As the dawg days of yet another Kyiv summer slowly wind to a close…

Arbitrary, apropos thoughts of various goings-on

I’ve got a lot of things on my mind, and because I have neither the attention span or concentration needed to actually concentrate on just one thing, I thought I’d share a few rants or observations that have been swilling around in my head over the past days and weeks.

Pedantic alert: Notice I didn’t say ‘random’ thoughts – it would be so easy to call it that, but that would be just plain wrong and misleading. These thoughts are far from random: they’ve been carefully mulled over and considered and I’ve deliberately chosen them to share. Okay, enough of the pedantry, let’s get started.

After 5 weeks in America, I’ve now been back in Kyiv nearly a month. For what it’s worth. Despite teaching, it still feels a bit like a summer holiday. Maybe it’s because there are only a few teachers around and it’s quite chill and calm: it’s probably the only time of the year when we can focus on purely teaching and nothing else. It’s a pleasant feeling.

Sometimes teaching is a bit like the fashion industry: people go to ridiculous lengths to make a name for themselves. Sticking to the basics more often than not gets the job done. That’s what the Delta felt like much of the time.

Or, avoid change for change’s sake. If it’s working…(or, if it ain’t broke…)

I’m fed up of lists, as in the top 100 novels of all-time, the best 100 albums ever made, 1001 places to see before you die. Seriously: enough is enough.

Speaking of which, here are just a few books on most of these top 100 book lists: Everything is Illuminated, 100 Years of Solitude and Lolita. Hated them all. Only Lolita, with my amateurish non-book-reviewing credentials, I found well-written. I tried reading 100 Years of Solitude a few months back and actually made it over halfway through (my general rule these days is to give a book 20% before giving up). The others I read ages ago. I’m not sure why these 3 jump out at me – I’m sure I’ve read and disliked other so-called classics more than these ones.

Midnight’s Children blows 100 Years of Solitude away. They’re both in the magical realist school, that’s why I’m comparing them. (but Midnight’s Children takes a bit of patience – my 20% rule almost sabotaged it)

Enough book chat.

Besides the Pet Shop Boys, is there any other band operating these days able to produce such a catchy, bouncy, dance-floorish, feel-good tune that covers such a range of themes - washing dishes, dusting, speaking English, fidelity, gardening, bankers’ bonuses, Marx, Tony Benn and schadenfreude – with a title like ‘Love is a Bourgeois Construct’? I think only Pulp come close.

I've been taking my time for a long time
With all the schadenfreude it's cost
Calculating what you've lost

Now I'm digging through my student paper backs
Flicking through Karl Marx again
Searching for the soul of England
Drinking tea like Tony Benn

Love is just a bourgeois construct
So I'm giving up the bourgeoisie
Until you come back to me

It sounds great set to music – trust me, or listen for yourself. 

The other day I went to Mystetskiy Arsenal, one of Kyiv’s premier art destinations, solely to visit their café, which is quite a chilled-out place. Mysteriously, the café had disappeared. This upset me greatly, but then it made me think: am I a Philistine for opting to visit a museum/gallery just to visit the café? (the exhibits tend to be hit-and-miss)

Then again, many museums have splendid cafés, which are worth visiting for them alone. Two come to mind: the Wellcome Collection in London and the Kunsthistorischen in Vienna. You figure any Guggenheim would have a nice café, but the one in Bilbao was a major disappointment. 

Fashion faux pas (is it les faux pas in the plural?)

I’m far from a doyen of fashion, and my sartorial choices are far from elegant, but yet…I’m going to criticize what I consider a range of ghastly fashion abominations that have been display in these parts over the past few weeks. Keep in mind that I’m a cantankerous old curmudgeon when it comes to ridiculous fashion, and the littlest things bug me.

Some of these things have absolutely nothing to do with Ukraine – let me be fair here – and some of these are due to faults of my own. I’m easily annoyed with certain aspects of fashion. I’m not really sure how many of these violate global – or at least European – accepted norms.

