Thursday, August 20, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Yulia Tymoshenko's "she's working" ads are everywhere. Everyone assumes these are her ads, that is:
"They are talking; she is working."
"They are betraying; she is working."
"They are making promises; she is working."
"They are getting in the way; she is working."
And she's probably not aware of this, but she's got fans at this shitty-looking dining hall just off Lvivska Square, and they happen to be hiring right now - they're looking for cooks and a female dishwasher - so maybe she should consider helping out there as well...
"They are talking; she is working."
"They are betraying; she is working."
"They are making promises; she is working."
"They are getting in the way; she is working."
And she's probably not aware of this, but she's got fans at this shitty-looking dining hall just off Lvivska Square, and they happen to be hiring right now - they're looking for cooks and a female dishwasher - so maybe she should consider helping out there as well...
SORRY, БАБЦЮ! - "SORRY, GRANDMA!" - a restaurant:
осьТут: Ми завжди поруч - "Right here: We're always close by" - a grocery store:
Кумушка: магазин у дома - how do you translate kumushka into English? Anyway, this is another grocery store that's "right next to where you live"...
Language-wise, the first sign features English and Ukrainian, the second one is in Ukrainian, and the third is in Russian. This is Kyiv.
And this one just looked weird, with those red arrows pointing at some poor folks' balcony:
осьТут: Ми завжди поруч - "Right here: We're always close by" - a grocery store:
Кумушка: магазин у дома - how do you translate kumushka into English? Anyway, this is another grocery store that's "right next to where you live"...
Language-wise, the first sign features English and Ukrainian, the second one is in Ukrainian, and the third is in Russian. This is Kyiv.
And this one just looked weird, with those red arrows pointing at some poor folks' balcony:
Sunday, August 16, 2009
We're back in Kyiv.
It's funny how stuff like the current diplomatic shitstorm never really affects our routines - people go about their lives as if nothing's happened, both here and in Moscow. Because who cares what all those politicians are saying when we have other things, good and bad, to attend to. Until someone mentions it, and then it turns out nearly everyone has some kind of an opinion and is willing to share it. But the hype isn't on the surface at all.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I hope that the fart directed at Ukraine from across the border will remain just that: a fart. And I hope that our politicians, who are real good farters themselves, will not use this newest stench as yet another excuse for doing nothing about all the purely - or nastily - domestic shit that they've produced over the years.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Normally, I'd tweet about it, but I'm too tired of the 140-character limit, so here goes:
- For the second time since the capture of Pukach, the media report that he's named those who ordered to murder Gongadze. No names are given.
The first series of reports (July 22, RUS) were then reported to be false: Pukach's former lawyer, Serhiy Osyka, said so (RUS).
We'll see how it goes this time (UKR): on Aug. 3, Myroslava Gongadze's lawyer, Valentyna Telychenko, said (RUS) there seemed to be no reasons to believe this newest report.
And here's what Ukrainska Pravda's headlines look like:
- Here's a good summary of the political situation in Ukraine the way it was in late June - and the way it still is, I guess, more or less:
- And here's why they've banned Brüno in Ukraine:
- For the second time since the capture of Pukach, the media report that he's named those who ordered to murder Gongadze. No names are given.
The first series of reports (July 22, RUS) were then reported to be false: Pukach's former lawyer, Serhiy Osyka, said so (RUS).
We'll see how it goes this time (UKR): on Aug. 3, Myroslava Gongadze's lawyer, Valentyna Telychenko, said (RUS) there seemed to be no reasons to believe this newest report.
And here's what Ukrainska Pravda's headlines look like:
- Here's a good summary of the political situation in Ukraine the way it was in late June - and the way it still is, I guess, more or less:
Ukraine’s Political Paralysis Gives Black Eyes to Orange Revolution Heroes
The New York Times
By CLIFFORD J. LEVY
June 22, 2009
Ukraine, which has suffered a roundhouse blow from the economic crisis, has had no finance minister since February. It also has no foreign minister or defense minister. The transportation minister just stepped down. The interior minister has offered to resign as well, after being accused of drunken behavior.
The president and the prime minister are no longer speaking [...].
- And here's why they've banned Brüno in Ukraine:
Reuters - July 15, 2009 (via The New York Times' Arts Beat Blog)
[...] A culture ministry commission concluded "Bruno" included an "artistically unjustified exhibition of sexual organs and sexual relations, homosexual acts in a blatantly graphic form, obscene language, sadism, anti-social behavior which could damage the moral upbringing of our citizens." [...]
