So far, December has been a remarkable month. In the decade or so that I have lived in or visited Ukraine I have never known a warmer December.

In November 2001, I arrived at the local airport in a fashionable cashmere overcoat, but within a few days I had bought a drab and inconspicuous, yet practical “dublenka,” a long sheepskin leather jacket lined with fur. And the excruciating pain in my ears – inadequately defended by a wool beanie – was relieved by the purchase of a “ushanka” (literally, an ear-hat): a leather garment thick with fur, but blessed with ear flaps that can be tied under the chin, or on the crown of the hat. If these garments had been grey in colour, rather than dark brown, I would have been indistinguishable from an average army recruit, and with bushier eyebrows I could have been mistaken for a young Leonid Brezhnev. When Gerald Ford wore a similar hat for a visit to the Soviet Union in 1974 it was taken a sign of détente, but in my case it was quite simply a sign of frostbitten ears.

The new outfit – yet to make its way to the catwalks of Paris or Milan – served to make me both inconspicuous to the local population, and to keep my vital organs functioning, albeit sub-optimally.

The air temperature that day in late November was -18 degree Celsius (a large gradusnik – the lovely colloquial Russian name for a thermometer – that stretched five stories in height on a Stalin-period building informed me) and by early December the mercury had receded to -25 degrees Celsius. Since then we have had several years (3 if I recall correctly) when December temperatures have dropped below that level, and nearly all the years have been below -10 degrees Celsius in December.

The natural consequence of this, of course, is that the locals wrap themselves up. Previously svelte forms of young women take on the plumpness of fattened geese destined for the Xmas table, and men assume the shape of Bibendum, colloquially known as the Michelin Man. Here, long-johns have never been either fashionable, or unfashionable, just simply necessary. Layer upon layer of cotton, felt, synthetics, and skin from every kind of animal – endangered or otherwise -are deployed in an attempt to keep the cold at bay. And for men, in particular, facial hair is trimmed.

The coldest I have experienced was about -35 degrees Celsius near to Lake Baikal in Central Siberia in 1980. Those in our party with moustaches and beards were preyed upon by the clean shaven, as the latter playfully tried to snap off frozen slivers of hair from the hirsute; air exhaled from nose and mouth froze facial hair within seconds. Bushy eyebrows were also prone to attack. Only later was I told that, in earlier decades, a Soviet with facial hair was a sign of the man’s status: he had access to good clothing and warm conditions in the depths of winter.

“Where is all this leading?” You may be asking.

Well, a consequence of the freezing conditions is that for months on end the only female legs a Ukrainian man might see are those of his beloved wife. So, this is, understandably, a difficult time for many men.

Not this year, however, with temperatures still hugging zero in the middle of December, withdrawal symptoms are still at bay and long, shapely legs – usually clad in stockings, but sometimes au naturel – are still sights on the city’s pavements.

In fact, according to my records – I’ve kept a record of the UWLI, “The Ukrainian Women’s Leg Index” (pronounced, “Yuli”) for nearly a decade (I know, sad but true) – no other year has provided a sighting so close to the end of the year. And during four particularly cold years I made no sightings at all in the month of December.

If I was a bird spotter (of a different kind), today’s pleasure would be like seeing a small flock of migrating birds blown off course by a freak weather event. Colourful but muted, they scuttle along the pavement briskly and with intent, for the temperature is still cold, stopping occasionally to gaze at a shoe shop or fashion shop, only to disappear moments later into the arms of an excited companion or those of a less excited manicurist.

It is a small pleasure at a grey time of year, but a welcome one. Please do not begrudge us this rare treat, faced, as we know we are, with months of concealment.

Three stories involving the Ukrainian military have caught my attention recently.

Less than a dozen of the diplomatic dispatches leaked by Wikileaks have mentioned Ukraine, but on the whole they make disturbing reading. The one bemusing note reveals that Muammar Gaddafi’s chief nurse is a young Ukrainian woman, described as, “A voluptuous blonde.”

The more serious claims are that Ukraine has been shipping weapons to Sudan which is on the US list of state sponsors of terror. Apparently, US diplomats showed their Ukrainian counterparts a copy of a contract that indicated the weapons were destined for Sudan. The Ukrainians responded that the shipments were sent to Kenya, questioned the authenticity of the contract and the paucity of evidence. When asked by the Ukrainians if the Americans had any better evidence, the American diplomats showed detailed satellite images of T-72 tanks being unloaded in Kenya, being put onto trains and transported across the border into Sudan. According to the dispatch issued by Wikileaks, “This led to a commotion on the Ukrainian side.”

