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Wandering North

Chronicling my travel adventures since 2007

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Posted inEurope Ukraine

Escaping the Lavra and Leaving Kyiv

Posted on 30 May 21
0

I flew back to Kyiv from Lviv. A short flight; less than one hour. And I was back in Kyiv. Back at the Dream Hostel. I has already done nearly everything that I wanted to do in Kyiv, with two exceptions: I wanted to visit the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra and I needed to get a Covid test to return home.

The Pechersk Lavra

The Lavra is a monastery complex that sprung up around the original cave monastery founded in about 1000. It is filled with stunning churches and sacred caves. Judging by the number of bearded and black robed priests wandering about with staffs or chalices, it is an operating religious site and not just a series of photo opportunities (though it is great for the latter as well).


To get them you take the metro to the Arselana station, which is often proclaimed to be the deepest subway station in the world, although I have read that there is one deeper in Pyongyang. Even if it was not the closest stop to the Lavra, I would have made a point of going there to the [second] deepest metro station in the world.

From the metro, it is a nice, easy walk to the Lavra, past various cafes, past one of the coolest Soviet hotels I have ever seen, and through a lovely park, with statues, a Holocaust memorial site, and excellent views of the city.

The Lavra, as I mentioned, is churches. Several of them, most of them open to the public, and all but one, which was purely historical, are full of worshippers. Mostly women it seemed, in colourful headscarves, lighting candles and standing in silent prayer.

There are also a few shops, a giant silver egg, like a Ukrainian disco ball, and a bell tower that regularly proclaims itself with peals of extended chimes.

Most unique to the site were the monastery caves. They are a labyrinth containing small churches and altars, and narrow corridors, lit by candles.  In addition to the shrines and rows of mummified monks, covered in ornate blankets and lying in glass coffins. There were a lot of people visiting when I was there. We queued up and descended single file into the bowels of this church, descending down in a corridor that was very narrow (no room for passing or changing your mind and turning around) and barely tall enough to to stand in. I am not claustrophobic, but moments like that is it possible to not be suddenly and keenly aware of the lack of space and means of escape? And to make things worse, everyone but me was carrying a thin, lit, candle. Ok, maybe I was being too safety conscious, but all I could think was how each person was inches from the next, with scarves and hair flowing, and…open flame? This seemed like a situation with an inevitable, macabre ending. 

People gathered – no, tightly clustered – in a small chapel room, and then filed down the coffin-lined corridors. No photos were allowed. I was happy to be there, to see this sight, but I also wanted to get out before I suffocated, burned to death, or was trampled. So I did the loop without much stopping, and emerged into the light.

After the Lavra, i walked to the park and viewpoints around the Ukrainian State Museum of the Great Patriotic War, which was moderately worthwhile. I stopped for a falafel on the way and to view a collection of Ukrainian tanks on display. I popped into a craft market, and finally went to the Kyiv food market, which is like a gourmet food court with live string music.

I also spent a good part of my final day trying in vain to repair, and then replacing with sneakers a very cool and very new pair of Kat Von D boots that fell apart completely shortly after purchase. On the plus side, I now know how to ask for duct tape in Russian.

A few more pictures from my final day in Kyiv…

PCR Test

The covid test was not so easily sorted on line. I reading about how there were many clinics in Kyiv offering the PCR test, but could not determine which ones there were or which test they did, or how to secure an appointment. Through word of mouth though I did find a clinic (Synevo. All around the city and, at the time of writing, drop in PCR tests were done and were very cheap) and I walked there to make the inquiry. I returned the next day for the test and had my results (negative) within 12 hours.

Other than walking to and from clinics, I spent my final two days in Kyiv, walking and eating and not much else. I had done what I came to do and more.

I thought Ukraine was great. It was a good European holiday but at Mexico prices and without a big list of ‘must sees’ it was more about easy discovery, which meant that everything was delightful and nothing disappointing. 

Return and Quarantine

Upon return from Ukraine, due to the Canadian laws at the time, I was required to spend 3 days in a government approved hotel as a quarantine facility and then 11 days at home, during which time I could not leave – not even to take out the trash. I had expected the quarantine to be torturous, but it was surprisingly fine. The hotel portion was very expensive ($1900 for 3 days, including food) but it was such a fabulous hotel that I did not want to leave. It even had a 9th floor patio on which I could smoke cigars while looking out at the ocean.

The home quarantine was inconvenient, but passed quickly. It is an experience I hope not to repeat, but for my first international trip in a year, it was well worth it.

