Clips

The Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square) in Kiev has the air of a ballroom the morning after New Year's Eve. Remnants of orange banners still flutter from the surrounding buildings and the protestors turned partygoers turn back and forth across the square, savouring the moment that's just passed and looking forward to what's to come.

In Soviet times, the Maidan—known as the Square of the October Revolution—was a public space of Stalinist proportions. These days it's full of chic clothes shops and backlit advertisements reminiscent of those in Times Square or Picadilly Circus. It's also the place where, last November, a million Ukrainians flooded the square and protested the falsified results of the country's presidential elections—a massive show of people power that forced a new vote and elected progressive politician Viktor Yuschenko as President of Ukraine.

Mr Yushchenko's victory heralds a new chapter in Ukrainian history. Just as Berlin and Prague were the places to visit in the wake of the momentous events of 1989, so Kiev offers something special this year: a genuine taste of transformation.

And how things have changed.

When I first visited a decade ago, my impressions were stark: everything was broken and the shattered streetlights left the city in total darkness by 4 pm. T he only foreign travellers I ran into in Kiev were other fellow missionaries, nostalgic émigrés, and 40-something men come to collect their mail-order Ukrainian brides. Their fascination with Ukraine typified the elation one gets in digging through a charity shop: that unexpected thrill of cheap memorabilia and commercial conquest.

Years later I returned as a NATO consultant and discovered the world's slowest customs line had grown longer with greenhorn journalists, a few NGO types, and a corps of fatigued diplomats paying their dues in the hinterland. They grew to love Ukraine but to hate the frustration that came from everyday life in a capital that was then ruled by corruption and inefficiency.

More recently in Kiev—this time as a guidebook writer—I follow a sleek and just-paved motorway from the shiny new airport into a city transformed. And this time I encounter an advance guard of adventurous tourists. have introduced me to an early wave of intrepid tourists that only recently appeared in Kiev. Most come in search of some sinister Soviet vestige, hoping for a glimpse of the city's more difficult past, only to discover a European capital that is re-discovering itself.

In the early morning winter fog, the Kiev skyline remains bleak: a sea of undefined grey shapes, not unlike most European cities in January. The silhouettes only come to life when I venture outside to discover a wildly eclectic urban landscape. I parade alone down the city's main street of Khreschatyk, slightly intimidated by the Stalinist tower blocks on either side, but equally intrigued by tantalising glimpses of hidden treasures from narrow side streets. A wander unveils colourful Tsarist palaces and ancient Byzantine chapels next to glass-sided banks and magnificent concrete shopping malls. Kiev's landmark cathedrals punctuate the sky with golden domes that seem to hover above the architectural melee.

Needless to say, the city's recovery from the post-Soviet slump has been swift, but tasteful. St. Sophia's Cathedral was built in 1037 after Kiev survived a barbaric invasion from the East. Right across the street stands the breathtaking blue Monastery of St. Mikhayil, completely rebuilt in 2001 after not surviving the barbarism of Stalin when he ordered the church demolished in the thirties. But the city's number one attraction is the Caves Monastery. Ten years ago it was a pile of frescoed rubble: today it is an exquisite compound on the steep bank of the Dnepr that beckons Orthodox pilgrims and tourists to its mysterious underground labyrinths and glorious baroque churches.

Resurrection is no new concept for Ukraine. In the 16 centuries that Kiev has been around, the city's been blown up, ransacked, burned down, flooded, shelled, and occupied so many times that historians have lost count. Street names change so frequently that Kievans are known to keep their old street signs in case the new names don't stick. Political upheaval may come and go, but Kiev thrives on such change.

The current mood of positive uncertainty in such a raw metropolis draws young people to Kiev like a magnet. It's the same pull that brought hoards of “Westerners” to Berlin and Prague in the early 90's. These were cities with history, but without limitations. Post-graduate bohemians and techno-hippies looking to slum it on the cheap soon found themselves running businesses, cresting a wave of opportunities that were out of reach in their own stodgy capitals back home. Serhiy, a long time friend in Kiev, explains the city's determined vibe: “Suddenly, we all understand that we are working for Ukraine and its best future.”

