UKRAINE
The Cutest Wall in the World
Ancient Yanhorod town, impregnable like a wall
This untypical village is in the southern part of the Vinnytsia region, Ukraine. Despite all its beauty, it remains unfamiliar to most people, even in its surroundings. A long time ago, it was a fortified town named Yanhorod. With time, it turned out to be a village called Stina (Стіна). It is a pretty non-standard title because it literally means “wall.”
Remoteness and low popularity helped this place to save its primary view and flavor. I visited it in April of 2018. April is the best time to explore Stina; you’ll soon understand why.
Direct bus routes to Stina are rare and an uncomfortable time. So I took a bus to the neighboring village, Hnatkiv, and then went 6 km to my destination on foot. There were so few cars on my way that I didn’t expect hitchhiking.
I noticed old abandoned quarries by the road. Stones from them were used to build a lot of houses in Stina.
The village was hidden from the other side of the road. I felt the right moment when I had to turn towards and go literally to the edge.
And abruptly, I saw an adorable panorama of Stina below me. I was standing on the edge of a bowl created by the Rosava River. The village is on hills above the river valley. Such a landscape is not typical for the Podillia region; I felt I had teleported to some mountains.
It’s unclear when and by whom the ancient Yanhorod town was founded. Complex relief allowed it to be a fortified and combat-ready settlement. In the 17th century, the city had a solid fortress.
No signs of fortification remained until now. But the hill where the fortress stood still has the name Zamkova (the Castle Hill). An old church and cemetery are on it.
The modern village stretches on a pretty large square. Huts covered hills and valleys everywhere I could see.
Homesteads look picturesquely from the height.
The curly Rosava River runs between hills and streets.
Then I came down to the village streets, simply by one of the ridges. My first impression of these streets was that I got into some hilly labyrinth. Huts look not typical for this region.
The relief adds its features. Oh, these roofs are lower than roads…
Limestone has been mined in quarries around the village since ancient times. Thus, most houses and farm buildings were built of such stones. Yards are fenced off literally by castle walls.
There was a small mill:
And the church accompanied me almost everywhere like an unyielding reference point.
There is a legend about Sleepy Glade. A long time ago, Turks attacked Yanhorod and killed almost all civilians. Subsequently, Eastern pasqueflowers began to rise on devastated lands. They symbolized the souls of the innocent victims. That place got the name Sonna Poliana (Sleepy Glade). It contains playing on words: Eastern pasqueflower in Ukrainian is “Son trava,” literally “Sleepy grass.”
So I arrived in April to catch the Eastern pasqueflowers blossoming on that meadow. I had to overcome one more road uphill, which was hard after a lazy winter.
These flowers are rare and listed as endangered. It’s hard to grow them in gardens (despite this, I know someone on Medium who has them in her garden:)). I was surprised to see them in large numbers in Stina like they would be just weeds.
While I was taking photos of blooming fluffies, locals told me it wasn’t Sleepy Glade. The real Sleepy Glade was further behind a cemetery.
Well, I was OK to go further. I saw ancient massive crosses in the abandoned corner of the cemetery.
That day was a remembrance day, so many people arrived at the village for a wake. Mostly on cars — but I noticed more traditional transport near the cemetery wall. The wall was made of limestone as well.
I found a scattering of Eastern pasqueflowers on slopes behind.
Here, locals corrected me again that the real Sleepy Glade was a little further. So, I went further in the eastern direction and found more and more flowers. Nobody could talk to me there — was it that real Sleepy Glade… But I got enough photos anyway and turned back. Sadly, my skills in macro photography were pretty poor then.
Immeasurable green landscapes were revealed from the south. Even former locals who had arrived to visit their dead relatives took photos of this beauty.
These slopes were covered with flowers. I don’t know if I found Sleepy Glade or not, but I saw enough adorable fluffies.
Then was a time for Castle Hill. A considerable part of it is the ancient Cossack cemetery. The oldest tombstones are from the 16th century. It’s a pretty rare necropolis with such an age. Despite being hidden in thickets, it’s one of the most atmospheric ones in Podillia.
While the modern cemetery was crowded with commemorators, nobody was here. Because not only people buried here gone, but everybody who knew them gone too…
The church of St. Nicholaus was built in 1883, but older temples have been in this place from unknown times.
The gate was closed, but jumping over a low fence wasn’t a problem. I noticed pieces of old tombstones among its fragments.
A tomb or chapel was in the yard corner. Despite its door was symbolic, I didn’t want to go down for some reason.
But it was time to go back. Seeing one more time of Rosava and its inhabitants:
Further, the river was lost in picturesque thickets despite being almost in the center of the village.
An inscription on a sign is “Повертайтеся щасливі,” which means “Come back happy.” In an alternative universe without the war and ample free time, I’d do. Not only to admire Eastern pasqueflowers blossom but also to see these landscapes in all four seasons…
I went quickly back to Hnatkiv. It had some exotic like a narrow-gauge railway some time ago, but it was closed and destroyed in about 1999.
But I couldn’t ignore this company:)
And a church with a cutely decorated portal.
Buses to the regional capital were overcrowded on the Sunday evening. One didn’t stop in the village, but I was lucky to jump in the next one. It was full of people as well, so I sat down simply on the dirty step of the back door. I was overflooded by impressions and tired enough not to care what anyone thought about me. I was going home.
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