Shopping in Ukraine - Part 3: Thrifting!

Hello, and happy New Year to those who are reading this blog at the time of publication! This is the third and final installment of my mini-series on shopping in Ukraine. If you haven't yet seen the first two blogs in this series, go back and check out Part 1 to learn about the intricacies of grocery shopping in Ukraine, and Part 2 for an adventure to the town bazaar.

And now, for the finale - we're going thrifting!

(I definitely just took 5 mins away from writing this so I could rock out to Macklemore. Content note - this video has hella cuss words)


There are thrift shops EVERYWHERE in my city, and the holiday season's festivities have afforded me an excellent occasion to check them out: tomorrow I'm bound for a 1920's speakeasy-themed swing dancing party in Kyiv for New Year's. Time to pop some tags (figuratively... clothes in thrift shops here don't have price tags. Read on to find out).

From the time I left the landing of my apartment, it took me exactly 2 minutes and 56 seconds to walk to the nearest thrift shop (including the 6 flights of stairs I had to descend to leave my building).

The name of this shop: Planet Second Hand. The phrase "second hand" is not actually translated into Ukrainian; people use an approximation of the English phrase, written in Cyrillic characters. Go ahead and try saying "second hand" to yourself right now in a really strong Ukrainian accent. Give it a go. Now you know how to say "second hand" in Ukrainian :-P

This particular shop was small and mostly full of sad, musty things. I took one turn around the shop and then journeyed 8 minutes and 47 seconds on to the next one. I was twice almost run over by cars blowing through the crosswalks, because that's just how people drive here.

What's better than thrifting? Coffee and thrifting! This coffee-mobile is almost always parked out here.

Euro Second-Hand is probably the most common thrift chain I have seen in my city, and it does tend to be decent. In Ukraine, "Euro-" is often used as a descriptor or prefix to mean "good" or "the best". For example, it is common to see the phrase "Euro-remont" (Euro-renovation) to describe nicely renovated apartments. So, European second-hand stuff is ostensibly the best second-hand stuff.

Now for an interesting tidbit about thrifting in Ukraine: note the words below the shop name on the sign above. "Одяг на вагу" (odyah na vahy) means "clothing by weight". Second-hand clothes are sold by the kilogram! Hence, no price tags to pop. Instead, there is a scale at the register, and they weigh whatever mound of stuff you have managed to rummage up.

Euro Second-Hand did not yield my needed 1920's dress, but as things tend to go when thrifting, I found a dress I absolutely wasn't looking for, and decided I must have it.

This lucky find cost 22 hryvnia, or slightly less than a dollar. 

On to the next shop - exactly 27 seconds away, because it is in the same building.

See where the red signage turns to yellow signage? That marks the boundary between the two thrift shops that share this building.

Another thing to know about thrifting in Ukraine: each store has its own inventory day. That's the day when they receive a new shipment of clothing.

This shop gets in new clothes щоп'ятниці - every Friday - and wants to make sure you are aware of the fact!

On the sign below, from yet another thrift shop, you can see that the inventory day is Четвер (Chetver) - Thursday. On the morning of inventory day, it is not uncommon to see a crowd of people gathered at the doors of the shop, waiting for it to open.

The per-kilogram price for clothing is highest on inventory day, because that's when all the good stuff is in stock. As everything gets picked over, the price drops. For example, in this shop, clothes cost 215 hryvnia per kilo on Thursday, 182 on Friday, and by the time the next Wednesday rolls around and only the stuff that nobody wants is left over, the price has plummeted to 19 hryvnia per kilo. Some shops also sort out the highest-quality items and put them on a "luxe" rack, which follows the same pricing system but at a higher cost.

My strategy when thrifting is usually to go a day or two after inventory day, so that I am not jostled and elbowed about by a crowd of eager shoppers, but can still get some good items before everything is bought up. Anyway, my third thrift shop of the hour still did not yield my sought-after 1920s dress, so I carried on to the next, which would have been 2 minutes and 17 seconds away had it not recently relocated.

Yes, another Euro Second-Hand. This old location is about 2 minutes away from the first Euro Second-Hand, while the new location is maybe 3 minutes away. 

Upon seeing the "we've moved" sign, I ended up backtracking and winding my way through the bazaar, in case a flapper-esque dress awaited me there, but after seeing how many vendors were smoking cigarettes right next to the clothes they were selling, I decided to hustle on out of there and on to the next thrift shop. Bazaar detour included, I was in a fourth thrift shop within 10 minutes.

It is not unusual for thrift shops to be located on the second floor of whatever building they are in. To get to this one, I had to walk through a cell phone store and follow the many signs informing me to take the stairs to the second-hand shop. The former location of this shop was similarly situated, although with an outdoor staircase that bypassed the need to walk through whatever other shop the thrift shop is on top of.

