Morshyn is one of the most famous resorts in Ukraine.
They say that, having been here once, you are sure to come again. I have been many times to this wonderful place, and I want to share my impressions of it.
The calling card of the resort is its pump room.
Entry is only by resort cards. The famous mineral water is dispensed in measured doses from special machines. Holidaymakers from all the sanatoriums gather here on a schedule. During the day, on the square in front of the building, show-business stars announce their evening performances. The adornment of the interior is a stained-glass window depicting the icon 'The Life-Giving Spring'.
And source No. 6 is located in Bania Lysovytska at a depth of 30 metres, from where the brine flows to the mineral-water plant, where it is bottled and supplied to consumers.
For almost 150 years now Morshyn has been a resort Mecca in Subcarpathia.
I have met holidaymakers who come here again and again from various states of the post-Soviet space, where there are famous waters of their own.
But the Morshyn water is special; its uniqueness has been proven by specialists, and its healing effect is beyond doubt.
In combination with the bitter-salty water, people drink the ultra-fresh water from spring No. 4, situated on the central square.
The main spring, so to speak, lies 250 metres away and is consecrated in honour of the Mother of God, whose apparition was observed on this very spot.
There are always a great many people here. They arrive by car with an enormous quantity of containers. But with just a cup you need not stand in the queue. The water in these parts is sacred.
There are many springs in the Carpathians, and people come to them with reverence.
The sanatoriums in Morshyn were mostly built 30 to 50 years ago.
Although they now give off a certain Soviet-era feel, one cannot deny the accumulated experience of resort medicine.
And the holidaymakers come not on trade-union vouchers, as before, but at their own expense.
But this has not stopped Morshyn from remaining a popular resort.
The proof of it is the four-storey building of the hydrotherapy clinic, with a huge number of the most varied treatment rooms — refurbished, with fine plumbing and equipment — which is never short of people.
All the resort's specialists deserve great respect. The doctors and junior staff perform their duties not formally, but responsibly and conscientiously. I met only first-class doctors and nurses. I think that a system of effective healing and a medical school of its own have taken shape here.
Of late many small private boarding-houses and hotels have been built — for example, the ten-room mini boarding-house 'U Zatyshku'.
In Morshyn, during my walks, I already knew every building,
all the notable sights,
every sculpture and monument.
Many a time I attended concerts at the Palace of Culture.
One must give it its due: Halychyna is rich in talent, and the performances of amateur groups are indistinguishable from professional ones.
The audience enjoys the concerts and the plays.
I especially remember the realistic play 'The Kaidash Family', staged by Morshyn's amateur actors, some of whom I know personally — they are all wonderful people.
When, within the town, I had already studied everything down to the last detail,
then I began to walk or drive to the nearest towns and villages. I shared my impressions by phone with my family and friends.
They were all already waiting for my reports from the scene.
I did not waste a single minute; in any weather the far distance called me.
The doctor, knowing about my daily outings, was also curious about my impressions. 'Thank you, I like everything; only my colleagues ask whether I am not afraid to walk about alone there, in foreign parts.' To which the doctor replied: 'No one here will offend you even with a word — only do not go far into the forest, so as not to get lost.'
And so it is: in all the years of my trips I have never felt the slightest note of unfriendliness. But not getting lost in the forest massif was something I did not quite manage after all.
I replaced my morning exercises and aromatherapy with a walk in the forest. This procedure I call an appointment with the head physician.
The exercises were held in a good sports hall with a professional instructor, but they reminded me of school physical-education lessons counted out to 'ein, zwei, drei, vier'. And in the aromatherapy room the men made me laugh, falling asleep to romantic music and snoring.
The forest in Morshyn is a landscape reserve.
I always began the day with a walk along the forest paths, admiring the beauty of Subcarpathia.
Every morning, at one and the same spot, I would meet a cyclist on my way — probably riding to work. In the evening, the same 'Groundhog Day' feeling. A local resident returning home would joke at me: 'You've worn out your heels already, walking back and forth.'
I always walk along the forest road, and if I go into the thicket, I try to do so at a right angle to the road, so that I can then turn 180 degrees and come back to the very same spot.
