One of the joys of travel is discovering a place you had never of before. Ivano-Frankivsk was one such place. Situated just over 100 kilometres southwest of lively Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk is a city of just over 230,000 people that flies beneath the radar on most traveller’s itineraries.
It is named after Ivan Franko, one of Ukraine’s most revered writers. Born in 1856, Ivan championed the socialist movement in Western Ukraine. His work is considered one of the shining examples of Ukrainian literature, and his legacy is celebrated to this day.
We only had one night here. In classic style, we would be stopping in Frankivsk as part of our railway journey to the Romanian border. It promised to be 24 hours of frantic exploring, fuelled by coffee and sweet snacks.
A brief glimpse at Ivano-Frankivsk
The city of Ivano-Frankivsk was initially built around the Potocki Palace. Developed during the 1600s by the Potocki family – wealthy Polish aristocrats – the palace lasted just over a century. In the 1700s, the Austrian state bought the estate and converted it to a military hospital. The city continued to grow throughout the years to come, eventually becoming one of the largest settlements in Western Ukraine.
Whilst Ivano-Frankivsk continued to developed, the same cannot be said for the Potocki Palace. There are scarcely any signs of its former grandeur today. The military hospital closed down in 2004, and the site is slowly crumbling into obscurity.
The heart of present-day Frankivsk is now Market Square, at the very heart of which stands the Ratusha building. This Art Deco monstrosity used to serve as the city’s town hall but now hosts a cultural museum and an observation tower.
Ivano-Frankivsk is home to several cathedrals and one of Ukraine’s leading medical schools. Despite a relatively low population, it retains the buzz of a larger city. When we visited, the streets were packed with cars and pedestrians alike, whilst bars and restaurants seemed to be doing a roaring trade.
Arriving into Ivano-Frankivsk by train
We would be arriving into Ivano-Frankivsk by train. It had been a while since taking a rail journey overseas, but it didn’t take us long to settle back into the rhythm. Catching an inter-city train in former Soviet countries can often feel like an adventure. We had been itching to get back on the tracks again.
The sun had just risen on a cool October morning. We stood shivering on the platform at Lviv, watching the enormous engine creak towards us. It dragged a dozen carriages behind it. With screeching brakes, the train ground to a halt and the platform became a flurry of activity.
Simultaneously, heavy-set doors swung open from the end of every carriage. Each door clattered violently against the side of the train. Then, in perfect tandem, the train attendants stepped out onto the platform, followed by the crowds of passengers alighting at Lviv.
The attendant for our carriage looked set for a freezing winter’s day. A gloved hand extended from her thick coat to take our pre-printed ticket. She inspected our details thoroughly before waving us on board.
Our compartment was a classic “two up, two down” – bunk bed formation. Most of the passengers disembarked at Lviv, and it was clear we had the space to ourselves. We unpacked our endless supply of snacks and settled in for the two hour journey.
Before we knew it, the reassuring “clunk-clunk, clunk-clunk” of the train was rocking us back to sleep. At times we moved painfully, impossibly slowly. Indeed, the locomotive never got a clear run at building up much speed.
We inched through the Ukrainian countryside. Every so often, we passed through a small town or village. At each station, a uniformed station master would stand to attention and acknowledge the passing train. Fields and forests came and went. Eventually, after nodding off yet again, we woke with a jolt as the train came to a halt in Ivano-Frankivsk.
Arriving at the Hotel Nadiya
Our travels in Ukraine had begun with a masterclass in hosting from the wonderful Oksana in Lviv. We love staying in guest houses and getting to know the owners. Unfortunately, however, such accommodation seemed to be in short supply in Ivano-Frankivsk.
With only one night in the city, we knew we needed to stay near the train station. There’s nothing worse than having your short stay dominated by long walks dragging your rucksacks along the streets.
In all honesty, we had limited options. We decided, therefore, to cut our losses and book ourselves into the “best business hotel in Europe“. Whether this accolade is self-proclaimed or not, the Hotel Nadiya became a highlight of the trip.
To say it’s not much to look at would be an understatement (Lucy disputes this – she claims it is beautiful). The hotel is a classic concrete behemoth, a vast square of stone and glass which towers above most of the buildings nearby. However, aesthetics were not our priority.
Instead, Hotel Nadiya gave us everything we needed for our short stay. A simple, friendly check-in. A complimentary room upgrade – the balcony looked out over the scenic bins at the back of the hotel. Finally, and arguably most importantly, it had one of the best breakfast buffets we’ve been to – seriously! Local produce, a huge range of hot and cold options, and that wonderful sense of anonymity that accompanies dining with a hundred tired businesspeople.
The long walk to Shevchenko Park
A lorry rolled past and kicked up a cloud of pale sticky dust. We had been walking for twenty minutes down an almost impossibly straight street. Conversation was muted – it was hard to make yourself heard over the relentless rumble of cars, buses, and trucks.
We were heading to Taras Shevchenko park – named after the most celebrated poet and writer in Ukraine’s history. Shevchenko’s name is not only lent to parks. Streets, universities, metro stations – he’s got the lot.
