UKRAINE ROAD TRIP DIARIES: Kharkiv: Living at the edge of war
Days 3 & 4: A single day takes us from Lviv, via medieval mosaics in Kyiv to Georgian lamb under curfew in Kharkiv. Here the war is closer, louder, and impossible to ignore. Cemeteries tell one story, mobile medical clinics another. Kharkiv is a city that refuses to stop living. Return to Day 1&2
Tuesday 28th October
Breakfast in Lviv, lunch in Kyiv and a late supper in Kharkiv. Dr Zuzana and Martina drove an astonishing 1,030 km in a single day, cheerful throughout and indulgent of our Dad jokes. Ukraine’s highways were better than expected, with frequent rest stops—many clearly serving military logistics too.
In Kyiv we made a brief stop at Saint Sophia Cathedral, its medieval mosaics and frescoes marking the heart of Kyivan Rus. The green Catholic cupolas of the west give way here to the golden onion domes of Orthodoxy. By evening we drove the remaining 500 km to Kharkiv, arriving just before curfew for Georgian lamb and red wine.
Lviv to Kyiv: driving east from Catholic to Orthodox
Wednesday 29th October
We began the day in a chilly STEP-IN portacabin clinic beside the Kharkiv Caritas centre, arriving as the elderly patients waited patiently in a queue for their week’s appointment. Later that morning we went on to see more elderly folk living in a make-shift dormitory set up in former school classrooms. In both places the patients carried the heavy wartime yoke of weariness and resignation. What is there for them to look forward to? Individuals we spoke to told us that they could not survive without the medicines provided free by STEP-IN.
Kharkhiv: Morning queue at the mobile clinic, dormitory for refugees
Thereafter we moved on to the vast city cemetery just outside town, where we counted 2,200 military graves in stunned silence. The trauma-worn faces of that morning’s elderly patients stood in stark contrast to the youthful photographs on the gravestones. Two thousand flags rippled in the low autumn light.
For your tomorrow we gave our today
Across Ukraine we learned to ignore air-raid sirens, as most citizens now do. But that evening Kharkiv reminded us how close the war is. After meeting the university rector to discuss cooperation with veterans’ organisations, we crossed a vast Brutalist square leading to boulevards built wide enough for several Soviet tanks advancing line abreast.
Brutalist theatre in Kharkiv
In the evening, ahead of the 11 p.m. curfew the city grows eerie, especially when GPS navigation is suspended to confuse incoming Russian missiles. We navigated by street signs and ended the day in a Halloween-themed shisha bar, fuelled by whisky and warm hospitality. “Thank you for coming to Kharkiv, but why would you come?” they search our faces for any good reason we could provide for joining them in their misery.
Nicholas, Gavin and the doctors in the mobile clinic building
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