Kiev's latest creative buzz is founded upon the millennial legacy of artists and activists who've known when to hide and when to thrive. This year's forecast announces the latter. Venturing past the city's most ancient ruins brings me to Andriyivsky Uzviz, a winding cobblestone street descending a hill where—legend states—St. Andrew the apostle fixed a cross in the ground back when St. Andrew was still alive. Kiev's citizens waited until the 10 th century before adopting Christianity, then promptly rid themselves of the old guard by dragging their pagan idols down this very descent and tossing them into the Dnepr river.

Once I've pushed past the gaudy souvenir stalls stocked with phoney Soviet paraphanelia, I find myself in the heart of Kiev's flourishing art scene, where a penchant for the avant-garde keeps posh galleries in business and experimental theatres full. I check out the show of a homesick Ukrainian painter who just moved back to Kiev from London. I'm suddenly tempted to void my checking account in exchange for such astounding work. They take plastic and they'll insure shipment.

Right next door is the childhood home of Mikhail Bulgakov—a man who found his writing career in Kiev's Russian Revolution and later penned The Master and Margarita . St. Andrew's descent ends with an impromptu antique market where 19 th century treasures are sold amid wooden icons and thoughtful oil paintings of Soviet generals. Here, the upper city meets Podil—once the quarter for poor merchants and Jews, but currently undergoing a facelift as Kiev's trendiest neighbourhood.

The clang of Kiev's construction sites adds a beat to the post-revolution noise that plays across the city 24/7. Even when its well past midnight and well below zero outside, I find myself being dragged to Modabar—an old Soviet river barge that morphed into an outlandish four-story, floating nightclub. Buff bartenders juggle giant bottles of vodka, mixing martinis with cheerleader stunts while a British DJ mixes brain-thumping tracks for the crowd. My path towards morning takes me to similar clubs with names like Opium and basement bars where a quieter demographic sways to improvised jazz session. The writhing crowds are more Ukrainian than ex-pat—a rather uninhibited generation of revolutionaries that suddenly declared being Ukrainian was cool.

I see their poster child on the rows of posters glued on brick walls: Ruslana Lyzhichko. Some may remember her rhythmic dancing and chanting that won Ukraine the prize in Istanbul, others will recognize her ripped leather bodice and oh-so Ukrainian midriff. While pundits forecast Ukraine's sway towards Moscow or Brussels, Ruslana embraced her quirky Carpathian culture and delivered a vibrant interpretation of Ukraine's unique place in Europe.

Thanks to Ruslana's wild dancing, Kiev is now set to host the 2005 Eurovision Song Contest, an event that will be remembered as the city's coming out party (wear orange). Kievans are eager to set a good impression for the rest of Europe—they've switched to a government with more Euro-vision and strategically planned the party for the end of May; it's the very moment when Kiev's chestnut trees explode into white blossoms and the Ukrainian capital looks absolutely angelic.

Some Ukrainians fear Kiev will never survive the invasion to come, but so far they're handling commercialism with aplomb. Kiev's dozen or so McDonalds are packed full, but a competing chain sells great Ukrainian fast food in just as many locations. My enterprising taxi driver confesses that he's only moonlighting—by day he's an intellectual property specialist, mumbling that “piracy is so 1997.” And as I depart the hotel, I'm shocked when the bellhop refuses my tip in US dollars with the excuse that Ukrainian hrivna are more stable.

Times have changed, and now the country's changing faster than I can keep up with it. As a traveller, I'm grateful for each new moment I experience in this city—it feels like an altered city every trip. I know few destinations that will ever match Kiev's uncontrived spirit and the current thrill one feels in this unfettered European capital. You may have missed the revolution, but the celebration is just getting started. AE

Kiev Basics

Getting there

British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com) flies daily from Heathrow to Kiev (Borispol) from £228 return, including taxes and internet discount. Regent Holidays (0117 92 1711), www.regent-holidays.co.uk) offers a three-night break in Kiev with return flight from Gatwicke from £299 per person, based on two sharing.