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Tags: Catacombs church Covid Europe Kyiv Lavra mummy solo travel Travel travel blog Ukraine weird stuff
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Posted inEurope Ireland

New Year’s Eve in Dublin

I awoke in Dublin in my hostel bunk. I had had a perfectly lovely evening the night before but this was my one and only full day in the city. It was December 31st, and I would be leaving early the next morning. There was no time to waste.

I walked into the city and retraced some of my steps from the night before, to see the areas in daylight. The weather was not cooperating. It was windy and gray and cold. The grey and cold I was expecting and actually fine with, but the wind made things unpleasant. Fortunately, by the afternoon the sun would come out again for a bit.

Grey and cold Dublin

I felt immediately at home in Dublin; notwithstanding the excessive alcohol consumption I had observed the night prior, it has a seriousness about it. A studious, literary kind of aura that I’m very comfortable with. It’s entirely possible that I am projecting onto the city that which I already expected from a lifetime of reading novels and poetry by Irish authors, but nevertheless, that’s how it felt and I liked it.

Walking around Dublin there were plaques and statues to great Irish writers and thinkers. I sought out Oscar Wilde’s house and the statue of him. I won’t post a photo of the statue as it is ubiquitous online and I’m not a big fan, but it was very cool to see his house.

Oscar Wilde’s House

I had planned, of course, to go to Trinity College to see the library, however, it was closed for cleaning or renovation, so I had to take it off the list. Right there is a good reason to return to Dublin. But I was able to wander the city. I visited parks and shops and numerous cafes whenever I needed a break from my walking in the cold. Everyone I chatted with was friendly.

random street
St. Stephen’s Green

I visited Saint Patrick’s cathedral, which was a ticketed church, but well worth it as it is beautiful inside and there is a lot to look at. I enjoyed the decoration and design of the inside of the church, as well as the mummified remains of a cat and rat that were pulled out of the pipe organ in the 1950s.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral

I wandered aimlessly through the city at some point taking in statues and green spaces and bits of street art.

I visited the pub the Brazen Head, which bills itself as Dublin’s oldest pub, having been open since 1198. It wasn’t the best pub that I’d been to, but since I was right there, how could I skip such superlative drinking experience?

I walked to the Irish Museum of Modern Art, which was excellent. Precisely the sort of modern and occasionally weird art that I enjoy.

Irish Museum of Modern Art

I visited two cigar stores downtown. There was a James J Fox, which is related to the James J Fox tobacconist shops in London, which I frequent when I am there. As well as ‘The Decadent Cigar Emporium’. In both cases, I bought a couple of cigars and chatted with the proprietors about the smoking laws in Dublin.

Tobacconists

I had read prior to coming to Dublin that smoking had been banned indoors everywhere, but sometimes when you make inquiries you can find that there are certain secret places to smoke. Sadly, both shops confirmed for me that smoking is indeed banned inside and that includes a prohibition on any cigar lounges. The people at James J Fox were able to give me intel on one pub, however, where smoking would be allowed because it is technically outdoors. The James Toner pub. I made a mental note of that for later.

I wandered the alleys and poked around in bookshops and vintage clothing stores, just enjoying whatever i found in my path.

I was having a perfectly lovely day – especially after the sun came out; however, things took a turn when the sun went down. It was December the 31st. What that meant was that once the evening came, everyone’s evening plans went into full New Year’s Eve mode. I didn’t have any New Year’s Eve plans being there alone in the city.  I should say, I don’t like New Year’s regardless of where I am. I think it’s a stupid holiday. I don’t like excessive drinking, I don’t like staying up late, and I don’t like big raucous parties, so it’s just not for me. So spending New Years in a foreign city means that I’m a bit of an outsider. I would have been perfectly content to go for a nice dinner and have a drink somewhere but most of the restaurants had put in place expensive tickets for parties or multi course dinners with a prefix menu. And I wasn’t about to go and spend £100 to have a dinner or attend a party that I didn’t want. I also would have been happy to sit outside somewhere and just watch the world go by but, being that it was December in Ireland, it was cold and had started to rain again. I tried to elbow my way into a few pubs just to have a drink, but those places had already become so packed there was a waiting list outside.

