Crazy months

Ukrainian follows Czech and Lithuanian in deciding to ditch the commonly-known pagan names for the months used in the vast majority of European languages (including English) in favour of quirky names that refer to the time of year. A couple of them are very similar to the Czech ones actually, and my own suspicion is that they thought of this idea first.

січень-sichen'-'rod/pole' (??) is January

лютий-lyutii-'very cold' (also very original!) is, not surprisingly, February

березень -berezen'-'the birch month'-known to you and I as March-is pretty similar to the Czech 'březen'

квітень-kviten'-flowers-is April (Czech waits until May for this)

травень-tvaren'-May-grass (great . . . maybe it loses something in translation)

червень-cherven'-June-worms (I may look at taking my holiday around this time)

липень-lipen'--lime trees-July

серпень-serpen'-sickle-August

вересень-veresen'-heather-September (I like this one)

жовтень-zhovten'-October means 'turning yellow' (which can't be healthy at all)

листопад-listopad-November-which means 'falling leaves' (but sounds more like a type of sanitary towel) is exactly the same as in Czech.

грудень-gruden'-December-is 'frozen ground'

Well, you have to love the quirkiness anyway. Just hope, looking at these, that I somehow make it through the year . . .

Surely the funkiest building in Kiev

Today, with the help of a friend, I stumbled upon a very cool buliding in Kiev. Будинок з химерами (House with Chimaeras) is a building a few hundred yards up the hill from the city's main square. It dates from around the beginning of the 20th century and the messrs responsible were architect Vladimir Gorodetsky and Italian sculptor Emilio Sala. It was divided into floor flats-one on each floor-the top one of which was of course Gorodetsky's own. Anyway, it's cool. I particularly liked the frogs!

Why Ukrainian locks are crap

I don't count myself as superstitous at all, but it hadn't escaped my notice that, after the day's events, that it is indeed Friday 13th. I got home around half midnight this morning after a few drinks with my colleagues. So anway I walk home from Arsenalna metro station as usual, walk into my block of flats, past the 'concierge' (no I don't live in a hotel-he's more like a kind of doorman), up to my flat and . . . ah . . . why won't this damn thing open? So I try for about 20 minutes or so to unlock the door, but no luck. Then I get the doorman (who was fast asleep) up to help me. He gives it a damn good go for a good half an hour (it seems like). I suggest we call either the Landlord or my boss (moy direkter). He suggests, as I understand it, that we bring in a guy who, for about 40 US dollars, will gladly break down the door. I panic a bit at this suggestion and decide I should go out, find a phonebox, and call the boss. The doorman sees my distress and suggests I go into his flat to make the call. Several calls later the best thing I can do is book myself a space on the floor of my colleague Mark's flat, and so get a taxi across the city to унхіверситет (university) metro station, where, after a short walk, I'm really pleased to see Mark come round the corner. We have a brief but pleasant chat before settling down. I manage to get precious little sleep, maybe 2 hours or so in a very cold room, before having to rouse myself to get to the school and teach my 9.30 class, still wearing the previous day's clothes. Tnakfully at 11 I am informed that Yura, the handyman, has gone over there and sorted it out. I'm now quite liking the idea of a change of clothes. When I get over there he explains that a redundant extra lock on the door, to which I don't have a key, had somehow locked itself. The Landlord told him "oh, that happens sometimes". Yura said, "well he could have mentioned it". I'm too exhausted and relieved at this point to care too much. Somehow I got through the other four and a half hours of teaching and, as I write, hope I managed to get in tonight.

Tartan invasion

An unexpected and rather surreal sight from around the beginning of the week was what was at first a trickle of kilted men wandering aimlessly up and down Kreshchatik (Kiev's main thoroughfare). It swelled somewhat as the week went on and, despite being layed into nastily by a gang of Ukrainian thugs on Tuesday night, the Tartan army was out in force on the day of the match on Wednesday (as evidenced by the photos below). In the event their presence was not able to prevent the Scots losing out to the mighty Ukraine by 2 goals to nil.

Clans occupy Maidan Nezalezhnosti, the city's main square

Random observations

It's a Czechoslovakian tram, but not as we know it . . .



















View at dusk from the window of my current flat in Pechersk. The lights you can see in the distance are the floodlights at Dinamo Kyiv!




Another view of the surroundings.






My local church. :)




















Mister DABL KAPUCCHIN!!!

I'm a very big frequenter of КОФЕ ХАУЗ -or, if you don't read cyrillic, 'kofe hxhouse' (with plenty of flem on the 'h'!). Or if you prefer there's КОФЕ ТАЙМ (kofe taiym). Choices choices.




Meanwhile my flags obsession continues to get out tof hand.