Having explored at length the whole city of Lviv, I can confidently say it is a charming and delightful place to spend your lazy days and boozy nights in its comfortable cafés and bars (respectively). Although, when I say "the whole city", by that I mean the tiny touristic centre. But as this very recent and accurate landscape picture shows you, there's not that much outside of the city walls. Now and then, Turkish or Polish soldiers besieging the city, but, really, not too much more.
Lviv, last week-end
As you can see, Lviv is a very well preserved city. In the picture at least. You might be a bit suspicious by now. You should be, really. No? Nevermind. Let me show you in one single photo, both how the central "market square" looks like, and how to properly hold a trident.
Lviv's Rynok (Market) Square
To be perfectly honest, this was supposed to be a rather history-heavy Blog Post. No ukuleles, nothing about my backpack or me failing to get you to order a lovely postcard, nothing but rock-solid history facts. I had a great book with lots of (un-)trustworthy anecdotes and stories from Lviv. Unfortunately, I forgot it at the Posta/Pasta place from the previous Blog Post. Despite having been back there twice, I still haven't managed to make anyone understand what I was after. So your best bet for light hearted entertainment, songs and first hand knowledge, as well as stories from 3 colourful locals, is still the LVIV PODCAST. You can download it, and unlike what you're reading now, it will entertainingly teach you lots of things about the city and its varied history.
A fact I do (vaguley) remember from that little book, is that in the year of 1826, the troubled Austrian Burgmeister of "Lemberg" (Lviv) brought over a bunch of specialists for an important meeting. A worrying crack in the City Hall's Tower was threatening to become a catastrophe. The Alarm Bells were ringing. Metaphorically. Nobody dared ring the tower's bells at that point obviously. No need to any way, the bored trumpeter, standing outside the Hall's front doors was the one sounding the hour, and the eventual alarm.
Thankfully, the experts were formal. There was absolutely no risk of anything collapsing in this fine building. Despite the appearances it was in top notch shape. German-Austrian craftsmanship and all that... But while they were cutting into the celebratory cherry Strudel, the carpenter, which we shall call Franz, because that I cannot remember, barged in the meeting room screaming "My Meisters, the Tower is collapsing!". And as these words were spoken, the tower did indeed topple, and the deadly tons of stone crashed down, to flatten the trumpeter and his instrument.
An hommage, fittingly, in E 'flat'.
By the way, you may have noticed the big wooden Ukulele having changed a bit. Well, well done, good spot, it has changed a fair amount: While in Kiev, two young artist, who happened to have the exact same age, and who also happened to be twins, gave my Tenor Ukulele a new artistic touch. Something, you might agree, very "outdoorsy".
I always felt that if one of us was ever going to get a big front-tattoo, it would be my ukulele first. And now, it carries around mountains, wild grass and a refreshing river to relax and inspire your imagination, when my music fails to do so. A great big thank you to them both, Mishel and Nikol whose work you can admire (or even order) on: [reminder to ask them the link].
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And, speak soon then. Ben