REFERENCE
“Kamyanets-Podilsky, a town of oblast rank in Khmelnytsky oblast, a district center. Located on the banks of the river Smotrych (Dnister tributary). Founded in the eleventh or twelfth centuries. Population: 103,300. In 1374, received Magdeburg Law status. In the number of historical and cultural sites (152) ranks third in Ukraine, after Kyiv and Lviv.”
The above excerpt is from an encyclopedia. Friends describe it in a less sophisticated manner: “Have you been to Kamyanets-Podilsky? It has that castle where they shot Ivanhoe on location. It’s a gorgeous place, and it has caves on the outskirts.”
I decided I had to see that gorgeous place and the caves. After a night on the train, I found myself on the platform at 6:30 a.m. and then set off in a fixed-route taxi, together with a tourist group headed for point one on my itinerary, Khotyn Fortress (Khotyn, Chernivtsi oblast, is twenty kilometers from Kamyanets- Podilsky).
CORRECTION
Most of the historical data contained herein are courtesy of the tourist guides. I may have misunderstood something, a guide may have offered a biased view, so inaccuracies cannot be ruled out. I saw my objective in describing the trip, the atmosphere, and what was happening.
Later, I checked most of the facts, so I do think I have not made any gross mistakes.
KHOTYN FORTRESS: SUDDEN ATTACK
In the predawn mist hanging over the Dnister I could discern the grand contours of the Khotyn Fortress.
As our tourist group approached the impregnable rampart we came under sudden attack. No, not by Tatars or Turks. It was a billy goat. The aggressive artiodactyl spotted a lady in a bright red blazer and charged. It was funny at first and everybody laughed, barring the target of the attack. The goat, head bent low, horns aiming straight, was pushing the lady, not too strong but insistently. He was tied to a long rope, so the quadruped terrorist could pursue her a dozen yards. The lady in a red blazer quickly got over her shock and courageously fought back, grabbing the Capricorn by the horns. Another lady decided on a diversion and thrust forward a bouquet of wild flowers: “Hey, goat, look, it’s for you. Come and get it!” The attacker, however, declined the flowers and tried to bite her finger instead. Finally, a resourceful gentleman pulled at the rope and dragged the buck back to the pole to which the rope was tied, securing him there on a shorter leash.
As for the lady in red, she spent the rest of the trip sniffing at her hands and complaining, “Can you imagine! I’ve washed my hands several times, but they still stink of the goat. You don’t believe me? Here, take a sniff.” At which everybody assured her that she was right.
Finally within the powerful 62 meter high and eight meter thick fortified walls, we all felt safely protected from all sorts of billy goats and jackasses. The guide told us about historical figures associated with the place: Sophia, Mariya, and Nastia.
Sophia Gljawone was a legendary girl. In the eighteenth century, together with her sister Maria, they were bought at the slave market of Constantinople by the Polish ambassador. Both were sold by their Greek mother. For obscure reasons, the Polish envoy had to leave the girls in Khotyn.
Maria met a Cossack who then sold her to the Khotyn pasha at a more than fair price. Sophia, aware of her sister’s miserable lot, was in no hurry to get involved with anyone. Maria’s venal scenario was not for her. Instead, she infatuated Major Joseph Witte, son of the Khotyn Fortress commander. They married and went on honeymoon to Paris. Needless to say, Sophia liked the place very much and this made the prospect of returning to the Khotyn Fortress even more gruesome: soldiers, officers, and no high society. But then she seduced the aging Polish magnate Potocki as he visited the fortress. The old aristocrat had plenty of estates. “Poor Witte died of sorrow,” the female guide informed us with emotion.
Conveniently, 52-year-old Potocki’s wife died of similar causes. The man was not exactly overcome with grief. Most likely, his reaction was quite the opposite. He talked the Pope into allowing him a second marriage. His new wife’s name was Sophia, of course.
Comfortably installed in his estate at Uman, she again took her time making plans. Paris was still uppermost on her mind. Potocki made a truly fantastic present for her thirtieth birthday, a fairy-tale park and a mansion in Uman. Sophia was happily impressed by the environs, yet what attracted her most was Potocki’s elder son, as her aging husband was to discover shortly afterward, in one of the beautiful grottos. He followed in Major Witte’s footsteps. “He locked himself in his study and died of sorrow” [the guide contributed]. Not so his widow, she was happy and her beauty flowered. Together with Potocki the Younger she left several million at Parisian gambling houses within two years. The young man was broke, so good-bye, my love, good-bye!
Eventually, she married a third time, and again the deal was very good. She also became involved with the celebrated Russian Count Potemkin. In a word, she continued to live in luxury (with 37,000 serfs and 200,000 gold rubles) until she died of old age. The park is still there, still bearing the fickle beauty’s name (Sofiyivka in Ukrainian).
Then the guide told us about Nastia, a brave Cossack maiden. In 1519, when the fortress was besieged by the Turks again and all men on the walls died, their places were taken by women led by Nastia. Turkish sultan Suleiman tired of the siege and offered Nastia to give up the struggle, promising in return a life of luxury at his palace, but the young lady hurled herself from the wall, preferring death to captivity.
The ladies in the tourist group seemed more enthused by the first story, although they did not mind heroism. It was just that — well, women are hard to explain.