(I’m not necessarily that up-to-date on fashion, and I’m not sure whether much of the following is new or years old, but do keep in mind that things tend to come to Ukraine a little bit later than elsewhere – Crocs, for example; I thought they were dead and buried years ago, but…)

Oversized or aviator sunglasses – what’s worse is when people don’t take them off whilst having a conversation

(Side note: though there is a certain mystery underneath those glasses, the potential hidden beauty and all, it pales in comparison to the intrigue behind masquerade balls and all that can lead to. If I had a bucket list, at the top would be attending some sort of scandalous masquerade ball where all sorts of things are going on. Think ‘Eyes Wide Shut’.)

Short-sleeve dress shirts, white dress shoes and white trousers (particularly Ukrainian men)

Mesh shirts – older Ukrainian men in summer

Suspenders (US) or Braces (UK) AND a belt – a no-no anywhere

Socks and sandals – ditto

Socks are simultaneously underrated and overrated – this is more of a comment, less an observation. Of course, white socks with a suit are taboo, but otherwise, any socks go with anything, mismatched or not. The more colours and stripes, the better.

For both sexes: shirts and blouses buttoned all the way to the top (without a tie); and tucking in shirts without wearing a belt. Especially with jeans. Come on – a belt adds so much.

I can’t really bitch about low-slung trousers, since whatever half of the world doesn’t wear them already does [bitch about them] – this feels a bit like criticizing mundane Facebook status updates. Which half the world already does (both criticize and update).

When is it okay to wear shorts in a public eating or drinking establishment? Restaurants, absolutely not. Bars? I don’t like it. Cafés, only if you’re sitting outside. Am I wrong on this?

Crocs have only seemed to hit Ukraine in the past year or so. When did they arrive on the scene elsewhere? I’m thinking it was at least 6-7 years ago. Since then they’ve gone from hottest new footwear accessory to one of the most lampooned fashion items of all-time. How many other fashion accessories have so many websites and blogs dedicated to bashing Crocs?

However, I read an article in Business Week recently about the popularity of Crocs in the developing world, and how they’re re-branding themselves and changing their styles. And of course, that was enough to make me invest in them – hey, nothing wrong with bashing the fashion but capitalizing on the potential for profit, right?

Upturned collars on polo shirts have been around for years – surprise, surprise I hate it - but I’ve only recently noticed the logos or brand names exposed underneath. I didn’t think it could get any worse.

Jeggings: who the hell actually likes these? Thank goodness they seem to be on the way out, but every time I see them in action, my stomach goes in knots.

Lots of Ukrainian men wear denim shorts with the bottoms snuggly rolled up. Am I mistaken or is this not a gay fashion statement? Kind of ironic considering how homophobic they are here, but again, I’m not sure about this. I was in San Francisco over the summer and I only noticed gay men wearing them, but…San Francisco might not be the best choice of comparison to Kyiv.

And arguably the most appalling thing in fashion from the past few years:

Cut-off denim shorts with the pocket lining exposed. Even worse is when the lining is bright and shiny and sparkly.

Fashion rant over. Have I missed anything?

If I hear ‘to put things in perspective’ or ‘it really puts thing into perspective’ one more time, I’ll scream. I can’t think of another phrase as overused and trite as that. It’s so…passé.

Speaking of San Francisco, I spent a week there in July, Jeff and I flying out to visit Dr Wasabi Islam in Menlo Park (near Palo Alto). I’m nowhere near a travel writer so will refrain from saying much about San Francisco – read Armistead Maupin for that. I’ll just say a couple things. First, our flight was cancelled and there was a fair bit of chaos as passengers scrambled to rebook themselves on flights. Because we were sitting near the back of the plane when they ordered us off, we found ourselves at the end of the rebooking queue. It was an agonizing wait, probably no more than 2 hours, but the uncertainty and stress of it all made it seem like so much more. By the time we got to the agent, Pascale (from Haiti) we were a bit anxious about getting out of the airport. This agent was new, and had already screwed up for a few passengers in front of us (losing luggage, forgetting to give a passenger her passport, sneezing all over the computer and jamming the keyboard, etc). Anyway, we eventually got on a flight, thanks to Jeff’s IPhone navigability and astute travel knowledge - he finagled double the amount of food vouchers for us as well, convincing the agent to be more generous than her airline allowed. But after it was all over, the highlight of all of this was Jeff’s priceless quote: ‘She was as incompetent as she was flexible’. What a beauty.

