The central street, almost 4 km long, stretches through the whole village. My stop was not the last one; the bus went on further. I went straight away to see the Church of the Presentation of the Lord, built on the site of an earlier one and consecrated in 1811, as a plaque testifies.
The first written mention of a church in the village dates to 1457. Such epoch-making figures are hard even to compare with anything, or to grasp just how much change of every kind has happened in all that time. The church was not closed during the atheist years, and parishioners from neighbouring villages came here for services. Sadly, time and change could not but affect the preservation of the building, and in the 2000s, in order to save the shrine, its walls were covered with weatherboard and the roof with tiles. This 'Euro' outfit spoiled the aesthetic and historical feel of the sacred building. As everywhere across the Subcarpathian villages, the parishioners neglect the age-old traditions of wooden architecture. The methods of the old craft of the folk builder have been forgotten. The main thing is that it should look lavish.
By the church, at the start of the adjoining cemetery, stands a cross in honour of the 1000th anniversary of the Baptism of Kyivan Rus.
The centre of the village is the village council, the club, a Second World War memorial, a shop and the new church.
On the grounds of the new church stands a monument to the Fighters for Ukraine's Freedom.
At an establishment with the appetising name 'Varenychna' the doors stood open. People kept going in. Could public catering really be so popular in the village? It was worth a look. A few Soviet-era little tables; at one of them sat three women of post-Balzac age, and the shop assistant, who doubled as waitress, was chatting with them. Indian summer, after all! Seeing a stranger, they broke off their conversation and studied me in silence. What if I was here on some inspection? After all, I had not hidden my camera! There was nothing for me to do there, and I chose not to disturb the company.
And here is a hairdresser's with flowers on the windowsill. No doubt they cut hair there just as neatly and prettily.
At the school, workmen were hurrying to repair the roof before winter, so I did not go close.
I walked along the long Hoshivska Street.
By the shop, right along the road, second-hand goods were being sold on sheets spread out on the grass. A few buyers were trying things on, weighing up the prices and delighting in the cheap clothes they had bought from Europe. "For going to work!" — the happy owners of these overseas brands assured themselves of the necessity of the purchase.
And so I came to an old chapel, built in 1848 and decorated with artificial flowers. By almost every church I came across a notice asking people not to use artificial flowers, which are environmentally harmful and carry no theological symbolism whatsoever.
By the chapel is a cross, raised on the spot of a monument destroyed by the Bolshevik authorities, at a symbolic grave of Ukrainian heroes.
The bus came up, and with that my trip to Velyki Didushychi came to an end; I share my wonderful impressions with you.
This story is also available in Ukrainian: Великі Дідушичі. Церкви і інші пам'ятки прикарпатського села
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