Magnificent Kiev - The mother of all cities in the Europe East | Full Documentary

Old Russia, more than a thousand years cultural history in Eastern Europe. It is preserved in the castles, monasteries and churches, and in the hearts of the people. Notwithstanding tyrants and dictators, the inhabitants of this vast country have cultivated a lasting relationship with their homeland and traditions, their Russian soul. Many history books call it the mother of all Russian cities. Indeed, in the Middle Ages, Kyiv was the center of power of Rus, the first Russian empire and the forerunner of modern Russia. Since the end of the Soviet Union in 1991, Kyiv has been the capital of newly independent Ukraine. A fresh start for an old metropolis that is very aware of its magnificent past. Almost every corner of the city reveals a chapter of the religious, political and cultural history of Eastern Europe. The Church of Saint Andrew. Almost 250 years old, the edifice is seen as one of the masterpieces of Ukrainian baroque. And here, in the shadow of its towers, art flourishes. The Andreevsky descent is often referred to as Kiev's Montmartre. Every day, hundreds of artists and dealers offer their pictures for sale. Since independence, the street has become the city's art mecca. One of its founding fathers is almost always to be found here. Alexander Mirozorov, who is something of an eminence grise in this part of town. The Andreevsky descent is Kyiv's calling card. A unique calling card, also for us artists. Because everyone who visits Kyiv walks along here, buys a souvenir maybe, a traditional piece of Ukrainian clothing or maybe a picture. Everyone who comes to Kyiv comes here. Alexander Mirozorov lives right opposite the Church of Saint Andrew. 20 years ago, he opened Ukraine's first independent gallery. Today, at 75, he still discusses new plans every day with his assistants. In the Soviet era, he designed state-approved ceramics and glass objects for public buildings. And was well paid for his work. Of course, there were artists that couldn't come to terms with the reigning ideology and worked in attics and basements for themselves. But it was very hard for them to get by. They couldn't earn money with their work and so could barely survive. But every artist chooses their own path. That's the way it is. Later on, everything changed and those in the attics and basements got rich. The gallery is successful, with up to 20 different exhibitions a year. Many foreign artists are also exhibited here, from the Czech Republic, Poland, Latvia, Croatia and Germany. Mirozorov is an excellent communicator and has made many international contacts in recent years. When independence was declared, around 60 countries opened embassies in Kiev. Some of them are only small, with a handful of staff. And then there's the American or the German embassy, with more than 360 employees. These people all live in Kiev and want to hang pictures on their walls at home. That's why they come here. Where else would they go? Art is a mediator of so-called open diplomacy, is how Mirozorov puts it. In the meantime, many artists from Kiev and the rest of Ukraine are benefiting from the cultural exchange. Mirozorov likes to gather them around him and discuss the essence of art. Just as long as it's not the contemporary or avant-garde. He wants no truck with that. The Andriyevskyi descent is thought to be Kiev's oldest street. And one of the busiest, attracting both locals and tourists, and forming the heart of the historic old town. Back in the days of the Rus', this part of Kiev was the bustling trading and harbour district. And the area is still enormously popular with its inhabitants today. After the retreat of the German army in the Second World War, Kiev lay in ruins. In Ukraine, however, it's not only faith and hope that survived the years of terror, hunger and destruction. In the lower part of the city, many grand houses from the days of the Tsar have been preserved. Even though the ravages of time have not spared them, they are evidence of the city's former magnificence. Alexandra Uralova has made the charm of the morbid her livelihood. And the exuberant young woman is not alone in her fascination for the undiscovered and underestimated corners of her hometown. In summer, she acts as a guide for others interested in Kiev's back courtyards and derelict ruins, making her hobby her profession. Ever since I was a kid, it's fascinated me to find the shortest way from A to B. Nowadays, when I'm out walking, I look out for interesting courtyards and houses. And Kiev has a lot of them. Then I go to the library and do some research. And I ask the locals if they know any stories about the people who used to live here and what happened here. It's not only tourists, but also Kievers themselves who join Alexandra's unusual tours. The old stones tell the city's eventful story from another perspective, through the eyes of everyday people. The participants love to look behind the facades of the restored historic buildings. There, a world opens up in which history can be felt and inhaled. And is that much more tangible? Most of them are interested above all in the Soviet era when their parents were growing up. The explorers are