CAVE ENERGY
The next point on the itinerary was the Crystal Cave in Ternopil oblast, formed in the gypsum soil at the bottom of an ancient sea [long since dried up], with 23 kilometers of labyrinths.
The guide started by scaring us white by the entrance. There is a horror story associated with the cave, dating from the early twentieth century.
Someone saw the Virgin Mary there, and the news attracted numerous eager explorers. One named Karpov got lost in the maze and died just 300 meters from the entrance.
On that optimistic note we were invited to enter. We found ourselves in a whimsically shaped tunnel cut in the rock and dimly lit by lamps. The corridor narrowed, then expanded, going down and up, and our pace would quicken and slow, and we would bend and straighten up accordingly. This lasted for three kilometers.
En route, the guide told us the obligatory legends. One was about a young woman named Natalia who hid in the labyrinth from a Turkish raid. Inside, she met the Master of the Cave who presented her with a small stone wreath (made from gypsum crystals), confessed his love, and proposed marriage. He promised he would take her out when he had time, but he was so busy! In the end Natalia became angry and decided to solve the problem in a purely feminine way: behead him with an ax. But just as she was to carry out her scheme the cave shook with an earthquake and the impact was so strong she missed the head and chopped off his hand. The Master of the Cave was not amused and turned the woman into a stone lizard. In fact, we could see the lizard.
Well, with a rich imagination, the thing could be a lizard’s head, or maybe something quite different.
The guide constantly pointed to petroglyphs on the walls and ceiling. We saw an owl, an eagle, and a cobra. Personally, I could make out an elephant, as something like a trunk and ears protruded from the wall.
In one of the underground halls we found a small fir tree. Actually, it was a Christmas tree, we were told, as former Premier Yushchenko had met the New Year there. Just as we were listening to the interesting political story the lights went out. In the pitch dark we heard the guide: “It’s a scheduled cutoff, so don’t be surprised. We’re not in the capital, are we?”
It was thus our tourist group stumbled onto the electrifying situation in the Ukrainian power industry. The guide had a flashlight and so did two young men and a girl bringing up the rear. We heard their cheerful voices.
“Well, how do you like it, Lucy? Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I can’t see a thing. Aim your flashlight here.”
“Can you see now?”
“Now I can see somebody’s back.”
For the first time I felt that I was a part of nature, for the back the girl mentioned was mine.
There were shrieks and curses in the darkness pierced by flashlights as some of the tourists bumped into gypsum ledges. Several minutes later we understood why the edges were so smooth to the touch, having been polished by thousands of tourist heads.
And then we were out of the cave. Hooray!
Actually, there were two joyous moments about the tour of the cave. First when we entered and second when we got out.
KING, PRESIDENT, AND HANGMAN
We returned to Kamyanets- Podilsky. The city panorama was impressive: military barracks, cathedrals, a Dominican monastery, and Eastern Orthodox churches.
We approached the Church of Stanislaw Augustus. The city was visited by the Polish king in 1781. A gate was erected to commemorate the event. When he saw it at a distance he liked it very much. The structure was so light, graceful, and snowy white. But when he examined the gate on the other side he saw soaring stone cherubs and was instantly gloomy. The monarch hated children. It was pathological, but someone in the entourage explained that cherubs were a must, because the winged creatures made the gate a place that would bring the visitor good luck. The king was satisfied and the place was since believed to bring victory (maybe not so much for the Poles, who a decade and a half later lost their independence — Ed. ).
In 1994, Leonid Kuchma visited the city as presidential candidate. Exploring the Stanislaw Augustus Temple was not on the program, but after he was told about the charming gate he went there and walked through the gate a couple of times. In 1999, he visited the city again, especially to walk through the gate. And it helped again.
Now that parliamentary elections are approaching, I think that political parties and factions, and individual officeholders should visit the place and march through the gate, column after column. Success guaranteed (if not for poor King Stanislaw —Ed.), inexpensive and effective.
After crossing a beautiful bridge from the eleventh or twelfth century, we found ourselves by the walls of the captivating Kamyanets Fortress, the on-location shooting site of the once popular Soviet children’s movie The Old Fortress and the gothic adventure Ivanhoe.
Its history is rich in sieges, storms, and captures. Ustym Karmeliuk, the legendary Ukrainian rebel, was thrice imprisoned here.
We walked through sinister corridors to the portholes. There was a dummy standing by one, clad in a black lace-trimmed camisole and wearing a broad-rimmed musketeer hat, staring at the road below. The guide explained, “The Polish City Hall hired mercenaries, mostly French or Dutch. This one is a Dutch mercenary watching the road. But the Turks may have penetrated the fortress from the other side. Just imagine a janissary rushing into the guardhouse.”
At that very instant the dummy turned around with a buzz and thrust his rifle at the tourists nearby. The ladies screamed. The trick was very good.
We were shown a reasonable facsimile of a torture chamber. There was a hangman wearing a red loose overall, standing in the corner. Another man, apparently the victim, hung from a chain, oozing with blood. A middle-aged lady of the group watched the scene and remarked, “How could they all stay here in this cold?” I said that I somehow doubted that the temperature worried the one hanging from the chain overly much.
Through with the dungeon scene, everybody hurried outside. There we spent such a long time marveling at the city panorama we nearly made it to the train by taxi. Do you find it difficult to believe that cityscapes can be so captivating? Take a trip to Kamyanets-Podilsky and see for yourself, but I do advise that you have some cash ready for the taxi.