Secondly, the newswires are buzzing with reports that Ukrainian pilots are flying the MiG flight jets that bombed demonstrators in Libya, and they are also piloting the Antonov aircraft which ferry military supplies around the country. The reports are denied by Ukrainian diplomats, but Today newspaper (www.segodnya.ua) claimed that the pilots – some of whom hold senior positions in the Libyan military – receive $2000-$8000 per month. Such claims are echoes of those heard before. In the 2008 spat between Russia and Georgia it was claimed that Ukrainian gunners shot down Russian aircraft on behalf of Georgia. And a decade ago, in 2001, it was claimed that Ukrainian helicopter gunship pilots attacked Albanian rebels for the Macedonian government.

Finally, what caught my eye is that a lucky few can buy their own ex-Ukrainian air force MiG aircraft and strafe their local community at will. Reading the “For Sale” ads, you might come across a MiG-29 described as “Low mileage, one careful pilot, some pock-marks on bodywork, priced to sell at $6 million, must be speed junky with head for heights.” The MiG-29 is not for the weak-hearted and can achieve speeds of twice the speed of sound and can climb at 45,000 feet per minute. Earlier in the year, John Sessions, a private US citizen did just that: he took delivery after paying cash for the aircraft, and beating several national governments to the deal.*

None of this really comes as a surprise when you’re aware of the absorbing history of Ukrainian involvement in aircraft innovation and the story of intrepid Ukrainian pilots.

Less than four years after the Wright brothers made the world’s first flight in 1903, Ukrainians were developing state of the art aircraft. They are credited with hundreds of innovations, including being fathers of the strategy of aerial combat, being the first to control aircraft spin, being instrumental in parachute design and starting airmail services. And, all importantly, for putting a toilet on board an aircraft as early as 1914. Remember, at that time, even cars were few and far between.

You probably know Ukraine as the home of Sikorsky helicopters – he built the world’s first all metal aircraft – or Antonov aircraft – they built the world’s largest aircraft – but there is much more to the story than that. For more information, you can read an excerpt from the chapter “Whirlybirds and Witches” at http://amongtheukrainians.co.uk/whirlybirds-and-witches/ and, of course, you can get the full story in Among the Ukrainians.

* http://heraldnet.com/article/20110206/NEWS01/702069910/1059/COMM0618

Driving through the nondescript industrial city of Zaporizhia, situated on the Dnipro River, that is famous for the production of the Zaporozhets motorcar— a sort of Soviet Beetle and the cheapest car they produced — I was reminded of a Ukrainian friend whose boyfriend owned one of the vehicles.

“My mother was insistent I should marry him on account of his politeness,” she recounted to me. “He always opened the car door for me. What my mother didn’t realise was that the workmanship was so poor; he was the only one who could do it! In all other things, he was a real rascal.”

The company started life in 1908 as a producer of combine harvesters and quickly became the largest in the world. But by the late 1950’s the production shifted to the relatively new market of motor cars, and in particular the small car. The Zaporozhets quickly became the dream of many Soviet men.

Nowadays, it is an everyday sight to see the pre-1994 Malysh (meaning ‘little one’), with its air-cooled 746cc V4 engine, trundling along the highways of Ukraine. The factory continues to operate and manufactures more than 100,000 cars per year.

In contrast, I read with interest last week that Aston Martin has officially opened the doors to its first dealership in Ukraine, in Kyiv. Eager customers can wait in line to order the latest V8 Vantage S, powered by a 4,700cc V8 engine. Though the dealership won’t discuss the price over the telephone – which made me think, “If I need to ask, I shouldn’t be asking” – the price in the UK is approximately £105,000 for the standard Coupe version.

Out of curiosity I made a comparison.

Now, all things being equal you would expect Aston Martin to operate in those countries where the richest customers live. Including Ukraine, they now operate in 41 countries worldwide. But, Ukraine ranks 135th in the world in GNI per capita (gross national income per capita).*

Taking it a step further, if we compare the GNI of the UK versus that of Ukraine, the Vantage S Coupe costs only 4 times the average annual income in the UK versus 43 times in Ukraine. By comparing disposable income the gap is considerably wider.

The reason, of course, is income inequality. And for those interested in learning more about this fascinating country, you can do no better than to read the chapter “Steamy Business” in my book Among the Ukrainians, where I make the case that Ukraine has more billionaires than Russia, and is second only to the USA.

Well, after an exhaustive comparison of the two cars, on paper at least, I think the Aston Martin is the better car. The Malysh has the disadvantage of coming in only a limited number of colours, but on Ukraine’s decrepit roads it should outlast the Aston Martin. Um? More thought necessary, I think…

*2009 Report, World Development Indicators database, World Bank, 15 December 2010

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Steamy Business