Saturday, July 14
Rivne
We had the luxury of a later,
early afternoon departure from L’viv this morning, and many of us took advantage of the
extra time to shop and do a bit of last minute sightseeing and buying of
"tchachkiys" (souvenirs) or even more in this remarkably beautiful city. This is one place
where it would be fun to spend a whole week, a luxury we cannot afford! This
city is a tourist heaven.
En route to Rivne, we did not
have a terribly long bus ride, but once again our route featured the
picturesque countryside from gleaming new 4-lane highways which were built
especially for our tour (that is, according to Sasha Kreschuk). I think it’s
wonderful that the many people visiting Ukraine for the recent EuroCup soccer
games could also benefit from “our” new roads! One of the trends in the
“new” Ukraine is the proliferation of gas stations along these new freeways
(and the older roads as well), most of which easily rival or surpass our own
SuperAmerica or Holiday gas stations. We chose one of the best, with clean
bathrooms, great snack and beverage options, and plenty of room to accommodate
a group of our size.
Eventually we arrived in
Rivne, and made a quick check-in to the Hotel Mir (Mir = peace) built for the
Soviets 40 years ago by Boris Kreschuk, the father of our dear Oleksandr
“Sasha” Kreschuk who grew up here in Rivne. An evangelical pastor, Boris was
also a civil engineer, and his building projects were part of the leverage he
used with the communists to barter for the safety of his family as believers. I had heard many “horror” stories about this hotel from past
Evangelion trips, but other than its address and square footage, this hotel
clearly bore no resemblance to that one whatsoever. Extensive remodeling and renovation
have made this one of the more beautiful and well-appointed hotels in our
experience here. It seemed another symbol of all things becoming new here in Ukraine.
We could not help but be struck by the mowed lawns, sculpted flowerbeds and
gardens, and a growing sense of ownership and pride that pervades the cities
where we have visited. More than just capitalism at work, this pride is a sign
of a healthy culture and free people.
We had a quick turnaround
(less than 45 minutes) to get into concert attire before boarding the bus to
head for the Rivne Organ Hall. With its pipe organ, green “faux marble” columns
and green velvet chairs, this is a building with an interesting history.
Originally a Catholic church, this was used as an ammunition dump during WW2,
then it was made into a movie cinema during the communist era. A dropped
ceiling, fake walls and a movie screen on the altar apparently seemed to the communists to
be the most reasonable use for this once sacred space! We were told it was only
around 20 years ago that it was restored into a concert hall. No longer active
as a worship space, there are some things (like stained glass windows) that
simply can’t be covered or hidden from view. Aside from mold and mildew older than God living in
the lower level, it’s a remarkable music space with clean acoustics and good
sightlines.
We sang to a small but
appreciative audience, and leaving the doors open during the concert caused our
audience to grow steadily during the performance. We sang a great performance,
which was warmly received. Looking out into the audience, it was once again
remarkable to see the wide range of ages in attendance. Some of the older men
had that rumpled “Soviet look” and there were many children and younger people
there as well. It was also wonderful to see Masha (Ryiaba) Dunina, our almost
Evangelion alto, with her new husband Viktor. Pastor Nestaryuk of the Second
Baptist Church was also there to provide closing remarks and a benediction. In
attendance there was a blend of church people and those from the wider
community. We can feel a bit of corporate exhaustion setting in from the
concert grind. Two more to go, and then a break! The end is coming quickly, so
it’s important we savor the final moments. It will be good to be in the same
bed for two nights in a row.
