The till showed fifty-six hryvnias and nine kopecks, so I handed over a fifty and a twenty note. "Don't you have one hryvnia?" the woman behind the counter asked, though her facial expression made it feel more like an accusation than a request. "Niet," I said, shrugging apologetically. "Not even one?" she tutted, reaching into the till to pull out three notes: a ten, a two and a one. "Don't leave your basket on the floor," she barked, pointing me towards the exit as the next person elbowed in.
Ukraine is many things, but one thing it isn't is Japan.