The beguiling city of Odesa

Marla here:

Of the three of us, I think I arrived in Odesa with the greatest sense of excitement. My grandmother Dora Krafchek Waltman called Odesa, a city where she and her siblings spent a great deal of time in their youth, the Paris of the Russian Empire. She was right.

Odesa, at least in its city centre, feels a lot like Europe. In fact, walking down some of the streets, one could be in Paris (if you ignore all of the signs in Cyrillic text). There are many European and international brand stores lining its streets, and the architecture is a mix of 19th century apartments (many of them crumbling), restored 19th century public buildings, city and small neighbourhood parks with outdoor cafes, late 19th/early 20th century Art Nouveau concrete buildings, and modern glass-covered shopping centres.

This arcade was finished in 1899, the same year Alfred Dreyfus is pardoned in France, and the Second Boer War started. "The More You Know!"

You can almost hear a city official inside Odesa City Hall getting ready to draft an anti-bike bylaw

In search of old Odesa, one only has to walk down some of its back streets. My grandmother used to talk about a common Odesan architectural element, namely the arches off main streets that lead to central courtyards and apartments. Sitting in front of the archways then, and sometimes even now, one found a 'babushka', usually an older woman acting as a concierge, gossip, and general know-it-all, guarding the gateway.

The fee for entry? (I would assume) 100 UAH or a good bowl of borscht

Often these courtyards are now filled with cars, as well as being lined with offices or stores, but they give the residents a place to chat, play, or get some air.

Two slightly shady characters caught mid-transaction by the camera's unblinking eye

 Above the courtyards live the residents of downtown Odesa in a multitude of different types of apartments; many appear to be in very bad shape, at least externally.  Even so, one gets a sense of the types of residences where my family spent time during their many visits to Odesa before and during World War One.

We visited some of the extraordinarily beautiful 19th century buildings that house some of the most important sites in Odesa. The Opera House is world famous and deservedly so; unfortunately, the only performance during our stay was the night we arrived and its production of  'Romeo and Julietta' was sold out.

What you don't see in this picture is that there are several monuments to the glorious war dead of the Soviet Union opposite the Opera House,

Near the Opera House were other beautiful buildings, courtyards, and parks.

The aforementioned park

So beautiful, so full of life

If you lived in this apartment building, you'd be home by now... and forever serenaded by Ukrainian and Russian opera.

Another unpretentious apartment block

When we were in Pervomaisk, a powerful storm ripped across Ukraine. While Pervomaisk was only hit by minor damage and a short blackout, Odesa got hit much worse. We saw on the news that there was flooding and major damage. While driving into Odesa a couple days later we witnessed this damage first-hand. Large branches were torn off trees and roadside were crumpled over like pieces of paper. In the city centre, the damage was equally severe.

Going to Odesa? Good luck reading the signs.

Don't say I didn't tell you so

Those are branches not bushes. The canopy of the park now has huge holes in it.

In the famous Odesa City Park, they are in the process of cutting down large old-growth trees, which, luckily, missed the bandstand when they fell. Even more fortunately, there seemed to be minimal damage to the city's historical buildings and monuments.

I'm not sure what's of greatest concern: the size of the tree that fell from the storm or the fact that child is about to be swallowed by said tree.

While walking along the Bul Prymorsky (Prymorsky Boulevard, a tree-lined pedestrian zone above the harbour) you often hear snippets of conversations in French, German, Turkish, and English as well as Ukrainian and Russian.

Beret optional, and more accurately, highly discouraged.

One of the places I had hoped to see when we planned our trip to Odesa was the house of the Ephrussi family, made famous by the extraordinary book entitled "The Hare with the Amber Eyes".  However, just as we learned that our family homes in Kryzhopil and Zhabokrich no longer exist, we had a similar disappointment with the house of the Ephrussi family. Located in a prime location on the Bul Prymorsky, just opposite the Pushkin monument, we found that the house was heavily under wraps.  In fact, it appears that under the wrapping, the house is in an advanced state of decay and disrepair.  A real loss of what was once a beautiful house.