Thrift shop number four had some promising dresses that came close to what I was looking for, but not quite. I instead bought yet another dress I wasn't looking for, at a price 34 hryvnia, or about the cost of a latte. 1 hour, four shops, and two unintentional purchases in, I decided that that was enough thrifting for today, and I eventually found the sort of dress I was looking for at the mall. So, thrifting fail today - but I know Macklemore is on to something, because most of the compliments I get from locals about my clothes are on things I got at a local thrift shop. And next time the thrifting bug strikes, there are still at least half-a-dozen little thrift shops I have yet to check out.

(as usual... this blog reflects my views only, and is not indicative of the views or policies of Peace Corps, the US, or Ukraine).

Shopping in Ukraine - Part 2: Saturday at the Bazaar

"Miss, why are you taking photos? What for?"
"Oh, sorry, I'm just writing a blog about my life in Ukraine. I want to write about the bazaar".
"You need to ask the shop owners if you can do that".

This conversation (albeit in Ukrainian) took place within about a minute of me deciding to hop in to the bazaar and start working on content for this blog. I had been struck by a display of bright, lacy bras. It was something about the way these intimate items, often sold with an air of forbiddenness in the US, or at least in a designated "women's department", were just casually hanging up like any other products, next to a bunch of Crocs and winter boots. I liked the way the bright colors and the lace contrasted with the grey Soviet-era architecture in the background. I asked the shopkeeper if she wanted me to delete the photo I had just taken, but she said I could keep it.  

When I take pictures in public places, I try to be conscientious about not capturing people in an identifiable way. Unless they know I am photographing them, I try to wait until they are out of the frame, distant, or have their face turned away. I get some funny looks when I'm taking pictures like the ones in my last blog, of shopping malls and food kiosks and the like, but today was the first time somebody challenged me about it. I decided to follow the woman's suggestion, and proceeded to ask people's permission to photograph their shops and products in the bazaar. Honestly, that's probably the best way to go about this kind of thing anyhow. The response was most often a terse "no", although a couple people skeptically agreed. Documenting day-to-day life is hard, because life involves people (and while we're on the topic, here are some interesting thoughts from BBC Travel and ChickyBus on the ethics of human subjects in travel photography).

The bazaar reminded me that suspicion runs deep in Ukraine. Anything out of the ordinary is pretty quickly squashed here (or at least given a condemning glare), especially in public areas. I know this, and yet was still caught off guard today. In the markets and bazaars I've visited in Peru, Mexico, and even in Iran (a place not particularly friendly to Americans with cameras), people didn't bat an eye as I photographed little bags of local chocolate or colorful arrangements of spices. But in Ukraine, things are different, and this is perhaps even more interesting given that so many Ukrainians love to take and to be in pictures. Nearly every event here has a photo backdrop set up, and even those events without such a backdrop are reliably followed by painstaking group photo sessions. Ukrainians take selfies more often than any other people I know, frequently lining up and waiting their turn at popular areas like fountains or Christmas light displays to have their photo taken or snap a selfie. There's even a coffee shop near my apartment named "Selfie Coffee".

I was too lazy to put on pants and walk the one block to Selfie Coffee, so here's a picture I nabbed from Foursquare 

But going to the bazaar is a bit like going back in time (and of course, a stranger taking pictures in the bazaar is different than locals taking selfies in the mall). The demographics in the bazaar are definitely not the same as the demographics in a mall like Lubava or a coffee shop like Selfie, and the culture is different as well. I can photograph in Silpo all I want, but the bazaar operates under different social norms - norms that I surmise may to some degree be held over from the Soviet Union.

The truth is, I don't go to the bazaar often. It intimidates me - all the crammed outdoor paths bursting with everything from bras to dog food, the shop sellers making their pitches to me in Russian and Surzhyk if I linger or glance their way, the handwritten signs that are sometimes hard to read. But even though I got off to a bit of a rough start today, I'm glad I went. And while the initial standoffishness was disappointing at first, once I put my iPhone away and decided to focus on a bit of shopping, people warmed up a good bit.

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The central bazaar in my city is divided into an indoor and an outdoor section. Outside, you can find hats, gloves, shoes, clothes, backpacks, and any number of things. Some shops are simply set up on the pathways, while others are in aisles covered by a tent-like roof.

Sneak peek for the next shopping blog - can you spy the second-hand shop in the background?

On the sidewalks adjacent to the bazaar, individuals can be seen simply selling their wares on the sidewalk. They do this outside of grocery stores, too. These vendors are often elderly women, although today I also saw a man selling giant silvery fish out of blue plastic shopping bags. I didn't get a photo, as there were too many people eagerly stooping down to inspect and pick out a fresh fish for themselves. He seemed to have a lot of customers.

