In Sochi

Drawing the curtains first thing in a morning, I’m never quite sure what will be outside. 

This morning, it was the little tug Ruslan, holding position between us and this concrete pier.  Having exchanged a friendly wave with Ruslan’s skipper who was standing on deck with his camera, we quickly went for breakfast because fun was planned.

Sochi was a little overcast, sadly, but nevertheless at this early hour (7.30am) the beach was full of bathers making the most of their holidays.  Hard to imagine that this resort will host the Winter Olympics of 2014, but somewhere in those clouds, there’s a few snow mountains, we understand.

An hour or so later, walking through a city park, the sun broke through the clouds and the view out over the Black Sea looked rather Mediterranean, we thought.

Our first call was at Stalin’s Dacha, the Green Grove.  This was a bit of a concrete monstrosity, really, but set in lush semi-tropical woodlands, it was a real hideaway.

And there he was, Uncle Joe, sitting at his desk.  The inkwells were a present from Chairman Mao, we were told. 

To his left was a telephone with no dial – the hotline to the Kremlin.

There was also a copy of his handwriting – how interesting to see cyrillic script handwritten; even harder to read!

Next stop was the Matsesta Springs.  Here was a huge Sanatorium, used by the workers for their annual R&R.  Our guide told us that 18,000 people took a bath here every day at the peak of the season – we did a few calculations and have trouble with that figure.  I guess we can say it’s a popular place?

We went to the public spring where we were told that a fifteen minute soak would work wonders.  No sooner had the words reached our ears than socks and shoes were abandoned and we enjoyed the feel of the cool, hydrogen sulphide spring water on our feet.  I sat amused as the two ladies on the left of the photo discussed their bunions in Norwegian!  (No, I don’t speak the language but some things are easier to understand than others!)  The men stood by, not one of them willing to join us.

A benign Saint looked on from his little shrine in the rock.

 

Of course, there was a shopping opportunity – I don’t think this seller did any business though.

Back to the port later, for an early sailaway.  The ship’s hooter sounded as a request was made for a Mr something-or-other to call reception.  We discovered why as a chap we assume was the Mr something-or-other came running along the pier, just making it in time.  As he ran up the gangplank, it was hoisted on board and we were away.

The little tug Ruslan was there to see us safely out of the harbour again.

All at sea

We’ve been at sea today and I still think it’s Thursday.

But then again…

A visit to Sevastopol wouldn’t be complete without a visit to see these chaps.

Quite amazing, their singing of Russian romantic favourites held our attention until the dancers came on stage and took our breath away.  Their personality shone through – they smiled, winked and laughed as they leapt six feet high, around and around the stage.

When the girls came on, we could only reflect that they looked like no Russian stewardesses we’ve ever seen…

Totally captivating, we all left the theatre humming ka-lin-ka!

Wonderful.

The Sevastopol Panorama

The last stop on our morning tour was the Sevastopol Panorama.  I’ve blogged before about panoramic paintings, having been introduced to this marvellous art form by Marieke when we were in The Hague last year.  On hearing we were to visit this particular one, we kept our fingers crossed that it wouldn’t disappoint.

We were delighted to find it was an absolute stunner, not only in the actual artwork but in the component features which make visiting a panorama special.  There was the long corridor, the dark spiral staircase leading to the observation platform, the canopy over the overhead window and the central lookout from where the full 360 scene could be viewed.

The scene itself was not a pretty one, being a day in the Crimean War when Sevastopol came under seige.  But the subject matter aside, the blend between the canvas and the foreground was almost invisible, so cleverly had the visual effect been managed.

See how, in the photo above, there are “real” sacks and baskets in the foreground, blending with the painted ones immediately behind the soldiers?

It was pointed out to us that those depicted are real people, some of whom are identifiable.  At this particular viewpoint, our guide was careful to state clearly that Florence Nightingale was not the only nurse on the battlefield!  She named this particular one – sorry, can’t remember the name, though.

Our guide Tatyana also named this water carrier, another famous female figure in Ukrainian history.  These small vignettes brought the whole thing to life and we could have stood for hours peering into the details.

The place was overwhelmed with visitors, each group allotted a place on a tightly controlled schedule.  Tatyana had told us earlier that our time was 11.40am and when it looked like we might be stuck in traffic, she’d got a bit fidgety.  Clearly there was no room for manoeuvre – another group was hot on our heels and we were close on the tail of the bunch in front of us.

Suffice to say that in spite of the horrendous subject matter, we thought the whole thing terrific and a masterpiece of its kind.

We were told that this is not the original canvas, sadly, but a copy of the one left in pieces following the German seige of Sevastopol in the 1940s.  The Soviet soldiers had tried to rescue the original from a fire, but all that remains are a few fragments.  In spite of this, the current panorama remains a highlight of a visit to the city – deservedly so in our opinion.

Still in Ukraine

We are in Sevastopol today.

Amused to find ourselves moored alongside the Black Sea Fleet, we sat at our breakfast table watching each ships company stand to attention as the 8am reveille was sounded and flags unfurled.  Bells rang out too.  A great way to start the day.

We had a full day of activity planned, starting with this monument right by our ship – a memorial to the scuttled ships of 1854.  Various landmarks were pointed out to us but quickly we were back on the coach and off to Chersoneses.  You’ve guessed it….the Pompeii of Ukraine.

To begin with, we thought it was little more than a collection of dusty mosaics and amphorae.  But, walking out to the coast, we could see it was so much more.

The sea breeze made the rising temperature a little more comfortable and we wandered happily about the site, particularly enjoying the sight of a few local children enjoying themselves diving off what is probably an ancient Greek/Roman pier.  On a warm day, what better place to be?

 As we sailed into the port this morning, we’d seen a fine church standing high on a hill outside the city and it was to St Vladimir’s Cathedral that we came next.

Modern and decorated in a contemporary style, it was another highlight.  Downstairs was a fairly simple church with a modern iconostasis and beautiful murals.  Upstairs was altogether richer with highly decorative patterns on each wall.  Borders were variants on celtic knots and arrangements of different crosses in natural earth colours highlighted with gold.  What I had imagined to be stained glass panels in the windows turned out to be simply etched, which gave the whole place a light and airy feel.

Finally, to the museum, by which time several of our fellow travellers had grumped off to sit in the shade.  They missed some of the best bits!

I have a thing about fragments and love to find designs like this.  There were several such remnants of wall decorations and keeping an eye on the clock (again) we lost no time in recording what we could.

Treasures indeed.  Around the corner, another clever museum designer had done marvels with a few bits and pieces, arranging them in such an attractive way, I thought.

Gorgeous shapes, clearly displayed, perfect to sit and draw.  But no time.

As the good people of Sevastopol went about their daily lives, we drove to see the work of Franz Roubaud, a rather talented Russian artist.

It was so magnificent, it deserves a post of its own.