Coffee at the Great Gate
“Whereas the tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks or months, the traveler belonging no more to one place than to the next, moves slowly over periods of years, from one part of the earth to another. Indeed, he would have found it difficult to tell, among the many places he had lived, precisely where it was he had felt most at home.” ― Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky
By November of 2017 I had been living in Kyiv, Ukraine for three years, with no chance of being mistaken for a tourist. But—apologies to Mr. Bowles—but I did feel that I had found a home in Kyiv, much as he had famously found his in Tangier.
In Kyiv I felt at ease, and more a natural part of the scene than I had ever felt anywhere in my life; and a kinship with the people, an understanding of how they moved and looked at the world. The world there did not seem to resist my presence. I had not had a migraine since arriving, which was weird, I thought, and my OCD was at an all-time low.
The Slavic East is where I belong, I felt...I still feel that.
“Odno espresso bud laska, bez malokom.” — “One espresso please, without milk.”
I spoke in the freewheeling blend of Ukrainian and Russian I had picked up from the citizens of Kyiv, forever caught between two worlds.
The young man at the coffee cart glanced up, recognizing my accent.
Handing him a few bills and indicating he should keep the change, I took the small paper shot-glass of expertly made espresso and moved to a nearby bench, surrounded by fellow Kyivans who had also just emerged from the Zoloti Varota metro station at the end of their morning commutes and who were also taking a few moments to imbibe some caffiene before completing their journeies to work.
I had learned that it was very bad form to walk while drinking coffee, or eating street food. Americans are always in a rush and see this sort of fare as a take-along, but Ukrainians not so much. You sit or stand and finish your coffee or snack, and then move along on your way.
As I savored my coffee I glanced up and took in a familiar sight: Zoloti Varota, “The Golden Gate.” This is the only existing relic of the medieval walls that once encircled the great city of Kyiv, and one of three “Great Gates” constructed during the reign of Yaroslav the Wise, Grand Prince of Kyiv who ruled from 1019 AD until his death in 1054.
This is the “Great Gate of Kyiv” honored in the famous musical work of the same name by the composer Modest Mussorgsky.
But enough with history. This was simply the daily morning coffee stop on my way to work—and one could easily grow to take for granted the scenes passing all about you as you walked the streets of this ancient city. I shot back the last few drops of my espresso and got up, heading off beneath the shadow of the Great Gate of Kyiv as I did evey morning. I had an IELTS English class to teach at the nearby First Cambridge Education Center in less than fifteen minutes. A classroom full of eager Ukrainian high-schoolers awaited.
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