Wait, I think I can make out a decorative column in... no, nevermind, that's just scaffolding

What is unlike Paris, Prague, or London, however, is that every so often, through the trees, you can see large freighters filling the waterfront.

Its products could be manufactured in China, but they could very well be shipped from Ukraine.

While the city core is a safe haven for tourists, Odesa is also a hard-working industrial port, surrounded by factories and refineries that ship all over the Black Sea and the Mediterranean.

Smell that fabulous Black Sea air... and smoke and gasoline.

One cannot visit Odesa without climbing the Potemkin Steps, made famous by the movie "Battleship Potemkin". As they are just around the corner from our hotel, we took the challenge, taking the steps down and then climbing back up, while trying to avoid the hustlers who wanted us to pay for photos with monkeys, hawks, and owls. (Oh my).

Also skimpy dresses and acrobats. You know, your average Monday in Odesa.

As well as spending our days walking through Odesa streets on our own, photographing buildings and streetscapes, we also took a private guided tour of Jewish Odesa. It was a fascinating introduction to the history of Jews in Odesa from a religious, political, historical, and artistic perspective.

We learned, for example, that six Jewish families lived in the Turkish town of Khadjibey, which became the city of  Odesa in 1794. While Jews lived across Ukraine in the Pale of Settlement, Odesa was the first native city for Jews. It was an open city and contained multiple ethnic and religious groups. As the population grew, Jews felt comfortable living anywhere in Odesa as the city never contained a ghetto. Before the Revolution, 70 prayer houses and synagogues could be found in the city, with different professions, such as tailors, furniture makers, sellers of lemons, kosher butchers, etc. each developing their own shul.

The Odesa Lubavichter Synagogue was open for photographs :)

Jews from the small settlements, such as my great-grandparents, would travel to Odesa and be thrilled and perhaps shocked by the city. I remember thinking how my relatives would have been overwhelmed with Toronto or Pittsburgh when they emigrated from Ukraine. After having learned about how cosmopolitan Odesa was in the 19th and 20th centuries, I realize now that our North American cities were pretty small potatoes compared what they experienced in Odesa!

Just a bit different from the streets in the shtetl, don't you think?

A nice unpretentious house in Odesa

Among other things, our tour showed us active synagogues, the Jewish Hospital (where my grandmother Dora and some of her siblings stayed when they suffered from cholera during the Revolution) and the locations of homes of well-known writers and political organizers such as Shalom Aleichem, Lev Jabotinsky, Mendele Sforim, Chaim Bialik, and Issak Babel. Odesa was a magnet for Ukrainian Jews and, in the words of Issak Babel, the city was a 'beckoning star'.

The plaque at the house where Simon Dubnov once lived. Afterwards, he moved to Lithuania, which proved to be a poor decision.

The house of some guy named Sholom Aleichem. The text in the upper plaque is actually Yiddish not Hebrew.

In fact, at one point over one-third of Odesa's population was Jewish, numbering about 300,000. That would change of course, after pogroms, emigration, World War Two, Stalin, Communism, and then the final emigration of Jews to Israel and other parts of the world after the fall of the Soviet Union. The city's Jewish population now sits at about 40,000.

One of the monuments commemorating the Shoah and Holocaust in Odesa.

There is much more to say about Odesa, both from what we learned through the tour, and our own exploration, but stop we must. Let's just say that our introduction to Odesa was just that. I'll have to return to Odesa in order to learn more of its secrets.

Driving all over Ukraine

This is just an intermediary short blog to let you know what has happened to us. Yes, our itinerary says we were in Odesa until this morning and we do have a partial blog written about our visit to that fascinating city. But we were unable to post it as we lost our Internet connection last night and were unable to finish and upload it before we left for Kamanyets-Podolsky early this morning.

