Lilliput

Going to see a new Kiev attraction – a „miniature Kiev“, a park with miniature models of the city’s most famous buildings and monuments. Contrary to a warning given by a newspaper seller who shows us the way („don’t bother, it’s a waste of money“), it’s a fun experience. One cannot help admiring not only the craftsmanship of the creators, who adorned the tiny buildings with every elaborate detail, but also their sense of humour. In the middle of a modern bridge spanning the mighty Dnieper river (actually spanning a little concrete pool substituting for the mighty river – but one should employ a bit of imagination), a car is lying on its roof, all four wheels up. Another wreck blocks the roadway. A couple street lamps lining the bridge are bent down. An act of vandalism? Nah, obviously an intention, there’s even a helicopter hovering over the site of the crash. Conscientious creators wanted their miniature world reflect all the splendours and horrors of the real one. The miniature streets are full of miniature cars blocking the intersections. Two miniature girls in front of the university building are chatting together and mockingly pointing their fingers at a lonely guy with a bouquet, who is obviously waiting for his sweetheart in vain. An suspiciously Irish-looking red-haired guy in baggy trousers is messing in front of the entrance to the national bank with a big sack in one hand and a big club in the other, evidently hatching dirty plans. A wedding guest is toppling down, perhaps overcome by the intensity of the occasion or by the consumption of liquid pleasures. (OK, OK, the last one could be a result of a little vandalism or of the power of Kiev wind. But still...) And, below the bridge, an army of giant frogs watches the miniature human swarming, perhaps casting a watchful eye, perhaps getting ready to attack and conquer the city...

Tempora Mutantur

Some roaming around Kiev streets, and we reach a narrow pedestrian bridge, cleverly spanning a street between two parks, so that strollers don’t have to struggle with traffic lights and pedestrian crossings. You could nickname it the „Lovers’ Bridge“. For some reason, it has become the place for couples to declare and seal their love – the metal railings as well as the wooden boards are all covered with hearts and heartfelt declarations of love. However, not all lovers are satisfied with sealing their love with mere words. Some go for more sophisticated methods. When I first walked over the bridge, in 2005, the railings were full of ribbons and pieces of paper (the lazier – or more original? – lovers using old wrappers from snacks or even pieces of toilet paper). But times they are a-changing. In 2007, locks are all the rage. Big locks, small locks, shiny locks, green decorative locks, locks bearing the names of the lovers, locks bearing „top security“ engravings. Locks for all moods and tastes. While the message of coupled locks seems clear, I ponder the meaning of a big lock with an army of tiny locks attached to it. A wish for a big family or a wish for a harem? But above all, I ponder the change – the ribbons looked like an old, deeply-rooted tradition, and yet locks pushed them away. Even the way of sealing eternal love is obviously a subject to fashion trends. Or was it a brilliant idea of a local lock seller?

Perfect Couple

Departure. Boryspil airport is bursting with people; I check in very early, but seeing the wide, endless, incredibly slow queues for passport control and security check, I’m experiencing a serious nervousness about missing a plane for the first time in my life. I’m not alone. An elderly Czech couple stands in the queue right in front of me, ready to fly to Prague by the same plane. The woman is super-nervous. Constantly checking her watch, sighing loudly, flailing her hands, losing her nerves, repeating they will surely miss their flight.
„Look at the watch! And look how long the queue is! We won’t make it!“
The man is absolutely calm and unmoved. „Nonsense, we will. We still have plenty of time.“
„Plenty of time? Kidding? We don’t! The queue isn’t moving at all. This is incredible...“
„Come on, what’s the problem? They will not fly away without us.“
„How do you know? Of course they will if we are late! Terrible, just terrible...“
„Why the hysterics? You must be crazy.“
On an on, again and again. The calmer he is, the more nervous she gets. And the nervousness slowly melts into the hot lava of anger, which she spews at her husband. Who remains as unruffled as ever, perhaps even enjoying his wife’s distress. Well, as naughty as it is, I’m enjoying the clash too as it helps to wash away my own worries about missing the plane. And the worst expectations never materialize – both I and the quarreling couple make it to the gate some seven minutes before the departure time. „Plenty of time“ as the man would say – or „five minutes to twelve“ as his wife would oppose. I just regret I’ll never know if catching the plane made a sweet end to their argument or if they went on getting on each other’s nerves all the way to Prague.