Carpetblogger

We Watch Sports

As many of you know, Carpetblog is an American-run operation. A female American-run operation. That means that our interest in almost all kinds of sport is surpassed only by our interest in, say, derivatives. Our interest in football is even more intense.

We've heard the arguments in favor of football and none are very compelling. Some have compared football to religion, which, while accurate, does nothing to enhance our appreciation for it. Lots of things are wildly popular while at the same time being screamingly boring.

Under intense pressure, and having not one better option on a Wednesday night, we succumbed and went to a bar, and not just to do what we normally do at bars. We went with the specific intent of watching Turkey play Germany in the 2008 Euro cup. If you want to understand how Turkey got there and what the achievement represents, there are plenty of other blogs that can explain it for you.

Because Americans view soccer/football as a game played by no one older than age 11, this is something of a watershed. Not that we've never watched a soccer game before -- alert readers will remember our monumental photographic achievements following in some aspect of the 2006 World Cup which involved Ukraine. We watched at least seven minutes of that game and joined the crowd celebrating on Maidan afterwards. We kept our shirt on, however.

 
It's true that there weren't as many boobies on display afterwards this time, and not just because the Turks lost. Unlike Ukies, Turkish women rarely take their clothes off in public.

We're not sure we can accurately characterize nature of the Turkey/Germany rivalry for Americans. It's sort of as if America played Mexico in some sport that we can't think of, with all the racism and divided loyalties it would inspire. As happens in a lot of countries, football exacerbates a particularly virulent strain of testosterone-driven nationalism here that needs little encouragement, even on ordinary days. People --particularly those with penises -- were pretty much out of their heads. Walking down Istiklal was like entering Magandalarstan!

The bar scene was grim. There were a lot of people actually watching the game, which we did not anticipate. No one wanted to chat. And they all devoted a lot of energy getting very excited about things that almost happened during the game, which is apparently very common when people watch football matches.

Don't misinterpret. We totally were rooting for the Turks. Anytime Turks want to wreak havoc in Vienna, Carpetblog is behind them. But really, our primary motivation for watching was seeing Turkey win, and hoping Russia would win, so they would play each other and we could root against Russia.

Lament of the Crapistan Expat

While I write a review of my new most favoritest restaurant in Istanbul, read about poor Mind The Gap's grilled cheese experience.

Then, when you read about my most favoritest new restaurant, Istanbul will shine even brighter and remind you why you never want to live in the FSU.

We Miss Him, Too

BLIN KLINTON blini stand on Shota Rustavelli, Kyiv

What The Hell Do They Mean By That?

Right before I left Kyiv in January of this year, I started a blog feature called "They Don't Really Mean it That Way, Do They?" In it, I plumbed the depths of the Ukrainian psyche and concluded that yes, when a semi-pro basketball team in Cherkassy is named the Monkeys, they really do mean it that way. At least for that one post. Then I moved to Istanbul and found I didn't have to spend as much energy figuring out subtexts.

It's hard being a foreigner, especially one without many language skills. When you come across things on the street, it can be really hard to know what the point is, even if its something rather mundane like a shop window or advertising (actually, especially if it's something mundane like a shop window or advertising). It's more than just language differences. It's also not understanding the visual cues and cultural contexts that help natives easily understand what is being communicated. To interpret and understand, I have to purge my mind of my western biases and preconceptions and think like a post-communist.

Here are a few things I've seen around town lately. I have sat and thought and thought about them, binging and purging my western biases and preconceptions and thinking so hard like a post-communist my hair turned CIS red. And still I say "WTF?"

This an ad for an Italian historical brand. Called "FACIS." Since 1932. I have a really hard time believing that there is an actual Italian luxury brand called FACIS created in 1932 (the brand I'm more familiar with appeared a decade earlier and is not quite as luxe). Google did not confirm the existence of this brand. If it is a some Ukie/Russian creation, I need to know who thought this name was a good idea. What are they trying to communicate? What am I missing?

Here's my favorite shop window. So little has changed in Kyiv over the last nine months that I was really relieved to see that at least something had been updated, even improved.

 

                     September '07                                                                                     December '06

Was the only infant mannequin they could find a black one? Why the identical expression of surprise on the young girl's face in both? Why the addition of the  poster to the background of the current iteration? Why? Why? Why?

Apparently, they do have a white infant mannequin. They used it in this equally inexplicable window display adjacent to the one above.

This one has a teddy bear, a deformed infant and a poster displaying what appears to be lingerie for eight year olds. I can't even try to interpret this.