(and yes, Dominic, I said and meant ‘quote’!)

San Francisco: air-conditioning overload everywhere, although this is true for everywhere I’ve been in the US, many places are downright freezing; and full of ‘precious’ and pretentious people. Precious, apparently, is the epithet everyone uses there. I hate using pretentious to describe people or a place, it’s lazy and trite. But I’m feeling lazy and that’s the best I can come up with. As for the women, Jeff – again – said it best: ‘it seems like they’re all trying hard to look ugly.’ I’d add ‘desperately’. But he’s spot on.

Jeff and Dr Wasabi Islam, the Mission, San Francisco

In less than a weeks’ time, I’ll be moving to a new flat, with Olya and our little cat. I’ve lived in my current flat for 3 years, the longest I’ve lived anywhere in my life. Flat-hunting is always a stressful ordeal, but Olya made it anything but, bless her. In fact, it was as relaxed and stress-free as can be.

But one thing gets me, and that’s how idiotic and condescending estate agents (or, realtors) can be. Do they honestly think we’re so stupid and have never looked for flats before? They say the most utterly ridiculous things. When looking at one flat with very little kitchen counter space – perhaps our most important criterion – the agent told me that this was normal for the area, that all flats looked like this with limited counter space. (This is merely one example, they all say something to this effect.)

Years and years ago, in Boston, it was the same. Every agent told us – my girlfriend at the time and I – that ‘oh no, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for with the location and price that you want’. When we eventually did find a place, in a prime location at much less than we had anticipated, I actually went back to two of the estate agents to tell them this afterwards. One of them said ‘well done, good for you’ but the other one seemed bitter and taken aback, and said ‘whatever pal, if it makes you feel better to tell us that, good for you pal, there’s no way you found a place in the heart of Davis Square for that price. Keep on dreaming pal, good luck to you.’ The guy had a sneer on his face as he said this.

I should have invited them to our house-warming party, at 35 Davis Square. 

Our new flat has loads of counter space, which means lots of cooking, and lots of cocktail making. I think we may turn our flat into a small cocktail bar/lounge – it’s a cool little place. Stay tuned.

Gotye’s ‘Somebody That I Used to Know’ has now entered the pantheon of my top 5 ‘can’t stand’ songs list. I’ve never liked it, but it’s now reached the point where when I hear it, I start to feel nauseous. I’m not kidding. At the gym the other day, a remix version – which if you can believe it is even more dire than the original - came on and I had to leave. I can only think of two other songs that do this to me: Billy Joel’s ‘River of Dreams’ and Jay-Z’s ‘Empire State of Mind’ (it’s Alicia Keys’ voice and her presence that kills me – the video is unbelievably cringeworthy with her ‘dancing’, if that’s what it is).

My sister feels the same way about every Chicago song – whenever she hears them, wherever she is, she has to get the hell out of there. Of course, I enjoy tormenting her about this and I always try to trick her into hearing them. I swear, if I ever get married, I’m going to get the DJ to play this and make her dance with me. There’s no way she can say no.

Are they that bad? (when I look at the 177 million-plus views for Empire State of Mind, I’d like to think that at least 2-3 million people have watched it because they’re sado-masochists)

Have a listen:

Billy Joel

Jay-Z

Chicago

Much like my book comments earlier, I’m sure there are a few other songs that equally make me sick. I just can’t think of them at the moment.