Now we're in K-P, but instead of the trip taking about 8 hours by car, it took us almost 11 hours with pit stops and a lunch break, so we just arrived this evening about 21h00. The trip was very long, although comfortable in an air conditioned van driven by a driver, but we arrived very very late.

Unfortunately, it is a long, and not so interesting, story about how the roads are terrible, it rained, we got lost and had to backtrack due to bad directions about a closed bridge, etc. etc. Thus we lost over 2 hours of precious time today.  By the time we got into our hotel room (small but clean and very well equipped), grabbed some dinner in the dining room, and got ready for bed it was late. In fact, too late for me to even be writing this.

So, it's time to get some sleep as we need to be up tomorrow morning by 7:30 pm, have breakfast and be out the door by 9:00 am in order to see something of Kamanyets-Podolsky before we hit the road again.

No time for photos, but just a big good night to you all. Of course, you will probably not read this until tomorrow, but let's just blame that on the 7 hour time difference.

Exhausted but having a good time!

Marla, Yuri, and Lev

Partying in Pervomaisk (Pervomaysk)

Hi there, Yuri here. Decided to join in on the blog. With this entry, I'd like to tell you about our stay in Pervomaisk. (As always, I uploaded the photos and wrote the captions - Lev)

No matter how you spell it in English Pervomaisk, or Pervomaysk, is still the same central Ukrainian city. It is unusual because it was closed to the public for all of the Cold War, as it was one of the key strategic missile sites of the former Soviet Union. It is also the home town of the late husband of my cousin Halya, who is the daughter of one of my mother’s sister. Yes, my mother has a big family: eight brothers and sisters! The only reason Halya would have moved to Pervomaisk from her family village near Krasnosilka was marriage.

Marla, Lev and I arrived in Pervomaisk in the late afternoon at the Erik Schuller Hotel. 

You know it's a good hotel when all it says is 'Hotel' on the sign.

This former Radians'kyi hotel (the Ukrainian word for Soviet is Radians’kyi) is located at No. 1 Pioneer Square beside the Memorial Square to the Great Patriotic War, 1941-45. (Political Aside: Huh, I guess 1939 to 1941 doesn't count as being part of World War II.)  

Lenin, seen here standing in Memorial Square, is upset as he has not been mentioned in the blog before now

The lobby of the hotel dates back to its grim Radians’ky origins with a battered terrazzo floor and a reception desk behind a glass barrier. 

 

Yes, that is real ivy. And yes, it was one of the few things thriving in this building.

 We carried our luggage up three flights of stairs to our room since there is no elevator. (Political Aside: Obviously the 'Radians’kyi Cholovik' (Soviet Man) was much healthier than we Canadians.) We definitely need to learn to travel lighter, a lot lighter!! Our room had three single beds with an interesting choice of bed linens – a mattress sheet, a large towel-like blanket and a bedspread. However, thankfully it was clean and there was air conditioning and hot water.

Good for sleeping...and the beach!

Supper at the nearby restaurant Sofia was especially interesting.  Although the food was OK at best, the entertainment was great – a 5 year-old's birthday party with a clown! Fun was had by one and all, especially when the DJ started the dance music for the parents, who seemed to leave en masse every now and then (without their children) for a cigarette break outside the restaurant.

It is my personal belief that those 'candles' were actually road flares.

Back at the hotel I gave my cousin a call to let her know we were in town saying that we would see the family the next day.  NO WAY!  My cousin’s daughter, Sveta, and her husband, Volodia, came by within the half  hour to whisk me over to their home for a feast and an interesting home brew made from grapes known as samohonka, (it's very reminiscent of the Italian grappa). 

As I was not provided a picture for that evening, here is a picture of the family bunny in their garden.

The next day, we all were driven to their house where we were joined by Inna, Volodia and Sveta's daughter. We all had a samohonka-fueled feast loosely based on the North American idea of breakfast. Funny enough, when we said we weren’t used to eating so much or drinking for breakfast, they said they weren't either! But this was a celebration! They graciously offered us a place to lie down afterwards if we needed to. 

