This happened at the end of summer 2019. At first, no one could believe that such things happen, but it did. A preamble for those who haven’t always followed the foundation. In 2019 (as, to be honest, from 2014 to the present day), we were once again left without premises. And Kateryna wrote a post that we were looking for something—and then he came.
I want to give you a house. It’s problematic, but if anyone can save it, it’s you.
He had been helping the foundation’s beneficiaries since 2014, but we weren’t exactly close (moreover, that was the first time I saw him in person).
Two months later, the foundation was indeed gifted a castle on French Boulevard. It’s like a fairy tale. “This doesn’t happen,” thousands of people said, looking for a catch. But it happened!
The castle… the building had been in court for over 15 years and was simply looted, there had been fires in some places, the roofs were completely leaking, and so on. But it was still wonderful. At first, I didn’t know what to do. But then we gathered our courage when restorers Anatoliy Izotov and Vlad Serzhenyuk found us. Hope that the patient would be saved (tiny, because restoration was estimated at $3 million) appeared. Documents and projects were prepared, there were public hearings, then we restored the building’s status as an architectural monument (which had been illegally removed during another resale). We gathered there in hundreds of Odesa residents, removed 20 KamAZ trucks of garbage, cleaned, repaired, covered holes and pits to preserve it for winter, and even did a little roof repair—because every rain flooded our castle down to the basement. We brought together historians and architects there. We held charity dinners and concerts. Master classes for children and even organized a charity run. And Hardkiss performed for us, and it was simply an incredible event. (However, some neighbors complained a bit, even though we only “sang” until 10:00 PM.)
And then COVID began…
The plan to raise funds for restoration collapsed. We kept this “critical patient” alive and waited. All mass events were prohibited, and we simply cared for the castle as best we could and illuminated it at night or projected Ukrainian paintings on the walls for Independence Day or Oleksandr Roitburd’s paintings on the day of his death, and more.
We still hoped that the time would come when we would raise those damned $3 million and restore it.
Then the war began. And here I became completely despondent—what restoration when people are dying?
Later, film screenings began in the castle. Ivan Erm, thank you for those wonderful times. Literary readings: Andriy Khayetsky, Lesya Verba, Yuliya Verba, concerts, excursions for children, photo exhibitions, and a heap of cultural events. I worked “at war” while the castle began to live again and bring some joy to people.
And I still came there at 7 AM to meet the sunrise. Or after work until late at night, planting flowers there or listening to music. It was the only place of power for me.
For many years, there were court cases over the building. After the case was closed in 2014, at the end of 2017, a new lawsuit suddenly appeared. Twenty years ago, the State Property Fund illegally sold the entire Chuvyrin sanatorium to the notorious Markov (a collaborator and utter scoundrel), who transferred all property into private ownership. He, in turn, divided it into parts and sold it to other people. And they to others.
Then the prosecutor’s office and the State Property Fund woke up and decided to take everything back. Court cases were ongoing. We did not participate in them because I immediately, when this started, stated my position—if the state decides to return what was once stolen, so be it. I will not negotiate, go begging, or resolve issues the way everyone else does.
Of course, we lost the case. The funniest thing is that we still have to pay 26,000 hryvnias for court proceedings. But that’s just how it is…
Today, representatives of the fund came to the castle and finally warned that the court decision has entered into force. They were very disappointed that the building is in such condition. They said that repairs need to be done. At which our restorer’s jaw dropped and he tried to explain that in such buildings you can’t just go and do repairs. The project needs to be completed, only restoration must be done, but there’s a war…
Of course, the State Property Fund representatives turned out to be not very knowledgeable about restoration and said they would think about what to do with this.
The building was taken away by court decision, but on our small plot, which was also gifted to us, we (if you still remember this) three months before the war started building a temporary structure—an office—to finally get our dream home-office, to be near the castle, work, and care for the old building until better times. But here too I turned out to be a character from the movie “draw a ticket, our lucky one”…
We built the frame, but the war started and I froze construction. But six months ago, after wintering in the sports palace where the premises were colder than outside, I decided to finish the office after all. How do you raise funds from people for a charity office building during wartime? You don’t. So I borrowed money from my friends and family and finished the building. And in a month we’re planning to move. And friends of the foundation helped a lot, gifting us almost all the interior renovation (I’ll write a separate post about this at the opening).
An interesting moment: when we were registering the land as a gift to the foundation, the notary looked at me sadly and said—God willing. So that the Monsters finally have their own home. You do so much for the country.
And what else could happen, I asked. After all, all the foundation’s property is essentially state property anyway. If the foundation closes, all its real estate goes to the state. While we’re working, why bother us?
Well (she said), that’s true. But you know what state we live in. They took away the building.
I hope it won’t come to that, I said, and in my thoughts imagined how I would solemnly hang myself in the castle tower if this happens))) because repaying debts for this building will take me many, many years. And being left without a home again would be a final blow to the foundation.
So another page of life has been turned. Of course, my heart is broken now. Although we understood that unfortunately with Monster Castle we got into a situation where it’s hard to carry on and impossible to abandon—because our soul already lives there. But we also couldn’t raise funds during pandemics and war. Forgive us… people’s lives were the priority.
But life is what it is.
We want to thank everyone who has supported and cared for this wonderful building with us all these years. Who came to work days, who organized events, who donated for its preservation. Thank you. It is thanks to all of you that over these years it has stood and not completely collapsed. Special thanks to the “brotherhood of the castle”—you spent more time there and gave more of your strength than anyone.
I hope the state will care for it just as well. And will eventually restore it. Well, and if for now the state cannot care for the old building because there’s a war, then we’re nearby and will continue to do so until the moment when the building is either sold to a new owner or the state itself saves it.
The only thing I want to say (this is not a threat. Just a warning): if someone decides that it can be “accidentally” burned down and try to build a 22-story building there (as there were even plans before 2019), then we will chain ourselves to the fence and won’t let this happen!
A couple dozen photos from thousands over these years. These were wonderful years…
When looking through them, my heart was breaking. So much happened. How we rejoiced at everything. A life we will never have again. Which was taken from us by war…
Farewell, Monster Castle. We loved you very much.
The fairy tale has ended.
Odesa
2019-2023
