Ukraine Odyssey One

[leslied]

PROLOG

I wrote this trip report in fall 2001.  I managed to remove it from the site before Spencer sold RWG.  The events described here have passed into my personal history.  My wife has read this trip report several years ago so no offence can be caused on that account.

Why republish now?  First I Trust Stuart to respect my copyright on this trip report.  Second this forum now has a section for “No Comment” trip reports – honestly what is the point in commenting on events which happened a decade ago? Finally there have not been many trip reports published lately and this one is interesting...

Please remember these events happened a long time ago.  Prices have inflated.  Many of the places mentioned no longer exist.  The human story is still relevant and the mistakes I made are still being made today,

[leslied]

PART 1 – INTRODUCTION

This post is the start of my trip report.  I want to start with some background on myself, the lady I am searching for and set the tone of this report.

I am a 45 year old British guy who emigrated to the USA in 95.  I live in NYC.  I weigh 180lbs and am just short of 6ft tall.  I am educated (masters in Computing and Business Administration) and have been gainfully self employed for the last 20 years.  I was married and divorced in my twenties. I started to search seriously for my future wife in FSU in spring of 1999.  I really want a family now (I have no kids), so I am looking for a lady who wants this too, rather than a career.  Looks are not my primary consideration.  I am looking for a wife to spend the rest of my life with and hopefully raise a couple of kids. My match is likely to be around 30 years old,  a single young child is fine.  This sounds an easy proposition, experience has taught me that it isn’t.

I first travelled to eastern Europe in the mid 1990’s – Budapest, Prague and Warsaw.  Back in those days in was snail mail and a printed catalog, but westerners were special then.  I had a lot of fun but at that time was not seriously looking for a lifetime partner.  That came later, after I emigrated to USA. My first serious three week trip to Russia was to Togliatti and Samara with  “A Volga Girl” on the advice of the original owner - Craig Rich and his wife Natalia who were my neighbors in New Jersey.  This trip was not a success but that was down to me. With hindsight I realize that I was naïve, not clear in my objectives, and did not understand the culture etc.  I came home sure of one thing though – I adored Russian women!  My next two week trip to St. Petersburg turned out to be more of a cultural tour.  St. Petersburg is a wonderful city (the Marinsky theatre, Hermitage etc).  I am sure that some wonderful women live there, sadly I did not meet any. I was invited to and attended a big agency social.  Lots of good time girls and some whores, but no one I would even consider starting a relationship with.  However I ceased to be “wet behind the ears” on this trip, began to understand the culture and refined the type of lady I am looking for.  A further trip to Moscow nose-dived in the first days and became a tourist vacation. This year I decided to visit the Ukraine.  I decided to travel independently, rather than use a single agency.  I employed an interpreter/guide recommended by one of the experienced forum members.

I intend to be honest about my experiences.  This means I will have to be self revealing and liable to criticism.  In order to protect the ladies privacy I will not use their real names (e.g. Oksana will be referred to as Elena)  If you try real hard you may be able to “trace” the ladies real identity.  If a lady reads this report she may recognize herself.  I really cannot do more than this and write a worthwhile report. I also want to include some “travelogue” comments that members may find useful and to discuss my dating methods.

I was in Ukraine for 22 days.  I met 23 ladies via my interpreter; the agencies A Kherson Rose, Kherson Unona and  Kherson’s most popular photographer – Sasha (He has taken the majority of the photos you see on the internet)  I visited Kiev, Kherson and Yalta.  The whole trip cost me $6000. 

[leslied]

PART TWO – KIEV

Travel begins with a flight from Newark to Kiev via Warsaw on LOT (Polish Airlines) Boeings all the way – 767 and a 737.  Uneventful - just long, 16 hours total.  Through immigration in 20 minutes, 18 of which are queuing. Why people pay $50 for express service is a mystery to me.  Anya (my interpreter) is waiting with a taxi driver.  Half hour drive into the center of Kiev.  Apartment is very good,  “Euro standard” is the description and this 3 room apartment has a luxury kitchen and bathroom and is in the city center.  Great value for $55 a night in August.  Quick trip to buy some Greevna and visit a supermarket.  Snooze then walk around down town on my own that evening feeling very jet lagged.  Kiev feels like Prague – central European.  I don’t feel threatened at all.  Stumble into a Japanese restaurant 200 yards from my apartment.  The décor is realistic and the service excellent.  The Sushi sucks.  I have eaten better at a $5 sushi auto café in Bangkok.  This costs $50 which is outrageous for dinner for one in Kiev.  Stumble back to my apartment and sleep for 10 hours.

I have two dates today, with ladies I have written to or talked on the phone.  My Lunch date is with Natasha, we meet on a corner 300 yards from my apartment.  She is 32, tall (175cm), slim and her photos were very attractive.  She is attractive but has made no effort for this date, her clothes are work a day, no nail polish, poor make up.  She was uncommunicative on the telephone, I put this down to her poor English.  I was wrong, her English is quite good. Her demeanor is the reverse.  She knows where she wants lunch.  Before I realize it we are outside the Japanese restaurant where I ate last night.  No time to prevent it, she has sauntered in….   We order lunch, I decline any alcohol purchase.  I don’t drink very much and the drinks here are at extortion prices.  “Nasty” is not pleased.  Lunch is predictably poor.  It ends with the delivery of a mammoth dessert for my date ordered without my permission.  My NYC “in your face” attitude surfaces.  A strained 10 minute conversation follows.  She says all American men are on a sex tour.  I tell her I don’t need to travel half way round the world for a Ukrainian whore - $200 bucks will buy better than her in Brooklyn. She is outraged.  I tell her she has had her free lunch.  I get the bill (nearly $100!) and we leave.  She asks for taxi money.  I stare her straight in the eyes and say “Nyet”. She walks off.  My interpreter scolds me.  I am much to aggressive, people do not act like this in Ukraine.  I tell her I am what I am.  I am not going to play act.  This will be a central point of contention between us for the rest of the trip.

Spend the rest of the afternoon organizing a mobile phone.  Know from my Samara trip how important this is.  Buy a used phone + pre pay account for about $80.  Meet my next date – Tatiana outside Macdonald’s near Independence square.  Tatiana is an internet dating cover girl.  We have exchanged a couple of letters.  I have no illusions about her.  When we meet her hair is blonde, but professionally colored. She is thirty now though some of her photographs on the internet are at least five years old.  She is till “drop dead gorgeous” and is dressed to kill.  She is also very charming.  We have dinner on the terrace of a Ukrainian restaurant. (Chosen by my interpreter). The food and the wine are excellent.  Tatiana is a perfect dinner companion.  We agree to meet the next day for a tourist taxi trip and late lunch.  We visit the Laveros and then the war museum.  Ascend the huge stainless steel woman monument at the war museum.  The view of Kiev is wonderful.  Of course I get photos of us together for the boys to drool over when I get home.  The Ukrainian diagonal cut short skirts are so sexy – especially on legs as long as Tatiana’s!  She wants to go to the Chinese restaurant “Mandarin” which is a barge on the river.  I agree.  It is a pale imitation of the famous floating restaurants at Aberdeen, Hong Kong and the food really isn’t Chinese.  She is impressed that I can use chop sticks (I lived in Hong Kong for over a year).  We both know the score, so we level with one another.  I tell her I am on the overnight train to Kherson.  She tells me her mom lives there.  I ask her where she got the expensive matching gold jewelry (necklace, earrings, wrist and ankle chains).  She tells me from a fat American.  We laugh together.  She says this guy cased a scandal in a bar, got very drunk and demanded the jewelry back, she walked out and left him to his Vodka.  Despite my interpreters protests, I like Tatiana. This women has earned her living from her looks for the whole of her life but she is not a whore.  I feel she is not a bad person – just a professional dater, like some of the “good time” girls I met in St. Pete.  The $60 I have spent on her I do not begrudge, she has been a charming companion.  Any guy who gets taken for a ride by a girl like this is a chump.