Ladies selling produce and little hand-brooms outside of the bazaar

The indoor portion of the bazaar is housed in a giant, round building. It is where the food is sold, and has a certain magic to it. A ring of counters forms a central circle where women in shawls and headscarves chat and laugh with each other as they slice fresh white cheese and encourage passers-by to take a sample. Plastic bottles of milk and whey line the countertops, shining silver scales hanging above them for vendors to weigh out products for customers. As I was looking around and taking this all in, a couple of ladies beckoned me over, inviting me to buy milk. When I explained I needed sour cream, they gestured to a mixing bowl on the counter. "Try it!". I looked skeptically at the plastic spoon sitting in the open bowl of sour cream, thinking "that's a health hazard if I ever saw one". But they eventually won me over, and carefully explained the logistics of exactly how I would sample the sour cream: I had to make a fist, such that the back up my hand was flat and facing upward. They used the spoon to drop a dollop of sour cream on my hand, and then, well, I stood there in the middle of the market and licked sour cream off the back of my hand. I walked away with 200 grams of the stuff in a plastic bag.

The other option was to use a plastic cup like you see at water coolers

The next circle is formed by a ring of butchers, cleaving and slicing and arranging more cuts of meat than I knew existed, all shades of red and pink and the deep purply color of organs. Luckily for me, some of these folks agreed to let me take pictures.

One of my favorite "discoveries" at the bazaar was the spice seller, since the selection of spices at the grocery stores isn't very good. The sign at his booth proclaims "SPICES FROM UZBEKISTAN", right next to a booth similarly proclaiming "DRIED FRUITS FROM KYRGYZSTAN".

I stared greedily at the spices, of course because they are wonderful to photograph, and quickly a tall, lean man with several gold teeth came and inquired what I was looking for. I tried to communicate that I was just looking and wanted him to tell me what the spices were, since they weren't labeled and I don't know the names in Ukrainian or Russian. He pointed to some elaborate mixes, explaining that one was for meat, another for shashlyk (like kabob), another for chicken, etc. When I explained I'm vegetarian and asked what spices might be good with vegetables, he simply grabbed a little plastic container and began scooping various spices into it.

"Is spicy okay for you?"
"Yep!"

And hence a red powder ended up in my little container.

"What's this purple stuff?"
He told me what it was and added it to my little container of spices. I have since forgotten what the heck it is.

He handed me the container of spices that I hadn't exactly asked for and instructed me to mix it when I got home. Hence, I now have 40 hryvnias' worth of unidentified but beautiful spices. I know that one of them is saffron, and one of them is something purple.

I rounded out my shopping with some mushrooms and some manadarins; the fruit seller let me talk her into allowing a photo of some of the produce.

I emerged from the bazaar with a renewed appreciation for how different Ukraine is from the US, and for the fact that just because I have established some routines and am comfortable in a handful of now-familiar places here, there is still a lot I do not know. Today reminded that I am in a foreign country, and as I walked back home I took a bit more note of my surroundings: the food kiosk that sells nothing but eggs; the woman distributing scraps of red meat to a pack of surprisingly patient stray dogs; the old men with their newsboy caps, canes, and cigarettes. Much of Ukraine feels like what I had thought was a bygone era.

And then I crossed another street, the sun finally peaked through the clouds, and the shiny, modern McDonald's with a long line of cars waiting in the drive-thru reminded me that I am in the 21st century. The old women sitting just out front, selling flowers and trinkets along the low stone walls, reminded me that I am in Ukraine.

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***necessary schpeel explaining that my blog reflects my views only, and not the views of the Peace Corps, the US government, or the government of Ukraine. 

It's That Time of Year! Shopping in Ukraine - Part 1: Groceries

Hello, friends and family!

The snow is falling, the wreaths and garlands are up in the malls and in the coffee shops, and classic American Christmas songs can be heard playing on the radio even in this faraway Eastern European country. In other words - it is shopping season. I mean Christmas season.

In truth, the reason I have decided to write about shopping is neither the need to buy Christmas presents nor the preponderance of Black Friday sales (yes, Black Friday is a thing in Ukraine. The private sector seems to be the fastest-moving as far as social and cultural change).

Rather, the inspiration for a shopping blog is the fact that I have finally moved into my own apartment! It is time to fill up my noisy Soviet-era refrigerator, and get my own dishes so I can cook proper meals like an adult - or at least eat my instant ramen out of a bowl instead of a dented Starbucks to-go mug.

Since shopping is quite a big topic, I've decided to embark on a short series of blogs on the matter. Today, we tackle groceries. In forthcoming installations, we will take a trip to the bazaar, and also delve into the fascinating world of Ukrainian second-hand stores. But for now, let's get back to stocking up my Soviet-era fridge.