glad to let themselves be enchanted by Alexandra and by the mysterious atmosphere in the shadowy, unpolished parts of the city. Kiev's lifeline is the Dnieper River, which separates historic and modern Kiev and in Ukrainian is called the Dnipro. For more than 40 years, an island in the river has been home to a curiosity that has long become part of the city. Probably the strangest fitness studio on the planet. What's being pressed, lifted and snatched here is scrap metal. Pieces of iron and steel that are apparently no longer needed somewhere else or have arrived on the bodybuilder's paradise island via murky means. Information is forthcoming about only a few of the pieces. Quite close to Kiev, there was an old tank factory in Rembaza. When the T-34 was being built there, they gave us a whole tank track as a present. We brought it back here and took it apart. I still have the steel pins which we use as weights here. They weigh 18 kilos each. That's probably the most unusual part of our park. Old iron meets Ukrainian ingenuity and a tinkerer like Yuri Kuk. The ex-mathematician is one of the founders of the park and inventor of all the homemade equipment. The bodybuilders respect the shy, slight man who, like them, originally just wanted to keep in shape. His passion became his life's work for which many citizens of Kiev are grateful on a daily basis. Basically, you'll find all kinds of people here, from students to pensioners. At all times of day, from the early morning until late at night. We have several professors from the Polytechnic Institute and a chemist who trains here every day. And lots of people from the military, pensioners from the Ukrainian security services. Nowadays, younger members have taken over the construction of new muscle machinery. But the plans are drawn up by Mr Kuk. Old iron still inspires the 67-year-old to design daring contraptions. A lot of young people come here with a lot of testosterone in them. They love to compete against each other. Their favorite activity is arm wrestling. This is their favorite machine for the arms. The city has long had chic, modern fitness studios. But this is the only open-air one. And it's free into the bargain. The economic upturn in the country has benefited only a small elite. Very little trickles down. And all attempts by the authorities to shut down the island have failed after massive protests. On the Dnieper, one of the most important transport routes in Ukraine. Freight now travels by road and rail. And Captain Igor Pizmenko has switched from carrying cargo to passengers. His overall mindset, however, is not much changed. The Dnieper played a big part in my childhood and adolescence. It's my great passion and now my livelihood. I love it. And as a child, I even dreamed about it. I feel very close to the river. It's our life. Pizmenko comes from a little town which the Dnieper passes on its way south. It was clear early on which direction his life would take. After finishing college in 1981, I worked in a cargo fleet. I ended up working on passenger ships, cruise ships and hydrofoils. Mostly, I was in the cargo fleet here on the Dnieper and on the Danube too. Only enthusiasts work for the Merchant Navy because the material side doesn't play a part here. We earn the same as everybody else in Ukraine. Today, he plies up and down the river with his ship along the Kiev skyline. A backdrop with various monuments from the city's eventful history. They stand for different eras. Like the last great landmark of the Soviet period, the gigantic Mother Homeland statue. A memorial to the victory of the Red Army in the Second World War. It also commemorates the fact that Ukraine was, for many centuries, a plaything for various different powers. I was still at school when the statue was built. I remember taking part in the opening ceremony. That was in 1980 and it was a huge celebration. Even the Soviet President Brezhnev came. Today, I view it differently. It's hard to explain but its significance has changed for me. For more than 20 years, Ukraine has been considering its own identity as reflected by the many historic buildings on the banks of the Dnieper. I find my job very varied. Some of my colleagues get bored after one day here, but with me, it's the other way around. I'm at home during the winter and can hardly wait to get back on board in the spring. The pride of Kiev and its magnificent symbol, the Monastery of the Caves, one of the oldest Russian Orthodox monasteries of Kiev's Rus period. The 28-hectare complex is one of the most famous Christian monuments in the world. At its heart is the 900-year-old freshly restored Uspensky Cathedral, which has played a major role in the city acquiring the nickname, the Jerusalem of the East. For centuries, the monastery was the spiritual centre of the Russian Orthodox Church. On high holidays, the place's significance becomes tangible. The procession and the monk's solemn liturgy draw thousands of believers from all over the country. It was a long journey before the monastery gained the significance it has today. To see the shining baroque domes on the banks of the Dnieper, one would never imagine its modest beginnings. The Monastery of the Caves was founded in the