Ukraine…one more ker-ching

As I stepped out of the shower this morning, I could hear music outside.  There on the quayside a band had arrived and were playing songs from the shows.  Just the thing for 7.30am on a Monday morning!  We dressed quickly and stood on our verandah listening for a few minutes before breakfast.

Welcome to Odessa!

Gettiing off the ship and leaving the port behind, the first sight is the most memorable: The Potemkin Steps.  We climbed to the top, from where we took a look around the city centre.

It’s a fine, leafy city with tree lined boulevards.  The Soviet tradition of encouraging the arts with young people is alive and well and everywhere we walked in this green city, there were groups of youngsters painting very impressive images of local buildings.

Though the city is smart and bustling, the occasional hint of earlier times is evident.  A small, elderly woman tended the dusty earth around the statue of Pushkin.

Quite why this woman was carrying an electric kettle shoulder high along one of the smart streets is a mystery.  A new trend, perhaps?

The Opera House is a fine building.  We were told later that Odessa is built on limestone, with the characteristic caves and fissures we know only too well. (Our garden contained one such cave for several years, until we “dealt with it”)  The Opera House had suffered some subsidence but a nearby glass factory poured molten glass into the cave beneath it, thereby rescuing the structure and providing more secure foundations.

We loved the parks and gardens, which were full of youngsters playing in the sunshine.

We tried to practise reading cyrillic script with little joy, except for the obvious ones.

A few grand houses remain and we were able to visit them in the afternoon.  This ceiling is in the Tolstoy House – a relative of the author, we understand.

The grand interiors were slightly faded, but these mansions are in regular use, for performances and symposia.  There was a piano in every room and we were told that children are encouraged to come and play.

I admired the parquet/marquetry floor, looking closely to check whether those intricate patterns were stencilled or cut in.  They were indeed cut in and each piece perfectly placed.  Remarkable workmanship.

Having paid our respects to the city’s Godmother, Catherine, we went to one more mansion, now used as a literary museum and performance space.

I especially liked the way precious documents and books had been artfully displayed.  So much more attractive than lined up in a glass case.

By this time, we were getting a little overheated and it came as a welcome relief to enter an airconditioned room, glass of champagne in hand, to listen to a group of virtuoso violinists.

Their talent was considerable, the music a fine way to end a great day in Odessa.

Histria

We thought we were going to spend the afternoon at Histria, a Roman settlement to the north of Constantza, but as sometimes happens, others had a different idea.

To begin with, we were resistant to the idea of spending the first part of the afternoon in the “Ethnographic Museum” but as soon as we saw what treasures were inside, we changed our minds pretty quickly.

The front hall had a collection of these icons from Transylvania, painted on glass.  Here’s St George and the dragon.

Mark had gone on ahead, aware of the short time we had to see everything, and came back to report that I needed to look upstairs.  But I needed a photo permit and the queue to buy one was enormous.  My face must have told the story, for the lady waved me on upstairs, suggesting I buy it on the way out.

The folk costumes were wonderful and each one so very different from the last.  I suspect that, with enough time, one might be able to identify more or less every hand embroidery technique somewhere in that room, each identifying a particular region of Romania.

The blackwork panels on the sleeves of this costume were remarkable

How’s this for a piece of white embroidery?  Exquisitely worked, the sleeves were stitched to match this front panel.

Some cutwork here, again, matching sleeves and front panel.

These panels appeared to be in fine wool tent stitch, applied to a light wool crepe shirt.

You get the picture?  I’m aware that we have fifteen minutes and simply rush around trying to see and record as much as I can, in notebook and with my camera.  I realise too late that I didn’t note what came from where, so can only say “Romania”.

It was time to go, to drive for an hour into the countryside towards Histria.  Every inch of earth was cultivated – we drove through just one village with simple cottages each one surrounded by a garden full of produce.  No room for ornamental gardens here.  Many cottages had a well in the garden too and though there was the occasional satellite dish on a roof, only a few homes had a TV aerial.  The roads were poor with huge potholes and only a few cars passed us by once we were out of the main urban sprawl.

