scrap heap that I would have characterized as a landfill. I was told this was his store of possible materials. Ivegeniia knocked on the huge wood door, but received no answer. We scouted the inside of the yard, finding fountains, more icons, and his cat. In a few moments, the artist came to the door and we were introduced. He did not speak English and he quickly asked if I had any American coins. I did not have any in my pockets, but promised to send some back to him with Ivgeniia. He bid us goodbye, and we continued our tour.
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