early 11th century and began, as its name implies, deep underground. Chronicles name a hermit called Antony as the first monk, who then gathered other priests and created a labyrinth of catacombs. The bones of some of the founders are buried in the complex. Pater Pavnutius and his fellow monks honour the tradition and have extended the cave system to be able to accommodate the millions of visitors every year. The caves are the foundation of our Church, the place where the history of the Monastery of the Caves began, where St. Antony found shelter and a place to pray. His refuge were the caves in these mountains. Then more and more brothers came and today the monastery is home to up to a thousand monks. For the last few years the men's fellowship have had to deal with the presence of a woman. Irina Cherevko is the custodian of the labyrinthine caves beneath the monastery. I work in a wonderful spiritual place. My job as a hydrologist is also my hobby, I really enjoy it. It doesn't feel like I'm going to work, it feels more like a celebration. The 51-year-old scientist was practically imposed on the monks without prior consultation. The basement of the monastery is sensitive to rain and its preservation requires modern expertise. The oldest tunnels and chambers of the catacombs are still closed to the public. There are lots of branches that no one is allowed into and access to the caves inside is difficult. I only go in once a month at the most as getting in is so exhausting. It is assumed that the first caves were dug by the Varangians, descendants of the Vikings who were in the process of spreading out in the eastern Slavic region. Irina Cherevko examines the walls for possible damage like damp. She inspects a fascinating but at the same time oppressive world in which many inhabitants have over the centuries left traces. The walls and ceilings are full of inscriptions. This one is from the year 1613. If the light's right you can clearly see 1613. Irina rarely stays down here longer than an hour. Her breath contains moisture which could jeopardize the sandy stone. The geologist penetrates ever deeper into the tunnel system along thousand-year-old passageways. Now she's reached a special place that still fascinates her after all these years. Because it reminds her most impressively that people once lived here austerely and secludedly, alone with their faith. This is a cell from the 11th century, from around the time the caves were first dug out. The walls were obviously made with a tool called a rubal, a sharpened cow's horn. The shape of the vaulted ceiling gives the impression that this was a chamber for one person. This was where their bed would have been. That is the entrance and the arches directly above the bed. Here we're about six meters under the rock and roots are poking through the ceiling. They could destroy the cave. This one came through this year and the ones in the back last year. So you can see how quickly they grow. That's why I think the caves should be better protected. If we want to conserve them, the vegetation above them has to be removed. Her demands don't exactly make the hydrologist popular. On the slopes above the rock, the monks have planted vines. And they'd like to open this part of the cave system to visitors, which would mean extending them. Irina Sherefko is fighting to keep the caves as they are. They want to extend the passageways so that people can get in. That means extending and securing it, which will destroy the historic base. That's the conflict. I'm against the extension and letting people in. On the other hand, I understand that we need to find a consensus. Probably by opening up another entrance on the other side and presenting it like a picture. Inserting a window people can look through. Everything's possible with modern means. Kiev has always valued tradition as highly as progress. The city's funicular railway is more than a hundred years old. At the time, Ukraine was enjoying an industrial boom. And as so often in the country's history, fighting for independence. The dream would only become reality with the fall of the Soviet Union. The independence statue in the center of Kiev. The monument towers over the Maidan, the city's biggest square, which was the center of attention during the Orange Revolution in 2005, and again in the winter of 2014. For many young people, the revolution meant great steps towards a more self-determined life. As for example, for Alexandra Uralova, who started an agency and has been a tourist guide ever since. She gladly treads unusual paths to find traces of the old Kiev. With zeal and ambition, the linguist is forever researching and planning original new tours through obscure corners of the city. And she's never short of an anecdote or bizarre background information. Alexandra sees herself as a kind of urban explorer, always on the hunt for the next story. It goes something like this. I stand around for a bit, take some photos, and then usually someone comes up and speaks to me. I explain that I'm a tourist guide and that I'm interested in the city. Then they start telling me stories, stories that you'll never find in books, and giving me tips about where else to go. The citizens of Kiev are very