I saw it from the opposite mountain. Such a beautiful view opens up there. And the villages lie as if on the palm of your hand. On Sundays the peal of bells shimmers out from five or six churches. You will rarely hear such a many-voiced chorus, and in the mountains the echo lends a further sound of its own. It is as though the bell-ringers were vying with one another in a polyphonic performance of majestic compositions. From afar these little settlements seem so small and mysterious. You long to test your impression of them and to look closer, to learn how life is for the people who inhabit them.
From the viewing platform popularly known as the 'Meadow of Love', I set off for Yakivske. The way to it turned out not to be as near as it had seemed from the mountain — three kilometres just to the edge of the village. By the road, new timber log frames of a hotel were going up.
The houses in Yakivske are each finer than the last.
The paramedic's station looked far more modest. There is never enough money for medicine. The village is home to about 350 people, and it is good that they have a medical facility.
The shop has the usual range of groceries.
And here is a pretty fence I came upon, and a little footbridge over the brook that runs the whole length of the village.
The Orthodox church is consecrated in honour of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul.
I had already walked about a kilometre and a half, climbing gradually uphill along the uneven street. In a very prominent spot stands a brand-new Greek Catholic church. It, too, like the Orthodox one, is consecrated in honour of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul.
On the church grounds, which are not yet laid out, I stopped by the caretaker's lodge. No smoke was rising from the chimney, and no one was to be seen.
I walked around the church and, to shorten the way, went along narrow paths, over grass and kitchen gardens, and then came down to the street through the cemetery.
And only now did I at last see the locals — children of about six to eight, one boy and three girls. They were playing right by the houses and greeted me. In these parts, the children always spoke to me politely. I asked whether they went to school and where their school was. The children answered me with pleasure and all but walked me to the village primary school, where 21 children study, just four classes in all. There was only one thing — the rare name of one of the girls, which I simply could not catch and pronounce correctly. I offered four versions, and the children laughed that I just could not get it. Elika, Erika, Enrika, Eureka — no, not that. Some name that is rare in Ukraine. I would not go on amusing the youngsters with my incompetence any longer; I said goodbye to them and went to look at the school where the young residents of Yakivske begin their educational journey. A small house with a tall porch. The school yard is a green lawn. It is the sports ground too.
Still, it is good that the little ones have a short walk to school. And when they grow older, they are taken by a special bus to the village of Ploske, which I, too, visited later.
I stood a while longer by the school, where a wonderful view of the village and its surroundings opened up. The landscapes of Ukraine! I admired the wide open spaces and set off back — only not along the street, but down the slope, almost across an Alpine meadow. All in all, I had to walk about eight kilometres in the fresh autumn air, entirely doable and good for you. And I share my impressions with you.
This story is also available in Ukrainian: Яківське. Гірське село в Закарпатті
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