Remembering the suggestion of the tobacconists at James J Fox, I walked to the James Toner pub. And this was my salvation. The James Toner pub is a proper pub, but they have a back entrance and there’s a sort of massive mostly enclosed patio area where smoking is allowed. You basically feel like you are indoors except that there is a small part of the ceiling that is replaced with the sky. It still had leather booths and tables and TVs and a full bar. The heaters were blaring and it was comfortable. I sat there and had three cigars and multiple Jameson and ginger ale drinks (a drink that I had only discovered once I went to Dublin and found to be quite tasty). People weren’t particularly social outside of their individual groups. It was New Year’s after all, and people were out with their friends to have a good time; they weren’t really interested in chatting with the weird foreign girl dressed in black smoking cigars in the corner. But that’s okay. I found a spot where I was comfortable, and I was happy to sit there quietly and just watch the crowd.

James Toner pub

Once it got to be about 9:00pm, it was time to move on. The place was getting too busy and too loud, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. At this point I just reconciled myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to go to a big party so I may as well just go back to my dorm. I felt a sense of shame going back to the hostel actually. Here I was in a foreign country; was I really not going to stay up until midnight to ring in the new year? No, no I was not. I had a shower and got into my bunk and as soon as I did that I knew that I had made the right decision. I was cozy and comfortable I watched a movie and fell asleep. I got to enjoy a bit of New Year’s revelry but was able to avoid the last few hours of drunken idiots and staying up late just for the sake of staying up.

The next morning, I woke up early. I think everyone in the hostel was asleep. Even the lobby was littered with the bodies of passed-out revellers. I arranged a taxi and headed back to the airport and back to Vancouver. It was a little less than 48 hours that I was in Dublin and, clearly, I need to return to see more of Ireland, but I was completely satisfied with the short visit that I had. Although I’m not sure that I would be eager to go and visit somewhere for New Year’s Eve again, it was a great way to start off 2024.

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Posted on 1 January 24
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Posted inEurope Ireland

Arrival in Dublin

The way statutory holidays fell in December of 2023, it made it irresistibly easy to take a long weekend away. I had just spent four days in Iceland over Christmas. I then returned to work for four days before again turning to the airport to fly to Dublin for New Year’s Eve. At the time, this seemed like a brilliant idea although I must admit that flying back across to Europe only four days after having just returned was a bit gruelling. But none of that mattered of course once i was in Ireland for the first time. It seemed brilliant.

I left Vancouver flew to London where I had a short layover and then flew to Dublin. This was my first time in Ireland and I wouldn’t have very much time there at all so I had to make the most of it. I arrived at about 4:00 PM on December the 30th and went straight to my hostel. I was staying at the Jacobs Inn hostel in Dublin, which was a great location, a short walk from the centre of town and to almost everything that I wanted to visit.

I don’t know what accommodation prices are like at times other than New Year’s, but at New Year’s that was very expensive. I booked myself a part in it room of 10 pods for women and I think that little bunk bed cost me about $150.00 a night CDN. Fortunately, I was only going to be there for two nights. It was a great hostel, extremely well designed. My little bunk was so cozy and comfortable it had all the necessary amenities. I scarcely saw the other girls that I was sharing a room with.

my hostel bunk

By the time I got myself organized and went out, it was dark. I walked across the bridge towards the Temple Bar area. I know, it’s super touristy, but when you never been there before it seems like a logical place to start in the evening. On the way I was walking down a street that seemed entirely unremarkable, when I past my first Irish pub.

John Mulligan, 220+ years strong

It was called the John Mulligan pub and its sign proclaimed that it had been in business since 1782. Good enough for me, I went inside. It was exactly what I wanted it to be. It was simple, cozy, and busy, but not too loud; everyone in there looked like a local and was having a good time chatting with each other. There were still Christmas decorations up. I made my way to the bar and ordered a whiskey. This is the part of the blog where I should tell you that I don’t drink beer so I did not consume any Guinness. This was strictly a whiskey trip. I do like whiskey, but I don’t tend to drink the Irish variety. For my two days in Dublin I would use my naivete as an ‘in’ to talking with locals and bartenders about their whiskeys and asking them what they recommended. That worked well in this instance, as soon I was deep in conversation with two local fellows. If that had been the only thing I did in Dublin I think I would have left perfectly satisfied it was a great experience.

my first whiskey

But I wasn’t done yet.