friendly. Besides looking into the past, Alexandra also makes people aware of the modern qualities of her hometown. In the warm summer months, the colorful life of the three million inhabitants takes place on the streets. The ubiquitous chestnut trees have long since become a symbol for Kiev, being immortalized in the works of composers and poets. Kiev has been one of Europe's, if not the world's, greenest cities since the 1960s. At that time, parks were created in the city center and woods planted as dividing lines between the districts. Sixty percent of the city is greenery. In a small flat in the suburbs live Rosa Gordiaska and Fyodor Marenko. After retiring from his job as a train driver, Fyodor bought an accordion and learned to play. A fateful decision. The couple have only been together a year. Above all, I like his character. When we made our first date, I thought, let's see. If he brings flowers, then maybe we have some kind of future. And then he was both punctual and brought me a rose. So I fell in love with him. Who could resist me? He has a good heart. It feels like we've known each other for years. Rosa's former life fell apart when her husband died a few years ago. Their daughter has now grown up and lives outside town. Then she met the man with the accordion. And every weekend since, they've been going to the park where Fyodor plays dance music. He'd separated from his wife shortly beforehand and found a new home of sorts in the park. And a purpose in life. Really, he was living in the park. I didn't understand at first because I was never here and I didn't know what it was here. Every time Saturday came around, he went running off. At first, I was annoyed because he was spending all this time there. That was five years ago. Nowadays, she goes ahead and I try to keep up. Like Fyodor and Rosa, around this time, quite a few citizens of Kiev are making their way here. Ukrainians love to dance. And for many, the Saturday meetings are the high point of the week. Rosa and Fyodor take the train to the island in the Dnieper. When the locals want to get away from everyday life, then it's usually here. Fyodor is in his element. He's slipped into the role of bandleader. A hard core of regulars come every week, but there are also always new faces. They have no fixed meeting point. They always find a dance floor somewhere in the park. Fedya plays the whole time. I don't get to dance with him very often. I'd love to, but I always have to find other partners. I don't care whether I dance with women or men. What I don't want to do is just stand and watch. I want to have fun too. I had a good voice when I was a child and used to sing all the time. All the songs that were sung in our village. I knew all the melodies and practiced them bit by bit. And since learning to play the accordion, I come here regularly. And weekends, on fest days and public holidays, we're always here. It's great fun to celebrate together. This place has a magical attraction. They dance to Ukrainian and Russian folk songs. There are events like this all over the country. In many villages, the people used to meet in the street after working in the fields and spontaneously make music. Our soul sings. The Ukrainian soul sings. We love singing. Round here, people say that dancing fills you with positive energy. And everyone can feel that. For the older citizens of Kiev, the park dance is also a well-known lonely hearts club. With a high success rate. When you're lonely, you wish you had someone at your side. We got to know each other here and we still get on fine today. And lots of other couples have met at the dance. When it rains or winter makes its presence felt, they simply dance in one of the big underground stations. A weekend without dancing is an unknown situation here. In the 13th century, the city was one of the most important principalities of the Rus and was almost completely destroyed in an attack by the Mongols. Despite the impressive defences. The main entrance to the city, the Golden Gate, proved too much for the invaders. But they were able to inflict some serious damage on it. In the meantime, the edifice has been restored and is the centrepiece of the old town. This district is also the home of writer Andrei Kurkov. And it plays a major role in his novels. He's now a well-known, much translated author. Born in Leningrad, the writer grew up in Kiev and wouldn't live anywhere else. I love the special Mediterranean atmosphere in Kiev. The people are very relaxed. They enjoy life. They run into someone in the street, chat for half an hour and then move on. I'm very lucky to live here and be able to walk the same streets that have existed for a thousand years. Kurkov does, however, regularly leave his beloved district to return to his roots. Although less than half an hour's tram ride away, for the author, the journey to the suburbs is like travelling into another world. An excursion into a past which he remembers with great affection. When I come out here, I think of my childhood, of my grandmother, of the house I lived in with my parents. The house is still there in the grounds of a children's sanatorium where my grandmother worked as senior consultant. The tram trundles through a few