Where to stay

Forget the Soviet legacy of poor hospitality: Kiev's most recently refurbished hotels contine to outdo one another in luxury and extravagance. Don't expect a cheap night's rest, either. As in many other places in Europe, good taste does not come cheap in Kiev. Prices below are for one night in a double room.

£225 Premier Palace (00380 44 244 1200, www.premier-palace.com). Kiev's very best has a flair for sophisticated service reminiscent of the Tsarist era. Popular with diplomats and business travellers.

£145 Dnipro HOtel (00380 44 254 6777, www.dniprohotel.kiev.ua). A fanciful reincarnation of 1960s Socialist magnificence with smallish rooms, a great view of the Left Bank, and a garish nightclub open all night, every night.

£140 Domus (00380 44 490 9008, www.domus-hotel.kiev.ua). A quieter and more intimate alternative in the historic neighbourhood of Podil.

£90 Rus (00380 44 256 4000, www.hotelrus.kiev.ua). Kiev's most user-friendly hotel, with hundreds of clean and orderly rooms. Good for groups.

£75 Lybid (00380 44 236 0063). Tourist-friendly.

Where to eat

Lypsky Osobnyak (00380 44 254 0090). This gourmet establishment takes Ukraine's native fare to baroque levels. Beautiful 19th-century interior, first-class service and an extensive wine list. Tsarskoe Selo (00390 44 573 9775). Heraty, authentic Ukrainian cusine served by costumed waiters against a Disney-esque pastoral backdrop.

Mimino (00380 44 417 3545). Celebrate the fare of Ukraine's closest ally — spicy Gerogian food.

Myslyvets (00380 44 236 3735). Traditional Carpathian cooking (wild game, berries and cream).

Pervak (003890 44 235 0952). An over-the-top tribute to Kiev's pre-revolution days (the Russian revolution), serving colourful Russian and Ukrainian dishes.


