My love affair with Ukraine began the moment I stepped off the plane, in the summer of 1996. The foriegn smells, foods, faces and langauge all seemd to just fit. Even the notorious Ukrainian red tape can be endearing at times. For the most part I feel at home here, I know my way around Ukraine. Most of the cultural nuances I have pretty muched worked out or learned to accept. But hospitals and government offices are always stark reminders that I am forgeiner here. I know I have it easier that most expatriots, because of my big strong Russian husband who protects me from the more mystifing faccets of the culture. He knows when to be polite and when to be demanding, he knows what to say so that people actually start doing what they are being paid to do, he know when someone is hinting for bribe and when someone is being sincere. Also, thanks to my almost exclusive Russo-Ukrianian environment I know something that most Americans don't. The things that annoy us about Ukraine are just as annoying to Ukrainians. To them the idiotic red tape is just as idiotic as it is to the Western mind, the only difference is they understand that no matter how many letters of complaint you write to the manager, nothing here will ever change.
Last week Andrey and I had to leave the Ukraine for a few days. It turns out that under the government, current visa was no longer legitimate in Ukraine and I was living here illegally. I would have to leave the country to get a new visa and legalize any long term stay in Ukraine. (Ukrainian visas are not issued inside of Ukraine). The closest and fastest option was Poland. We knew we would have to pay a fine, after all this isn't the first time we've dealt with passport control. So we packed light, arrived early and went through regestartion first.
In anticipation for the 2012 European Soccer championship, Kiev's only international airport has opened up a new terminal, that is located in a completely seperate building about half a mile from the orginial two terminals. After waiting for the gaurd to finish her tea, chat with her friends and finally get to filling out the blank for my fine, she told me I would have to pay fine in the orginal terminal, that my flight was leaving in twenty five minutes and that plane would not wait for me. Did I mention there are no shuttles, or underground walkways even some puny golf cart to transport you from Terminal F to terminal B (no one knows what happened to terminal C, D, & E)? So after a having a good arguement with the guard, Andrey and I run as fast as you can run through snow being strapped down with two carry- ons. Huffing and puffing we race into Terminal B to only to discover that all 10 bank department have closed for a technical reasons, (this is Ukrainian code for smoke break) Andrey begins banging on the window, shouting that our flight is leaving 15 minutes and we have to pay a fine. We finally found a tender hearted soul, that sacrificed her coffee and cigarette to open up and let us pay our fine. Receipt in hand we race all the way back to Terminal F, where we have to go through the whole x-ray, shoe removal, passport control process once again, before we rush to our gate (luckily there are two gates in Terminal F)!
We made our flight, and I don't know when I had been so frustrated with Ukraine! I was still huffing and puffing when we got on the plane. And yet, at the same time I know that's why I love this country. All the red tape and illogical procedures always give you a great story to tell over dinner.
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