kilometres of thick forest. Its destination is Pushcha-Voditsa, a place once famed for its elegant remoteness and dozens of exclusive convalescent homes. A world that has been ignored by the march of progress. Until now, at least. Away from the big city, few people still live here and many streets appear to be part of an open-air museum from another era. The best place in Kiev for nostalgia fans looking for traces of the good old days. And on every visit to the place of his childhood, Kurkov wallows happily in melancholy. There are enough traces of the old Pushcha-Voditsa that I remember. The houses, the places where shops once stood. Makes me feel very nostalgic. But in many places, the decay can no longer be stopped. Before the gates of Kiev, a piece of Ukrainian-Russian culture is slipping slowly into oblivion. This is a typical Pushcha-Voditsa house with beautiful carved wood decorations which used to be painted in bright colours. Forty years ago, the majority of houses here would have been like this. Really lovely. Despite the many sombre sights, on all his visits, the author finds something here that modern Kiev cannot offer him. The opportunity to pause. There is nothing modern here. No restaurants, no bowling alleys. It's holiday à la traditionnelle, as they say. I was really very happy here. I remember that the days and nights in Pushcha-Voditsa were always longer than those in Kiev. And of course, the trees were taller, and it was like my own little kingdom. Somewhat wistfully, Kurkov leaves the place of his childhood and is carried through the dense forests of the past back to the present. Alexandra's curiosity and lust for adventure have got the better of her again. She's once more on the lookout for forgotten historical places that are sometimes hidden in a jungle of undergrowth. In the midst of the greenery, a grey concrete block, a product of its time. To secure the transport of weapons across the Dnieper, Stalin began building a tunnel system. The remains are still to be found to the north and south of Kiev. This here is part of our war history. Kiev is surrounded by tunnels and caves. Not everyone who lives here knows about them. Kiev is huge. It's hard to imagine how many secrets are still being revealed here. Whether this would really be suitable as a destination for one of her tours, Alexandra still has to ascertain. Her criteria include whether a place is easily accessible and whether there's any danger for the participants. Her tours are, after all, aimed at everybody, young and old. Back in modern Kiev, another stately edifice. The Fairy Tale Castle may be a recent construction, but fairy tales are its calling. But matinees and the occasional evening performance. Lydia Shevchenko familiarizes herself with her character. As every day and before every performance, it's one of the rituals of her job. And she's never wanted anything else. My childhood dream. I grew up in a theater and dreamed of puppets as a little girl. And later on, when I was thinking about a career, I only ever saw myself in a puppet theater. Nowhere else. Dramaturg Irina Lupan comes to wish Lydia good luck. Another ritual. Even though the building is new, Kiev's academic puppet theater has existed for almost 90 years. And every performance begins with the same butterflies as ever. Sadly, the achievement of the actors is often underestimated. The puppet has to be constantly moving. Otherwise, it comes across as stiff or dead. That's what makes our work so special. Music and vocals are playback. Everything else is live. On no account should the public be thinking about what happens behind the scenes. The passion of the puppet players telling the story and how they identify with the roles they play remains hidden. In a way, it's liberating because you're not working with your face. I dissolve. I cease to exist. I imagine the character, the puppet, its form. And then I live through this character. Puppet theater has a centuries-old tradition in Ukraine. Many of the plays are classics. The artists don't earn particularly well, but the theater has no problems with young blood. The profession has something magical about it. With all the expression and gestures in your armory, you transform yourself into a little pig or a dog. Although they're hidden behind the screen, the actors really do slip into other characters. That's why they need good voices. They need to know how to handle a marionette or a flat figure or a rod puppet. They have to be very versatile, more so really than a dramatic actor. After every performance, the company talk about what needs working on. Not just for a few minutes and not much differently as if they'd just done Hamlet in the National Theater. Every day, there are details that could be improved. Many actors appear, or rather don't, in several plays at once, often in two or three performances a day. And only part of the repertoire is directed at younger audiences. This art form enjoys far too much respect in Ukraine for that. Puppetry is in our genes. It was born in public squares, so it's of the people. At first, only dramas for adults were put on. Everyone thinks puppet theater is for children, but there are far more pieces for grownups. They say people see