Kyiv can be simultaneously intoxicating yet infuriating at times. Part of its charm – or better, its quirkiness – lies in its unpredictably and inconsistency. I don’t have many bad days, but they when they do happen, it all seems to be packed into a few hours of utter frustration.

I had a doctor’s appointment the other day. I’d just been to the gym and my legs were aching from some intense squatting (not in the toilet, thankfully), so I was walking awfully slowly. I had two transport options: a tram or a marshrutka – minibus for the non-Ukrainians (the metro takes far longer for the route I was going). I’d taken the marshrutka at least 20 times to the doctor’s, and I opted for that since it’s less smelly than the tram – the extra 50 kopecks ($.06) keeps the riff-raff away – and it gets me just a bit closer to where I needed to be, and I wanted to limit my walking. So I took a marshrutka that listed my destination on it.

I should add that I had a very busy day planned: the doctor, the bank and then to work for some serious desk-tidying, computer organization, etc.

So there I was on the marshrutka when it veered off its regular route – I swear I’d taken this very same one before – and went away from where I wanted to go. No worries, I thought, I had a bit of time and it was probably just a slightly more circuitous route. But then we kept going and going. I normally always carry a map in my bag, but since I had my gym backpack with me it wasn’t in there. A woman sitting next to me seemed just as confused and asked me whether we were headed to ‘Lukyanivska’. ‘I think so,’ I said.

But then the woman behind us interjected and said something – I think – to the effect that it was going in a very roundabout way and would only end up at Lukyanivska after making a thousand other stops. The woman then got off at the next stop. I should have followed her.

Instead, I stayed till the end. When the marshrutka came to the final stop, there was just me and one other passenger. I pointed to the sign and asked the driver about Lukyanivksa. He muttered that the sign ‘wasn’t correct’.

We were in the middle of nowhere. Kyiv is a big city, and I didn’t think it possible to be so far away from any main roads. I got off and had to walk for 25-30 minutes before I came to a main road with public transport. Keep in mind that I was trudging along verrrry slowly.

Just to add insult to injury, the very same tram that I could have taken some 2 hours before would be the one that would take me back to where I’d come from. And to add even more insult, as I was standing waiting, on a narrow strip of pavement between the tram rails and the road, another marshrutka speeding past hit my backpack, knocking me over.

When the tram came, it was full of smelly people and there was nowhere to sit. My legs were on fire.

I never made it to the doctor.

On the plus side, I got to see lots of areas in Kyiv that I’d never seen before. See, you’ve got to focus on the positives!

I’m not sure if I’ve shared this story before, but either way, I’ll tell it again/now. Around a year ago I bought a computer chair from the British Embassy, who were getting rid of loads of old furniture. To get it home, I had 2 options: lug it on the tram – the same damn tram line, in fact – or take a taxi. The tram would have meant me carrying it for 100 or so metres to the nearest stop. I opted for the taxi. But that meant having to phone for one, and my language skills are horrible on the phone, in English let alone Russian. Talking on the phone in Russian is traumatizing for me.

I thought I’d managed to convey that I needed a bigger taxi to fit my chair in. They seemed to understand.

But then the smallest taxi I’ve ever seen showed up. And the driver was far from happy that we had to squeeze this chair into it.

They probably did this as a joke. That’s what I told myself at the time.

Once we’d got the chair in, the driver set off in the wrong direction. I asked him where we were going and he said what sounded like my address. I repeated my address and he agreed. But yet we still went off in the opposite direction. Eventually he pulled over and stopped, ordering me out. We were on a completely different street with a name that sounded vaguely like mine, at the same number. I told him that this wasn’t right but he started barking at me to get out and then proceeded to take the chair out.

He left me there in the dust. It was September, but a very hot day.

I had 4 hryvna in my pocket (the taxi cost me 35 and the tram is 1.50). I also had my bank card but there wasn’t an ATM in sight. I wasn’t sure where I was. Luckily I was on a main road, with a tram line.

