or Reflections on Andriyivsky Uzviz
Andriyivsky Uzviz (Kyiv’s premier tourist street) is the best place to seek aesthetic thrills on the annual Days of Kyiv at the end of May. The closer I approached it, the more hawkers I came across.
The pretend marriage-registration office was working at full blast. Couples were registering their marriage for a few hryvnias to the accompaniment of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” This event stirred up more enthusiasm among girls than in their boyfriends. The latter would immediately stop smiling and put their signatures in an extremely gloomy mood. In all probability, they started to feel responsibility, even if the marriage was a fake.
The asphalt was strewn with the “greetings” from various banks. I wished they had scattered hryvnias, instead, as it would have provoked a great commotion and excitement.
A huge crowd of artists and handicraftsmen came from all the nooks and crannies of our Fatherland to attend the festivities. On Andriyivsky Uzviz, they upstaged a little the habitual trader peddling Soviet-era tea-glass holders and socialist-emulation banners.
Alongside Taras Shevchenko portraits on embroidered towels there were pictures with deep erotic content. They looked good together, as if it was making it clear that for the national idol nothing human is alien.
A red-Indian-looking suntanned hawker with a crossed sabers tattooed on his shoulder began to convincingly lavish praises on a photo-alum of Kyiv: “Just see what kind of views and landscapes we have!” — “I’m a bit sick and tired of them even in real life” — “Ah, a Kyivan...” he said in a downcast voice and switched over to looking for provincial suckers.
Two old ladies were whispering to each other near the shining polished samovars selling for 100- 200 hryvnias. “Look,” one said to the other, “let’s clean up ours at home and drag it down here. This means three pensions!”
A burly gentleman stopped in front of the huge and quaintly twisted horns of a Pamir mouflon. His wife hugged him by the neck and said in a sweet voice: “Darling, if you need horns, I can do this free of charge.” The gentleman gave a forced laugh.
What struck me on Andriyivsky Uzviz was the abundance of goods pretending to be from diverse cultures: from Egyptian cats to Japanese netzke. But the most commonly occurring item (second to hot dogs) was the dollar symbol. I liked a landscape painting on this theme — a sunset with distant mountains and muddy country roads leading to them. On a closer examination, you see dollar signs on the horizon. Looking at it still closer, you will see a cemetery on the far-away mountain. A convincing plot!
Urban folklore culture has reached an acme in the adverts of smoking pipes. A nice little ad: “Dear citizens, buy pipes and put them between your teeth. Cigarettes damage your image, so smoke pipes as the poison is sweeter!”
What I like most at such fairs is the sale of absolutely useless things. A huge 25-cm-tall bronze fly undoubtedly held the highest rung. Can you imagine the size of a garbage can, where it could crawl untroubled? Why was this insect made? For the same reason why such festivals are held: to raise each other’s spirits and divert oneself from humdrum of daily life!