Take the overnight train to Kherson.  I have booked a whole compartment.  It is real expensive about $40 + $5 for sheets, tea and biscuits.  Reminds me of British Railways when I was a lad.  Perfectly safe but not very comfortable.  Anya is nervous. (An almost perpetual state!).  A long discussion follows.  She tells me of the antics of her previous clients.  We do some serious orientation and planning.  She is very modest so I try to sleep in a track suit.  Try is the operative word.  Every half hour or so the track is so worn out that the train shakes violently.  Finally fall asleep from exhaustion and jet lag.  I awake in Kherson.

[leslied]

PART 4 – THE DATING GAME IN KHERSON

Arrive at my apartment which is just behind Lenin Square.  The location is excellent, and behind the battered steel security door the apartment is thoroughly modernized.  The environment scares me.  These housing projects appear so rough.  No one is spending a single Greevna on the outside or the courtyards.  If I were in a similar situation in NYC  (maybe a real tough part of the Bronx) – I would run for my life!  My interpreter tells me I will be safe here, so I trust  - $30 a day is cheap.  Later in my trip I realize my fears were unfounded and Anya as usual was right.  A cruddy environment here does not mean drug dealers and violent crime, it is merely a symptom of a busted economy.

After lunch we head off to Sasha’s to book a dating package.  Sasha is a professional photographer.  Most of his business is doing photo sets for ladies who want to register with the agencies.  He offers a dating service to the ladies.  He keeps a set of photos together with a hand written letter from each lady.  He files these in wooden boxes, organized by age group.  There is no internet service.  A package of 10 dates is $150.  I buy one.  He has 1200+ ladies in these boxes.  I settle down with the first of the 30+ boxes.  I hate doing this.  I have got very board with viewing profiles on the internet.  For me this has become a sterile process.  Sasha’s son (who speaks some English) is very surprised by this.  He tells me that they have to charge some guys $20 a day for drooling over their boxes.  They spend hours on end doing this, even sending out for beer and food!  I settle to my task in this smoke filled room (Everyone in Ukraine seems to smoke – YUK!).  My choices cause consternation. 

No one has ever asked to date this woman. Not in 2 years.
So I am her first American man, good. 

This woman is peasant from village, speaks no English. 
I will pay her bus fare and I have Anya.

Sasha’s son brings over their top twenty files.  All under 25.  All with model looks.  I tell him I do not want to see any women like this.  I am looking for a decent, honest lady.  A  home maker who wants a family.  Sasha then asks me to make lots of choices as many of these ladies may not be available.  I choose a dozen and Sasha tells me he will try to set up dates from tomorrow.  I then hand him my profile and requirements document.  This is professional standard in Russian, three pages including black and white photos. It was translated by my Russian friend Helen who lives in Staten Island.  I prepared this document for listing in agency men’s catalogues.  Anya reads it.  She tells me it is absolutely impossible to use this document.  I sound like an ogre (her word).  If any lady reads this they will refuse to see me.  She is particularly appalled by a comment Helen added for me in bold.  A rough translation of this guttural Russian is “Listen witch you are not clever enough to scheme me.  If you waste my time bad things may happen”.  I was quite happy with this comment as it slowed the scam responses to a trickle. I tell Anya that I have had dozens of replies to this document.  Sasha reads it and starts laughing.  “We shall see” he says and pins up a copy on his notice board.  Anya is now giving me that typical feminine Russian look, the shrug with the eyes that says I am being impossible….

I have a 6.00pm date with Nadia.  I have exchanged several letters with this lady.  She has presented herself as cheerful and genuine.  We meet outside the post office on Lenin Square.  She is 165cm, has a waif like figure. She is dressed in faded jeans and a top.  She has come straight from work wearing little make up and no jewelry.  She looks like a young girl to me.  I am hungry so I suggest dinner, we walk to a smart café nearby.  Settle down and get the menus.  Nadia says she isn’t really hungry (she has some English).  I joke with her,  “How many lettuce leaves do you eat each day to maintain that figure?”  A flash of real resentment crosses her face.  “Please order some food I did not mean to insult you”  She will drink only juice, but eats hungrily.  Over coffee we begin to talk.  She works as a clerk in the ship building yard which is almost closed for lack of business.  She makes 160 Greevna a month.  Last year she was involved with an American dentist in his 50’s.  He promised to file for a K1.  She began to hope that her fairy tale might come true.  She could leave her step mothers apartment where she sleeps on a coach in the living room.  She could have a life.  Of course this guy simply stopped writing. No explanation.  The fairy tale book slammed shut.  Nadia admits she has lied about her age, she is 22 not 26.  I reflect on the cultural chasm between Kherson and Manhattan.  Park Avenue crones knock 20 years off their age having made there plastic surgeon rich.  A coffee and sandwich at Starbuck’s costs a weeks wages.  This girl is far too young for me, but I cannot help admiring her.  She is honest, proud and independent.  Life is just not giving her any breaks.  Surely there has to be a decent young man out there for her??  I agree to see her again out of fatherly affection and the wish to act decently.  As we leave I reflect that dinner has cost almost her monthly salary…….

[leslied]

PART 5 – KHERSON TRAVELOGUE

Kherson is known as the “City of Brides”  not just in our RW scene but by men I have talked to in Kiev and Yalta.  Why??  I spent over two weeks in this small city.  The number of good looking women is astonishing!  The girls out number the guys like maybe for or five to one.  This ratio applies enormous competitive pressure.  The women, especially on evening walkabout, make the best they can of themselves.  There are some stunning ladies strutting their stuff.  The eligible local guys are picky and lazy.  They are a scarce commodity and know it.  They tend to behave badly towards the women who just have to put up with it.  Men come from all over Ukraine to find a girl here and increasing numbers of foreigners are coming each year.  Both groups are popular because of this situation. 

What has caused this imbalance – Chernobyl radiation altering the birth ratio?  A whole generation of young men wiped out in the Afghan and Chechen  wars?  I think the answer is simpler and related to Kherson’s busted economy. The city is very run down.  The streets have not been maintained for years. Some of the pot holes are so old and large that saplings are growing in them.  At night there is next to no public street lighting. The city has no money to spend on the streets or lighting (or indeed anything else like teachers salaries) because it’s tax base has evaporated.  In Soviet times Kherson was a center for ship building.  In it’s heyday the shipyard employed 30,000 men.  Probably as many jobs again were supported by the shipyard in other firms supplying parts and services.  Today there is no shipbuilding.  The yard has some small ship repair/ modernization work.  It is likely to close altogether soon.  The base of the industrial economy has collapsed.  I saw this happen in the North East of England when I was younger, as the coal and steel industries closed.  Anyone remember the film “The Full Monty” about a bunch of redundant Yorkshire steel workers who start a male strip act to earn a living?  I think this is what has happened in Kherson.  There is very little opportunity or work here.  The vast majority of younger men have simply left to seek employment and opportunity elsewhere.  The younger women enjoy less economic freedom, their family ties to parents are stronger.  Most have remained in Kherson.  I think this is perhaps the true reason for the male / female imbalance which has created the “city of brides”

Contrary to agency perpetuated myth Kherson is not dangerous.  The most likely hazard is a nasty fall in the dark on what passes here as sidewalk.  I have walked around the center of town in the early hours of the morning on my own and with a lady.  No problems.  I am not stumbling around drunk though.  I feel safer walking here at night than I do in NYC East Village.  Some agency’s use fear to keep you tied and spending your money at inflated prices with them.  This is bull shit.  The only other significant hazard is the bugs.  They are ferocious!  Bring industrial strength Anti Histamine.  Go nowhere near the Dnepr after twilight.  Forget Repellent (DEET etc.)  The bugs ignore it.  Spray your apartment with “Raid” during the day.  If the windows are not screened close them at night.  Try as you might the bugs will still munch you.