The weather was too good to miss the opportunity to stroll through the city’s largest green space. It was worth the walk, we agreed, as we gazed across the sparkling waters of the lake adjacent to the park. A lone fisherman stood perfectly still on the edge of an empty jetty. A handful of joggers made their way around the narrow running track, which circumnavigated the water’s edge.
We had timed our visit perfectly for the autumn colours. Orange and red blazed from every tree. Children excitedly kicked and crunched their way through the endless piles of fallen leaves. An ice cream vendor stifled a yawn as he waited for the last of the season’s business. Despite the bright sunshine, it was clear that colder days were fast approaching.
We strolled around the park for an hour or so. The dozens of benches that adorned the long, tree-lined boulevards provided welcome places to rest. They were also, it transpired, excellent spots for people-watching. Five minutes were all we needed to realise that Shevchenko park was the place to be for an autumnal photoshoot. Everyone was striking a pose, and we felt instantly underdressed. Thankfully, we knew just where to head…
A friendly welcome at the observation deck
No trip to Europe’s east is complete without receiving a dressing down from a moody museum attendant.
Staying true to our mission to climb any tower we spot, our afternoon mission was to head to Ratusha’s observation deck. The trip to the top of the tower was neither costly nor time-consuming. It was, however, an amusing reminder that welcomes aren’t always guaranteed to be warm.
We paid a nominal fee to a bored attendant, who threw our tickets across the desk to us before returning to a game of candy crush. A short walk up the stairs took us to a spare gallery floor, where someone had cobbled together an unremarkable exhibition.
From the gallery, it wasn’t entirely clear how you reached the staircase leading to the observation deck. In broken Ukrainian, I tried asking the fiercely miserable gallery attendant where the door was. “Door?”, she proclaimed with barely disguised derision. “The door is there,” she pointed to her right. I suspected it was taking all her energy not to add a scornful obviously at the end.
We shuffled through the door and into the stairwell. A short climb took us up to the open air and the extensive views of Ivano-Frankivsk. We could easily spot almost every attraction we had seen and read about. The city’s main cathedrals and churches lay just below us. The treetops of Shevchenko park stood out in the distance, an oasis of nature amongst the grey concrete.
A few minutes were all we needed. However, just before we were about to leave, Lucy spotted something conspicuous. Its circular design stood out amongst the rectangles and squares. Could that be…a Soviet market?
Exploring the Soviet-era market building in Ivano-Frankivsk
Few structures show off the quirks of Soviet architecture better than a city market. The Chorsu bazaar in Tashkent immediately springs to mind. Hundreds of market stalls cover the site. At the heart of the bazaar is a gigantic dome that stands at an impressive 30 metres. It is wonderfully iconic.
The market dome of Ivano-Frankivsk could not compete with the scale of Chorsu bazaar. However, there were many similarities. The smell of raw meat and fish filled the air. The atmosphere was damp and humid. Brown water pooled in cracks in the concrete floor. A hum of muted conversation, rather than a cacophony of shouts and yells, provided the soundtrack.
The market was busy but not crowded. It lacked the frantic chaos of its big-city counterparts. As a result, we could explore in relative peace and quiet. Our only regret was not having a kitchen where we could cook some of the items on offer.
A bizarre walk around the Potocki Palace
It seemed fitting to sign off our day in Ivano-Frankivsk by exploring what remains of the Potocki Palace. The internet warned us that we would likely not make it any further than the rusting gates at the entrance to the compound. Previous visitors had arrived to find these firmly locked.
However, after finding our way through the outdoor market, we spotted the gates standing slightly ajar. In fact, we could hear the ‘thud-thud’ of music drifting towards us from inside. It was too tempting – we were heading in.
They say some things are better left to the imagination. Unfortunately, the remains of the Potocki Palace probably fall into this category. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a suitably bizarre thirty minutes poking around the dishevelled grounds.
There were a few odd finds. The shell of an old army helicopter sat rusting away in the middle of the square, covered in graffiti and exposed to the elements. A second helicopter lay hidden beneath one of the palace’s wings, where sturdy wooden beams propped up the walls. All doors were boarded up, and most windows were either smashed or covered in thick layers of ancient dust.
It made for a pretty sorry sight. However, a handful of display boards suggested that the palace may have a future after all. Half a dozen or so proposals for the future of the complex stood in a quiet corner of the main square. As we admired the ambitious plans, the music appeared once more – louder, this time. We followed the noise and found a small group of musicians rehearsing for a performance. There could yet be life left in the Potocki Palace.
Next Stop – Rakhiv
The next morning, with our bellies full of homemade bread and jam from the breakfast buffet, we threw on our rucksacks once more and set off towards the station. On our way, set just off the road, was a colossal Soviet war memorial. A handful of wilted flowers lay on the ground. Someone had recently swept the ground, but a new layer of dust and dirt was already blowing across the terracotta slabs. We spent a few quiet moments, completely alone, before returning to the street.
A few minutes later, we were stood on the platform. We had one more Ukrainian train adventure to look forward to – the 3.5 hour journey to the tiny town of Rakhiv.
The route promised to be spectacular. Rakhiv sits on the edge of the Ukrainian Carpathians, whose thick forests would undoubtedly look stunning in the bright autumn sunshine. Bring it on.
