Strolling Through the Park One Day

It seems that every visitor to Kiev gets to meet the mayor.  Or at least every visitor as lucky as me.  Today we went to meet Ina, a local journalist who studied at the University of Missouri with our fellow ETA Katherine.  Ina wanted to take us to the New Botanical Gardens, much better, she assured us, than those crappy old Botanical Gardens by our former hotel.  Indeed, the gardens were beautiful, even on the last day of August when almost nothing is in bloom.  They include gorgeous fountains, an incredible view of the city, an onsite church and vast, varied rose gardens (sorry Little Prince, a whole garden is even more beautiful than your single rose).  But the best part was when Ina pointed out an unassuming man in a leather jacket, strolling through the gardens like any Joe Schmoe, or in Russian, Yosef Shmosef.  She told us he was Leonid Chernovetsky, the mayor of Kiev, and proceeded to chase after him like the star journalist she is.  When we caught up to him, I said in Russian that I love the city.  Ina translated it into Ukrainian, though to my ear it sounded very similar.  Uncle Lyova, as I now call him, replied unenthusiastically that he loves it too.  Then we all got to take a picture with him, but not with any physical contact, because that might have breached security.  Later, we were waiting for the bus when we saw him drive off in his Benz, followed by equally posh security vehicles.  

The evening was bittersweet because our dear friend Emily sold out and left for Moscow.  We made her a wonderful farewell dinner with plenty of food, booze and shokoladni tort.  If she feels half as satiated as I do, she’ll be asleep before she gets out of city limits.  I helped her into the train and befriended a five-year old girl in her cabin.  It’s good to know that there are some people whose language abilities equal my own, even if the girl did use one or two words I don’t know.  Anyway, I made her promise to play games with Emily the whole way, and she seemed agreeable.  Then we all made faces from the platform: me and my friends, and the little girl’s babushka.  The train took off just as we were running out of appropriate pantomimes.  

Tonight, I’m too full and tired for much of anything.  Maybe a half-hour of Ukrainian sitcoms, then a couple pages of Don Quixote.  Tomorrow, I’ll try to finally get to St Sophia, only the most famous church in Kiev.  That will be my final responsibility as a tourist, and I’ll be free to go to silly places like the Museum of Kiev in Miniature.  Just in case I run into Uncle Lyova again, I want to be able to tell him I saw it all.