My stories of pay-to-play in Ukrainian academic circles are resonating with readers. Some react with surprise, others with their own stories.
It seems to me that given the multi-ethnic and multi-linguistic nature of Ukraine, there are probably regional differences to the culture of corruption. My PhD story in the last post was from Crimea, and my friend and colleague has just shared her own experience with corruption there. Pretty awesome.
But before I go on, let me be clear: I really love Ukraine. I have even managed to get out of the Soviet-era habit of calling it The Ukraine in English, as if it were a region rather than a real country. And one of the reasons I know more about it than I might is that in the current era, it's a huge, expensive hassle to get a visa to Russia.
When I began to be invited to Russian-language conferences in Crimea -- in Yalta, for a Chekhov conference, in Alushta to commemorate Alexander Griboedov -- I realize one really great thing about today's world.
The U.S. and Ukraine are friends.
In other words, I can travel there without a visa. What a bonus. I came very close to zooming over to Eastern Ukraine when I was in Poland last year, simply to continue to celebrate American-Ukrainian friendship. I was asked to a conference in Donetsk, and one in Yalta, and was sorely tempted, but both happened to coincide with my daughter's birthday, and I didn't feel like I could leave Poland at that time. (Good thing, too, as her birthday is also the anniversary of the events in Smolensk, which was a fascinating moment to be in Warsaw. I'll need to write about that day in the blog, perhaps next April 10 on the 4th anniversary of the tragic plane crash.)
While on my Fulbright in Warsaw, I also spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get to Nikolaevsk, where I had been invited to give a lecture, and how to stop in Odessa on the way, since I've always wanted to go to Odessa. Who hasn't?
I'll get there yet, to Odessa and Nikolaevsk -- especially if Ukraine remains a friend of the USA after this current complex political situation resolves itself, and as long as I don't become a persona non grata in Ukraine for these musings.
First, my friend's story, what she calls an "incident" at Simferopol Airport in 2010. Though Americans don't need visas to Ukraine, they are issued with what she identifies as a "little scrap of paper" they give you when you enter, which you're supposed to present when you leave. My friend, who was traveling with a group of students, couldn't find her little paper. She described it to me thus:
What do you think the customs agent's mother would have thought of his problem-solving tactics?!
But I want to be clear. I don't think this is a purely Ukrainian problem, though I fear that if Ukraine sticks with Russia over the EU, it will continue apace.
My own airport bribery story has a different national identity. When flying from Ukraine to St. Petersburg after my Yalta conference in 2008, I had to fly through Moscow. I was traveling with a suitcase and a backpack, and my backpack was heavy, filled with books given to me by Russian and Ukrainian colleagues (see previous post, again!). Arriving in the Moscow airport, I stood in line to check in for my flight to Pulkovo airport, and the line was moving very slowly. By the time I got to the front, I had had it. I asked the woman at the ticket counter: "Can I please check my backpack as well as my suitcase?" "Let's weigh it," she replied. And then: "Looks like you're overweight."
Never mind, I thought, I'll just keep carrying the backpack. But no -- now that she knew how much it weighed, I had to pay whether I checked it or not.
"How much?" I asked.
"Depends. 1000 rubles if you need a receipt. If you don't need a receipt, just put 500 rubles in your passport, and hand it to me."
I'll admit it. At the time, I was thrilled. Never had I had a bribe openly solicited like this, and for the mere cost of 500 rubles (about 20 bucks at the time), I would have a story to dine out on.
Only later, on the plane, did I think about the fact that with no "receipt," I also didn't have a baggage claim tag. But it was Orthodox Easter the day I was flying, and no one at the Pulkovo airport was interested in whether I was stealing the suitcase and backpack I picked up at the carousel. I grabbed my two bags and went off with my friends to celebrate the holiday.
So... a Russian airport corruption story to match the Ukrainian airport story. If it weren't so late I would have a great one to add about a train trip from St. Petersburg to Vilnius and an 18-year-old Latvian border guard back in 1999... But that is for another day.
It seems to me that given the multi-ethnic and multi-linguistic nature of Ukraine, there are probably regional differences to the culture of corruption. My PhD story in the last post was from Crimea, and my friend and colleague has just shared her own experience with corruption there. Pretty awesome.
