This story is now a legend. A German tourist, after seeing all the sights of Kyiv, decided to buy a souvenir. He must have been most impressed by the legend of St. Andrew the First Called, because he began hunting for a figurine of the saint at gift shops and vendor stands. His amazement knew no bounds when he discovered that no such figurine was available. Moreover, some salesclerks and vendors didn’t know a thing about St. Andrew.
Something like this could very well happen during the Eurovision contest in Kyiv, and some of the 50,000 expected guests will have to make do with Russian matryoshkas or, at the most, with a concoction of two pine twigs known as the traditional oberih (talisman for protecting homes). In Ukraine, the tourist business has somehow never gone hand in hand with souvenirs. Meanwhile, statistics show that every tenth tourist dollar is earned from souvenirs. Venice, for example, makes $12 million a year from the sale of souvenirs; Istanbul, $9.5 million, and Hamburg, $5.8 million. Proceeding from souvenir sales, experts compute the so-called comeback ratio; the higher the souvenir revenues, the better the chances that every second tourist will visit the city again. Decorative plates, cups, and T-shirts are a comparatively inexpensive advertising technique. After buying a souvenir, a tourist will show it to his friends at home and some will want to visit Ukraine. Here is food for thought, especially considering that the Ukrainian budget allocates a mere UAH 13 million for tourist advertising, which is 28 times less than in Turkey.
According to the State Tourism Administration, data on Ukraine’s tourism capacities have just been compiled. Therefore, the scope, profitability, and other souvenir market indices are anyone’s guess. Last year, the organizers of a souvenir exhibit held in Lviv made an unpleasant discovery: people in Ukraine only have a vague idea of souvenirs. “No one’s against folk crafts,” says Volodymyr Tsaruk, head of the STA press service, “but international standards are entirely different. A product must be launched into serial production, sell at between 1 and 3 euros, and serve as a memento of a given country or city. In other words, it can be a cup, a trinket, a leaflet, or a bookmark. People who are willing to pay more than 3 euros need an assortment of handicrafts. But there is one important condition: they have to be authentic, quality products.”
In Ukraine, the exact opposite is true. There are practically no handicrafts on sale, and true artisans either specialize in custom- made products or sell their works well away from the beaten tourist path. Lately, gift shops have been vanishing from central Kyiv for one reason or another. Craftsmen were especially pained by the disappearance of a very popular shop on Tolstoy Square. The shop is still there, but it now sells winter clothing and footwear. All attempts to convince the municipal authorities that souvenirs should be sold in places frequented by tourists have proved futile. Some souvenir traders had to close; others have moved to the Left Bank or are selling their wares in supermarkets. In the latter case the problem is not that tourists won’t feel like buying sausage plus souvenirs. According to Serhiy Lytvyn, the CEO of SPD Lytvyn (decorative ceramics and wickerwork furniture, wholesale and retail), a souvenir trader can’t afford a monthly rent of $30-50 per square meter. Adding this cost to the price would mean surpassing all European price criteria. Who’s going to pay 10-30 dollars for a trinket?
In the absence of an adequate market, businesspeople are in no hurry to finance craftsmen. Whereas in Russia experienced managers have long busied themselves promoting Gzhel porcelain and ceramics and Palekh painted lacquer ware as that country’s calling cards, in Ukraine artisans are left to the mercy of fate. Unlike Russia, Ukrainian folk craft businesses are not exempted from the land tax and VAT.
In fact, contrary to the law that the state must provide artisans with tax concessions, the Tax Code of Ukraine has no such clause. So brands like Reshetylivka embroidered runners and Krolevets ceramics have all but disappeared. The decorative weaving factory in Kolomyia is still operational only thanks to the Ukrainian Diaspora in Canada and the United States. The situation in Kyiv doesn’t look much more optimistic. Souvenir Factory old-timers recall that they had a hard time meeting commissions in early 1990, when there were lines of delivery trucks waiting their turn at the factory gates. Today the place is quiet, with 70 persons left on the payroll out of 14,000, and even they often have no work to do.
Ukrainian souvenir traders are waiting for commissions now that their products are increasingly in demand, as tourists continue to visit Ukraine. Every year between 300 and 400 thousand foreigners buy souvenirs in Kyiv alone. As a rule, tour guides direct them to Andriyivsky Uzviz. The Kyiv authorities made up their mind to clean the place of Chinese and traditional Russian merchandise only recently, with the Eurovision Song Contest looming.
This contest will be a test of sorts for the Ukrainian souvenir business. So far the situation is somewhat alarming. A recent preview exhibit of souvenirs meant for Eurovision featured ordinary stuffed elephants and tigers alongside souvenir cups, T-shirts, and Ukrainian pysanky (Easter eggs). In a word, tour guides and hotel personnel are the only hope. One of the most prestigious hotels in Kyiv recently placed a warning on its Web site: “Dear Guests of Kyiv, think twice before buying matryoshkas and balalaikas as Ukrainian souvenirs.”