themselves reflected in the puppets. It's an interesting thought. All the puppets are created in the theater's workshops and all the actors are responsible for their figures. And have to ensure that the invisible mechanics work. The insides of the puppets have remained almost unchanged. Many constructions are based on the same principles as a hundred years ago. Simple mechanisms that are also simple to repair. Indeed, it seems as if the old folk art is successfully resisting the spirit of the age. Puppetry is aware of the modern, but has no reason to fear it. Nowadays, people more rarely motivate themselves to get up and go out. All the same, we're often sold out. Although so many children love to play on the computer. Every time we experience how alive the relationship is between puppeteers and the public. The energy of a live performance can't be replaced by TV or the internet. Another new building, barely 15 years old, but world famous. St. Michael's Monastery. The original was built in the 12th century. The exterior later became a jewel of Ukrainian Baroque. Until the Stalinists blew up the building in the 1930s. Beforehand, in an operation at dead of night, one of its treasures was saved and brought to safety in the St. Sophia Cathedral, which stands a few hundred meters away. The precious piece is still here. Its existence was long kept secret. Anatoly Ostapchuk and his team are trying to give the 800-year-old mosaic back its former glory. The restorer is a well-known expert for relics of the pre-Mongolian period in Ukraine. He's saved rare artifacts from decay all over the country. But this piece of history is being treated with particular respect. It's always wonderful to work on pieces of art. But this mosaic is the only one of its kind from the 12th century, from the time of the Rus. Unusual testimony to a magnificent past. It is one of countless Christian representations from the destroyed monastery with which the Rus once celebrated its still young religion. Grand Prince Vladimir had only been baptized shortly before the turn of the millennium and made Christianity the state religion. Since its rescue from Stalinist destruction, the mosaic has been hidden from public view. Only when Ostapchuk's work is finished will it be seen again. Remnants of wax were stuck to the surface of the mosaic from the time that it was transported here and they had become heavily discolored. One of our main tasks was to remove them. Lots of stones had fallen out as well and had to be replaced. And during an attempt to create a copy for the cathedral, nails were hammered in in many places which damaged the surface. But the mosaic is only one thing that the art expert is working on. In the Sophia Cathedral, Anatoliy Ostapchuk has found his life's calling. The 62-year-old is head restorer for one of the most magnificent edifices in Christian culture. From the 11th century onwards, the cathedral was the symbol of the Russian Orthodox Church. Here, foreign leaders were met and princes crowned, as well as being the location of the Kiev People's Assembly. Of even greater significance are the art treasures that cover almost every centimeter of the interior. The Sophia Cathedral really is a unique monument from the 11th century. There's no other cathedral with such a complete range of frescoes and mosaics from this period. There's nothing similar anywhere in the world. On these walls, we can see more than 260 square meters of original mosaics and around 3,000 square meters of frescoes. In 1990, the cathedral was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO and is now a museum. And Ostapchuk and his team are still discovering breathtaking treasures in the extensive complex. The latest pieces include a window in a side wing of the crypt, whose existence had remained a secret for more than 800 years. A spectacular find that has opened a new chapter in the history of the cathedral. We were restoring a fresco in 2011 when we stumbled upon this opening. It had probably been walled up in the 12th century, so the construction behind it had remained as it had originally been. What we see here are the remains of the original window from the 11th century. It consisted of a round frame that was fixed in the brickwork with nails and then painted. Directly beneath the window, under the fresco of three life-size figures, Ostapchuk found a further layer which excited his interest. The hidden fresco portrayed an even older Christian motif. It seems to be a representation of two saints and also appears to come from the 11th century. Unfortunately, only this part has survived intact. The rest possibly broke off because it wasn't fixed to the wall properly. When the window was bricked over, they obviously deliberately kept only this face with the halo. Subsequently, new stucco was applied and another picture painted on it. Three life-size saints. The cathedral's secrets are like a calendar of early Ukrainian history and a man leafing through it in the search for traces of Kiev's former glory. In Kiev, the foundation stone for the later formation of the states of Russia, Belarus and Ukraine was laid. The mother of all Russian cities left its mark on the development of two continents, Asia and Europe.