Kherson has lots of good café’s. I visited about a dozen.  A good lunch (without alcohol) is around 30 hrivna ($6)  a person.  I used 4 or 5 restaurants in the evening.  Dinner (without alcohol) is around 50 Hrivna($10) a person.  Wine and western drinks are relatively expensive ($5).  Beer and Vodka are cheap.  (Very cheap in the supermarket - a liter of Stolichnaya for $5! ) Your spending money will go a long way here.  I found that traditional Ukrainian/Russian food was best.  There are American Style fast food Café’s and I tried a “Chinese” places (Terrible!).  I went to two discos / nightclubs McDux and Millennium.  The music hear is mainly European techno – not my taste.  McDux has a younger crowd.  Every where you go in these places you will run into “New Russians” or should I say “New Ukrainians”

In the west educated people on average earn more than the uneducated.  This was true in FSU in the soviet era.  It is not true now.  Highly educated people are often the poorest.  A university lecturer earns $50 a month – if they are paid.  I met a lecturer who told me that she felt lucky if she was actually paid this pittance, and had not been for most of last winter.  I joked with ladies who told me they had a Masters degree in Psychology or Sociology “So you work in a shop for 160 hrivna ($30) a month”  I was nearly always right.   Many parents still think that education is the key to success it was in the soviet era. That all new Russians are mafia.  They are wrong.  The new Russians are the winners in today’s society.  An independent taxi driver running a $500 beat up Lada can make 800 Hrivna ($160) a month.  Decent pay, his apartment will have a refrigerator and a TV.   A new Russian will run a taxi business, say a Radio base and a dozen cabs.  He may make $1000 a month - Rich.  He is the guy you see with his pretty young mistress at Millennium.  I also pay Anya $50 a day – so she is a new Russian…..

[leslied]

PART 6 –  FIRST DATES

I am at Sasha’s at midday an hour before my first date.  He has asked me to come in early and choose some more ladies.  He is not have much luck with my previous choices.  There is a 75 year old Frenchman in the office.  He is trying to organize dates with good looking 25 year old girls.  We chat (in French).  He is good looking, charming, highly educated and wants the attentions of a nice young lady.  He is on a fun vacation and spending money like water.  Anya is very judgmental of him - scandalous!  I bet her that he will be matched before me…  My first date turns up.  Anya stays to do orientation with her.  I walk over to café Vis a Vis.  An hour later I am back in Sasha’s Office.  The lady looked fine in her photos. She looked OK when we met, but about 3 years older.  She was dressed very conservatively.  I was her first foreign date. She had never even written to a foreign guy before.  She was on her way to choir practice….  Unprovoked, she had a go at me “Filthy American on a sex tour!”  ( I am afraid we already have this general reputation guys.)  Great start!  This women is not in an Agency program.  She is a 32 year old born again Christian.  I manage to stem the tide of her sermon.  She left the café  somewhat mollified.   I escaped back to Sasha’s.

Anya’s face is wearing a “told you so” smirk.  That’s the effect of my “ogre” profile.  I would not listen….  Sasha merely shrugs “I did tell you no one had dated this lady – ever”  OK, Mea Culpa.  Spend a half hour organizing tomorrows dates.  There are a couple of Israelis in the office.  Kherson is popular with them, but I learn not so popular with the women.  They are frightened at the prospect of living with terrorism.  Anya and I go for lunch then visit an internet café to update my profile.  There is an internet café a couple of doors down from the post office on Lenin Square.  For everyone’s information  it costs 2 hrivna an hour.  Composing a 2 page letter, Translating it via PROMT 2000, and sending it will cost no more than 4 hrivna.  Printing 4 pages of letter/A4 is less than 2 hrivna.  Maximum cost 6 hrivna a letter exchange.  So at 2 letters a week, $10 a month covers communication costs.  Remember this guys when your Kherson pen pal asks for $50 a month for e-mail.  $50 a month is a salary.  Sasha phones my mobile while we are at the internet café.  This afternoon’s date is a no show.  We stay and finish rewriting my profile.  Anya is happy with it now.  I think I sound like a doormat!

I have a 7.00pm date with Alexandra.  She is 23 and a post graduate social sciences student.  She was a matchmaking recommendation.  We have exchanged several letters.  We take a taxi to a newly opened private hotel.  This place is good, much better value than the hotel Fregat. It is around $40 a night.  It has a pool, sauna and exercise room.  There is a café in the pool area.  The waitresses wear very brief shorts and there is even a pole dancing stage which comes into action in the late evening. The café specializes in first courses and the menu is like a magazine. The only bad thing is the inevitable chlorine smell.  Alex is classic “rich kid”   She is expensively dressed (for Kherson) and very pretty.  She speaks excellent English.  I have met and written to girls like Alex before.  They are not serious about finding a foreign husband at all, unless they find a millionaire.  Writing to foreigners lets them practice their English.  Dating foreigners is exciting. They will not go further than this.  These girls are firmly tied to their indulgent parents.  Alex is well brought up and charming.  Of course there is no chemistry.   Further dates will be fun for her but a waste of time for me.  Over dessert I ask her if she is serious about finding a husband right now.  She replies that she must finish her education.  Why I ask?  A masters in Sociology will only qualify her to work in a shop  “Work in a shop!”  She exhibits Soviet era class disdain.  (There was a strong class system in the communist(Sic) Soviet Union. One of it’s main predicators was education).  I tell her OK, so maybe her family will ensure she never has to work in a shop, but why is her Masters degree so important if she is going to marry a man from America or the EU?  Oh, for my career is her reply.  I tell her that a sheet of toilet paper will be of more use than her Masters degree in America.  At least she could use the toilet paper….  This does the trick and I put her in a taxi home. 

[leslied]

PART 7 INDEPENDENCE DAY

Today is Independence Day in Ukraine.  Kherson has a “lets party” atmosphere.  I have three first dates today.  Number one made no impression at all on me.  My notes on the meeting are one word “No”  My second date is lunch with Svetlana.  She is 32, has a six year old girl and is a tall natural blond elf.  She is much better looking in real life than her photos.  She could easily be an extra from “Lord of the Rings”  She is dressed very casual, shorts and a tee shirt, shoulder length blonde hair simply parted down the middle.  She wears virtually no make up and doesn’t need any.  She is strikingly good looking, very genuine, honest and speaks no English.  She helps her family run a stall on Kherson food market.  She shows me pictures of her daughter who she obviously adores.  She hasn’t heard anything from the father for four years.  He might be living in Odessa.  We enjoy lunch together.  I get the impression that it has been a while since she ate a meal in a smart café.  I am getting lots of positive signals from her.  We talk about lots of things but I cannot relate to her personality.  She is a great lady but not for me.  Sometimes I have lousy judgment….

Anya and I wander back to Sasha’s.  Nadia calls my mobile.  Do I want to come out tonight?  I have made no arrangements so say yes on impulse and agree to meet at 7.30pm.  Meet Anna at Sasha’s and walk over to café Vis a Vis.  This place has a spectacular interior. Stylized artistic plasterwork  - “troglodyte cave with nymphs”  Anna looks like a nymph.  She is 35, Russian, and works in Murmansk.  She is statuesque, very slender with long dyed blonde hair and is stylishly dressed.  The only down point is her smile.  My dentist would book a weekend trip to Florida if he saw it!  She is in Kherson staying with her mother. She works on ships.  Her last job was in the galley of a cruise ship.  She says she is on holiday now and wants to go to the seaside.  Anna has traveled. We have an interesting a wide ranging conversation.  We talk about ballet (which I adore).  She has seen the Eifman company in St. Petersburg.  I saw them in Manhattan earlier this year.  There is chemistry.  Nearly three hours go by.  Anya is telling me we must go.  I have a date tonight.  I agree to meet Anna for dinner on Monday night.  I go by taxi to my apartment to change.