In this picture, I know exactly what is going on. The girl with the white puffy things in her hair and the red and white striped shirt was our devushka at TGI Fridays, one of the worst restaurants in Kyiv. It does look like she is sitting down chatting with a customer at the next table, doesn't it? Oddly, that's exactly what she's doing! Just because you understand what's going on doesn't mean it makes any sense.

Finally, I saw this one right below the Pinchuk Art Center and in front of the Bentley dealership. I have no idea what's going on. That guy lying on the sidewalk is working -- he's not passed out or dead. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference around here.

Deuvushka Blogger Shout-Out

Three noted devushka bloggers -- Carpetblogger, Little Miss Moi and Mind the Gap (who wore her devuskha heels) -- met for mojitos last night at Decadence House, one of the most oligarch-tastic joints in town. The mojitos were top-notch, but did we need that many? Of course we did.

As I've said before, it's odd to sit and talk to people you've never met before but who  already know all your stories. Information was shared about the unreliability of masters, devushkas and husbands, humiliations suffered at the gym and in language classes, the pros and cons of locally produced champagnes and gossip about other bloggers we don't actually know.

Of course, we poured one out for our missing homie, Enidd.

Four Restaurants in Kyiv That Are Not Awful

The Producer says that Carpetblog has been so boring lately because I like Istanbul too much and am less bitter than I was in Baku and Kyiv. So the solution must be to send me back to Kyiv, right?

But now, here I go, about to say nice things about Kyiv in a post. I think this might be because I haven't figured out a way yet to re-articulate all the things that make me insane about the FSU in general and Ukraine in specific. I am out of practice. No worries. It will come back.

Anyhoo, this post does what no post on Carpetblog has ever done (except once. Well, OK, twice): speak favorably about a dining experience in Kyiv. What the hell is wrong with me?

When my local bitches told me they had discovered new restaurants since I left, I was skeptical. "They've been here too long," I sniffed.

But they are right about Etno, a new place on Pushkinska. Its African theme is a bit over-designed (I was disappointed to see that no retrograde Ukrainian attitudes toward race and ethnicity had manifested themselves in the decor) but the food was NOT AWFUL. Try the duck with pears and the warm goat cheese salad. The menu is also limited, which means a). some attention to quality (ha! That's hilarious) and b). no sushi.

Another good one: Vernissage. Apparently, though, it's not new. It's been on Adrivskiy Uzviz for years, which probably explains why we never knew it was there. Who goes to the Uzviz looking for a decent meal? Anyway, it's owned by a French guy and he watches those waiters like a hawk. It's small, cozy and charmingly decorated with offbeat art on the walls. It feels like a real French cafe. People who like steaks swear it's the best, most reliable steak in town. They also swear by its Thai soup, which is an odd  item at a French restaurant in Kyiv, but at least there's no sushi.

I've never given a shout-out to Himalaya Indian restaurant across from the Tsum, even though I ate lunch there once or twice a week for a year. It's not the best Indian food in the world but it's pretty good for Kyiv (it is run by a Pakistani, I think) and much better than anything in Istanbul. We liked it because it was one of the few restaurants in Kyiv that understood that some people needed to get in and out in an hour at lunch, but those people were not us. Not only did the devushkas recognize me, they honored my long-gone discount card without me even having to ask! Himalaya, you rock! And no sushi!

Finally, I would like to bestow the "Best Waitress in Kyiv" award. She works at BelleVue, part of a small chain of Belgian-style restaurants with good beer, OK but overpriced food and predictably bad service (in an effort to treat the symptoms but not cure the disease, tables have bells on them). We walked in the other day and she said "Welcome!" Then she said she'd bring a menu, WHICH SHE DID. She asked if we wanted beer, which we did, and she brought it RIGHT AWAY.  Our food was OK as usual but she frequently checked back to see if we wanted more beer. Unfortunately, she left before we were able to tip her generously, but I have been back several times since. She greeted me every time!

Don't get used to this.

It's September in Kyiv

And it's getting cooler. That means the skirts don't get longer but the boots get taller. If you're not familiar with the principles of devushka fashion, you'd better read up first.

We're in a shoulder season here in Kyiv. It's still too warm for cropped puffy jackets and pink fake rabbit fur, and black wool coats trimmed with dog fur are still a month or two away. Stiletto sandals are out, but stiletto boots are in, in, in. Tampon-string skirts are never out of fashion, nor are camel toe jeans.  Be sure to accessorize liberally -- winter, spring, summer or fall -- with sequins, crystals, rhinestones, fishnets, brass studs and superfluous buckles!

