And then the monk lit my hair on fire

There are almost as many Great Patriotic War memorials (the glorifying kind) here as there are churches. Which makes me sad, because the Ukrainians got totally fucked in the Great Patriotic War. The Soviets destroyed Kiev themselves before fleeing the Nazis, who were in charge just long enough to kill about two million people. Once the Soviets were back in charge, they got to killing alleged Nazi collaborators. They took the peasants' seed grain when crop yields weren't high enough, which promptly led to another famine in 1946. (The first Soviet-induced famine was in 1932-33 -- something like four million people died. There are some famine memorials as well, but the severity of the famine now seems to depend on the mood of Ukraine's relationship with Moscow: When they're getting along the famine wasn't quite so bad.) Soviet territorial gains from the Great Patriotic War meant that the Ukrainians finally got to live united in a place called Ukraine, but they had to live there under Stalin. No wonder their collective sense of humor is so dark.

Back on the church front, the Pecherska Lavra is kind of like a cross between the Vatican and the Kremlin. It started as an underground monastery about a thousand years ago, and has since grown into this huge complex of churches and museums and gardens, plus the caves (which are more like basements than caves, but I guess they probably started as caves). The 'caves' are not that well-marked and are generally confusing, so when I finally found the first set of them I asked the monk near the entrance if I could go down. He spoke good English and he wanted me to buy a scarf to cover my head (not sure if that's cave-policy or just his personal/religious preference.) Then he bought me a cross with my money (he couldn't believe I'm not Orthodox) and gave me some kind of blessing and put the cross around my neck, while holding a candle, burning some of my hair in the process. He was good to have around, though, because he gave me a little tour and told me about the history of the monastery. It took forever, though, because he had to kiss every icon and relic, sometimes several times. So there we were, the monk and me, down in the caves lit only by candle light, talking about kissing (icons), and I started to wonder why he wasn't more sweaty in his long monk robes. He didn't smell bad at all. And he had long hair and a scruffy beard. And nice teeth.... It's a good thing I don't believe in hell, because I'm headed straight there. The more he talked, though, the less attractrive he got. He told me about how "we have the saints and they prove that Orthodox is the right religion." When I told him that there are a lot of Russians in Brooklyn he made a face and said "Jews." "Are Jews not Russians?" I asked. "They speak Russian. That does not mean they are Russian. I'm speaking English, does that make me American?" Nice teeth, but he was a lot more attractive with his mouth shut.