Stop by the flower stalls on the corner of Lenin Square to buy flowers for Nadia.  Pick up a small bunch of five red roses. “skol’ka!”   This guy says “tridtsat”  -  “tridtsat! – yob tvayu mat’!”  I curse.  A middle aged woman in a stall opposite shouts “Vosem, pazhalsta” waving a better bouquet.  I buy it and in future always buy flowers from this lady (sglover – I’m an in your face city boy and proud of it!)  Meet Anya by the post office.  Nadia is with her dressed in the same washed out jeans but a different top.   We all walk down towards Lenina park.  The streets are thronged.  Lots of people are drinking on the street, guys from liter beer bottles, friends passing around a bottle of vodka.  Booze is much cheaper from kiosks than in bars.  The atmosphere is very good humored.  There is live music in the park.  A stage by the prospect entrance features drunken karaoke.  Some of the small courtyards in the park have been turned into temporary discos.  Techno music thumps out. We spend a couple of hours enjoying the celebrations in the park.  By now we are all hungry, but all the restaurants in the center are full.  Anya suggests the casino in the suburbs might be quieter.  We take a taxi there, its 10 Hrivna a long way!

The casino is a small complex.  Inside there is an up market restaurant which has plush décor but mediocre food.  There is a café outside which tonight has live music.  It is crowded but we get a table.  Great atmosphere, takes ages to get served.  I agreed to a second date with Nadia because I wanted to act decently.  She is treating me as a father figure (I’m only 5 years younger than her dad!).  She has really got a chip on her shoulder over the way that dentist treated her.  I tell her she must get over it.  She needs to find a guy in his early thirties – maximum.  These guys are in short supply so she is writing and dating guys of my age.  I tell her this is stupid,  it was probably a very good thing that her 50 year old lover got cold feet.  This frank discussion makes her uneasy, but if anything increases her respect/affection for me.  We lighten up and dance.  Get home in the small hours of Sunday.  Next morning find the bugs have munched me!

[leslied]

PART 8 - HIGHS AND LOWS AND BLUES

Anya wakes me with a call to my mobile this morning.  I have a 12.00pm date at Sasha’s.  This date is a non event and I am soon back talking with Sasha’s son.  He tells me the old French guy is fixed up, a leggy 26 year old is stroking him!  He wants no more dates, though he paid for a pack like me.  He is having a great time and the lady is developing a new wardrobe.  I tease Anya on this, she is still disapproving.  We guys agree both sides are getting what they want, so where is the harm?  My second date Oksana turns up early.  She speaks English and French.  We go together to a small basement café a couple of doors away from Sasha’s without Anya.  Oksana is 28, 165cm, slim and acts like an intellectual.  She has very short dyed blonde hair, probably a grown out “suede head” cut.  Her nose is pierced.  She looks nothing like her photos.  She is dressed like an art college student.  Oksana is interesting and very engaging.  She wants to speak French to me as for her this is “high class”.  Her French is textbook, mine is vernacular ( I worked outside Paris for just over a year).  We chat in “Franglais”  She asks me for a date, I say yes.  She suggests tonight,  OK, I agree.  She leaves and I wander back to Sasha’s looking forward to a pleasant evening.  Sometimes I have appalling judgment….

I meet my next date, Victoria outside the Fregat Hotel.  Victoria is tall (175cm) and leggy.  She is 32 and has a seven year old son.  Her figure is girlish she walks with cat like grace.  Her dress is short, simple and elegant.  This lady has style.  She is also a very nice, kind person.  She is honest and straightforward.  Funny and Cheerful.  There is chemistry between us.  We gambol along the Dnepr.  She works in a shop selling cosmetics.  She adores her son.  She is still friends with her ex husband.  Her boy is spending the holiday weekend with his father.  I like this lady a lot.  She is just the type of lady I could match with.  We stop at a café on the riverside for drinks and watch people swimming in the river.  I ask her for a second date.  She looks me affectionately in the eyes and says it would be great to have a man in her life again.  Unexpectedly Anya makes an excuse and ends the date.  She will ring Victoria to set things up.  I am hustled into a taxi and driven back to Sasha’s.  Anya flatly tells me I cannot see Victoria again.  I argue.  Why?   She is perhaps the best match I have met so far!   Anya tells me that Ukrainian men who pay child support are rarer than astronauts.  The father will never sign the release papers to allow his son to leave the country.  Victoria will never leave her son.  I am wasting my time.  I bluster.  I have asked her out.  I will have to at least see her for lunch.  Sasha joins the argument.  He is sorry.  He did not know this.  He will remove Victoria’s photos from the box.  I finally give in to this verbal karate feeling like a fool.

I meet Oksana with flowers.  Anya has the evening off.  Oksana suggests a restaurant higher up the Prospect.  It is expensive and has the ambiance of a French Bistro.  Oksana orders a bottle of imported French white wine and a plate of charcuterie.  We are talking “Franglais”  To me this wine is 100 Hrivna drain cleaner.  I cannot gag my first glass down.  Oksana is telling me that French wine is best and is drinking it steadily.   Alcohol loosens her tongue.  I think that her behavior is an act.  I ask her to describe her American dream.  How can I help her?  She wants to go to college in the USA, Harvard would be nice!  Her parents need money, everything has gone wrong since communism ended.  Her younger sister wants to go to medical school,  in Paris would be wonderful.  How does she feel about starting a family?  Children! Oh she doesn’t want any.  The peasants breed like rabbits, she wants a career.  I tell her she is looking for a benefactor not a husband.  Her ambitions are so selfish.  She realizes her mistakes and starts to be ingratiating.  I tell her that she has already told me the kind of woman she is.  I order the bill, no need for a second course or dessert.  She tells me this is what Ukrainian women want.  They might not tell me at the start  but when they get to New York everything will change.  I tell her that if a woman tries that on me I will put her on a one way ticket back to Kiev.  She is furious with me.  Outside at the taxi she demands 50 Hrivna taxi money.  I give the taxi driver 10 hrivna and tell him to take her home.  Oksana is a duplicitous witch.  Thankfully she is the only bad hearted lady I meet in Ukraine.  Next day I share this experience with Anya.  She teases “See what happens when I leave you on your own!  She looks like she was released from a camp last year.  You never even asked my opinion….”  Game and first set of the teasing match to Anya.   Things just have to get better from here.

[leslied]

PART 9 - FALSE STARTS AND ENDINGS

Three dates today only one of which is worth reporting.  I met Natasha for lunch.  She is a slim brunette, 165cm tall, 32 years old and has a daughter who is six years old.  She is attractive and well turned out.  I am getting tired of running auditions. Natasha is a classic example of an economic migrant.  Anya calls them “I love you - now take me to America” girls.  They often know more about the workings of the INS than you do.  All they want is a green card.  They check you are suitable (won’t beat them, are reliable enough for their purposes) then go overboard for you.  Helen my Russian friend from Staten Island warned me of these women as well.  “As soon as they have a job they will be off!”  When you meet women like this in person they are quite easy to spot.  What made Natasha different was she was open about her intentions.  She offered me a business deal!  I was surprised at her audacity and suggested she file papers for the green card lottery.  Too expensive was her reply! 

