Crimean Capers

Swallow's Nest Castle, Crimea, Ukraine
Originally uploaded by rtw2007.

Richard has joined us for the Crimean section of our adventure, so for the past few days we have had some company on our trip. Following a lazy time drinking and wandering around Odesa, we headed out on the long (but thankfully less potholed) road south to the Crimea. The area is very Russian – people here speak Russian rather than Ukrainian; someone tried to poison (and successfully disfigured) the pro-Ukranian Viktor Yushchnko when he ran for president a few years back; there are rumours of a move back to join the motherland; and there is a huge contrast between this area and the west of the country (which was very much more European).

We spent our first night in Simferopol, the capital of the Crimea. The Crimea is all about looking good – even during the middle of the week, people were promenading up and down the main street, drinking beer from bottles, all dressed up to the nines. Girls are all immaculately groomed; almost without exception rake thin; most sport skin tight dresses or the shortest skirts imaginable; and metallic stilettos are de rigueur. Most of the men strut around in very tight T-shirts looking extremely moody and very much up for a fight. We promenaded with the best of them and also, bizarrely, ate pizza from a fairytale themed restaurant, complete with several stuffed dwarves. Post-pizza, Helen wisely retired to bed whilst Michael and Richard spent the evening in one of the dodgier bars of the locality, where the “ladies” wore rather less than even the miniscule skirts we had seen on the street…..

From Simferopol we headed towards the south coast and firmly onto the Russian tourist trail. In the days of the USSR, the Crimea was the major holiday destination for Soviet workers, and it is still incredibly popular with Ukrainians and Russians. There are barely any European tourists at all, which is a shame as the area has a lot of offer, including some stunning scenery; spectacular castles; and interesting history. In the Arabic-Tatar town of Bakhchysaray, we visited the Khan’s Palace and ancient mosques, which date from the period when Islamic Tatar culture ruled in these parts. It is very odd to be plunged into an Islamic world and scenes that reminded us very much of Morocco, despite being in a Russian speaking (and mainly Orthodox Christian) part of the world. From there we moved further up the valley to a tiny Orthodox church carved into the rock, and then onto the “cave town” of Chufut-Kale (literally “Jewish Fortress”) where we wandered around an amazing, peaceful network of caves, enjoying a fantastic view over the valleys below.

Our accommodation that evening was pure Soviet kitsch. The Hotel Sevastopol is in the town of the same name, which until 1996 was a closed Russian naval base which was completely inaccessible to the public. Even now that the public can visit, it is a very odd place – the town seems to be stuck in the Soviet era, with large concrete Soviet stars decorating the park; naval cadets guarding the fighters’ memorial; Soviet military music blaring out over the tannoy during the day and mock air-raid sirens being played over the same public tannoy to accompany our Ukrainian beer drinking in the evening. The Hotel Sevastopol itself is all 1970s psychedelic carpets; Soviet stars in tasteful Artex on the walls; brown floral bedding; and (or so Richard thought) odd devices on the ceilings which looked rather like bugging devices / microphones. We, however, did not get the full on kitsch experience, as we hatched a secret deal with the car park attendants (on a strictly Mafioso, you line my pocket and don’t mention it to reception basis) to sleep in the van out in the car park.

The drive from Sevastopol towards Yalta is pretty spectacular, with seemingly endless swathes of pine trees on craggy hills above the road to the left and turquoise sea to the right. We headed to a couple of castles which sit in spectacular locations between the mountains and the sea, or overhanging the sea. Romania may have the reputation for stunning castles, but Ukraine beats it hands down. We also braved the cable car up the mountain, which neither the writer of our Lonely Planet guide or Richard’s Bradt guide appear to have done (on the basis that it all looks a bit dodgy). We were rewarded with the steepest cable car ride imaginable, which felt like it was manoeuvring straight into the mountain face at points; brilliant views over the Crimea; and a whole village, entirely hidden from the road below, made up of a mixture of tourist souvenirs and Tatar food stalls selling cheap, tasty fare (which all looked a lot like a cross between Marrakech and Kashgar – again, incongruous given that we are in the middle of a former Soviet, and still very Russian, region).

We are now in Yalta, which is a bit like Southend-on-Sea and / or a slightly toned down version of Blackpool. Lots of sunshine and tiny bikinis, but all against a backdrop of funfair rides; lots of promenading; too much beer; and multiple examples of the Ukrainians’ favourite pastime – having their photos taken in fancy dress / against a mock backdrop / with a live animal… they are obsessed with it. We have seen on offer photo opportunities to sit in Edwardian dresses on enormous thrones; biker gear to dress up in whilst sitting on a Harley Davidson; or Soviet gear to pose with whilst holding a large machine gun. Not to mention the vast array of animals available – who wouldn’t want to pose for a photo with a snake around his neck and / or a baby crocodile in his arms and / or a holding a monkey / peacock / falcon / owl etc etc?? The RSPCA would have a field day. Not least with the dolphinarium in our hotel, the incredible Hotel Yalta, which was built to house 2230 Soviet workers on their annual holiday (mandated by Lenin to keep the worker’s spirits up with a bit of Crimean sunshine). The hotel comes equipped with 10 bars; seven restaurants; a shopping mall; a subterranean lift to a private beach; an Olympic saltwater swimming pool; and said dolphinarium. All very, very odd and very tired looking. The map given to us by the hotel dates from 1986 and was produced under the Soviet regime. But the statue of Lenin in town now overlooks a McDonalds, showing that even in this still remarkably Soviet heartland, there is no escape from some things.