The paradox of life in Ukraine
Part of enduring a Ukrainian winter, for example, is mental preparedness. As a Vancouverite more accustomed to umbrellas than warm winter boots, I knew that I would be in for a difficult winter this year. Still, I don't think I could have underestimated the harshness of winter in Ukraine any more had I tried.
It has snowed almost every day for the last month, perhaps longer, and with the wind and temperatures below -10, it's bitterly cold. Staying inside does little to take the chill out of my body. My "renovated" apartment is supposed to be heated by radiators. However, my roommates and I keep the oven on – with the door open – for heat, and every few days the hot water turns off.
Sheets of black ice are stuck to the pavement for old and young to slip and slide on; the practice of salting the roads and sidewalks is little known here. I marvel at women wearing stiletto heels and the elderly who climb up steep hills without any trouble while I, decked out in my high-quality winter boots, would slide backwards save for a few pushes from passersby.
Even without the winter stunts, foreigners – including Ukrainian diaspora – stick out here. Always the centre of attention, we are usually identified by our lack of pointy-shoes, our casual clothing, and our larger frames. I don't think I've ever been approached by so many strange men or stared at by so many people in my life. I am sure I will find it odd when I am completely ignored upon my return to Canada.
Foreigners also attract attention from police officers. While I am now used to the intimidating presence of police in Kiev, I am, nonetheless, still wary. Police are stationed – seemingly – on every street corner. Young and middle-aged men, they're identified by their navy blue uniforms, fur hats, and badges on their arms.
They can stop me at any time to ask for my passport and visa as everyone is required to carry identification at all times. A few Canadians I know – men usually – have been stopped several times because they look like foreigners and they're speaking English to one another.
It's just one extra thing to adapt to.
To get by in Ukraine, you don't stand by like a patient Canadian and wait for service. Using your elbows, you push your way to the front of the queue – or mob – to get what you want. As some expats explain, if you spent all your life waiting in lines without a guarantee there would be something when you get to the front, you would push as well.
Yet, ironically, you wait for everything here. Among other adjustments, expats have learned to forget their manners in restaurants and eat before others at the table are served. Usually, your meal – or the meal of a fellow diner – will arrive 10 to 40 minutes after everyone else's.
While here, I have also become acquainted with the incredible hospitality of the Ukrainian people, which often goes hand in hand with the national curiosity about foreigners. Ukrainian people will always invite you for the celebration, be it a fall lunch at the cottage or Women's Day, one of the biggest national holidays. A healthy spread of food – accompanied by numerous vodka, champagne or cognac toasts to health, happiness and good fortune – will always be provided.
Perhaps one of the most refreshing things about Ukraine is the relatively low cost of living. Rent aside, it's possible to live on $100 a month. To the delight of smokers, you can buy Western-brand cigarettes for 50 cents. You can negotiate a $2 taxi ride and then argue over 50 cents.
You can have a burger, fries, a hot drink and a martini for less than $10 in average-priced restaurants and pubs. If you like to cook, you'll find yourself buying potatoes and vegetables from old women on the steps of metro stations. For a dollar you can make a hearty soup that will warm you up.
Make no mistake: while some things have changed since Ukraine gained its independence, others have stayed, frustratingly, the same. Bureaucracy is still an essential part of life, crippling entrepreneurs trying to open even small businesses and thwarting citizens and foreigners who just want to get things done.
Officialdom starts at the top in Ukraine: as part of his inauguration ceremony, President Viktor Yushchenko received the official stamp of the president. It's an interesting symbol because every "official" document – including restaurant menus – is stamped.
If anything, I've discovered that Ukraine is a land of contradictions. While one minute you'll be jostled and pushed around on metro cars, in another you'll come across scores of people carelessly dancing with partners to music outside the metro station or starting an impromptu concert in the metro car. You'll find yourself caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life yet appreciating the laid-back attitude where nothing starts on time and drinking at the office is an accepted norm.
Other contradictions tell a more sobering aspect of life here: the difference between rich and poor; pensioners wear placards and hand out advertisements in the metro while out on the street, Mercedes and BMWs speed by.
Accepting the differences and idiosyncrasies of your new home is all part of the experience of living abroad. As you adapt and negotiate with the language and culture, you realize that the experience you gain will stay with you a lifetime. I know my experience in Ukraine certainly will.
SARA NEWHAM