	CAPITAL ON THE CUSP The Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square) in Kiev has the air of a ballroom the morning after New Year's Eve. Remnants of orange banners still flutter from the surrounding buildings and the protestors turned partygoers turn back and forth across the square, savouring the moment that's just passed and looking forward to what's to come. In Soviet times, the Maidan—known as the Square of the October Revolution—was a public space of Stalinist proportions. These days it's full of chic clothes shops and backlit advertisements reminiscent of those in Times Square or Picadilly Circus. It's also the place where, last November, a million Ukrainians flooded the square and protested the falsified results of the country's presidential elections—a massive show of people power that forced a new vote and elected progressive politician Viktor Yuschenko as President of Ukraine. Mr Yushchenko's victory heralds a new chapter in Ukrainian history. Just as Berlin and Prague were the places to visit in the wake of the momentous events of 1989, so Kiev offers something special this year: a genuine taste of transformation. And how things have changed. When I first visited a decade ago, my impressions were stark: everything was broken and the shattered streetlights left the city in total darkness by 4 pm. T he only foreign travellers I ran into in Kiev were other fellow missionaries, nostalgic émigrés, and 40-something men come to collect their mail-order Ukrainian brides. Their fascination with Ukraine typified the elation one gets in digging through a charity shop: that unexpected thrill of cheap memorabilia and commercial conquest. Years later I returned as a NATO consultant and discovered the world's slowest customs line had grown longer with greenhorn journalists, a few NGO types, and a corps of fatigued diplomats paying their dues in the hinterland. They grew to love Ukraine but to hate the frustration that came from everyday life in a capital that was then ruled by corruption and inefficiency. More recently in Kiev—this time as a guidebook writer—I follow a sleek and just-paved motorway from the shiny new airport into a city transformed. And this time I encounter an advance guard of adventurous tourists. have introduced me to an early wave of intrepid tourists that only recently appeared in Kiev. Most come in search of some sinister Soviet vestige, hoping for a glimpse of the city's more difficult past, only to discover a European capital that is re-discovering itself. In the early morning winter fog, the Kiev skyline remains bleak: a sea of undefined grey shapes, not unlike most European cities in January. The silhouettes only come to life when I venture outside to discover a wildly eclectic urban landscape. I parade alone down the city's main street of Khreschatyk, slightly intimidated by the Stalinist tower blocks on either side, but equally intrigued by tantalising glimpses of hidden treasures from narrow side streets. A wander unveils colourful Tsarist palaces and ancient Byzantine chapels next to glass-sided banks and magnificent concrete shopping malls. Kiev's landmark cathedrals punctuate the sky with golden domes that seem to hover above the architectural melee. Needless to say, the city's recovery from the post-Soviet slump has been swift, but tasteful. St. Sophia's Cathedral was built in 1037 after Kiev survived a barbaric invasion from the East. Right across the street stands the breathtaking blue Monastery of St. Mikhayil, completely rebuilt in 2001 after not surviving the barbarism of Stalin when he ordered the church demolished in the thirties. But the city's number one attraction is the Caves Monastery. Ten years ago it was a pile of frescoed rubble: today it is an exquisite compound on the steep bank of the Dnepr that beckons Orthodox pilgrims and tourists to its mysterious underground labyrinths and glorious baroque churches. Resurrection is no new concept for Ukraine. In the 16 centuries that Kiev has been around, the city's been blown up, ransacked, burned down, flooded, shelled, and occupied so many times that historians have lost count. Street names change so frequently that Kievans are known to keep their old street signs in case the new names don't stick. Political upheaval may come and go, but Kiev thrives on such change. The current mood of positive uncertainty in such a raw metropolis draws young people to Kiev like a magnet. It's the same pull that brought hoards of “Westerners” to Berlin and Prague in the early 90's. These were cities with history, but without limitations. Post-graduate bohemians and techno-hippies looking to slum it on the cheap soon found themselves running businesses, cresting a wave of opportunities that were out of reach in their own stodgy capitals back home. Serhiy, a long time friend in Kiev, explains the city's determined vibe: “Suddenly, we all understand that we are working for Ukraine and its best future.” Kiev's latest creative buzz is founded upon the millennial legacy of artists and activists who've known when to hide and when to thrive. This year's forecast announces the latter. Venturing past the city's most ancient ruins brings me to Andriyivsky Uzviz, a winding cobblestone street descending a hill where—legend states—St. Andrew the apostle fixed a cross in the ground back when St. Andrew was still alive. Kiev's citizens waited until the 10 th century before adopting Christianity, then promptly rid themselves of the old guard by dragging their pagan idols down this very descent and tossing them into the Dnepr river. Once I've pushed past the gaudy souvenir stalls stocked with phoney