This is only half of the table. Seriously.

Then it was off to the Museum of Strategic Missile Troops, which was 35 kilometres outside of town. Situated in the wide open fields, the base and the town had been a secret to the outside world until only twenty years ago.

Literally, one of Ukraine's best-kept secrets in terms of museums and secret military installations

Volodia had arranged for a three hour tour of the facilities. There we saw many of the vehicles used to launch the missiles including many of the nuclear missiles themselves.

Unfortunately, somebody let this yahoo on to the grounds.

This is the face of grim determination when confronted with nuclear war.

On top of that, we got to go 40 meters below the surface to where the actual missile launch command post was located. Pretty incredible! We also viewed the missile silo from above ground, but since the missiles were all dissembled thanks to the end of the Cold War, only the top part remains.

 

We apologize to the former-state of Rhode Island for the nuke we may or may not have launched at them.

 Then it was back to the house for another feast – just as you think there is no more...another course appears. Saying no was just not accepted. Sveta took two days off work in order to do all the baking and cooking to prepare for our arrival. As an interlude during the meal, we had a chance to view their extensive vegetable garden around the house, take photos, and get to know everyone better.   

Did you know: In Ukrainian, strawberries are known as "No, please. I've had way too much to eat already!"

At this time my godson Yuri also came over, after arriving at 4 AM from Kyiv in order to meet his godfather for the first time.

A lovely photo of Yuri (left) and Yuri (right).

We were then driven back to our hotel in order to view the graduation ceremonies for all graduating high school classes from Pervomaisk. It took place in the square in front of our hotel and included performances, special awards, and students dancing with each other and their teachers.

This was the start of a new trend known as "street prom".

Afterwards, Lev joined Inna and her friends for drinks, and Marla and I went with Sveta and Volodia for a walk through the busy but very dark park by the river. (Political aside: It was dark because the city said there was not enough money for lighting. But where do all the tax dollars go?)

It went for fireworks!! WHIZZ! POP! BANG! Totally worth it.

Next morning it was back to the feast, and the “samohon”. Volodia, who had not had an alcoholic drink the whole time we were in Pervomaisk due to the zero tolerance for drinking and driving in Ukraine, tied our three large suitcases to the roof of his Moskvitch for the trip to Odesa. 

The joy on Volodia's face is palpable

Although the car’s small motor struggled up some of the steeper hills on the road, we arrived safe and sound in Odessa.  We found out that for Volodia and Sveta this was the first time they had ever been in Odessa. Unfortunately, they left immediately to return home. We were sorry to learn later that it had taken them more than 5 hours to get home through constant rain; on the way down it was a beautiful day with great billowing white clouds scattered across the prairie sky.

Home, home on the steppe

They, and the rest of the family, were very generous and welcoming and we were sorry to say goodbye.

A series of fortunate events

Today, I'll play catch-up as we haven't had an Internet connection that would allow us to work on the blog for days. Tomorrow, Yuri & Lev will write about our enjoyable visit to Pervomaysk with family, while I will try to capture some of our experiences in Zhabokrich.

The thriving metropolis that is Zhabokrich

On Friday, Alex Dunai, our guide, drove us from our hotel in Tulchin (ending up at that hotel is another story in itself... but I digress) to Kryzhopil, and then the eleven kilometers to Zhabokrich. I was eager to follow the same road between the towns that family members would have used as they made the regular trip between the two villages. As my Bubi Dora once told me, there was (and still is) a forest standing along part of the trip. She recounted how the wooded area was scarier when they traveled at night as there was always the possibility of people hiding in the woods who could attack their carts without warning. Most of the other roads in Podolia, the region where the two towns are located, run through huge farm fields rather than woods.

The spooky, scary woods know all of your secrets and disapprove.

