The stores were all full. We noticed it in our first minutes in Ukraine. We’d crossed the border from Poland in early December, and after passing through the Polish checkpoint, then the Ukrainian checkpoint, we stopped at a gas station that had a café within, and we were surprised to find that it was immaculate and well stocked. There were three women in uniforms working at the small lunch counter. A trucker sat at a blond-wood table, eating a fresh crepe.
Anything that you could find or want was there. There was coffee from Ethiopia. There were chips and soda and high-quality chocolates. There was fresh fruit. There was liquor of any kind. There were books. There were mugs that celebrated the Ukrainian military.
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