Lviv surprises me at every turn. These streets just aren't what you expect in a struggling, Eastern European country. The streets are clean, chess is being played in the park, kids laugh, the buildings are in good repair. I was hassled mercilessly by gypsies in Berlin, but there wasn't a beggar in sight here in the city center. With the constant reminders people gave me about the country, I wasn't expecting this.
Then I turn a corner.
This is the Lviv I was expecting to see, but it now came as a shock. These buildings should be abandoned, but families still live in them. The streets have been torn up, and no one has bothered to replace it. Despite the disrepair, it was still relatively neat and tidy. There wasn't any trash on the streets and people tried their best to keep the decaying buildings looking as nice as possible. It was another one of those times when looking at another culture brought mine into sharp focus.
I walk up to High Castle Hill, where there was no castle but it was a wonderful vantage point to look down upon the city.
To the south I could see the tops of churches and buildings both old and new.
To the north were the scars of Communism. Block housing rips haphazardly through the landscape and in typical Communist fashion there was little regard to aesthetics.
Unlike in Poland where the block housing is decorated with bright colors and shapes, it stands unapologetically as a testimonial to the country's history.
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