But before I go on, let me be clear: I really love Ukraine. I have even managed to get out of the Soviet-era habit of calling it The Ukraine in English, as if it were a region rather than a real country. And one of the reasons I know more about it than I might is that in the current era, it's a huge, expensive hassle to get a visa to Russia.
When I began to be invited to Russian-language conferences in Crimea -- in Yalta, for a Chekhov conference, in Alushta to commemorate Alexander Griboedov -- I realize one really great thing about today's world.
The U.S. and Ukraine are friends.
In other words, I can travel there without a visa. What a bonus. I came very close to zooming over to Eastern Ukraine when I was in Poland last year, simply to continue to celebrate American-Ukrainian friendship. I was asked to a conference in Donetsk, and one in Yalta, and was sorely tempted, but both happened to coincide with my daughter's birthday, and I didn't feel like I could leave Poland at that time. (Good thing, too, as her birthday is also the anniversary of the events in Smolensk, which was a fascinating moment to be in Warsaw. I'll need to write about that day in the blog, perhaps next April 10 on the 4th anniversary of the tragic plane crash.)
While on my Fulbright in Warsaw, I also spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get to Nikolaevsk, where I had been invited to give a lecture, and how to stop in Odessa on the way, since I've always wanted to go to Odessa. Who hasn't?
I'll get there yet, to Odessa and Nikolaevsk -- especially if Ukraine remains a friend of the USA after this current complex political situation resolves itself, and as long as I don't become a persona non grata in Ukraine for these musings.
First, my friend's story, what she calls an "incident" at Simferopol Airport in 2010. Though Americans don't need visas to Ukraine, they are issued with what she identifies as a "little scrap of paper" they give you when you enter, which you're supposed to present when you leave. My friend, who was traveling with a group of students, couldn't find her little paper. She described it to me thus:
I looked for it everywhere, I swear, and it was gone. So I wait till my colleague and students got through customs (one of the students had lost his too, but after rummaging through his backpack it turned up -- amid candy wrappers and condoms! Awkward.), then fessed up. The guy (young) shook his head, told me I should be ashamed as a pedagogue who should be a model for her charges. His own mother was a teacher and I should have been more careful. Then he told me to buy him a bottle of scotch in the duty free shop. And that was that! All my times traveling to Russia nothing like that had ever happened before!When a bottle of scotch can make a problem go away, that's a nice bottle of scotch. (In the words of Homer Simpson, more applicable than one might wish to the peoples of the former Soviet Union: "Alcohol. The cause of and solution to all of life's problems.")
What do you think the customs agent's mother would have thought of his problem-solving tactics?!
But I want to be clear. I don't think this is a purely Ukrainian problem, though I fear that if Ukraine sticks with Russia over the EU, it will continue apace.
My own airport bribery story has a different national identity. When flying from Ukraine to St. Petersburg after my Yalta conference in 2008, I had to fly through Moscow. I was traveling with a suitcase and a backpack, and my backpack was heavy, filled with books given to me by Russian and Ukrainian colleagues (see previous post, again!). Arriving in the Moscow airport, I stood in line to check in for my flight to Pulkovo airport, and the line was moving very slowly. By the time I got to the front, I had had it. I asked the woman at the ticket counter: "Can I please check my backpack as well as my suitcase?" "Let's weigh it," she replied. And then: "Looks like you're overweight."
Never mind, I thought, I'll just keep carrying the backpack. But no -- now that she knew how much it weighed, I had to pay whether I checked it or not.
"How much?" I asked.
"Depends. 1000 rubles if you need a receipt. If you don't need a receipt, just put 500 rubles in your passport, and hand it to me."
I'll admit it. At the time, I was thrilled. Never had I had a bribe openly solicited like this, and for the mere cost of 500 rubles (about 20 bucks at the time), I would have a story to dine out on.
Only later, on the plane, did I think about the fact that with no "receipt," I also didn't have a baggage claim tag. But it was Orthodox Easter the day I was flying, and no one at the Pulkovo airport was interested in whether I was stealing the suitcase and backpack I picked up at the carousel. I grabbed my two bags and went off with my friends to celebrate the holiday.
So... a Russian airport corruption story to match the Ukrainian airport story. If it weren't so late I would have a great one to add about a train trip from St. Petersburg to Vilnius and an 18-year-old Latvian border guard back in 1999... But that is for another day.
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