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Privacy and Personal Space

During the Soviet era, the unspoken idea was that if someone needed privacy they were hiding something. There were no phone books to locate those lucky enough to have phones installed, so these people were also lucky in having privacy. There are still no pages for residential numbers, while the waiting list for a new phone remains tremendous. The popularity of cellular phones is understandable, even if those who have them often sport them in obnoxious ways. (A sign outside Kyiv' s Studio Restaurant asks patrons to kindly turn off their phones before entering.) Now as in Soviet times, you need to keep track of your friends and their phone numbers – and addresses, for it seems as if people are always changing apartments here!

Dark and dingy entrances to apartment buildings are overwhelmingly the norm; this tends to discourage people from wandering where they aren't invited, but it isn't the reason. In the Soviet days there was often a babushka (an old woman who wears a babushka or scarf) posted near the elevator (the lift – say left – and pay attention to whether it breaks down often); her job was to watch the comings and goings of people in the building. Today no one stands guard, and hallway lights burn out (or are stolen) and are not replaced. Sometimes, in the hallways, you can't escape the smell of urine.

Front doors to apartments often hide a second door inside. The ones you'll see may be padded brown nawgahide and covered with buttons resembling a vertical mattress pad; others are wooden or steel. Most are uninviting. In noting down addresses, always ask your friends not only for their apartment and floor numbers, but also which building entrance to use, and whether there is a (working) front door code. Wandering in the dark can be creepy.

Another interesting phenomenon pertains, I can only surmise, to crowd control. Building entrances often have several sets of double doors. Naturally, in winter these should be closed to retain the heat. (Sometimes many windows are then opened because the heat is cranked too high and can't be adjusted.) But even at other times only one set of doors will be operable, and only one of the double doors will open. Traffic in both directions will thus use the same door. Even McDonald's on Kreshchatyk is guilty of this.

Metro stations stand apart with their separate entrance and exits; their heavy, dangerous swinging doors have been called "widow-makers”. Still, you rarely get the sense of people rushing to catch the metro, although there is shoving when standing in a line for something. Maybe this is because they know a very long escalator ride (or two) separates them from the next train. It's much harder to pass through the tight crowds of people with their shopping bags in tow.

The invasion of personal space seizes the attention of many foreigners. First, there is the practice of standing close in lines or standing a bit too close when speaking to you. Cutting in lines and even shoving in crowds, while never personal, is common. Moreover, no one would ever apologize for this. (If you happen to, they'll know right away that you are foreign, but they probably already know.) For those with claustrophobic tendencies, the Kyiv and Kharkiv metros can be a harrowing experience.