Yalta waterfront; Livadia
palace; interiors; vistas.
Going to Yalta from Simferopol on the bus is half the fun and excitement.
Heading
into the mountains of southern Crimea is a dream, and I thought for some of the time that we were driving along Route 1 in California. The mountains rose and the sea emerged, the legendary Black sea, a crossroads between East and West for centuries . Barbara said it was "like Yosemite meeting the ocean," it was that beautiful.
into the mountains of southern Crimea is a dream, and I thought for some of the time that we were driving along Route 1 in California. The mountains rose and the sea emerged, the legendary Black sea, a crossroads between East and West for centuries . Barbara said it was "like Yosemite meeting the ocean," it was that beautiful.And then we arrived in Yalta, a beautiful Russian seaside resort town that has remained a Russian resort town. We walked along the tree-lined boardwalk and pepple (not sandy) beaches, past some Renaissance-like buildings that look like former palaces, lots of health resorts, shops, and souvenir stalls, a busy harbour filled with huge cruise ships from around the world, and sailboats and fishing
boats on the shimmering sea's horizon. It was a clear blue-sky day and the whole scene looked like a water-color painting.
A highlight of our visit was seeing the Livadia Palace, where Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin met to end world War II. It is a long white Renaissance-style palace with a beautiful portico entrance, floor to ceilingl windows, balconies that look out on incredible vistas, large elegant rooms and decorative arts.
boats on the shimmering sea's horizon. It was a clear blue-sky day and the whole scene looked like a water-color painting.A highlight of our visit was seeing the Livadia Palace, where Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin met to end world War II. It is a long white Renaissance-style palace with a beautiful portico entrance, floor to ceilingl windows, balconies that look out on incredible vistas, large elegant rooms and decorative arts.
The first floor of the palace features the state rooms where the three leaders met for the Yalta conference, including a state reception room surrounded with carved walnut wainscotting and a lovely Venetian glass chandelair floating down from a walnut carved ceiling. For breaks, these world leaders could stroll in anItalian courtyard, or meditate in the smaller but lovely Arabian coutyard decorated with magnificent tiles.
The second floor features the elegant royal rooms of the last Tzar of Russia and his family, all victims of the Communist revolution. A royal study, library, bedrooms, and the children's classroom overlook the most magnificent vistas of
nature, mountains and sea imaginable.
Yalta is sometimes called "The Pearl of Ukraine," but I didn't feel like I was in Ukraine when I was in Crimea. Everything about it is so different from eastern Ukraine, the mixture of pre-historic, Christian, Orthodox, Turkish, Russian, Tatar, and Islamic history, the prosperous looking seasdide towns, the ancient names and places of mixed ancestry.
Yalta is sometimes called "The Pearl of Ukraine," but I didn't feel like I was in Ukraine when I was in Crimea. Everything about it is so different from eastern Ukraine, the mixture of pre-historic, Christian, Orthodox, Turkish, Russian, Tatar, and Islamic history, the prosperous looking seasdide towns, the ancient names and places of mixed ancestry.
I'm told the majority of people in Crimea remains firecely loyal to Russia, while the indigenous people, the Crimean Tatars, who were forcibly removed from their homeland by Stalin and the Soviets, view the Soviets as intruders and oppressors. The Crimean Tatars live with the pain of a well-organized Soviet army-enforced deportation on the evening of 18 May 1944. Some 47% of the rsesettled population died of disease and malnutrition during the deportation. Crimean Tatars are now returning to their homeland after over sixty years in exile, many from Uzbekistan and Turkey. Sometimes the tension is palpable, and sometimes it is lost in the beauty and serenity that engulfs Crimea.
Returning Crimean Tatars have lots of stories to tell. The pain of losing their land remains, along with fervent efforts to preserve their language and culture. Would an ordinary but ancient pair of forged iron tongs mean anything to most of us? Probably not. But to one family it is all that remains of parents, grandparents and other relatives forced to flee their homes in a hurry one dark night in 1944, grabbing whatever they could in a state of shock and panic, a pair a tongs, a symbol of the sorrow of forced removal from ancestral homes.
Returning Crimean Tatars have lots of stories to tell. The pain of losing their land remains, along with fervent efforts to preserve their language and culture. Would an ordinary but ancient pair of forged iron tongs mean anything to most of us? Probably not. But to one family it is all that remains of parents, grandparents and other relatives forced to flee their homes in a hurry one dark night in 1944, grabbing whatever they could in a state of shock and panic, a pair a tongs, a symbol of the sorrow of forced removal from ancestral homes.
Crimea has a complex past and present under its magnificent exterior. But Yalta remains a shining star.
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