Life in Lviv is very normal

When I arrived Lviv station had many soldiers and I felt I was a character in a film.

I often do but this time an historical film.

The kind girl who worked for Unicef and who showed me where to draw out money from a machine was astonished that I was here on holiday. 'But this is no place for a holiday!' 

I felt abashed, like a child who had strayed into an adult drama that was not suitable for him. A phantom maybe. A ghoul.

But after my cab deposited me at the George Lviv seemed very normal. 

Some statues were wrapped up to protect them from bombs, some stained glass windows were occluded by protective covers, there were sandbags outside the tourist information office. 

But the city centre otherwise was different from on my visit on 2014 mainly because it had lost its tourist innocence.  Many many more bars, restaurants, shops.

A Ukrainian told me that since 2014 the people of Lviv had become much more open minded. 

I was sad to hear it. I am open minded myself, but I think it's a very overrated virtue in countries. 

Ukraine, the daughter of British Ukrainians told me, was a place she lived going to (on holiday) because people think like human beings there.  

I wonder if they still do. 

Not if the American administration gets its way.

Balzac, Casanova, the Emperor Francis Joseph, Brahms, Ravel and Yuri Gagarin stayed at the George Hotel in Lviv  I expect well known Nazis too but the hotel doesn't mention this. They do mention the Communist Sartre. 

Exactly the kind of shabby grande dame of a hotel that I  most love, like the Imperial in Jerusalem, the Baron in Aleppo or the Continental in Tangier. 

I just decided to stay a other night. My room is in the front, is huge, has three beds and two wrought iron balconies that I decided to trust overlooking the Prospect (the equivalent of the Ring in Vienna or Korut in Budapest).