Yalta - the home of kitsch

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As per usual the blog begins with an apology for its tardiness, especially as we are both home now but, as mentioned previously, the Ukrainians aren't too hot on their public internet access and frankly, we became somewhat lazy. But here we are:

Simferopol

Simferopol does not warrant much review, in fact we became bitter and twisted by remaining for the night. It has no merits upon which a recommendation is based and thinking back to the place evokes sore memories... Perhaps this is because we arrived after our 30 hour train ride and instead of entering beautiful Crimea were halted in an ugly transport hub. Simferopol is the point of entry/departure for the whole of the Crimea, and it looks it. There were holidaymakers everywhere displaying that inevitable behaviour, witnessed most frequently at train stations and airports, of looking upwards at information screens and not in front of them where kids ran with unpredictability and suitcases being wielded as unfortunate weapons of path creation. The stress was much increased by the lack of affordable and available accommodation until we were about ready to sleep in the park or find ANY possible route out of the place. However, at the very end of the day we managed to rent an appartment for the night off a babushka and counted down the minutes until we could leave the next morning.

Yalta

Delighted at the opportunity to escape from Simferopol we left early in the day to catch the longest and slowest trolleybus in the world !! This was only after a 2hr trauma of trying to buy a train ticket only to be forwarded from desk to desk and making several circuits of the station. We left this until Yalta and fared little better there...Anyway, a trolleybus is not that exciting but merely a normal bus run on electricity. After 2.5hrs the novelty also wears off but the main highlight is the view from the route it takes up, over and around the Crimean mountains and looking down to the Black Sea.

Upon arrival we were accosted by a babushka offering us another place to stay which she immediately claimed was "vehry goohd" and "central" which indeed it was. However, having settled in and supplied with coffee we then came to the money matters which although we believed to be clarified had suffered a grave error. Rather than 400uah for 4 nights, it turned out to be the price per night (around £40!!!) which is quite ridiculous and explained the presence of an extremely large flatscreen tv although she later said this was a gift from her children. Eventually we bargained it down to a more feasible 250uah and all parties seemed content. Although this is still suspected as a rip off, Granny Jane as she liked to be known, truly did adopt us and even enchanted us with playing the matchstick (yes it can be done) with a special happy birthday rendition for Adam's 21st.

Left to explore Yalta, we quickly discovered its certainly an "interesting place" and the guide book described it as somewhere where you may think is ridiculous and stupid or absolutely love, I'd still place us in the middle of these two statements. First impressions led us to believe that the trolleybus had transported us back to the Costa del Sol... in the 70s... It was certainly very strange and usefully, the dictionary definition of kitsch couldn't describe it better: "something of tawdry design, appearance, or content created to appeal to popular or undiscriminating taste." This popular or undiscriminating taste is that of the nouveau-riche Russian who flock to the place and clearly overrun it. The Crimea is not Ukrainian, it is Russian, both in holiday and historical terms. Granny Jane perhaps put it best while we were watching the olympics and considered her primary support was for Russia and Ukraine secondly with mere ambivalence. This was not authentic Ukraine and perhaps not the best place in the country to go first but this by no means detracts from the amazing scenery of the surrounding mountain range or the sweltering heat (at least 40 degrees celsius without much respite at night).

Really we didn't explore as efficiently as we may have done other regions, our plans to see much else of the Crimea halted by the crowds and sheer heat making any effort exasperating so we pretty much kicked back and enjoyed the view. One of the sights most warranting a mention is (another) statue of Lenin but this time taunted across the square by McDonalds which enjoyed its prime location and extortionate prices by the free-paying Russians. Another activity worth mentioning was the rickety cable car ride which we took up into the Mountains only to find there was actual very little at the top (the guide book promised a faux greek temple but we found a building site). We walked around, discovered another war monument which had its own heckling old lady sitting outside, and then headed back down. This was around our third day in Yalta and despite our unwillingness to exert much effort in getting around the Crimea we decided that the next day needed a trip somewhere apart from the promenade.

We had intended to visit Sevastapol but after eventually rediscovering the bus station, after a complete unnecessary walk in the wrong direction, the mass scrum around the ticket desk led us to alter our plans. Instead we got a local bus to Livadia Palace which was where the Yalta Conference took place in 1945. After a brief look from the outside, the russian language tour was of no interest, we descended the hillside towards the sea for a cafe lunch only to get overcharged there. Luckily we had some change for the return bus as cash points were fussy and not overplaced in this area... Slightly embittered by the cafe tourist trap mistake we ascended the multitude of steps back up and returned to Yalta.

Of course one of the days spent in Yalta was Adam's birthday (which of course was the 15th).. Granny Jane, her sister and some other relative sang a distorted version of happy birthday and presented him with a neon orange soft toy elephant and a chocolate bar which were both greatfully received. We suitably marked the occasion by going to a lovely restaurant overlooking the black sea with delicious food, sparkling wine (faux champagne, we couldn't push out the boat that much) and a jazz band who I requested happy birthday from much to Adam's visible embarrassment. A very much idyllic setting to pass the evening.

After 4 nights of barely manageable heat, we left Yalta to head north to Kiev... Inevitable this involved returning to Simferopol but only briefly before we embarked on a mere 17hour train journey which due to a lack of availability and choice, was to arrive the next day at 5.45am..... Great.

Hopefully, the conclusion in Kiev shall be posted soon.

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