Fun fact: Zhabokrich (or Zhabokritch as some Jews spell it), means frog's croak and, unbeknown to me, is pronounced like Zhabo-krich, with the sound Zh like in Doctor Zhivago. Who knew?

The stereotypical Ukrainian villager on the sign represents the rich Jewish history of Zhabokrich

Zhabokrich was the village where my grandparents Leib Spektor and Dora Krafchek were born. In later years both the Spektor and Krafchek families would move to Kryzhopil, because the town provided greater opportunities for employment and easier access to the relatively new railroad that could take them to Odesa. But Zhabokrich was the town that my Bubi remembered fondly for its pond (where the frogs croaked), for its hills, for their house with its fruit-bearing trees that they used to make jams, and for the village square where there was a busy market every second Sunday.

We did not hear a single frog. Unfortunately, there were no refunds forthcoming.

Much of Zhabokrich has changed. The market square now contains a small restaurant and small stores, but many buildings remain from early in the last century. When we first arrived we didn't know the location of the old Jewish area of town or the Jewish cemetery. Once again a series of fortuitous events (and some serious sleuthing on the part of Alex) gave us information that we had not had prior to this visit.

Panoramic view of Zhabokrich (former) market square

First off, Lev saw a large menorah at a distance when we were in the 'centre' of town; it turned out to be the site of one of two monuments to the mass killings in Zhabokrich in July 1941 and in 1944. We visited both sites and said Kaddish.

The memorial plaque for the mass grave in the former market square

Another mass grave memorial, another large menorah, another sad reminder of what once was

Afterwards, Alex spoke to some people who were walking in town and learned that there was an elderly Ukrainian woman still lived in town who used to work for a Jewish families. We went in search of her and after some door-knocking met her daughter. While her mother could no longer remember much, the daughter was able to recollect some of the things her mother had told her. She pointed out where many of the Jews had lived, and where some had died in WWII, and in some cases even remembered their family names!

Pictured: Not the house they live in. This is/was probably an old Jewish house from the 19th century

We were also surprised, and thrilled, when she pointed out that a brick synagogue built in the early 1900s was still standing. It isn't used anymore, given that there are no Jews still living in Zhabokrich, but the fact that it is still standing (although somewhat hidden by additional structures) was a wonderful sight!

It was probably used by the Soviets as a garage for servicing machinery

As we prepared to leave to look for the Jewish cemetery, our friend came back out of her house and told us that she remembered where the Carpenter's house had been. That house was the one where the Spektor family lived in Zhabokrich. The Krafchek's lived next door (which side we are not sure).  Imagine our excitement! Then, to our dismay, once again,we learned that the house had been demolished in the 1980s. It seems we have been doomed to see only empty lots. Apparently, however, the house had a beautiful big porch and was well-known in the community.

The ostentatious gate, I am happy to say, is probably not original

The house (chata) stood across the street from the shul, proving that the Spektor's were probably that one annoying "holier-than-thou" family everyone in the village hated. ;)

Our final search was for the Jewish cemetery. Many conversations with many town-folk sent us on car trips up into the hills over Zhabokrich, through meadows, into an overgrown Catholic cemetery, and over a muddy track.

Overgrown is a mild understatement

Finally, in frustration, Alex convinced another man who was walking by to lead us to the cemetery, which was tucked in behind a grove of trees and over a small stream. 

I'd love to say the clouds parted and a sunbeam shone down upon it, but in reality, it was looking like it may rain.

 It was mostly overgrown, with many toppled headstones and very hard to read stones (I really must improve my Hebrew). But amazingly we uncovered the grave with the name Вельтман (Veltman), my paternal great-grandmother Masha's maiden name! We're not sure how the person is related to our family yet but in such a small town, s/he must be! There is much research to be done.

If anyone knows what the Hebrew inscription says, please leave it in the comments below

Many more interesting events took place that day but they are too numerous, and I am too tired, to recount them all.  Another day, another post :)