Lwów, Lviv, Lvov and Lemberg, Page 3

the Polish word for a railway station) and it had a railway theme, with corridors adorned with prints of railway trains from around the world. He normally had a light breakfast but, as usual on these trips, he knew sod all as to the where, the when, the what and the if of refreshments again in the ensuing twenty-four hour period so he ate as much as he could face at this time in the morning before sallying forth again. This time he walked along the Gorodotska towards the city centre. He noted a post office for future use and five minutes' walk further on there was a park on the same side. This, with trees, lawns, paths and benches was pleasant enough. He tramped further in to the park and it soon became steeply uphill and, with sections of path and steps damaged, had more the feeling of clambering up a mountain side. At the top end of the park a quarter-mile or so back from the main road he got on to a wide and empty road which surrounded an imposing but now apparently empty and decaying ecclesiastical building maybe a hundred years old. It did not seem an area where lingering was a good idea and he made his way back down to the more congenial atmosphere of the lower level of the park before continuing on along the Gorodotska. Next to the park was a large 1960's looking circular building inscribed in large letters "Tsirk": a Soviet era permanent circus building which still seemed to be so used. It had a generous forecourt and parking area, with this relaxed use of space widely repeated even where, as here, the heart of the city was hardly a kilometre away.

  He walked on to the centre. There were no supermarkets as such but big Western businesses had set up shop, sometimes literally, and were clearly becoming a significant factor in the city. He had now reached the street intersection the other side of which was the Opera House. He felt driven to turn right in to Prospect Svobody-Freedom Prospect. This thoroughfare was a third of a mile long with a sixty-yard wide centre strip of public gardens along its entire length. Here there were statues and memorials, not least to the Ukrainian writer Shevchenko. The plinth of this latter imposing edifice was movingly draped with bands of cloth in the yellow and blue colours of the national flag of the Ukraine and adorned with flowers arranged to present a living version of it. What came soon after the Freedom Prospect was something else again: a monument, in the form of an eighty feet high column with representation of a flame atop and large plinth at the base, to the Polish writer Adam Mickiewicz. Here too flags or strips of material were laid, this time in the red and white of the Polish flag, with flowers also laid there. There was no hint whatsoever of disruption, defacement or defilement. This, combined with the fact that there were streets nearby, and a "cafe, named after Kraków and a street named after Copernicus. similarly with no defacement, were likewise suggestions that the Polish element in the city's heritage was accepted by the current Ukrainian masters and people, with no 'year zero' approach This seemed to bode well for the fate of any Polish people left in the city but more information was needed.

  Back in Britain he had learnt that there was a Polish cultural and information centre in Lwów but had failed to take the note he had made of its address to the city which contained the address. The best hope, short of stumbling on the centre itself, seemed to be to find a public library-and quickly he did. Surely there'd be a reference section with telephone directories or information displayed of local societies etc. There wasn't. There was just a series of rooms, each with its solid wooden door which one had no idea what would be the other side of. In each case there were lots of tables, some people sitting at them in earnest study, and a few half-empty bookcases. That might not be so bad: after all one could glance round the books to see what was there. But in every room there was a librarian present who asked him-in Ukrainian, what he was looking for. This he hadn't bargained for and hadn't mugged up on the Ukrainian to be able to answer the question. He managed to get some sort of answer together in Polish and/or Russian-which did not seem to go down very well -that he wanted to see books about Lwów itself. He was directed to another room in the building. Once there, it was the same all over again-the quietness, the earnest scholars at the tables, the librarian who asked in Ukrainian what he wanted and then directed him to a different room, this time on an upper floor. This was repeated again and it was at the fourth room that he was finally issued with a book about the history of the city. It was in Ukrainian but trying to read it was a damn sight less embarrassing and problematic than a verbal interlocution. It was quite an interesting book, with commentary, illustrations and going up to the 1990's when the Ukraine, with Lwów, had become independent from the Soviet Union. But it was clear that it didn't contain the information needed and after a while he left the room, down empty corridors and staircase and out in to the street.

  It was always a good idea to deal with the sending of postcards early in a trip, avoiding the humiliation of getting home and having to be in contact with the people before they'd got their cards. He knew where a post office was and there'd be loads of kiosks, paper shops, bookshops etc. selling picture postcards, wouldn't there? There weren't... His peregrinations took him to Town Hall Square and to the Diana Statue. The Hellenic goddess was represented as a delicate, feminine and powerful figure of a young woman, with hunting bow in hand and hunting dogs at her feet. This statue, with the buildings, street scene and tram stop adjoining, he remembered from the Polish centre exhibition years before. He had imagined a larger statue, though this one was about eight feet high, in a more open situation, But this was altogether a more intimate situation, just feet away from the Ratusz (Town Hall) though no less impressive for that. The inscription on the plinth was in Ukrainian and in Latin letters. This Town Hall Square was the very heart of the city-and felt like it. The Town Hall, an impressive rectangular Renaissance-style building dating from 1835, occupied the centre of the Square The other three corner spots around the Town Hall were adorned by similar statues of classical figures: Adonis, Neptune and Amfitrite. But this Square was also enhanced by the buildings in surrounding streets that could be seen in the immediate backdrop.

  By this time it was two in the afternoon Ukrainian time and notwithstanding all the distractions from something so mundane, he was getting aware of the need for a sit -down and some refreshment. Wandering in the streets around the square he came for a second time to the street bearing the name of Kraków, the Polish city once considered Lwów's 'twin'. On this street there was a cafe, likewise named after Kraków. On entry the cafe turned out to be a Ukrainian establishment. It was a pleasant place to sit and relax a while, though he bought just a coffee (there were things to eat on sale but no self-service so trying to buy any would have risked yet more struggle with the Ukrainian language). Thus refreshed he walked on. On the northern edge of the central area there was one of the city's oldest buildings-the Armoury, and further on another square with a memorial. But this time there wasn't the kind of settled and relaxed ambience of the Market Square or Freedom Prospect: the traffic rushed and roared round on three sides, the square was on a slope and there weren't many people about. The afternoon was wearing on, he hadn't found the Polish Centre and had no ideas in his mind as to how to find it and for that matter he hadn't even found a place to buy a postcard. This was a perennial problem when abroad: the sheer time and effort that it took to do simple things like buying postcards and presents, stamps, currency, tram tickets, finding the address of somewhere etc. before any progress could be made in whatever one had gone there for. Nearby there was a modest building housing the Russian cultural centre. Inside was a large notice, in Russian, welcoming visitors. He did not go in but thought the more. Had not their respective cultures. languages and societies been closely linked for centuries; was it not true that in much of the Ukraine even if not right here a third or more of the population were Russian speaking anyway, so why have this Centre? It looked like he had a good deal still to learn. Maybe they could explain these things to him within, if only he didn't only have two full days in the city.

  It was now four o'clock and he decided to use the Polish postcards he had not had time to write and send while still the
other side of the border and include some explanation in the messages: he would write to three people who ought to be sent cards. At least he knew where a post office was, albeit over a mile away and the trams to it not running. He started walking. He'd got about half-way there, roughly to the circus building on the Gorodotska when he was accosted by a young man who asked him if he could speak English. The man, who gave his name as Dyem, said that it was so rare in to find someone from an English speaking country and that he was very pleased to have done so. As they walked Dyem said that he was trained as a tour guide, and could offer information about the Ukraine. He enthused about his plans to set up a tourism business after taking a course in business studies having found a flat in this city. Dyem said that it was crucial for him to have forty pounds sterling, that he would be willing to help him now and on future visits to the Ukraine, pay the money back soon and generally be his friend-and capped it all by saying that he was in the Baptist