Generally, it is not the editor's policy to carry articles about any
of the creative staff as these people are best characterized by their articles.
Klara Gudzyk's name is well known to The Day's readers and her clever
well-balanced, and remarkably civil writings (a very seldom occurrence
these days) never fail to attract interest. She is very demanding of herself
and always takes a principled stand without going to extremes or putting
on airs and graces. Most importantly, she is never condescending. In fact,
she is like that in her daily life: always polite, extremely tolerant,
with a delicate yet unmistakably aristocratic touch. And she is invariably
friendly. She is the oldest person on staff, and this is perhaps why we
try to learn from her how to remain tactful, tolerant, and wise. And her
other remarkable trait: love for life. Ms. Gudzyk never complains and accepts
realities with a good-humored smile. Her religious column is not coincidental,
because this eternal theme brings consolation and peace, and quiet, as
inherent in a Christian soul as a daily prayer.
Serhiy VASYLIEV, The Day
Almost everyone is fond of traveling, something we must have inherited
this from our nomadic ancestors, together with the wheel. Packing for a
trip, we almost always subconsciously expect to see or experience something
very special. For seven decades, occupying one-sixth of the globe, we were
forced to live locked away from the rest of the world. Now we are free
to travel far and wide, provided we can afford it, of course.
The British are said to travel abroad looking for British goods and
steaks for lunch. What about Ukrainians? Among my travel companions one
could clearly discern several "subgroups" (the travel company agent told
me that the pattern is always the same).
First, the "shoppers." These people use such organized tours as a convenient
"merchant route". There were five of them in my group, very energetic and
resourceful women, each with a higher education. This category is known
as "shuttles" in the CIS countries. They travel with considerable sums
(often borrowed), although few know any foreign languages, buying merchandise
which they hope will be sold at a profit back home. Many times during such
trips they have to pack and repack, paying an overweight penalty if traveling
by air. An essential component of this "shuttle" business is the Ukrainian
customs for which these shoppers are perhaps the only way to earn a quick
buck on the side - and profits thus made are enormous as practically every
shuttle merchant is totally at their mercy and resignedly parts with an
amount in greenbacks lest his/her merchandise be confiscated right then
and there. Once in Ukraine, these itinerant business people have to watch
out for young crewcut toughs circling bulging bags on railroad platforms
like packs of hungry wolves, biding their time to attack, plunder, and
vanish. I was amazed to know that this physically hard and risky business
involves mostly women in Ukraine. They venture such trips leaving their
husbands and grownup sons at home waiting, while the reverse would seem
to make more sense.
There were parents visiting their daughters who had once gone to Italy
and stayed there illicitly. After crossing the border, these fathers and
mothers would board commuter trains or buses and we would meet again only
when it was time to return. I asked one of the women if her daughter had
a job in Italy. She said no. Was she married? No. I thought better of asking
any further. Some of the girls - very few - find a place in the sun, but
most live in misery as their is little hope for gaining citizenship, and
Italian men treat marriage too seriously, considering the complex formalities
and the cost of divorce.
There were six girls traveling to Italy never to return. All were from
small Western Ukrainian towns where finding a job is very difficult, so
black job markets thrive. A girl has to pay $500 and receives a certain
address (fictitious in most cases) in various parts of the country, along
with assurances that she will be employed as a cleaning woman, dishwasher,
or waitress. I took a closer look at them and was horrified. None could
speak a word of English or German, let alone Italian. They did not know
how to use modern telephones, buy train tickets, or ask for directions.
Mr. Chernov, our guide, explained everything in detail and, when it was
time to part company, several times reminded them of the time and place
of the last stop in Italy, just in case some of them would have the presence
of mind to return. None did, although we had the bus driver wait for a
while (remarkably, some of the tourists were against waiting for the stupid
girls and wanted the bus to start off).
It was thus, before our very eyes, that several girls (very brave, no
doubt) vanished in totally strange environs. What lay in store for them?
Regrettably, more often than not they have only one alternative: prostitution.
In fact, the Italian Embassy in Ukraine is especially cautious when issuing
tourist visas for girls. Often embassy officials make phone calls to check
the data in their questionnaires. Statistics show that Ukraine is an inexhaustible
supplier of white slaves to Italy. It is as though we were back in the
Middle Ages when this business received the first powerful impetus, the
only difference being that girls were stolen then and now they willingly
step into the trap.
Of course, there were among us people who were just tourists. Outwardly,
because their actual purpose was to hunt the shops, buy a very special
souvenir they would never find in Ukraine. And of course, bring back things
that would make their trip pay off. A gentleman from Kharkiv bought a special
telephone and a table to match. He talked about nothing but his purchase
on the way back. Yes, they all went on sightseeing tours, but they saw
the sights in a special way. When discussing the itinerary, voices were
heard: "Why go to Venice or stop in Vienna? The prices are so very much
higher there." Needless to say, shop windows were the greatest "tourist
attractions" to them - and I mean the men and women alike. I remember a
young couple. They walked around hand in hand, kissing and cooing. A moving
sight! But once they approached another store the girl would snatch away
her hand and dash over and inside so quickly the young man would just stand
there gawking, trying to figure out what had become of his sweetheart.
Every evening they shared impressions, always about what was on sale and
how much it cost, be it in Rome, Ravenna, or Florence.
Finally, a handful of us came actually to see Italy. These people enjoyed
the trip, because they had no problems on their minds except to see and
hear as much as possible. They did not have to lug around huge shopping
bags, sweat their way from one supermarket to the next, await with trepidation
the inevitable customs showdown, chipping in to grease the inspector's
palm (which I personally find especially humiliating). They would not worry
about a $2,000 fur coat left at the hotel and would just enjoy the trip.
The others regarded them condescendingly, with an ill-disguised pity: what
can you expect from simpletons letting such an opportunity pass them by?
But there was also animosity in some eyes. There was an Art Academy student
to whom the trip was a unique event. After crossing the border she was
in a state of constant agitation. No matter how long an excursion would
last she would ask in the end for another 15 minutes, pretty please! For
some reason the others found this extremely irritating and some even made
brutal comments. After a while the girl fell silent and kept aloof, her
festive mood spoiled irreparably.
As for Italy, this is a different topic. It is hard to describe a living
miracle, a land of never-ending wonders. Eras, epochs, cultures, and peoples
came to pass and it remained an inexhaustible source of talent: Etruscan,
ancient, medieval, Renaissance, eighteenth and nineteenth century musical
geniuses, and latter-day neo-realism that changed world cinema. Works of
art created here are on display at museums all over the planet. Canvases,
frescoes (with plaster), gold mosaics, marble sculptures, columns, frontispieces,
and floorboards from Pompeian homes were taken away from Italy for centuries
on end, miraculously never leaving the country any poorer. Experts believe
that there are more objets d'art hidden under the surface of the
earth and at the bottom of Italy's coastal waters than displayed in all
the world's museums and churches. Could perhaps some higher power see to
it that the stock is constantly replenished?








