They got married four years ago, 62-year old Lviv resident Borys Buivol, Ph.D. in philosophy, and a 52-year old Swiss woman journalist. Susanna was stunned to find that her husband makes the equivalent of $50 a month, but the status of a married woman with a prestigious (in terms of education and social standing) spouse definitely costs much more.
Borys Opanasovych met the bride at the platform of the Lviv railway station. He was accompanied by a violinist playing Vivaldi. The would-be couple was treated to champagne right by the railroad car, a signal from the Ukrainian side saying — we are poor but noble. And the bride appreciated the European touch and grace of the first meeting. (The courtship passed in the exchange of letters). Susanna liked Lviv very much. Following the wedding ceremony in the city’s best restaurant, George, Susanna decided to move her furniture from Bern and started looking for a job. Much to her chagrin, no one in Lviv was going to offer her a decent salary (four to five thousand US dollars by Swiss standards). Susanna went berserk, slamming the doors and saying aloud what she thought of this crazy Ukraine. She reacted sharply to her husband’s efforts to soothe her, saying, “This is our private life and nobody else’s business.” Neighbors started to give Borys Opanasovych strange glances and the philosopher was left with no option but to expose his spouse to the realities of Ukrainian life. Since generally accepted arguments would not work, he put up two 40- year old local gentlemen to entertain Susanna. Meanwhile, he told Susanna about a Ukrainian tradition allowing husbands to enroll the sexual services of other men to keep their wives happy. “It’s a disgrace!,” Susanna lamented.
“This is much more serious than you think,” Borys Opanasovych tried to explain to his wife. “To talk the men into doing it, I had to give them two bottles of vodka plus snacks.”
This argument made Susanna think. Studying the mindset of the Swiss, Borys Opanasovych realized that a Swiss woman would rather part with a spouse than with money. When his wife recounted “the Ukrainian tradition” to her friends in Bern, they broke into applause, shouting “Hats off to the Ukrainians!”
“I did my best to explain the joke, but it was in vain,” Borys Opanasovych said unburdening himself to me. “The whole affair was taken quite seriously. We are slaves to our own stereotypes. At my age, it is so difficult to adapt to life in the West. Better to do it gradually. Typically, we spend a month and a half with my wife together, splitting for the rest of the year, with her living in Bern and me in Lviv.”
“You can hardly call this arrangement a family, can you? By Ukrainian standards, you might be called a gigolo.”
“Oh, no! On her part it is an investment in her own status, prestige, etc. For an emancipated Swiss woman it is so vital. Incidentally, the matrimonial culture of the Swiss is primarily Western oriented. Before Susanna married me, she undertook an in depth study of me, questioning my friends and acquaintances. Now she is proud of me, takes me to meet her friends and acquaintances, knowing that I can always rise to the occasion. Sometimes I joke, saying she spends on me as much as she does on her cat. Susanna took out a calculator and started to count her expenses. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you cost me fifty francs more.’ Thanks to Susanna, I have made wonderful trips in Europe. In exchange, I took her to Kyiv and Moscow. Being a person versed in culture, she was enraptured to visit museums and historical places. My marriage is a permanent race with myself. But for us Ukrainians, marriage is not so burdensome. Brought up under a totalitarian regime, we are accustomed to overcoming difficulties. The Swiss cannot relax as easily as we do. They have not lived through the war and are now exposed to an epidemic of mental depression against the backdrop of total material wealth. Women, for example, attend classes teaching correct breathing to overcome stress, mental discomfort, and depression. But in my view, correct breathing is when you are in love, I keep telling these poor emancipated women who are gradually painting themselves into a corner. But they don’t get the message. I have the impression that the Swiss do not socialize, they just exchange information. My wife is good to me, but this cannot replace love. At some point, I told my wife that I can do fine without Switzerland but I can never do without love. Lost in thought for a while, she finally came up with an advice for me to find a girlfriend in Ukraine.”
“Have you taken this advice?”
“I would be the last person to need it, he responded dropping his eyes. But what is a trifle in human intercourse for them turns out a mental to be crisis for us. After my trips to the West I began to respect myself. We’re no worse, we’re even better. And Ukrainian Marusias with their gorgeous borshch are pure gold. Now I understand why these battered Ukrainians have always been able to survive the hardships of war and misfortunes: above all due to the richness of their souls and to the knack of sharing the problems of others.”
“Still, for many Ukrainians marrying a foreigner is like winning the lottery.”
“That’s a gross misconception! One should not idealize the West. Once I ran into a group of young Ukrainian tourists in Bern. We all engaged in hugging at once, like family. The girls were surprised to learn that I do not live in Switzerland permanently, despite such beauty and high living standards. They flooded me with questions, asking how to marry a Swiss and if I could help. Instead, I started to talk them out of it, saying only one of my Ukrainian acquaintances believes she is happily married. Of course, no one is torturing her, but... One husband never gives flowers to his Ukrainian wife, another always nags that the pots are not in their proper places but a couple of centimeters away.
“To give her credit, she saved the day for herself saying to her husband, ‘Tell me this again and you’ll find the pot on your head.’ In my opinion, the Swiss live boring lives in their nature’s paradise. They make fun of seriously discussing the menu for each person a month in advance of the Christmas meal. Quite a problem! While on a visit to an old castle, we paid the equivalent of 450 hryvnias for three potato dishes in a local restaurant. I was mad, given such stupidity. Why not bake some potatoes at home, take a bottle of wine and picnic on drinks and food on the meadow in front of the castle? They eyed me as if I was from another planet.”
“Do you have any hard feelings?”
“No, because I am a philosopher, perceiving all misfortunes as adventures and viewing my matrimonial duties with irony: there’s no other way. ‘It’s awful,’ my wife often laments when I pick up the wrong knife at dinner. When I get fed up with the rituals, I go to the kitchen and fix myself a sandwich on a newspaper, explaining that this is the way we do it in Ukraine, that I’m homesick. Let me say it again, all my tricks are taken in earnest here, without a shade of humor. Susanna likes Ukrainian currant vodka and once in a cafe I took out a bottle that I brought from Ukraine and poured some into our teas. You should have seen what happened to her! She blushed and began to explain to those around us that I am from Ukraine and that ‘they have such a tradition.’ In winter I come to Switzerland sporting my rabbit hat on Susanna’s request. The Swiss get such a kick out of it! All my wife’s acquaintances have been photographed wearing it. They are so funny and reserved. It galvanizes them to see me prod my finger at a map, saying ‘Let’s go to this place, it must be interesting there.’ Being too conservative, they are unable to improvise. I even like to make fun of them. If I had an extra million I would throw in a party and make them dance and sing songs.”
“I don’t even know if I dare ask you if you are happily married.”
“Go ahead, I’ll be frank. In Switzerland, family links have been broken. My wife sees her 85- year old mother once in six months, although she lives 300 m away in a two-story home alone. When we visit my wife’s daughter who also owns a large home, we stay in a hotel. That’s what is so frightening. True, the average life span of a Swiss woman is 82 years, the highest in Europe. Could it be due to egoism? Meanwhile, happiness is measured here and there by the wonderful moments you’ve had. I feel happy when my wife drives at breakneck speed on a highway. I enjoy the mountains, with some old jazz played over the radio and both of us silent and deep in thought.”
