Anatomy of a beauty pageant

This week I had the uncomfortable privilege of serving as a judge for the “Miss Romano-Germanic Philology Department” contest. I say uncomfortable because that’s basically how I feel when I’m asked to do these things. Gender roles are still thriving in Ukraine, and the “women must look beautiful” role is perhaps lead among them. That’s why it’s acceptable to stage pageants featuring students in revealing clothes and sexed-up dance performances. Ultimately it’s nothing too risqué; you can see worse in a music video on television. But in a school environment… well, my American sensibilities usually result in me feeling pretty awkward, cringing and averting my gaze as much as possible.

Anyway, onward. And brace yourself: I think this is going to be difficult to top in my remaining time here.

Ukraine rulz: Kiosks

The kiosk is the 7-11 of Ukraine. It’s a roadside beacon of commerce conducted through a ten square inch window. Walking down the street and abruptly noticing how parched you are? Don’t worry: there’s usually kiosk nearby. Suddenly realize you’re out of matches to light your stove on a Sunday night? Don’t sweat: the kiosk’ll have some. Want a beer at nine in the morning? Yeah, I don’t know why you would, either, but you can buy one at the kiosk–and the occasional young hoodlum does! And perhaps the best part is that you don’t have to imprison your bag in a locker before shopping at a kiosk (as you have to do whenever entering a traditional store in Ukraine).

But to me, part of the allure of the kiosk is its mystery. It’s impossible to see inside the kiosk, as every square inch of its windows are used to display every type of chocolate, mineral water, beer, sour cream, soda, potato chips, candy bar, dried calamari, juice and other product available for purchase. Or, at least, every product theoretically available for purchase. All you need to do is scan the window, crouch down while speaking your order into the little window, receive your item, and pay. It’s that convenient. And if they can’t make correct change, you’ll receive a couple pieces of candy or a stick of gum instead!

Sadly, I don’t think the kiosk is economically viable in America, as they probably earn a good share of their income from beer sales in Ukraine.  Since we have those annoying things called “liquor licenses” and “open-container laws” in the US, don’t hold your breath.

Buck up.

I follow a couple of blogs of Ukraine I’ve stumbled across over the years. I added them to my RSS feeds for one reason or another, and I’ve read them casually ever since.

One of these blogs, which shall remain unidentified, belongs to the spouse of a U.S. government employee working in Kyiv. Based on content of their posts, this particular person harbors some strongly negative feelings toward life in Kyiv and, it seems to me, Ukraine in general. But this person rarely mentions why exactly living in Ukraine has been such a miserable experience. Rather, they make comments in the vain of “the past two years have been seriously challenging,” “two of the most difficult years of my life,” “I can’t wait to get out of here,” etc.

Now obviously the only information I know about this person is what they choose to share, and that isn’t much. But I can’t help but scoff at the “woe is me in Ukraine because of Ukraine” tone of their posts. I would be more sympathetic if this individual had made an effort to get out of Kyiv, actually experience Ukraine and meet some Ukrainians. Improve their Russian, perhaps? But as far as I can tell they have ventured outside of the capital no more than four or five times. In two years. As a result, the only things this person will apparently miss about Ukraine are their Ukrainian maid, some juices, and guys selling trinkets on public transport. Ha!

But anyway, I digress. The reason I’m mentioning all this is because I do not at all want to come off as a Ukraine-hater on this site. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s far easier to share negative feelings and complaints about a place than to 1.) deconstruct why one is having these feelings, or 2.) create thoughtful posts about positive experiences or everyday pleasures. I’m sure I could sit down with the person mentioned and elicit some positive feelings about Ukraine, but that’s not what they’ve chosen to share.

Hopefully I’ve managed to avoid a “life in Ukraine is so hard” tone in my writing. Life in Ukraine has not been exceptionally difficult for me—indeed, it’s more difficult for the average Ukrainian. In the end, I get to go on to pursue all the opportunities available to me as an American. Opportunities most Ukrainians will never be afforded. My time in Ukraine has been, by and large, rewarding, educational, enjoyable and interesting. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

In large part, I think my genuine appreciation of my time in Ukraine is due to my rough approach to life here. I’ve tried to take every opportunity availed to me to learn about Ukraine, spend time with Ukrainians and see as much of Ukraine as my work schedule permits. In doing so, I feel like I’ve come to know a fascinating place that is composed of an extremely hospitable and fun-loving people, diverse geography and a checkered history. Life in Ukraine is not always enjoyable; it can be annoying. But so can life in America. And probably every other country in the world. Get over it and look for new opportunities to learn, have fun, meet people and see shit. Channel negative feelings into constructive criticism and/or self-reflection aimed at identifying the source of such feelings (hint: it usually has a lot to do with oneself).

I guess that’s all I really wanted to say. Oh, and that I intend to start posting a “Ukraine rulz” series of posts about the things I love most about life in Ukraine.