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Okay, so now I do have a Ukrainian playground acquaintance: a babysitter from Mykolayiv. I figured out she was from Ukraine when I caught her staring at me a bit too intensely as I was telling something about Kyiv to someone else - and then we chatted, and her intonations were more Ukrainian than Russian, and then I told her I was from Kyiv, and she said she was from Ukraine as well.
Nothing interesting about this encounter, except for an insight into how some Ukrainians feel about the Ukrainian language.
We talked about travel in Ukraine, and I mentioned that I'd like to take Marta to Western Ukraine, for the beauty - and also for the language, for the beauty of the language there.
She said she was fluent in Ukrainian, but had never in her life spoken it to anyone. Studied it at school, and that's it. Found it awkward. Not beautiful.
I told her that perhaps she hadn't heard it spoken beautifully: there's a number of ways it can happen to you in Ukraine, and growing up in Mykolayiv is just one of them.
I also gave her a little lecture on how all languages are beautiful, but it sometimes takes some effort and time to realize it.
I am, for example, still totally grateful to my university professor - Olena Bekh - for giving us creative assignments that had no politics or ideology in them, and for singing those beautiful kolyadky during classes.
And I also told the babysitter about my experience with Turkish: how at first I didn't like the sound of it - was spoiled by all the exposure to the beautiful Armenian language that I'd had in the States, perhaps. But then Misha and I fell in love with the way the Istanbul tramway female announcer was saying the word Gülhane - and now, ten years later, I'm still in love with this word, and I've also realized that I love Turkish spoken by women much better than I love it spoken by men. A few years ago, the tramway route was extended to include a station called Fındıklı, and even though this word is spoken by the same female announcer, it is sort of like a quintessential male Turkish word for me: Gülhane vs. Fındıklı.
Anyway, I could've been speaking to myself, for all I know, because the babysitter's response was something like this:
- Well, you know, my sister lives in Kyiv, and she doesn't really understand Ukrainian, and she's often annoyed by the signs in Ukrainian: like, when a store sign says "Kylymy" - what is it, she asks, why can't it be just "Kovry"?
I tried to explain to her that there was nothing wrong with it - and that the sign could say "Carpets" just as well, if her sister lived in, say, London, not Kyiv. But I decided not to go too deep into it, because all of a sudden I recalled how much I dislike math, and how dumb I am when it comes to all things mathematical, and no matter how much you try to explain to me things beyond GRE math (which I survived back in 1996, but wouldn't survive now), I'll still remain an idiot that I am. Same with this babysitter and her sister - and the languages. No politics here whatsoever, really.
But I was still curious about something else.
I asked her: "Do you know that the word kylym came to us from Turkish? That it's a Turkish word for 'carpet' - kılım?"
And she said: "Oh yeah, really? No, I had no idea."
Nothing interesting about this encounter, except for an insight into how some Ukrainians feel about the Ukrainian language.
We talked about travel in Ukraine, and I mentioned that I'd like to take Marta to Western Ukraine, for the beauty - and also for the language, for the beauty of the language there.
She said she was fluent in Ukrainian, but had never in her life spoken it to anyone. Studied it at school, and that's it. Found it awkward. Not beautiful.
I told her that perhaps she hadn't heard it spoken beautifully: there's a number of ways it can happen to you in Ukraine, and growing up in Mykolayiv is just one of them.
I also gave her a little lecture on how all languages are beautiful, but it sometimes takes some effort and time to realize it.
I am, for example, still totally grateful to my university professor - Olena Bekh - for giving us creative assignments that had no politics or ideology in them, and for singing those beautiful kolyadky during classes.
And I also told the babysitter about my experience with Turkish: how at first I didn't like the sound of it - was spoiled by all the exposure to the beautiful Armenian language that I'd had in the States, perhaps. But then Misha and I fell in love with the way the Istanbul tramway female announcer was saying the word Gülhane - and now, ten years later, I'm still in love with this word, and I've also realized that I love Turkish spoken by women much better than I love it spoken by men. A few years ago, the tramway route was extended to include a station called Fındıklı, and even though this word is spoken by the same female announcer, it is sort of like a quintessential male Turkish word for me: Gülhane vs. Fındıklı.
Anyway, I could've been speaking to myself, for all I know, because the babysitter's response was something like this:
- Well, you know, my sister lives in Kyiv, and she doesn't really understand Ukrainian, and she's often annoyed by the signs in Ukrainian: like, when a store sign says "Kylymy" - what is it, she asks, why can't it be just "Kovry"?
