Buskers Of Kyiv: A Compendium Of Shaky Cell Phone Videos

I'm told that while busking in Kyiv is technically illegal (especially on public transportation), the law is rarely enforced, though it's customary for musicians to give subway conductors a cut of their earnings so they can get on the trains and play. This apparently goes for all street musicians, who often have to pay the police to gain access to certain busking "hotspots."

Buskers are quite common in Kyiv, and they definitely cover the talent spectrum (some are god-awful, while others are quite pleasant). They range in style from traditional Eastern European folk songs to modern pop, with just about everything in between. I tried to capture a few of them on my cell phone while going to and from work.

Note for the last clip: I tried to go to a performance at the Kyiv Philharmonic, but the woman at the door told me tickets were sold out (I realized later that a small bribe probably would have gotten me in). Anyway, I wandered around the back and noticed a small orchestra of some sort recording a performance. The door was open, so I sat for a while by the stairs and listened. Not bad for a free show!

This guy was my favorite. I spotted him near the Khreschatik Metro station in downtown Kyiv.

September

Ladys and gentlemen, the words of the late Alex Chilton:

September is the month of motion. Everything seems to get rolling during September. It's the month of change. October and November serve only to continue September's momentum before things slow down in December for the winter slump.

I've never much cared for the idea of beginning the new year on January 1. The dead of winter? It just doesn't make sense.

John Steinback once said that July 1 splits the year right in two (I'm too lazy to look up the quote). But I think I would go a step further. If it were up to me, I would place the new year on July 4. That seems to be when things really feel like they are about to start anew. August is the month for planning—getting everything in order. Then the action begins in September.

Feast Of Champions, Or: Relearning The Art Of Eating

After two weeks of buying varenyky and sometimes delicious, sometimes questionable produce from the markets and babushkas along the streets, we found a huge supermarket with all the comforts of, well, any good Ukrainian home, probably.

Frankly, I couldn't help myself. I found an entire isle devoted to sausage, and I loaded up. Then it was on to the bread counter, where I grabbed the most interesting loafs I could find—to great success! One was a sweet bread (pictured) that paired nicely with the cheese I bought (I don't know what kind of cheese it was—I just know that it was one of the best hunks I've ever eaten). The other loaf I bought I had hoped to use for sandwiches, but when I sliced into it I found it was full of grape jam. Oh well, it was perfect for breakfast this morning!

Eating here is has been nothing short of an adventure. From my first-ever food poisoning experience to snacking on the salty fish jerky that the salesguy at the metro kiosk swore by (I thought it was kind of nasty), it feels a little like I'm learning to feed myself all over again.

My friends and I finally broke down and grabbed some burgers at McDonald's. I'm not proud to say this, because I normally don't really care for their industrially processed cardboard salt sticks, but it was one of the most enjoyable meals I've had here yet. And the worst part is that it didn't taste any different from the slop they serve back home.

Serious violation: bringing a McFoxy bag into McDonald's

A Great Thing About Eastern Europe

is that just when you start to feel lonely and homesick and completely lost and irritated by everybody who gets irritated when you don't have exact change goddamnit, there's somebody across the alleyway practicing some sad song on the violin in an old Soviet flat.

It's beautiful!

A Quick Update

My apologies for the long silence. I've had a whirlwind of a week, including a last-minute (internet-less) move to a rather nasty flat in the middle of Soviet tenement housing land, a new job at a TV station, and a round with a nasty assault on my digestive system (all part of the acclimation phase, I'm told).

I have a bunch of photos to upload, so stay tuned!

Ukrainian Fast Food

Borscht, varenyky (dumplings) and beer. It's no Big Mac, but it will do.

Also, I have no jet lag. How did I accomplish this feat? Secret: don't sleep for two days. That's it! You can do anything if you put your mind to it. Did you know that?

Pre-Flight Q&A

I don't know where to start. I've never really written about myself before. I don't know how to do it. If it's medical marijuana cooperatives or flailing Ohio congressmen or terrible children's movies you're looking for, I'm your man. But me? Color me clueless.

Well, since this blog is supposed to chronicle me and my trip, I decided it's best to just hit the ground running, because running is good for your lungs, and lungs are used in talking—about yourself. Sort of like writing about yourself, but with more sneezing, probably. So, I sat down with myself for a brief Q&A to break the ice and get the synapses firing and the pixels flowing as this Great Experiment begins. 

What did you have for breakfast today?

A piece of toast, an egg, an apple, and a coffee. It was kind of late for breakfast—more of a brunch, really.

Wow! That sounds delicious—just like something I would eat for breakfast/brunch. 

Really? That's amazing! But I didn't tell you the full story. I actually carved a hole in the middle of the slice of bread and put the egg inside, then toasted it in a frying pan. I've heard it called "Egg in a Hole" in certain culinary circles.

Oh, yes. Egg in a Hole is one of my favorite things to eat for breakfast. And yes, that is definitely the correct term for it. Don't let anybody try to tell you it's called "Egg in a Basket" or whatever.

Seriously. Those people are kooks.

Why Live in the Pacific Northwest?

This is why.

I'm looking at you, Saturday.

Yeah, it rains a lot here the rest of the year, clouds, blah blah blah. Whatever. I DON'T CARE. Right now, this place is paradise.

What is it?

It was on a $1 plate at Sushi Yama.

It was kind of sweet but kind of salty. The filling was creamy but had a chalky finish, not unlike the inside of an Oreo. The inside looked like chocolate, but it didn't taste like it at all.

Also: I'm uncomfortably full.

Smart Packing

It's a book.


Fill it with photos.


You're a smart packer.

Salty Summer Days

As the day of departure draws nearer, I feel like I need to start marking things off my pre-flight bucket list. Strike this one: drink a Rainier on a rocky beach.

Last Days At The Office

On a day after a bunch of layoffs, we (the survivors) decided to take the elevator up to the 18th floor deck to watch the Blue Angels do some practice runs over Lake Washington.