I continued over to the Temple Bar area, where things were noticeably more crowded and louder. The streets were charming. Clearly, there touristy, but they were extremely appealing. Everything seemed so Irish. There were fiddle players and whiskeys and Guinnesses, old buildings, men in tweed, young drunken boys smoking cigarettes…it was exactly what you would expect and everything you would want. I went into the actual Temple Bar itself, and got myself a different type of whiskey and elbowed my way into the centre courtyard, which only had a partial roof so, technically, smoking was allowed. I smoke some cigarillos and sat down and took in the scene. A band was playing Irish music in the occasional Leonard Cohen song. The place was standing room only and everyone was having seemingly the time of their lives.

whiskey and a cigarillo

I took this photo (below), which I think is my favourite photo that I took from the entire time I was in Dublin. There’s just so much energy and although you can’t see many faces, those faces that are exposed are all exuberant. It was another perfect experience.

Dublin, 30 December 2023

From there I walked around, I had a mediocre meal of something that I can no longer recall that involved potatoes, and I hit up another bar where I had a whiskey and a cigar on the patio. A few people chatted with me, most of them drunk, some of them flirtatious. It was all very enjoyable. It was a little on the cold side but it hardly mattered as I had several whiskeys now coursing through my body.

Another pub
A more subdued interior

It was a wonderful introduction to Dublin. The next day, December the 31st, was my only full day in Dublin and I had a lot to accomplish. I was in bed by about 11:00 that first night and excited for the next day.

A chilly cigar

(Whenever anyone tells me that my occasional short trips overseas aren’t worth the time for money that it takes to do them, I point to experiences like this. While Dublin certainly deserves more of your time than an evening, in that one evening I had a wonderful, memorable experience and I was thankful that I had another day to follow: New Year’s Eve.)

many of the buildings had lighting projections

murals near temple Bar

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Posted on 30 December 23
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Posted inEurope Iceland

Christmas Day in Reykjavik

Christmas Eve was behind me and i was confronted with my final day in Iceland: Christmas Day. I have not travelled much at Christmas. It is not a cheap as I would like, and some destinations are overcrowded. That said, it is easy to take a long weekend off from work at the holidays, so it is a convenient time for a holiday. Having done it a couple of times now, I can say this: Christmas is a good time to travel, but it is best to avoid Christmas Day.

That said, Iceland does have some fascinating Christmas traditions. There are a group of mischievous fellows called the “Yule Lads” (really) and their raison d’être is performing naughty pranks and delivering gifts to good children by placing them in their shoes. Their mother is a troll names Grýla who collects bad children in a sack and boils them alive, presumably for consumption. And there is the Yule Cat who hunts down people who don’t get an item of new clothing for Christmas and eats them. The best tradition, however, is the ‘book flood’, according to which books are given as gifts on Christmas Eve and then the rest of the evening is spent reading. This sounds wonderful – and after all of the naughty children have been kidnapped and eaten there is certain to be lots of peace and quiet for reading. Of course, I was solo and had no one to exchange Yuletide books with, so I needed to fill Christmas Day a different way.

An homage to the Yule Cat

I was flying home from Reykjavik on Christmas Day, but not until the evening, so I had a day to fill. That was a bit of a struggle. It was dark and cold and almost everything was closed. I ended up spending about $75 CDN on a buffet meal at my hostel. The hostel did have a nice cozy feeling, but no one was particularly chatty, so I ate alone. I am normally happy to eat alone,  but on this particular day, where everything seemed a bit depressing, I could have done with some company.

Christmas Dinner at the hostel

I went out and walked around to sights that I had not yet laid eyes on; things I could appreciate from the outside and walked aimlessly for a while.

I stopped and I had a cigar sitting on a bench outside a closed early that had left its lights on and its pink plastic Christmas tree up and had a cigar. It was so cold, but it felt a bit special.

I then killed some time at the Lebowski Bar, simply because it was open. There was only one other table occupied inside. It did have a cozy feeling and was playing Christmas music. I had a mulled wine and mulled over whether Christmas Day was a good day to be visiting anything.

Fortunately, by early evening it was time to return to the airport.

I loved my time in Reykjavik, but I kind of wished I had left late on Christmas Eve or early on Christmas Day, as the last day just felt like an expensive way of killing time. Lesson learned for the future: use Christmas Day as a day for long haul travel; not for sightseeing.

Despite this, Reykjavik had exceeded my expectations. I can’t stop thinking about its beauty and magic. I even find myself thinking about how relatively close it is to Vancouver and how it is kind of a perfect long weekend getaway. Maybe I will return to see it again – maybe in the summer – but in the meantime there are more new places to discover.  Like Dublin, which I would fly to four days later.

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Posted on 25 December 23
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About Wandering North

Welcome to Wandering North, where I have been blogging about my travels since 2007.

Dale Raven North

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