Let's take a look at what's hot on the streets of Kyiv this season.

While her tampon string was not visible, the tops of her stockings were.

Admire the whole devushka package here: Mobilichka in use, black fake handbag, lots of ruches and boots that serve as both hosiery and footwear!

Those heels are pretty low.

As an experienced Devuska photographer, I never produce quality work when I position myself in prime territory and wait for them. I do my most creative work when I rip my camera out of my bag, dropping pens and receipts on the ground, in order to capture an iconic devushka as she clacks by, supported by the arm of a much less attractive friend. A smart devushka knows that when promenading on Khryshatik on Friday evening, an accessory more valuable than an animal print catsuit is a less attractive friend.

Alas, sometimes quality suffers for spontaneity

If knee-high white boots are wrong, I don't want to be right!

Alas nothing is more fleeting than youth.

Watch Out, Devushkas!

Carpetblogger is coming back to Kyiv for a stay of moderate length (three weeks!).

Shall I pack my ice-pick sandals or is it stiletto boot season yet? I bet pink cropped rabbit fur is already visible on Kryshatik on Saturday nights! Don't try talk me out of it.

On the agenda: Pork.

Watch out for the long-overdue post on Crazy Menus.

Happy New Year From Kyiv

Yay global warming! It was practically tropical on Maidan last night, the fireworks were impressive and being able to drink your appallingly bad Ukrainian champagne straight from the bottle out in the open is super convenient, but overall, New Years Eve in Kyiv failed to live up to my expectations.

I blame Boney M.

Why'd they bail on New Years on Maidan? Did they get a better offer opening for David Hasselhof in Hamburg? If you aren't European or a former Soviet, you might not be familiar with their catalog, but Rasputin has always been a big favorite of mine. You can just imagine our disappointment when the headliner was a Ukrainian hip hop band.

"What's that you say? No Boney M? New Years Eve is ruined!"

Others were disappointed because no girls took their shirts off.

New Years Lights In Kyiv

Snowsquare posted such nice photos of Moscow's New Years lights, that I thought I would reciprocate.

Keep in mind that not only is Christmas not celebrated on the 25th in this part of the world (the 7th is Orthodox Christmas), the Soviets didn't allow religious celebrations. New Years is traditionally the big civic celebration.

I remember last year getting into an argument with someone here or on some bulletin board about New Years Eve not being that big of a deal in Baku. This person argued that in other parts of the FSU, it's the biggest holiday of the year so it must be a big deal there as well. The guy was right --it is absolutely a big deal here.  But  New Years celebrations in Azerbaijan paled in comparison to those for Novruz and certainly were nothing like Kyiv's.

I have to say I'm pretty impressed with the effort that has gone into decorations. Colored lights exploded onto Khryshatik and Maidan today. They have sort of a midwestern metropolitan feel to them -- not so much Chicago as maybe Cleveland, or Indianapolis. I'm sure all those children overbundled against the rather balmy 40 degree night were shrieking "I can't put my arms down!" as they hustled from one Ded Moroz to the next.

It seemed for every child there was at least one Ded Moroz (Father Frost) on Maidan. Ded Moroz moves around with his Granddaughter, Snegurochka, the Snow Princess. Interestingly, back in 1991, when the Producer and I were buying used Christmas decorations from destitute Russians in Warsaw's stadium bazaar, we acquired paper mache figurines that I now recognize as Ded Moroz and Snegurochka. I would like to have them, but they are probably rotting in storage in Portland with everything else we own.

 

The Carpetdogs and I have been watching them assemble Maidan's New Years tree for the last week or so. Based on the heavy metal pole that serves as its stem, I assumed it was going be fake. But someone painstakingly stuck perfectly symmetrical fresh boughs into it, creating the perception of a fake tree that really is somewhat fresh. How clever is that?

The fireworks that accompanied the tree lighting tonight made me think the Russians had invaded. But then I remembered they're already here and didn't get off the couch to investigate further.

One thing I found fascinating was the painted panels surrounding the New Years Tree. They laid out in vivid detail a fairy tale that every Ukrainian five year old can probably recite by heart but was completely unfamiliar imagery to me. I was particularly intrigued by this one.

I've seen the beak and bird imagery a great deal in the polish posters I collect, but I never knew where the idea originated. I wonder if it comes from this story?

In the end though, New Years here isn't so unlike Christmas in America. Someone is going to get their New Years tree home and curse these guys who insisted, "of course it will fit in your stand!"