Histria was a little disappointing.  Talked about as the “Romanian Pompeii” it’s hard to make the comparison for there is very little to see here.  We followed our guide and tried to imagine what she spoke about, but really, it was a step too far for us in most cases.

We did enjoy seeing the nest of storks though!

After just an hour, we were pleased to leave the heat of the afternoon sunshine and return to the coach to drive back to Constantza.  Another fun and interesting day to talk over this evening – this is such a fascinating trip.

Romania…ker-ching!

Another day, another good reason to get the passport out.  This morning, we docked in Constantza, second city of Romania and fourth largest port in Europe.  (see, we were listening!)  We took the shuttle bus into town after breakfast and found ourselves in Ovid Square, named after the poet who was exiled here after writing an overly erotic poem – or so the story goes.

The square was not exactly well tended nor immediately bursting with possibilities.  It’s Sunday and all was fairly quiet.  We’d got off the bus right outside the Archaelogical Museum but the dusty relics in a covered veranda were not sufficient to tempt us inside

We wandered a little, finding a grassy square to the other side and looked more closely at the Roman memorials set in line along the pathway.

 

Dating from around 2 or 3 AD, there were translations of the inscriptions (just as well, for we don’t read Greek!) and these were not only interesting but rather moving.

Most ended with good wishes, this one reads “Live long, passer-by”.

 

As we wandered amongst these stones, we noticed that almost every woman who passed was carrying lilies.  Some held one or two stems, others a whole bunch.  What was going on?  Suddenly finding a new focus for our morning in Constantza, we determined to find out.

The trail was quite easy to follow.  Just around the corner were sellers of the flowers.  Only lilies.  We continued down the street, to find more.

But no-one tried to sell us the flowers and we followed a the trail a little further.

The answer lay in the church with the panel above the door, showing a saintly portrait including an image of a lily.  Women (one or two men, but this was a mostly female activity) were taking their lilies into the church for blessing, then bringing them home again, to celebrate a particular festival.  Quite what, we have no idea; when we can google more freely, we will try to find out!

We stood for a while, quietly observing the local custom and watching the people before going a little further towards the harbour and the old Casino, a relic of an earlier, more prosperous time.

As we walked along the Bdul Elisabeta, we passed a smarter, more prominent Orthodox church

Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to look more closely at one of the doors along the side of the building

People were going in and out of the main door and I could hear music inside.  Covering my head, I joined the women as they went through the heavy wool curtain and stood with them inside and absorbed the wonderful atmosphere of this ancient ritual.

Not a square inch of the interior was unadorned.  Every wall was covered with painted icons, in deep blues and rich reds with gold highlights which shone in the candlelight.  In the centre of the nave was an enormous gold incense burner and behind it, an iconostasis which I would have loved to have seen more closely.

The congregation stood, as is the way in an Orthodox church, shoulder to shoulder – there was not much room for newcomers and yet everyone shuffled a little to let us in.  Somewhere at the front, the priests were conducting the ceremony, moving about to bless those who made their way to the front.  All the time, there was the most moving chant with that deep bass undertone so representative of Orthodox music.  I could have stood for hours, taking it all in.

 

But it was time to go, to return to the ship for a short break before this afternoon’s activity: A drive out into the countryside to Histria, a seventh century BC settlement.  On the way there, we stopped at the Ethnographic Museum where there were some interesting artefacts including this icon painted on glass, a speciality of the Transylvania region.

More later!

Bulgaria…ker-ching!

Oh dear, we are sad souls who count every country we visit, and for us, Bulgaria was a new one.  As we set foot on land, we looked one another in the eye and simultaneously uttered that magic word “Ker-ching!”  Another one for the count.

