Letters from the Republic

The walk down Sumska Street is to step into another city entirely separate from the rest of Kharkiv. Sidewalks widen, and the poplar trees that line the streets are replaced by towering spruces between the cafes and boutiques. The day is sunny, the breeze is cool, and the scene is not at all unlike an upscale neighborhood in Boulder, Colorado.

Very little of this scene is untouched by the war, of course. It remains rare to find buildings in Kharkiv that do not show damage from blasts or bullets, or at the very least sport particle boards to fill the spaces left by shattered windows. Many of the sumptuous restaurants and buildings that once lined this boulevard are closed and some have been taken over by tattoo shops, salons, and other low-overhead businesses.

It is against this backdrop that I walked into Kharkiv’s Central Park, the effect of which was one of the strangest I ever experienced.

The park was opened in 1907. Originally, it was intended to be modeled off of Paris’s Bois de Boulogne; that vision lasted 21 years before the Soviets renamed it the Maxim Gorky Central Park for Culture and Recreation and started putting theme park rides in it. The statue of Gorky at the entrance was replaced in 2011 with a drab glass squirrel (Gorky was officially dropped from the name of the park in 2023). The new fixture is inarguably ugly, but the replacement is just as arguably worth it in exchange for reading Russian news sources decrying the dismantling of a Moscow icon. The culture wars continue apace with the shooting.

Once the squirrel is behind you (about 20 yards into the grounds) the park opens up. Stunningly manicured gardens of lawns, trees, and sculptures line a great walkway to a Ferris wheel – silent in times of war.

In fact, the whole park is silent.

I’m not the only person there this early afternoon, but other casual strollers are few and most of them are elderly and quiet. Later on, the groundskeepers return to their work keeping this place manicured. After meandering for a few hundred yards through a gorgeously arranged wooded area, I step into the patioed space containing the rides. Though the park was apparently heavily damaged in 2022, the roller coasters, carousels, fly-o-planes, and the Ferris wheel are by appearance all in immaculate condition. The rides sport themes ranging from ancient Egypt, to Japan’s samurai era, to the vibe of Universal Pictures’ early 1900’s horror movies. The sporting center boasts courts for tennis, basketball, beach volleyball, and pitches for 5-a-side soccer – each with seating for spectators and each ready to host any level of competition.

An eeriness reigns; there should be people here. Before the war, Central Park welcomed 3 million visitors every year and the facilities, attractions, and immense plazas are gaunt without them. The dormant cable car terminal lies protected by its phalanx of gondolas, in riot shield formation until the rides restart. An artificial pond is completely dry, its island garden in sharp relief; park goers still sit on the benches facing it – talking and selfie-ing as if it was still full.

And yet, Central Park remains beautiful. Parents with their children, couples on walks, and small groups of friends arrive with a more consistent afternoon sun. The bronze sculptures of various fauna and children playing will have to suffice for the activity the gardens are used to, but they do not leave the grounds feeling lonely. It may be a long walk back, but on the way I pay special attention to Kharkiv’s planted flora.