I meet Anna that evening with Anya in Lenin Square.  She looks terrific, dressed in a long red sheath gown, split almost to the waist.  It is so figure hugging it looks sprayed on!  We go for dinner, she is charming but makes only small talk.  She is coming on strong to me.  We decide to go to a nightclub, Millennium.  Anya goes home.  The club is quiet, I was the only tourist that night.  It is expensive by Kherson standards, it is easy to blow 200 hrivna if you drink.  The locals are mostly “New Russians” with their mistresses.  The guys are middle aged and dressed in black.  The girls are all under 25 and one or two of them are stunning.  The guys are sitting drinking vodka, the girls are dancing, some so well they could be on MTV.  The music is thumping techno.  Oh!  Russian women,  they dance so sexy!  They make most American women look gawky by comparison. Anna joins them and does not look out of place.  The DJ knows his job, every half hour the music changes to slow and smoochy and the guys join the girls.  The girls are all over their men (including mine   ).  We taxi back to my apartment about 3am. Without hesitation Anna comes in, she is impressed by my apartment, it has hot water!  Unasked she takes a shower and joins me in the living room dressed in a towel….  She speaks some English and explains her proposition.  She wants to go to Yalta,  If I will take her then she will give me a great time.  Now I am fit to bust.  I must not agree, all Anna wants is a holiday, but it’s so, so hard to say no.  I will not promise to take her to Yalta.  She is peeved, OK then no sex.  I leave her in bed and spend the night on the Sofa.  Anya rescues me early next morning.  “What will I get up to next” she teases.  “Next time will she have to come to the police station?”  An apocryphal remark…

Later that morning Nadia phones.  Meet for lunch?  I agree. I must try to end this relationship gently.   I ask Anya’s advice.  I would like to give her a parting gift at lunch.  Anya tells me she will never accept this,  better just to end it.  As usual Anya is right.  Nadia turns up in the same faded blue jeans.  We are passing the department store and I offer to buy her a summer dress.  She is very offended.  She is not that type of girl!  She has lots of clothes (a lie)  I tell her I know she isn’t, but we have no future together and I am trying to end things on a happy note.  She misunderstands me.  We have lunch and it is over but not in the way I wanted.  Nadia feels rejected but I can’t help.

My Afternoon date is a “filler” organized by Sasha.  I meet Natalia, who is 26 but looks like a college kid.  Very tall, with a slender sporty figure.  She is dressed in a tee shirt and very brief shorts.  The date is a waste of time but I mention it to illustrate a point.  After she has finished her sundae I ask her “Am I too old for you”  She stares across the room avoiding my glance and mutters “Nyet”  I say I am probably as old as her father.  Surely she cannot have a romantic interest in me?  “Yes she could” is her reply said gazing into space.  There is a myth that young Russian/Ukrainian girls are hot for middle aged men.  That’s what it is, a myth.  Yes, this girl could “hold her nose” and dream of Brad Pitt when in my arms.  She could put up with that because I have money.  An American girl does not have to do that.  Does such a relationship have a future?  In the vast majority of cases, no.  Anya has told me that this is the type of girl most middle aged American men want to date.  Who is dreaming?

That evening I have a date with Irina, a friend of Anya’s.  She is a very nice, attractive genuine lady of 33 who has no children.  She speaks good English.  We go for dinner at the Casino.  Irina went part of the way with an American guy last year.  They filed for a K1 visa.  This guy kept on dating young girls when he returned to Ukraine to visit her.  This ended the relationship.  Irina is a good marriage prospect but I feel no chemistry with her.  At the end of the evening I tell her this and put her in a taxi home.  Anya tells me that I am very picky, but thanks me for being polite to her friend. 

Next morning Anya tells me she has organized lunch with Anna.  This is best she tells me.  Leave things tidy.  At lunch I feel like I am doing a drive by yesterdays accident.  Anna has brought holiday brochures!  How do I feel about a cruise to Istanbul?  This lady will not give up.  Anya finally gets rid of her by telling her in Russian, that I am matched with another woman, so it is goodbye.  Anya does not tell me this in advance.  All I know at the time is that Anna abruptly gets up and leaves.  Two days later I see her on the Prospect arm in arm with a young sailor.  I did not see her in Yalta.  Perhaps she went to Turkey.

My trip is half over and no progress.  I am deeply depressed in the taxi over to Sasha’s.  Then everything changes…..

[leslied]

PART 10 – ALIA AND CHARLOTTE

We arrive at Sasha’s.  He has good news for me.  He has finally been able to set up a date with one of the ladies I chose on my first visit.  She is waiting in the next room.  Anya and I pick her up and go to the basement café a few doors down from Sasha’s.  Alia is nearly 30, 172cms, with a slim figure but carrying an extra 5-6 kg on her butt. She has no children.  Her summer frock is knee length, she wears no jewelry or make up.  She looks freshly showered, like a woman at an English garden party.  Her hair is natural, very dark brown, curly and shoulder length.  She has an Asiatic look.  Her face is very expressive and emotional.  She has beautiful brown/green eyes. She speaks no English.  She orders green tea, nothing more.  Straight away she tells me that she is Christian and goes to church every Sunday.  Am I an American on a sex tour?  Now I am really depressed.  I just level with her.  No, I am not on a sex tour.  I am looking for a wife.  I have met some good time girls, girls who are too young for me and the rest, well no chemistry.  God is not being kind to me. The atmosphere relaxes.  Alia owns a shop.  It was her mother’s who died recently.  Business is very bad.  Her father died several years ago.  Her younger brother is married now and has his own life.  She is lonely.  She wants to find a good man.  Ukrainian or foreign does not matter.  She is not looking for a rich man, they have mistresses and she can’t take that.  Just enough money for a decent life. That is all that matters.  It does not matter where; Ukraine, America or Europe.  I am the first foreign man she has met.  She has written to a couple of American guys, but both just stopped writing without any explanation.  These “jerks”(in Russian the curse was stronger!) just raised her hopes and wasted her time.  I know she is very genuine and honest.  There are no hidden agendas here.  Logically Alia is my match. I ask her what is her number one ambition in life.  She says to have a family.  How many children I ask?  She laughs and says at least three.  I joke that I cannot support an army.  She laughs and then flashes her eyes at me.  Emotionally I hit the ceiling.  I don’t remember what we talked about for the next two hours very clearly. We just looked in each others eyes and talked.  Anya’s translation was superb, as if she wasn’t there.  The chemistry between us was palpable.  Alia ends the meeting.  She must get back to the shop.  She leaves before I can ask for a second date.  Later back at Sasha’s Anya is smiling at me. “Alia is a very good match and she likes you a lot!”  The look on my face answers Anya’s question.

That evening I have a dinner date with another of Anya’s friends.  Emotionally I am not present.  I am thinking about Alia.  I go “through the motions” of a date but that’s all. I have trouble sleeping that night.  The next day I am back at Sasha’s.  I have three dates scheduled for today but the only thing that is important to me is contacting Alia and organizing a second date.  There are problems with this, Alia’s home telephone has been disconnected.  Sasha does not have the address or telephone number of her shop.  I tell Anya she must go to Alia’s apartment by taxi and leave a letter.  Just as we are about to leave Sasha comes over with the phone, it is Alia.  Anya organizes a dinner date for tonight.  Sasha’s son jokes with me about fate.  See you are meant to be with this lady.  I want an invitation to your engagement party!  Two of today’s dates are a non events, the third in the late afternoon is funny.  I am calling this lady Charlotte after the character in the TV series “Sex and the City”.  She turns up looking and acting like this TV character.  She talks about the series, her hair and sunglasses are the same as TV Charlotte’s and she speaks very good English.  I have traveled half way around the world to get away from upper east side bitches and this lady is acting like one.  She is argumentative and affected.  Finally she tells me she is very picky and gives me a look which says “I’m scoring you out of ten”  I am about to “rip her to shreds”  When Anya gives me a look which says NO.  She talks with this lady in Russian and five minutes later we leave.  Anya comments “That lady is a hedgehog!  She would have caused a scene if you started on her.  I told her we must leave as we have another appointment.  I said I would ring her to organize a dinner date”  “Don’t you dare do that” I reply.  The look on Anya’s face says – “You think I am that stupid. You uncivilized New Yorker!”