 

This was one of those ports to be visited by tender.  Anyone who’s been on a cruise will know what I mean when I say that.  It’s the added fun of climbing down a staircase attached to the side of a ship, boarding a “tender”, aka a lifeboat, and being taken ashore by someone driving this small boat who rather enjoys the fun.  For the first time, today we were allowed to sit on the roof of the tender, which added to the excitement.  Yes, this is one of those times when we are easily excitable.

Nessebur is a resort town which also happens to be a World Heritage Site.  We culture vultures were there for the latter, of course, but it was clear that, for many, that was a mere accidental.  The old town is situated in a peninsula across a narrow causeway from the beach, and half way across there’s the old windmill which, we’re told, is the symbol of the town.

The first sight to strike us was this amazing brickwork, on a ruined church.  Running the gauntlet of various elderly women who were desperate to sell us some ghastly beadwork or other, we managed to get closer to it and see the huge variety of pattern.

Further into the town, we saw churches in a better state of repair with complete arches and solid walls.

We wandered down the main street, bemused by the contrast between the old, World Heritage buildings and the tacky souvenir stalls, this one one of several bearing the sign “Sorry we’re open”.  Tourism has arrived with a vengeance here but perhaps we were not the target audience.

Turning the corner and finding ourselves in front of the St Stephen’s Basilica, we heard music.  Listening more carefully, we realised it was coming from the front, under that arch.  Moving towards the front, it was clear that those people standing under the arch were members of a choir and as more members joined them, the sound became more magical and we stood for several minutes, entranced by the sound.  I pulled out my Flip video and recorded their song – I can’t upload it here but will do so later, once I’m home.  I think you’ll be as entranced by it as we were.

They came to the end of their song and the chap in the white cap came over to speak to us.  He explained that they were a choir from Minsk in Belarus, here on a small concert tour and offered us a CD of their music. Eager to support their work, we gave them the 5 Euros in return for a CD and, because we had only a 10 Euro note, accepted 10 Lev change.

Now, what would we buy with 10 Lev?

 

There was plenty to choose from!

We chose to spend it on entrance fees and one camera permit in St Spa’s church, to see and photograph the frescos.

Seldom can 10 Lev have been better spent, for these were magnificent paintings and the dark and dreary church suddenly became light at the flick of a switch, once the magical 10 Lev had been paid!

 

We decided that Nessebur had been the perfect destination.  Small enough to explore independently on foot.  Interesting enough to hold the attention and to reward those who took the time to do that.  But ultimately, not so large as to take all day, meaning there was time to return to the ship and enjoy a couple of hours by the pool in the afternoon sunshine.

 

Perfect.

Incidentally the choir remarked on how expensive it is to travel to Bulgaria from Belarus. 

“It’s so cheap to go to London” they said.  “We fly with Ryanair, no problem.  But Ryanair don’t fly from Minsk to Nessebur, sadly”.

Perhaps a new route for them?  It sounded as though half of Minsk was on holiday here!

Moving along

This is a fine city.  Such a magical silhouette.

Friday lunchtime and the call to prayer sounds from the minarets

 

But there’s still business to be done, in children’s hats

Who knows what someone will want to buy?

There must be some football fans around here?

Such a city of merchants.  Watch or a lighter anyone?

So many small structures, this one a little burial ground

Lokum = Turkish Delight.   Yes please.  Of course.

Sailing away at 11pm, the party continues in small restaurants and cafes along the Bosphorus.

Every so often, a small ferry goes by with loud music playing and people dancing.  We sail under the bridges, Asia on the right, Europe on the left and follow an ancient course past the Dolmabahce Palace, where we’re told, there is a meeting of EU ministers this evening.  Perhaps the chandelier will be lit?

It’s getting chilly and it’s been a long day.  But fortified with a glass of Drambuie to warm the cockles, we stay out a little longer.

Finally, around midnight, we agree that it’s time to go to bed.

With the castle coming into view, it’s goodnight Istanbul.  Goodbye Turkey, for now.  See you in a few days.