#231
"THE
DRUNKEN
BICYCLE"
Mar 14, 2011 by
Frank Ward

Subway, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, 2010.

Dacha, Arshan, Siberia, 2010.

Cinema Cafe, Vladivostok, Russia, 2008.
Frank Ward conta que na Sibéria encontrou um homem
que aluga a sua bicicleta aos turistas para pequenos
passeios. Como ele diz, trata-se de uma bicicleta
bêbada («drunken bicycle»), porque anda
ao contrário: rodando o volante para a direita ela
vira para a esquerda e rodando o volante para a esquerda ela
vira à direita... O homem da bicicleta garante
que é fácil andar sobre ela, mas arrisca oferecer
cerveja a quem conseguir aguentar-se alguns metros
sem cair.
«Drunken bicycle» é uma metáfora soberba sobre a
vida nos países da antiga União Soviética,
balançando entre as inúmeras possibilidades de
mudança e o 'status' secular.
E enquanto os
turistas registam com um sorriso o
retrato de Putin numa carpete enorme à venda em Irkutsk,
na Sibéria, ou uma pintura de Marilyn numa parede de
Vladivostok, junto à fronteira
norte-coreana, os habitantes locais experimentam as
contradições de um tempo em mudança, que é simultaneamente de paixão e
dor...
THE DRUNKEN BICYCLE — TRAVELS IN THE FORMER SOVIET
UNION
Occasionally, in the town squares of many cities in Siberia there is a man selling rides on a bicycle, a drunken bicycle. A conventional two-wheeled bike has been outfitted with a reverse steering gear. If one turns the handlebars right, the front wheel turns left. Of course, the operator demonstrates how easy it is to ride and offers bottles of beer if one can simply travel a few meters without falling. Crowds circle the action, and there is never a shortage of brave young men who attempt the traverse. That said, I have not yet seen a customer navigate the bike successfully.
The drunken bicycle is an apt metaphor for life in the Former Soviet Union (FSU). The bureaucrats appear to be swaying on a drunken bicycle; the hapless traveler spends his days confused by the swing of it, and this photographer is continually under its influence.
It is difficult not to telegraph my bemusement of the contradictions of the FSU with my smile. The publicly dour Russians think we Americans have a foolish grin continually pasted on our faces. Well, I do, but it is not the former Soviets I am laughing at. It is the joy of seeing Marilyn Monroe represented in a wall-sized painting with Lenin looking up at her, or my surprise at a grandmother who asks me to take her picture in a bikini at the beach. The FSU is a paradise of paradox, where the landscapes are limitless and the people are full of passion and pain.
FRANK
WARD

Boy with Flowers, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, 2010.

Woman on the Beach, Odessa, Ukraine, 2005.
©
frank ward