[leslied]

PART  11 - SECOND DATE WITH ALIA

I shower and change for my second date with Alia.  On the way to the Post Office corner I stop to buy flowers.  Spend 20 hrivna on a pretty bouquet of white lilies.  Meet Anya at the Post Office.  Alia is late. Twenty minutes late.  She arrives looking surprisingly sexy.  Made up, nails polished, wearing a short skirt and white top. She is as tall as me in those 10cm spikes. She is surprised by the flowers - how did I know lilies were her favorite?  Take a taxi to a newly opened restaurant.  The decor is traditional as is the food which is good.  We spend dinner in serious conversation.  Moral values, how children should be raised.  I realize I am getting a reverse interview from Alia.  I am being evaluated.  Scary when the boot is on the other foot and I care about the outcome.   Alia still thinks Americans are jerks.  She is convinced I am handing her a line.   The same question is asked in different ways as if she is trying to catch me out.  I am completely honest with her which she finds disconcerting.  Maybe I am just a very clever schemer?  It always amazes me how quickly time passes when one is engrossed in conversation.  Anya translates but we communicate directly with facial expression, tone of voice and body language. I am captivated by this ladies face.  Those large brown/green eyes are so expressive.  Her smile and laughter light are illuminating (Yes, it is happening to me.  I cannot explain it logically, but I am falling….)  The conversation is diverse and I let Alia control the direction.  I feel light headed but I have had nothing to drink.

The spell is shattered by techno music being turned on full blast.  There is a party of 6 new Russian types in the corner.  The 3 guys are fat and drunk.  They want to party.  Everyone else in the restaurant is unhappy with this but the barman has obeyed their instructions.  Alia goes to the ladies room.  I go to the bar.  I am furious.  Ask the barman to turn the music down.  He understands me but replies with that look of contempt and disdain I have seen on the faces of so many Russian officials.  The next second his expression has changed to one of terror as I grab him by his waistcoat and haul him across the bar “TURN THE F**KING MUSIC DOWN” I shout in his face.  He obeys immediately.  I go back to my table.  You can cut the air with a knife now.  Anya is trembling and saying we must leave immediately.  Alia returns from the ladies room.  Anya orders the bill.  I am finishing my coffee when I hear a gruff voice behind me. It is the biggest of those three guys.  Anya translates.  “Do you want to dance?”  I stand up slowly and stare this fat drunken slob in the eyes.  “NEYT”  He will wake up in the emergency room.  I come up onto the balls of my feet and close my fists.  He looks into my eyes for a second then stares at the floor and turns away cursing me in Russian.  The manager who has been watching all this turns off the music and switches on the main lights.  He comes over to my table and apologizes for their drunken behavior.  I apologize to him for mine, pay the bill and we leave.

Anya is hysterical with me. She is quitting.  I will spend the rest of my vacation in jail.  She will leave me to the horrors of the Ukrainian Police.  I am not listening, still high on the adrenaline rush.  It has been years since I acted so stupidly.  I always walk away now.  Alia has her harm tightly around my waist as we walk along.  She cannot understand Anya’s remonstrations in English, but she knows very well what has gone on.  She is staring into my eyes and smiling, squeezing me with her free hand.   Eventually she starts to giggle at Anya and this calms her and the atmosphere down.  Nothing bad has happened.  We are walking back towards  Lenin Square.  Anya is still scolding me.  Have I unconsciously acted like a college kid to impress Alia?  Yes, that’s possible and downright scary.  Her attitude towards me has certainly changed.  She is looking at me with genuine admiration.  Her fingers are running up and down my spine through my thin silk shirt.  Adrenaline high changes to arousal.  We are back in Lenin Square.  I ask Alia to see me tomorrow night.  Immediate “Da”  Put the ladies in a taxi and walk home.  I just cannot make sense of my feelings...

[leslied]

PART 12 – THIRD DATE WITH ALIA

I am at Sasha’s this lunchtime and have two first dates scheduled for the afternoon.  I am sick and tired of running these auditions but these two are the last in the my prepaid dating pack.  The problem is that emotionally I am not available.  I have fallen for Alia.  I go through these dates mechanically neither makes any impact on me.  Anya is telling me that I must continue.  I must have back up if Alia falls through.  Sound logical advice, but emotionally I am not interested.  In the late afternoon Anya and I are back in Lenin Square.  I ask her advice on my third date with Alia.  She says same as last night but no violence!  It is also the right time to give Alia a small gift, jewelry would be good.  We go to a jewelers. The type of present Anya is suggesting is in my opinion “cheap”  I would not give such poor quality jewelry as a gift at home.  To me it is demeaning.  Anya tells me I should not spend too much money, my motivation may be misconstrued.   I insist.  Devushka is replaced by the store manager who brings a couple of trays of good quality jewelry.  I select a 20” pink gold chain and a matching pendant.  Anya is looking at the ceiling – too much!  I buy it anyway.  Alia wears no jewelry and this will look good on her.  I go home shower and change and we meet up with Alia that evening in Lenin Square.  Anya has organized the restaurant.  It is the same one I visited with Oksana the witch.  Anya has also booked a table in a private room.  She is taking no chances with me tonight.  Dinner is very good.  This time the wine is excellent Ukrainian white Traminer.  Service is slow.  Over dinner we talk about last night.  Anya is still scolding me.  This is stopped by Alia.  Anya translates only some of this exchange.  I know Alia is quite rude to Anya.  Alia is proud of me!  She wants a man not a mouse.  Anya should remember she works for me.  Anya precedes any request with a please or an excuse me that is her style.  Alia now shows hers and shouts “DEVUSHKA”. A waitress appears immediately.  Alia talks to her in a loud voice.  The waitress blushes down to her chest then vanishes.  I ask Anya what has been said.  Anya is embarrassed.  Alia has told the waitress that she is sorry that to hear that most of the staff have died, but the service must improve or we will not be paying.  The next course is delivered almost at once.  That’s my girl!

Over dessert I give Alia the chain.  She opens the box, and examines it with wide eyed astonishment.  She then looks at me and hands it back.  She cannot accept such a gift.  Anya gives me a “told you so” look.  I tell Alia not to be stupid, the gift is just a gift I am not trying to obligate her.  I don’t want to see my lady wearing cheap jewelry.  Alia is not sure about this but accepts the chain telling me that if we split she is giving it back.  We talk over lots of things after dinner.  It is midnight by the time we leave.  Alia wants to organize our next date.  Not in a restaurant. We will take her car and go for a picnic in the forest.  Anya is not keen on this but will not contradict Alia. We will meet on Sunday after Alia has been to church.

I tell Anya to take tomorrow (Saturday) off.  I have a first date that evening with a teacher who speaks excellent English. We have exchanged mobile numbers. I want no more dates that day.  On Saturday I go to the gym.  It is great to have a day off the audition treadmill.  I go to the casino that evening with the teacher.  She is good company.  We have an interesting conversation.  There is no chemistry on my side.  Home for an early night and for a change I sleep soundly.
 

[Chris]

Wayne (El-Guero) this is in the NO COMMENT TR room, I agree it is a great TR, please place comments elsewhere.

[leslied]

PART 13 – AN ADVENTURE IN THE UKRAINIAN FOREST

Alia arranges to meet us outside the supermarket.  I can buy things for a picnic, then she will drive to the forest on the other side of the Dnepr where we can spend the afternoon.  Anya and I are waiting outside the supermarket at the agreed time.  45 minutes later we give up and begin to walk over to the café “Iceberg”  I have been stood up…  We are almost at the café when Alia runs up.  She is late – sorry, let’s go to the supermarket.  I am upset but accept this.  Alia is the type of woman who is perpetually late.  Buy lots of stuff for a picnic.  Come to her car.  It is an incredibly beat up 10 year old Lada Samara.  It is also spotlessly clean and Alia’s prize possession.  Traveling in this car is a cartoon experience.  In the US it would have dispatched to the crusher long ago.  The suspension is worn out.  The body is rusted through in several places.  Alia drives it with the confidence of a cabby.  We cross the bridge over the Dnepr and wend our way into the countryside.  Terrible pot holed roads turn into dirt tracks which vanish to nothing.  We bucket over open country into the forest.  A couple of kilometers in we stop in a dapple shaded glade.  No one is around.  The weather is sunny and warm.  We unpack the picnic.