THE SAME DAMN TRAM LINE I COULD’VE TAKEN TO THE DOCTOR’S THE OTHER DAY! THE SAME DAMN TRAM LINE THAT I COULD’VE TAKEN THIS DAMN CHAIR ON 30 MINUTES PRIOR TO THIS!

So I took the tram. At least I had a place to sit.

I then had to get my chair home from the tram stop – normally about a 15 minute walk. I tried carrying the thing, but it was starting to really do my back in. Half the reason I was buying the damn thing was because my old chair was killing my back. So then I wheeled it home, destroying the wheels in the process.

The moral of these stories? Always take the tram to begin with.

I love this time of year. Autumn is my favourite season and my favourite sports are starting: football (or, soccer) and American football (or, football).

But you know what? I’m terribly pessimistic when it comes to the future of these sports. Football is getting out of control with match-fixing and the rich getting richer. And American football is starting to get out of control with PEDs (performance-enhancing drugs) and serious concussion problems. Mark my words: 10-12 years from now, American football will be a far different sport, if it even exists in its present form. And basketball will have overtaken it in terms of popularity.

I’d say that this is as good as it will get. The glory days are behind us and the future looks bleak. Enjoy it while you can.

Is any [serious] sport safe from scandal? Athletics, no. Baseball, no (but I stopped watching that years ago). Tennis, it’s getting murky.

At least cycling seems to have turned a corner, with doping under control. For now, anyway.

I’ve said this on these pages before but I’ll reiterate: 1 September is like my New Year, and this is when I make resolutions. The only one I’ve come up with thus far is to stop using ‘I haven’t got time for ------‘ as an excuse. Let’s see how long this lasts.

More things that bug me about Ukraine. Three times now in my classes, when we’ve been talking about Ukrainian literature, and I mention the Odesa-born Isaac Babel – who most of my students have never heard of – a student has said ‘he wasn’t Ukrainian, he was Jewish.’

Similarly, when things like gay marriage and equality come up – I really try and rock the boat in my lessons – even the best English speakers use ‘normal’ as the opposite of gay. Even when I clarify that normal isn’t the word they’re looking for, most respond with ‘no, normal is the word I’m looking for’.

You may recall recent anti-gay comments from Russian pole vaulter Yelena Isinbayeva at the World Athletics Championships in Moscow:

"We are very afraid about our nation because we consider ourselves normal, standard people," said Isinbayeva.

It’s 27 August and I’m still without hot water! Two and a half months! This is supposed to be a 2 week thing every summer.

I first arrived in Ukraine – in Lviv - in late August 2005, just a few days after Independence Day. I remember thinking that it was a pity I’d just missed it. When I left in early June 2006, I always hoped I’d be able to make it back for Independence Day.

One of the reasons I went to Lviv in the first place, as cheesy as it may sound, was because of the nationalism course I did at Edinburgh.

I came back to Ukraine – Kyiv – in late August 2010, just a few days after Independence Day. No worries, I thought, I’m planning on being here for a few years, I’m sure I’ll get to experience it one day.

Summer of 2011, I was in Greece on 24 August. Oh well, next year.

Summer of 2012, I was in Ukraine on 24 August. Finally!

I can’t even recall how I spent this day one year ago. Probably working on a Delta assignment. I was back from my holiday in Spain and Olya was away in Croatia. I was on my own.

This year, 24 August: I’m sat at home, on a Saturday night, writing this. Any minute now, the fireworks are due to go off. I don’t seem all that bothered about Independence Day (Neither does Olya –she’s with her parents in Crimea).

Talk about an anti-climax.

Speaking of anti-climaxes, a few people have asked me how it feels to be finished with that wretched Delta. I can’t really say. Dr Wasabi Islam, as always, puts it best: his sentiments echo mine. After he’d finished his PhD after 10-odd years of working on it, when people asked him how it felt, he responded thus:

‘I’m the same asshole I was before.’

That’s only part 1. Stay tuned for part 2 once I’ve settled in to my new flat.