Soviet paraphanelia, I find myself in the heart of Kiev's flourishing art scene, where a penchant for the avant-garde keeps posh galleries in business and experimental theatres full. I check out the show of a homesick Ukrainian painter who just moved back to Kiev from London. I'm suddenly tempted to void my checking account in exchange for such astounding work. They take plastic and they'll insure shipment. Right next door is the childhood home of Mikhail Bulgakov—a man who found his writing career in Kiev's Russian Revolution and later penned The Master and Margarita . St. Andrew's descent ends with an impromptu antique market where 19 th century treasures are sold amid wooden icons and thoughtful oil paintings of Soviet generals. Here, the upper city meets Podil—once the quarter for poor merchants and Jews, but currently undergoing a facelift as Kiev's trendiest neighbourhood. The clang of Kiev's construction sites adds a beat to the post-revolution noise that plays across the city 24/7. Even when its well past midnight and well below zero outside, I find myself being dragged to Modabar—an old Soviet river barge that morphed into an outlandish four-story, floating nightclub. Buff bartenders juggle giant bottles of vodka, mixing martinis with cheerleader stunts while a British DJ mixes brain-thumping tracks for the crowd. My path towards morning takes me to similar clubs with names like Opium and basement bars where a quieter demographic sways to improvised jazz session. The writhing crowds are more Ukrainian than ex-pat—a rather uninhibited generation of revolutionaries that suddenly declared being Ukrainian was cool. I see their poster child on the rows of posters glued on brick walls: Ruslana Lyzhichko. Some may remember her rhythmic dancing and chanting that won Ukraine the prize in Istanbul, others will recognize her ripped leather bodice and oh-so Ukrainian midriff. While pundits forecast Ukraine's sway towards Moscow or Brussels, Ruslana embraced her quirky Carpathian culture and delivered a vibrant interpretation of Ukraine's unique place in Europe. Thanks to Ruslana's wild dancing, Kiev is now set to host the 2005 Eurovision Song Contest, an event that will be remembered as the city's coming out party (wear orange). Kievans are eager to set a good impression for the rest of Europe—they've switched to a government with more Euro-vision and strategically planned the party for the end of May; it's the very moment when Kiev's chestnut trees explode into white blossoms and the Ukrainian capital looks absolutely angelic. Some Ukrainians fear Kiev will never survive the invasion to come, but so far they're handling commercialism with aplomb. Kiev's dozen or so McDonalds are packed full, but a competing chain sells great Ukrainian fast food in just as many locations. My enterprising taxi driver confesses that he's only moonlighting—by day he's an intellectual property specialist, mumbling that “piracy is so 1997.” And as I depart the hotel, I'm shocked when the bellhop refuses my tip in US dollars with the excuse that Ukrainian hrivna are more stable. Times have changed, and now the country's changing faster than I can keep up with it. As a traveller, I'm grateful for each new moment I experience in this city—it feels like an altered city every trip. I know few destinations that will ever match Kiev's uncontrived spirit and the current thrill one feels in this unfettered European capital. You may have missed the revolution, but the celebration is just getting started. AE Kiev Basics Getting there British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com) flies daily from Heathrow to Kiev (Borispol) from £228 return, including taxes and internet discount. Regent Holidays (0117 92 1711), www.regent-holidays.co.uk) offers a three-night break in Kiev with return flight from Gatwicke from £299 per person, based on two sharing. Where to stay Forget the Soviet legacy of poor hospitality: Kiev's most recently refurbished hotels contine to outdo one another in luxury and extravagance. Don't expect a cheap night's rest, either. As in many other places in Europe, good taste does not come cheap in Kiev. Prices below are for one night in a double room. £225 Premier Palace (00380 44 244 1200, www.premier-palace.com). Kiev's very best has a flair for sophisticated service reminiscent of the Tsarist era. Popular with diplomats and business travellers. £145 Dnipro HOtel (00380 44 254 6777, www.dniprohotel.kiev.ua). A fanciful reincarnation of 1960s Socialist magnificence with smallish rooms, a great view of the Left Bank, and a garish nightclub open all night, every night. £140 Domus (00380 44 490 9008, www.domus-hotel.kiev.ua). A quieter and more intimate alternative in the historic neighbourhood of Podil. £90 Rus (00380 44 256 4000, www.hotelrus.kiev.ua). Kiev's most user-friendly hotel, with hundreds of clean and orderly rooms. Good for groups. £75 Lybid (00380 44 236 0063). Tourist-friendly. Where to eat Lypsky Osobnyak (00380 44 254 0090). This gourmet establishment takes Ukraine's native fare to baroque levels. Beautiful 19th-century interior, first-class service and an extensive wine list. Tsarskoe Selo (00390 44 573 9775). Heraty, authentic Ukrainian cusine served by costumed waiters against a Disney-esque pastoral backdrop. Mimino (00380 44 417 3545). Celebrate the fare of Ukraine's closest ally — spicy Gerogian food. Myslyvets (00380 44 236 3735). Traditional Carpathian cooking (wild game, berries and cream). Pervak (003890 44 235 0952). An over-the-top tribute to Kiev's pre-revolution days (the Russian revolution), serving colourful Russian and Ukrainian dishes.