No matter what happens in the future I will remember this afternoon.  Eating, Talking, Joking, looking at the photos Alia has brought.  There is now a definite bond between us.  We are playing together like children.  Swapping experiences from our past, talking about our future ambitions.  Alia tells me she had a mobile phone, but had to sell it to pay for repairs to her car. All her jewelry was stolen (In reality pawned and never redeemed).  She is wearing my chain.  She also tells me tearfully about her mom who recently died from cancer.  Alia nursed her for two years.  She hates running her mom’s shop.  She admits that she is not very good at it and that the business is going to be closed down soon  (Soon is in fact next week!)  She talks about the emotional support she has received from the congregation of the Baptist church she joined about 18 months ago.  We talk about Christianity.  I was brought up in a strict Protestant family and spent seven years of Sundays as a choir boy.  I am not religious anymore but Christian philosophy is the foundation of my approach to life.  We begin to talk about our pasts.  I answer her questions on my previous marriage honestly.  I am not sure she is happy about my replies, but she accepts that I am being truthful.  The quality of Anya’s translation makes all of this possible.  An odd sort of ménage a trois is developing between us.  I don’t want this picnic to end but it is beginning to get dark.  We pack the car and set off for Kherson.

Five minutes later everything has changed. We are stuck fast at the beginning of a dirt track out of the forest.  Alia has spun the wheels until we are resting on the engine sump, buried axle deep.  There has been little rain this summer and the dirt is loose and bone dry.  I know I will have to dig the car out and go into the forest to collect branches, Alia helps.  Anya looks on with helpless desperation. (She is not getting her clothes dirty!)  I dig the car out mostly with my hands and arms.  The dirt is filled with vicious little burr seeds.  By the time we get the car free Alia and I look like miners – Filthy from head to toe.  I start to walk ahead to survey the way out.  My plan is to walk ahead whilst Alia drives.  I can see the line of the road in the distance by the headlights of the cars.  It is dark now and there is just a slim sickle moon. I try to explain my plan to Alia, but Anya is freaked out and we set off with no clear understanding.  Alia’s face has an expression of desperation. She starts to drive along my surveyed route but in seconds she has swerved around and we are heading back into the forest.  I am shouting at her to stop but she is possessed by Slavic angst.  A minute later we are stuck fast again.  We get out of the car.  It is hopeless, we are buried much deeper than before. The car will have to be towed out by a four wheel drive or a tractor.  It is almost pitch black now and I think we are about two kilometers from the road.  It is clear to me that we must walk out and get help to recover the car.  Anya is wailing about murders in the forest, being tied to a tree and raped.  Alia is glaring at me with resentment.  How could I allow this to happen?  I take a girl in each hand and attempt to walk back towards the road.  Alia breaks free and starts to curse in Russian.  I take charge and say we have to walk out and get help.  An argument ensues.  Alia accuses me of being a scared little rabbit, like Anya, mimicking a rabbits ears with her fingers.  Anya is on the edge of hysteria.  I insist we leave.  Alia lifts the hood and starts to remove the battery. I stop her.  If the car is going to be stolen or stripped that is karma, distributing parts will not help.  We start walking towards the road.  Anya is better now we are on the move.  Alia is completely gutted.  We are abandoning her prize possession.  The hike back to the road is very difficult.

We reach the road.  The nearest village is about 5 kilometers walk.  We set off.  Anya tries to flag down every passing car.  None will stop.  Would you for three people, two of which look like filthy tramps?  I try to keep everyone walking.  Anya is unfit and complaining.  Alia has decided to save her pumps and is walking barefoot on the black top.  She appears utterly dejected.  After nearly an hour we reach a garage.  It is just after 10.00pm  Alia tries to enlist some help.  Not interested.  I go in and wave a hundred Hrivna note in front of the garage attendant’s face.  15 minutes later a guy in a Lada Niva turns up.  I tip the garage attendant.  Alia is talking to the Niva driver.  He has the gear, says he has done this sort of thing many times before.  We all get in and drive back into the forest.  This is almost more than Anya can bear, she is at the end of her rope.  We find the car easily.  Alexi the driver assesses the situation and hooks up the tow ropes.  Alia wants to drive.  Alexi won’t allow this.  He gives me several looks which tell me “See what happens when you let a woman drive!”  I get behind the wheel and Alexi makes a running heave.  Twang! The steering wheel lurches violently in my hands.  Both cars stall.  It takes Alexi five violent heaves to free us.  I then follow him carefully out of the forest.  At the road we stop and I pay him.  It is now nearly midnight.  Alia is ecstatic. She runs her hands through my hair and kisses me.  Her car is back in one piece!  We drive back to Kherson . She drops me back at my apartment where I strip and shower.  Spend ages removing splinters and burr seeds.  The insects have made munchy of me again.  I am still strangely elated.  Am I in Love??

[leslied]

PART 14 – THREE IRINAS AND DINNER AT ALIA’S

Meet Anya late morning at the Unona office just off Lenin Square.  I still have four dates organized by Unona.  Anya is certain I should continue to date and I know she is right, but emotionally I am disconnected from this process now.  Fate works in strange ways.   I meet my first Irina at café Iceberg.  She has traveled in from Nikolayev  to meet me.  She is 31, 165cm, slim and has dyed blond hair.  She has made a real effort for this date.  She is dressed very smart, her makeup is perfect.  She is very good looking. Speaks no English. She worked at the office of the shipyard but was made redundant and is unemployed now.  She has gone back to live with her mom in Nikolayev.  She has an eight year old girl.  We talk intimately.  She is very nice, genuine lady.  If I had met her earlier in my trip we could have matched.  She has realistic expectations and there is chemistry on her side.  She is very interested in me.  I am conflicted, logically I should see this lady again, emotionally I feel that would be fraudulent.  She tells me she is staying with friends in Kherson.  She wants to see me again.  I won’t make a commitment, so Anya does it for me!  She will organize a second date.  I am unhappy about this but realize Anya is acting in my best interests.  We meet the next Irina, and go for a walk in the park.  Second Irina is 30, 167cm tall, good figure and dyed blonde hair.  She has a child and speaks very little English.  I quickly realize her primary motivation is economic, a better life in a foreign country.  She is looking for a provider.  I am polite but tell her I have no interest.  She is surprised. (She does look hot!)  Anya and I leave her at the café in the park.  Anya tells me I’m learning.  I handled that date really well.  The truth is I don’t care anymore, my enthusiasm for first dates is almost non existent.  We meet the third Irina in Lenin Square.  It is immediately apparent that her profile is fictional.  The photos were taken ages ago, in reality she is fat (heavier than me!).  At the start of my trip, I would have been rude to her but now feel it is not worth the effort.  We go for a coffee in a cheap café on Lenin Square.  The meeting lasts 10 minutes.  I tell her that her profile is dishonest and I have no interest in her.  She is hurt by my flat rejection.  I tell her she must be honest about herself if she is ever to match with a foreign man and leave.  In reality this lady has no chance of matching with a foreigner in Kherson, the competition is way to fierce but it would have been cruel to tell her so.  Anya now thinks I am well behaved.

We are going to Alia’s apartment for dinner this evening.  I know this a major check out.  Alia has told me some of her friends and brother will be visiting too.  Anya and I go to the supermarket to buy dinner gifts.  I buy wine, caviar, smoked fish and a box of chocolates.  We head over to Alia’s by taxi.  We drive into the courtyard complex.  This place is frightening.  It makes the dilapidated courtyard of my apartment look positively upper class.  Some apartments are boarded up, others have recently been burnt out.  Tramps are living in these.  Anya does not want to get out of the taxi, the driver finds the entrance to Alia’s apartment building.  She has seen us pull up comes down to the door.  The apartment is on the top floor.  There is a lift. We get in and the sounds it makes going up scare me.  Alia tells me at least it still works.  We go through a steel security door into the communal hall (the bathroom is here).  Alia has one room and a small kitchen.  The apartment glistens, you could eat off the floor.  The kitchen has an old galvanized steel sink with a tap, an ancient stove, but no refrigerator and a small work table. The studio room is set for a feast. Alia and her friends have been cooking, a big cake, other pastries, big bowls of fresh salad, there is a stew in the oven.  Enough to feed a dozen people. The furniture is decrepit.  You could find better dumpster diving in Manhattan.  There are new home made throw covers on the two sofas.  The only luxuries are a 12” TV and a Sony boom box.  This place hits me very hard about my untidy but luxurious apartment in NYC.  I have never been close to anyone who lives in such poverty.  Alia is making the best of what she has got, she is obviously very house proud.   