But one day it did happen that my friend, a lover of mushroom-picking, and I got lost. The forest enchants, captivates and can teach you a lesson. I know nothing about mushrooms, but she wandered off among the mushroom clearings, and we did not notice how we strayed from the path. Going ever deeper into the wilds, with impassable gullies, bog and fallen trees, we drew further away from the town.
My poor companion took real fright, while I was more frightened for her. To comfort her at least a little, I promised that as a last resort I would call the emergency services, though I knew there was no signal at that spot. In November the day is short, dusk falls early, and in the forest it grows dark and colder at once. Even the deer, which lives with its family in an enclosure and cries loudly across the whole neighbourhood, did not give voice to help us find our bearings.
My alarmed friend kept asking why I was not calling the rescuers. I kept my composure: 'I don't want all the news to report two lost and frozen tourists from Donetsk.' But how glad that cyclist would be, I thought, to hear the news that he would no longer see me on the road. Above the tops of the trees, which had already shed their leaves, a strip of the barely lightening sunset could be seen.
I knew that the town lay to the west of the forest. It was in that direction that we pushed on through the gullies and branches, in almost total darkness. Still, my instinct for self-preservation in an unfamiliar setting did not fail me, a dweller of the steppe region, and after a while we came out right at a chapel.
It was a good lesson; I remember it, and the positive impressions I share with you.
 |
| The former 'Hrybok' pump room. Built in the 1930s. Architect Franciszek Kocimski. Depicted on the coat of arms of Morshyn |
They say that, having been here once, you are sure to come again. I have been many times to this wonderful place, and I want to share my impressions of it.
 |
| Entrance to the park |
The calling card of the resort is its pump room.
 |
| Mineral-water pump room and a sculpture of Christ the Saviour |
Entry is only by resort cards. The famous mineral water is dispensed in measured doses from special machines. Holidaymakers from all the sanatoriums gather here on a schedule. During the day, on the square in front of the building, show-business stars announce their evening performances. The adornment of the interior is a stained-glass window depicting the icon 'The Life-Giving Spring'.
And source No. 6 is located in Bania Lysovytska at a depth of 30 metres, from where the brine flows to the mineral-water plant, where it is bottled and supplied to consumers.
For almost 150 years now Morshyn has been a resort Mecca in Subcarpathia.
 |
| The 'Villa Anna' Hotel, 1876 — the old-timer of the resort |
I have met holidaymakers who come here again and again from various states of the post-Soviet space, where there are famous waters of their own.
 |
| The 'Lavanda' sanatorium |
 |
| Polyclinic |
But the Morshyn water is special; its uniqueness has been proven by specialists, and its healing effect is beyond doubt.
 |
| The 'Morshynska Vezha' entertainment complex |
In combination with the bitter-salty water, people drink the ultra-fresh water from spring No. 4, situated on the central square.
 |
| Spring No. 4. The 'Rusalka' pump room |
The main spring, so to speak, lies 250 metres away and is consecrated in honour of the Mother of God, whose apparition was observed on this very spot.
 |
| The Spring of the Mother of God |
There are always a great many people here. They arrive by car with an enormous quantity of containers. But with just a cup you need not stand in the queue. The water in these parts is sacred.
 |
| Evening lighting in the form of springs and fountains |
There are many springs in the Carpathians, and people come to them with reverence.
 |
| A spring in the Carpathians |
The sanatoriums in Morshyn were mostly built 30 to 50 years ago.
 |
| The 'Dnister' sanatorium |
Although they now give off a certain Soviet-era feel, one cannot deny the accumulated experience of resort medicine.
 |
| The 'Hoverla' sanatorium |
And the holidaymakers come not on trade-union vouchers, as before, but at their own expense.
 |
| The lake |
 |
| The 'Svitanok' sanatorium |
But this has not stopped Morshyn from remaining a popular resort.
 |
| The lake |
 |
| The 'Prolisok' sanatorium for adult and child, closed since 2014 |
The proof of it is the four-storey building of the hydrotherapy clinic, with a huge number of the most varied treatment rooms — refurbished, with fine plumbing and equipment — which is never short of people.
 |
| Morshyn. The 'Odesa' boarding-house sanatorium |
All the resort's specialists deserve great respect. The doctors and junior staff perform their duties not formally, but responsibly and conscientiously. I met only first-class doctors and nurses. I think that a system of effective healing and a medical school of its own have taken shape here.
