When asked, I like to compare our time here to climbing a mountain. It begins with excited anticipation. You make a start but soon the reality sinks in; you realise you have a long climb ahead. Then it’s pain the whole way, with a few spectacular views from the top. After getting back down as fast as you can, you stop and realise what it is you just did and ask yourself, “why don’t we do this more often?”.

It’s been a long time since I updated my blog, but now that the coming of summer has thawed the icy veins of my depression I feel motivated to reflect upon my life once more; today it’s chess. Chess has been played for thousands of years, but I only really joined in over the course of the last 12 months. A year ago, whilst wandering the grounds of the school, I noticed the old gardener and his young apprentice battling it out on a regular basis and eventually my curiosity overcame my bashfulness; now I am the apprentice, getting a regular thrashing by both the chess master and his 12 year old protege.

Playing against these guys I really feel like a monkey on a typewriter. We usually play Monday and Friday afternoons, by the end my brain feels like a tin of mushy peas having solved two or three check mate problems, played a 5 minute blitz game followed by one or two full games; not to mention translating Russian to English in my head!

Maybe it’s the twenty cent baguettes, perhaps it’s the massive range or even the untypically Ukrainian feeling of space but there is something about the French supermarket chain “Auchan” that draws Kievites by the, seemingly, millions. I’ve never been stuck in a shopping trolley traffic jam long enough before to contemplate that industrial sized supermarkets could be designed to actually be filled with patrons; I just thought the scale was provided to cater to a western appreciation of personal space. My hat goes off, however, to the managment of Auchan for providing an equally ridiculous number of checkouts AND actually staffing them (take that Furshett!!).

Firstly, I apologise for the uncharacteristic facebookesque portrait. In early September I accompanied two classes of grade eight students to Crimea and the Black Sea. Yes, the Black Sea is actually. And quite nice for swimming at this time of year. But one piece of advice; don’t go there for the beach, do I really need to explain what a soviet beach front looks like … ?

Wire fences, stones, a cheesy strip mall obscuring the beach and a lot of fat, leathery people. Not a whole lot of swimming, however, despite the water being very nice. Instead I recommend a charter boat out to the cliff face, away from all the tourists, and swimming off a boat.

Also, bring your own food and chef. I’d have done better starving for five days.

Believe it or not, I’ve taken up jogging now that holidays are are here; who could resist getting out and about when there are lovely places like this to enjoy? The above photo is my first attempt at high dynamic range imaging, a method of bringing more life to a photo.

They’re yellow, abundant, crowded and they’ll get you anywhere in Kiev for less than 50 cents, they are the Mashrutky. The most common variety is the smaller mini-bus, although the newer, larger kind are becoming increasingly common. Why am I writing about buses? I needed a subject for some photography practice so I decided that for once congested roads and overcrowded buses should work in my favour.

Note the woman standing in the door well; the bus driver was waiting for the bus to “fill up” before he would leave. They will often do this whilst double parking in one or more buses to a symphony of prolonged horn blasts and cursing!

And this is has nothing to do with buses, but I’d like to think that perhaps some of those passengers were on their way home to this charming apartment block atop the post office.

The maiden of Kiev stands with steadfast gaze toward mother Russia. I’m told it’s a gesture of goodwill, or as much, but a gigantic metal woman, brandishing a sword, sends me other signals. Perhaps I’m yet to get the whole Slavic ‘thing’.

I said I’d shoot some clouds, VJ.

You think that’s bad, you should see what I started with. It’s moments like these I could do with a decent zoom lens.

“I love Yulia”. Not me personally, but someone loves Yulia. The writing on the substation wall assures me of someone’s undying love for her. Everyday I pass this grotesque lump of soviet utilitarianism. Who is Yulia? Who loves her? Why can’t this shack be an espresso bar instead?

While I have been thoroughly underwhelmed by many things Ukraine has to offer this particular technique of fencing has caught my attention. Not only is it visually appealing but it also makes environmental sense. This style of wicker fencing can be used small or full size fences, even wind breaks. Given availability of suitable materials it also costs nothing but well rewarded time and effort.

One really interesting feature of this type of fence is that it can be constructed from a wide variety of materials. I’m guessing long, green Willow branches are used here, however I can’t see why you couldn’t use something such as Bamboo in warmer climates.

I doubt this style of fencing provides the permanence of plank ‘n’ paint job but from what I’ve seen here they last for sometime. I think a natural addition to this style of fence is a nearby source of raw materials (such as a Bamboo grove or Willow tree) to provide a ready resupply in time.

If you’re wondering how difficult it is; this was constructed by school children.