I tried to explain to her that there was nothing wrong with it - and that the sign could say "Carpets" just as well, if her sister lived in, say, London, not Kyiv. But I decided not to go too deep into it, because all of a sudden I recalled how much I dislike math, and how dumb I am when it comes to all things mathematical, and no matter how much you try to explain to me things beyond GRE math (which I survived back in 1996, but wouldn't survive now), I'll still remain an idiot that I am. Same with this babysitter and her sister - and the languages. No politics here whatsoever, really.
But I was still curious about something else.
I asked her: "Do you know that the word kylym came to us from Turkish? That it's a Turkish word for 'carpet' - kılım?"
And she said: "Oh yeah, really? No, I had no idea."
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Marta craves friendships nearly as much as she craves sweets now. She loves making friends. And she's real good at it.
Funny, but I've met quite a few people thanks to her as well. Playground acquaintances. Here in Moscow, the majority of them happen to be of really diverse backgrounds.
There's a girl whose father is a Syrian Arab married to a Russian woman.
And a girl whose father is Turkish and mother an ethnic Russian from Turkmenistan.
A Kurdish boy and his older sister (I wrote about them here).
A boy whose mother is half-Georgian and half-Russian and whose father is Georgian.
Another boy whose father is Georgian and mother from Belarus (father is fluent in Russian, English and Armenian, in addition to Georgian, while mother is Russophone and regrets not knowing Belarusian).
A girl whose mother is African American and father Russian.
A girl whose father is Jewish and mother a crazy mix of Mingrel, Abkhaz, Turkish and perhaps something else as well. They are leaving for Germany the day after tomorrow, for good.
A girl whose father is Armenian and mother a Mountain Jew.
A boy whose father is Turkish and mother Russian, but who spent much of her childhood in Japan and has some family in Israel.
A boy whose mother is an ethnic Russian who fled Grozny during the First Chechen War.
A Polish girl - named Yulia, of all things.
No Ukrainian friends so far, but we've got plenty of those in Kyiv.
Lots of Russian Russians, of course.
And a perfectly peaceful atmosphere. Except for those sandbox battles for toys that have nothing to do with anyone's ethnicity.
Yes, Moscow is like this - very diverse. The paradox, though, is that there are too many people with village mentality here, all those xenophobes who don't really belong in this huge city. I don't meet them in person too often, thank God, but it doesn't mean they do not exist.
I keep thinking of Iowa City - a village compared to Moscow, but they celebrate Cultural Diversity Day every year there and don't run around demanding Iowa for Iowans. Their attitude towards diversity may be a bit too idealistic, but if Moscow could borrow some of this idealism, it would perhaps change the attitude here to a slightly more realistic one.
Funny, but I've met quite a few people thanks to her as well. Playground acquaintances. Here in Moscow, the majority of them happen to be of really diverse backgrounds.
There's a girl whose father is a Syrian Arab married to a Russian woman.
And a girl whose father is Turkish and mother an ethnic Russian from Turkmenistan.
A Kurdish boy and his older sister (I wrote about them here).
A boy whose mother is half-Georgian and half-Russian and whose father is Georgian.
Another boy whose father is Georgian and mother from Belarus (father is fluent in Russian, English and Armenian, in addition to Georgian, while mother is Russophone and regrets not knowing Belarusian).
A girl whose mother is African American and father Russian.
A girl whose father is Jewish and mother a crazy mix of Mingrel, Abkhaz, Turkish and perhaps something else as well. They are leaving for Germany the day after tomorrow, for good.
A girl whose father is Armenian and mother a Mountain Jew.
A boy whose father is Turkish and mother Russian, but who spent much of her childhood in Japan and has some family in Israel.
A boy whose mother is an ethnic Russian who fled Grozny during the First Chechen War.
A Polish girl - named Yulia, of all things.
No Ukrainian friends so far, but we've got plenty of those in Kyiv.
Lots of Russian Russians, of course.
And a perfectly peaceful atmosphere. Except for those sandbox battles for toys that have nothing to do with anyone's ethnicity.
Yes, Moscow is like this - very diverse. The paradox, though, is that there are too many people with village mentality here, all those xenophobes who don't really belong in this huge city. I don't meet them in person too often, thank God, but it doesn't mean they do not exist.
I keep thinking of Iowa City - a village compared to Moscow, but they celebrate Cultural Diversity Day every year there and don't run around demanding Iowa for Iowans. Their attitude towards diversity may be a bit too idealistic, but if Moscow could borrow some of this idealism, it would perhaps change the attitude here to a slightly more realistic one.
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