Of late many small private boarding-houses and hotels have been built — for example, the ten-room mini boarding-house 'U Zatyshku'.
In Morshyn, during my walks, I already knew every building,
 |
| Buildings on Danylo Halytskyi Street |
 |
| A building on Ozerna Street |
 |
| A building on Pryvokzalna Street |
 |
| School of Arts |
all the notable sights,
 |
| Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God. UAOC |
 |
| The wooden Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God. 1700. UAOC |
 |
| Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God. 1990. UGCC |
 |
| Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God. 1990. UGCC |
 |
| Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God. 1990. UGCC |
every sculpture and monument.
 |
| Monument to T. H. Shevchenko |
 |
| Sculpture of a lion |
 |
| Sculpture of an angel |
Many a time I attended concerts at the Palace of Culture.
 |
| Palace of Culture |
One must give it its due: Halychyna is rich in talent, and the performances of amateur groups are indistinguishable from professional ones.
 |
| Palace of Culture. Performance by an amateur ensemble |
 |
| Palace of Culture. Performance by an amateur ensemble |
I especially remember the realistic play 'The Kaidash Family', staged by Morshyn's amateur actors, some of whom I know personally — they are all wonderful people.
 |
| Palace of Culture. Performance by an amateur ensemble |
When, within the town, I had already studied everything down to the last detail,
 |
| Morshyn. Cafe |
then I began to walk or drive to the nearest towns and villages. I shared my impressions by phone with my family and friends.
 |
| Exhibition of paintings |
They were all already waiting for my reports from the scene.
I did not waste a single minute; in any weather the far distance called me.
The doctor, knowing about my daily outings, was also curious about my impressions. 'Thank you, I like everything; only my colleagues ask whether I am not afraid to walk about alone there, in foreign parts.' To which the doctor replied: 'No one here will offend you even with a word — only do not go far into the forest, so as not to get lost.'
And so it is: in all the years of my trips I have never felt the slightest note of unfriendliness. But not getting lost in the forest massif was something I did not quite manage after all.
I replaced my morning exercises and aromatherapy with a walk in the forest. This procedure I call an appointment with the head physician.
The exercises were held in a good sports hall with a professional instructor, but they reminded me of school physical-education lessons counted out to 'ein, zwei, drei, vier'. And in the aromatherapy room the men made me laugh, falling asleep to romantic music and snoring.
The forest in Morshyn is a landscape reserve.
I always began the day with a walk along the forest paths, admiring the beauty of Subcarpathia.
Every morning, at one and the same spot, I would meet a cyclist on my way — probably riding to work. In the evening, the same 'Groundhog Day' feeling. A local resident returning home would joke at me: 'You've worn out your heels already, walking back and forth.'
I always walk along the forest road, and if I go into the thicket, I try to do so at a right angle to the road, so that I can then turn 180 degrees and come back to the very same spot.
But one day it did happen that my friend, a lover of mushroom-picking, and I got lost. The forest enchants, captivates and can teach you a lesson. I know nothing about mushrooms, but she wandered off among the mushroom clearings, and we did not notice how we strayed from the path. Going ever deeper into the wilds, with impassable gullies, bog and fallen trees, we drew further away from the town.
My poor companion took real fright, while I was more frightened for her. To comfort her at least a little, I promised that as a last resort I would call the emergency services, though I knew there was no signal at that spot. In November the day is short, dusk falls early, and in the forest it grows dark and colder at once. Even the deer, which lives with its family in an enclosure and cries loudly across the whole neighbourhood, did not give voice to help us find our bearings.
My alarmed friend kept asking why I was not calling the rescuers. I kept my composure: 'I don't want all the news to report two lost and frozen tourists from Donetsk.' But how glad that cyclist would be, I thought, to hear the news that he would no longer see me on the road. Above the tops of the trees, which had already shed their leaves, a strip of the barely lightening sunset could be seen.
I knew that the town lay to the west of the forest. It was in that direction that we pushed on through the gullies and branches, in almost total darkness. Still, my instinct for self-preservation in an unfamiliar setting did not fail me, a dweller of the steppe region, and after a while we came out right at a chapel.
It was a good lesson; I remember it, and the positive impressions I share with you.
 |
| Morshyn. Railway station |
This story is also available in Ukrainian: Унікальність Моршинського курорту
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