One of the distinctively Ukrainian customs which I have observed is the amazingly robust practice of street vending. I have seen nothing like it either in America or in western Europe. Everywhere the streets are filled with shops, advertisements, kiosks, tents, tables or impromptu displays full of things for sale large and small. Furs, boots, hats, books, electronics, telephones, drinks, snacks, antiques, music, movies, ribbons, scarves, newspapers, bread, fruit, vegetables, flowers. Any product you can name can be found on the tables or pallets of some vendor. Many have sophisticated kiosks or tents with slick marketing signs. Others have no signs at all. Especially varied are the above- and below-ground markets of the Shulyavska Metro station. The colors, scents and sounds are amazingly varied. Some of the vendors appear to have some kind of relationship or agreement, official or oth
erwise, with the public authorities. Many operate out of permanent locations, with steel security doors lining public walkways or tunnels or in permanently parked outdoor trailers which can be locked at night. Other "deals" with the officials appear more ad hoc, as when one evening I saw a flower vendor pulling large buckets filled with plants into a utility and equipment room right inside the Metro itself. Perhaps some petty police officer or maintenance worker was getting a share of the till in exchange for looking the other way. But most of the vendors appear to have no permanent presence, as they are just set up on some curb or wall. Especially touching are the many, many women, most of middle or old age, dressed in simple smocks with boots and scarves, who set up a few buckets filled with garden produce--beets, carrots, potatoes--and watch stolidly as the tens of thousands of commuters pass by, many wearing expensive and stylish clothing, furs and boots. 
erwise, with the public authorities. Many operate out of permanent locations, with steel security doors lining public walkways or tunnels or in permanently parked outdoor trailers which can be locked at night. Other "deals" with the officials appear more ad hoc, as when one evening I saw a flower vendor pulling large buckets filled with plants into a utility and equipment room right inside the Metro itself. Perhaps some petty police officer or maintenance worker was getting a share of the till in exchange for looking the other way. But most of the vendors appear to have no permanent presence, as they are just set up on some curb or wall. Especially touching are the many, many women, most of middle or old age, dressed in simple smocks with boots and scarves, who set up a few buckets filled with garden produce--beets, carrots, potatoes--and watch stolidly as the tens of thousands of commuters pass by, many wearing expensive and stylish clothing, furs and boots. 
I perceive both positive and negative aspects to this burgeoning commerce. It is, of course, a positive sign that the gates of freedom of thought and expression have been blown wide open. An Associated Press article this week from the United States commented favorably on the openness and freedom that currently pervades Ukrainian press, politics and public discourse. This same openness is evident in the marketplace. On the downside, however, is the unfettered intrusion of advertising, buying and selling on the lives of people. One is inundated with pitches, from the absurd pseudo-sophisticated banners covering the sides of architectural gems (such as the bizarre vinyl 
"Tuborg" banners gracing the building across the street from my window, whose three ridiculous-looking models I have named "Anime," "Disturbia" and "Luigi") to the throngs of commercial pampleteers standing at every corner and in every tunnel handing out colored fliers selling this and that or promising great incomes with no training. The last straw for me was to be standing in the stacks at the bookstore and to hear very loud American or European hip hop and rock music blaring annoyingly from the sound system. I fear the tsunami effect of too much advertising, too much "western" influence, which may drown and destroy the unique and beautiful culture of this special land.
"Tuborg" banners gracing the building across the street from my window, whose three ridiculous-looking models I have named "Anime," "Disturbia" and "Luigi") to the throngs of commercial pampleteers standing at every corner and in every tunnel handing out colored fliers selling this and that or promising great incomes with no training. The last straw for me was to be standing in the stacks at the bookstore and to hear very loud American or European hip hop and rock music blaring annoyingly from the sound system. I fear the tsunami effect of too much advertising, too much "western" influence, which may drown and destroy the unique and beautiful culture of this special land.
No comments:
Post a Comment