The Incredible Adventures Of Ukrainians In Italy

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?