Grocery Stores in Ukraine
I have discerned three main categories of places for buying food: The bazaar, street kiosks, and the most familiar to Americans: grocery store chains.

Ukraine does have large grocery stores that would feel familiar to most Americans. There are aisles, produce and bakery sections, and signs hanging from the ceiling just like in any Safeway or Kroger.

Inside Silpo, one of Ukraine's largest grocery chains

However, unlike in the US, these grocery stores are often located in shopping malls... meaning that you occasionally get pestered by people handing out perfume samples when you're really just on your way to get eggs and milk.

The entrance to Silpo inside the Lubava Shopping Center

There are several other key differences between American grocery stores and Ukrainian ones. Firstly - you weigh your own fruits, veggies, and bulk goods. Even just this morning, I forgot to do this, and was embarrassed at the register when the cashier asked me why I hadn't weighed my bananas. I had to dash back to the produce section, bag them up, weigh them, get a price sticker, and then dash back while people waited in line for the absent-minded American who didn't weigh her bananas.

This process can be pretty intimidating for foreigners, because to weigh and price your item, you have to be able to type in the name of the product in Ukrainian (and there will always be people watching and waiting for their turn as you do this).

Bagging up some beans from the bulk goods section

Weighing and pricing some lentils. Note the pad to the right - this is where people abandon stickers when they have made a mistake. Accidentally select "green lentils" instead of "red lentils"? It happens. Add your sticker to the Board of Shame and try again. 

Another key difference in Ukrainian grocery stores is the fact that cookies, crackers, and candies are also sold in bulk (and yes, you have to weigh those, too). Getting your price sticker for these products is much harder than for produce, because the item names are less obvious and much more complicated. I used to be embarrassed about how much I struggled with this, but then I ran into some local ladies who also couldn't figure out what the heck a particular caramel candy was named, and we had to team up and figure it out between the three of us. Item names are written on the price stickers, but it can take a bit of detective work to figure out which stickers correspond to which items. Sometimes you're lucky, and you can also use a product identification number. 

Google Translate is not going to help you here...

I'm amazed at how much discipline people must have - the cookies are just... right there... 

Bulk candies. These are usually the items with the most complicated names. 

Fortunately for shoppers, one of the other differences I have noticed in Ukrainian grocery stores does a lot to free up your hands while you are shopping. Virtually all Ukrainian grocery stores, and some other shops as well, have good-sized lockers where you can store your things while you shop. This is very handy if I swing by the store on my way home from work, and don't want to carry my heavy laptop bag around. It also helps stores prevent shoplifting. These lockers are one of the things I have seen in Ukraine that I really wish we had back in the United States! 

The lockers in Silpo. I've also seen fancy ones in Delikat, with electronic codes instead of keys. 

Hitting the Streets: Food Kiosks

A phenomenon that is perhaps less familiar to Americans but absolutely ubiquitous in Ukraine is the food kiosk. These little buildings line most blocks of city streets, especially near bus stops, and you make your purchases through a little window. Some of them have a general selection not unlike gas station snack shops - they stock water bottles, candy bars, chips, and the like. However, there are also many specialized food kiosks based on product group. When I arrived in Chernihiv for Pre-Service Training, for example, I noticed little kiosks everywhere that said "Свіжий Хліб" (Fresh Bread). 

I didn't take any pictures of the bread kiosks in Chernihiv, so here's a picture of one from Lutsk. This bread kiosk made the news when the local government decided it would close the handful of food kiosks at one of the bus stops. 

Kiosks are all over the place in my city. Some sell dairy products, while others specialize in sausage and meats. One popular chain all over Ukraine is Формула Смаку ("Formula of Flavor"). In fact, there's a Formula Smaky right next to my apartment. They are all this signature yellow:

One of the most ubiquitous varieties of food kiosk is the shawarma and hot dog kiosk. Don't ask why shawarma and hot dogs go together in Ukraine - they just do. But my favorite kiosks are the ones that have soft-serve ice cream :-) 

La'Spacho. This is somebody else's picture (thanks Google), but it's the same spot I hit at least a few times a week in the warmer months. It's all about that chocolate-vanilla swirl on a cone. Pic courtesy of this City Destination Guide

Apart from grocery stores and food kiosks, one of the main places to buy food in Ukraine is the local bazaar. In fact, one can find just about everything at the bazaar - from fresh produce and fancy pickles, to jeans and lingerie, and even plastic flowers for decorating the graves of loved ones. For that reason, I'm going to hold off on writing about the bazaar for right now - but stay tuned! I shall venture to the bazaar again soon, and next time I'll document the adventure.

*** remember - this blog is my opinion only, and does not reflect the position of Peace Corps, the US government, or the government of Ukraine. But y'all already knew that ;-)