Second Trip to Kyiv Since the Full-Scale Invasion: Day One Notes
How quickly can you get used to anything? Yesterday, I was listening to my European colleagues talking about their plans for the New Year holidays. Today, I regret that I have not collected enough snow to melt, because the temperature is rising, and there is no running water at home after a massive missile air strike that lasted four hours.
The weather in Kyiv has deteriorated drastically overnight. The snow has started to melt, turning the roads into a skate rink. This and the darkness due to power outages have slowed down the traffic. The taxi fare jumped from the usual 200 UAH to 700. My friend Pavlo owns a car, and so he offered to help people: to drive them where they need to go for free.
I was with him during this time and listened to the stories of Kyivans in 2022. Someone had to go to the bathroom because there was no running water at home. Someone complained that there was no power yet they had to work. A student historian argued how we need to decolonize our society in a way that is not simply anti-Russian. I was very happy to be in that car with my friend and these people. I reminded myself once again what this is all for, and how much I admire Ukrainians.
Somehow, I don't talk much about how I see Ukrainians.
We don’t know how to make small talk. Even before this full-scale invasion, when asked how things are, we often answer truthfully, as they are. Some Western formalities surprise us, because this is not how people in the West do it.
Ukrainians are quite critical of themselves, but even more so of the state. We understand the value of democracy very well, so we always keep a tab on the government. In general, conversations about politics are not just normal but even the most typical. Children talk about politics among themselves at school — I still remember this from my school years.
Ukrainians joke a lot, all the time. But it’s dark humor, it's not meant to make you laugh. It is designed to prevent you from going insane. My friend was in a cafe today during the alarm as the rockets were falling and it was dangerous to go out. He said: “at least I will have a delicious cup of coffee before I die.” I smiled, he smiled too.
Ukrainians are not very friendly on the street, we do not have the habit of smiling for no reason. Ukrainians are like home-made wine, very tart, with a strong aftertaste, but one sip of communication immediately reminds you that this taste is unique.
I always liked to walk in Kyiv on January 1st, as there were almost no people on the street. The streets now are as if it was January 1st, only much darker due to power outages. I don't like it. This darkness hides millions of lives behind the dark windows. Russia is dragging us into darkness physically and psychologically.
As a child, I used to wonder why the Christmas lights are so beautiful. I thought it was because of the contrast with the darkness, like a metaphor of hope. This comes to mind now. There are no Christmas lights in the city, although of course there is plenty of Mariah Carey blasting out of all the working speakers. I remember last year’s Christmas in Kyiv, and I dream that my city would go back to life as before, worrying about what coffee or pastry to buy, not how to warm up and survive.