Paris Franz

St Michael's Monastery, Kiev

The broad expanse of the Dnieper River cuts an impressive swathe through the centre of Kiev. The river has long been considered the dividing line between east and west, orthodox and catholic, Russian and Pole, and it’s fitting it should flow through the middle of the Ukrainian capital. Kiev is an intriguing mix of Slavic and central European, of onion-domed churches and Soviet statuary, of Russian and Ukrainian. Twenty years after independence, Ukrainian is the sole state language yet Russian is still widely spoken. Given Kiev’s fascinating, if occasionally blood-curdling, history – I can’t think of another city that has been besieged, pillaged and occupied quite as often – and Ukraine’s relaxation of its visa regulations, it seemed a good choice as a place to learn Russian.

Language continues to be a political issue in Ukraine, although it’s perhaps less of a sore point now that in the period immediately following independence. Ukrainian was periodically banned during Tsarist and Soviet times, which not surprisingly made the language a key element in Ukrainian nationalism. Today Russian predominates in the east of the country, while Ukrainian is heard more widely in the west. In Kiev you are likely to hear both, and wonder which is which.

Under the patient guidance of our teacher Anna, our small class of beginners slowly got to grips with some of the basics of Russian. Pronunciation proved to be a challenge. Jacob, the Danish engineer, had an understandable problem with the Russian word for ‘thousand’, while German Jochin could never quite remember the word for ‘me’. The Cyrillic alphabet flummoxed Anglo-Polish Bronia. As for me, I couldn’t help but think whoever thought up the Russian system of plurals was a very strange individual.

The Novamova language school is in the centre of Kiev, near the metro station at Zoloti Vorota, the Golden Gate, close to many of the city’s main attractions and abundant restaurants. The Drova restaurant on Volodymyrska became a favourite, with its cheap and hearty Ukrainian fare. A filling lunch usually set me back around £4.

An afternoon tour of the city on our first day introduced us to the city’s thoroughfares and side streets, complete with shiny monasteries, wrought iron balconies, art deco street kiosk and trolley-buses. The relative lack of brutal Soviet gothic architecture came as a pleasant surprise.

Bronia assured me there was plenty such architecture in the suburbs where she was staying with a local family, but there’s little evidence for it in the centre. The area is full of lovely old buildings, relics of the nineteenth century sugar boom. The feel of age is deceptive, however – much of Kiev was reduced to rubble during the German occupation in the Second World War, and was subsequently rebuilt in the old style.

The city centre is compact, but it’s still possible to get lost, as I proved during my first week, and Jochin proved during the second. Coming up out of the metro I took the wrong exit, then turned right instead of left, and before I knew it I was on a mystery tour of Kiev. There’s nothing like getting lost to get to know a city. Comparing notes later, Jochin and I agreed that getting lost was something of a Kiev rite of passage. I discovered a statue of Lenin, while Jochin came across the city’s botanical gardens. It would have been more fun if I hadn’t been late for class.

I do wonder how non-Cyrillic reading football fans will fare next year, though. Ukraine and Poland are co-hosting the 2012 European football championships, and it will be interesting to see how Ukraine’s infrastructure copes.