Calling all British tourists – Ukraine needs you!

 Kiev

‘What the hell’s going to happen to your poor country?’ I ask the man in the flea market not far from St Sophia cathedral (Delingpole tourist rating: total must-see).

‘What do you think?’

I shrug. ‘Partition, maybe.’

The man shrugs back. We agree that what Putin is doing in the east is appalling. But he’s not terribly enthused by what the Americans are doing either. ‘They want to arm us. But you know where the fighting will take place: here,’ he says, meaning Ukraine in general rather than Kiev in particular.

‘You could leave,’ I suggest. ‘Your English is good.’ (Unusually so. Communication is generally quite hard in Kiev if you don’t speak Russian or Ukrainian.)

‘Where? To Europe?’ He says the word with mild contempt. ‘Ukraine is my home. It’s where my roots are. It’s a nice place.’

I like this man. I like most of the people I’ve met on this flying visit. Their economy is tanking — it has contracted 6.5 per cent this year — and so is their unpronounceable currency, the hryvnia. Those soldiers who go to fight in the east actually have to pay for their own uniforms and weapons. A pretty, bright, educated estate agent who was earning $3,000 a month six months ago tells me she has seen her monthly income fall to just $1,000. She is thinking of emigrating with her husband and two children. To Canada maybe, where there is a large Ukrainian community.

But for most escape isn’t an option. And what I admire about these people is the stoicism and dignity with which they’re bearing it. As a rare tourist these days, you’re a sitting duck. They could be all over you, begging, touting, trying to find new ways to rip you off.