Dinner lasts all evening.  People come and go.  Help themselves to food and are introduced to me.  This party is being held for me, I try very hard to be polite and engaging.  Anya helps me enormously.  Despite feeling very uncomfortable for the whole evening, I make a good impression.  After everyone has left I help Alia clean up.  She is very surprised.  She is astonished as I fill the old sink and start washing dishes.  Why I ask?  You are a man and my guest is the reply.  Also why are you washing up like that?  I finally discover why few sinks in Russia have plugs, the custom is to wash under a running tap!  Later we have tea and Alia gets the family album out.  This is a revelation.  Old faded pictures of her Mom and Dad, her dad was Russian and a merchant sailor, her mom was Uzbek and in her younger days a very good looking lady.  There are pictures of Alia from a baby, through school and as a young adult. I pick out some photos of Alia on Holiday in Hurghada and Sharm-el-Sheik.  I have vacationed in both these resorts Scuba diving.  There is a picture of Alia sitting on the fountain outside the Hilton hotel in Sharm.  I stayed there.  She was early twenties when it was taken, and stunning.  “How did you get to go on these expensive vacations” I ask.  My boyfriend is Alia’s reply.  There are no photos of him.  “Was he married?” I ask  “He took what he wanted and dumped me when he got bored” is her reply.  We start to talk about going to Yalta for a week together.  Alia wants to go, she has not had a proper holiday in three years but she has conditions.  She will only sleep with me when she is ready.  If I expect sex in exchange for paying for this holiday she is not going.  I agree thinking she will change her mind in Yalta.  Anya says we can leave all the trip organization to her.  Before I leave we agree to take the overnight train to Simferepol tomorrow….

[leslied]

PART 15 – LEAVING KHERSON AND ARRIVING IN YALTA

Today is a major transition.  I must pack and leave Kherson to go to Yalta.  The dating phase of my trip will end and I will continue my journey with Alia.  I am apprehensive about the future.  I am very attracted to Alia, but will we work out as a couple?  She is very strong willed, maybe stronger than me.  She is very emotional and a lot is happening in her life now.  She is absolutely not for sale and I cannot coerce her.  She will make the decision to come with me and if she will walk out.  (All you PC critics take note of this!  I am not in control now.  Alia is.  To describe her as “subservient” is laughable).  Anya is making the arrangements for our trip.  She is very good at this, has done it many times before.  In mid afternoon I have a final first date.  I feel like canceling it but the lady is traveling in.  That would not be fair.  The dice tumble in mysterious ways.  The gods play one last trick on me.  I meet Alexandra with Anya in a café near Lenina park.  She is 31, 170 cm tall, very slender with a good figure.  She has long chestnut hair and this date is important to her.  She turns up looking beautiful.  She is a school teacher who speaks a little English and has a seven year old daughter.  We talk.  She is a kind, affectionate and caring person.  She is totally honest and has realistic expectations about marriage to an American.  Logically she is almost my perfect match.  If I had met this lady during my first week in Kherson it is possible that I would be going to Yalta with her, not Alia.  All my planning and organization came to nothing when compared to “the roll of the dice”  I went through date after date, butting my head against the wall until I met Alia.  After I met Alia and I lost interest in dating, I met a nice lady yesterday and now Alex today.  She is very attracted to me and summons her courage to for a second date.  I level with her, tell her that I am attracted to her and in other circumstances would agree in a heart beat but I am already matched and going to Yalta with my lady this evening.  Alex is clearly upset.  She and Anya talk together for some minutes.  Anya then tells me the results of this discussion.  Alex understands the situation.  She will be my “reserve lady”  If things do not work out can she see me when I get back from Yalta?  I am completely gob smacked by this.  There is no way I could swallow my pride in the way Alex just has.  I stare at Anya in disbelief.  Anya agrees for me and we leave.  As things turn out I don’t see this lady again, though she makes repeated attempts to contact me through Anya.  Without premeditation I end up acting like an American jerk….

Anya wants to change our travel plans.  It will be much more comfortable for us to travel to Yalta on this evenings coach.  I agree to this but Anya cannot contact Alia and believe me she tries.  By 11pm that night still no word from Alia.  I am worried that she has changed her mind.  Anya is just plain angry with Alia.  At 11.30 Alia calls.  She will meet us at the train station at 4.30am.  Everything is fine.  (It is not until after the end of my trip back in NYC,  that I find out that Alia had chosen today to close down her grocery store. This is why we could not contact her!)  We meet at the train station,  me with a big suitcase, Anya with fancy luggage and Alia with a beat up Adidas backpack.  To Anya’s disgust we cannot get a whole compartment. We have to share with a babushka.  Alia plays mum.  Organizes sheets, makes up all the beds and I quickly fall asleep in one of the top bunks. I have not slept that night.  I am woken by Alia as we approach Simferepol.  At the station we find a cab.  Too easily.  I know Anya well now.  She has been busy on her mobile.  I accept this, Anya is my fixer, she collects “barysh” on everything she arranges for me.  Alia is not aware of this.  We drive to Yalta in a comfortable GM sedan.  The Crimea countryside is spectacular after the flat plain of Kherson.  Anya is busy on her mobile. She has arranged a perfect apartment for us.  Just 100m from the seafront.  We arrive at the address and within five minutes a new Russian guy has turned up.  We go into this luxury four room apartment, separate heating and water system. New kitchen and bathroom.  It is in an old apartment building about 5 minutes walk from the McDonald’s on the sea front. I am bringing the cases in when an argument erupts between the New Russian landlord and Alia.  He wants $100 dollars a night.  Alia is arguing.  Anya expects me to pay.  Alia won’t let me!  She is cursing him now and starts to drag our cases back outside.  I intervene and try to do a deal.  The landlord speaks some English.  I agree to pay $400 for six nights.  Alia is furious.  I am stupid! (She looking me straight in the eyes and tapping her forehead).  Anya won’t be getting her “barysh” now.  I pay the guy, this apartment is a great base for our holiday.

Later that afternoon we walk down the promenade.  Yalta is an affluent resort.  The streets are bustling, it’s a new Russian playground.  There are lots of Europeans here too,  I hear lots of German voices.  The promenade is a chain of expensive restaurants, nightclubs and fancy stores selling European fashions.  There are also fun fare rides,  Fancy dress photo stalls and lively street musicians.  The contrast with poor run down Kherson is very stark.  It is expensive here.  European prices.  In the early evening we return to the apartment to change for dinner.  Alia has few clothes and she obviously hand washed these last night, as they are hanging to dry in her room.  She is busily ironing them.  I wear a suit for the first time on this trip.  Anya is dressed in her fanciest clothes which I have not seen before.  She looks every inch a new Russian lady.  Alia comes out in a pair of tight beige pants and a top.  She has put on weight since she last wore those pants.  She gives Anya an embarrassed look.  I tease “Klassnaya Poopka!”  I dodge and a hairbrush ricochets off the wall.   I just made a classic male “Faux Pas”  Alia changes into a short skirt.  She can’t understand enough English for her to appreciate my apology.  I do my best with affection and body language.  There are some situations where you can’t use an interpreter…

Anya takes us to a fancy restaurant on the promenade.  The food is not that good and the bill is 800 hrivna.  Manhattan prices!  We end the evening walking the promenade.  We watch a street act performed by a Strong man and his muscular lady assistant.  They Walk on broken glass.  Play tricks with very sharp swords.  The lady balances bare foot on a sword sharp enough to shave with.  I checked!  Alia is squeamish but impressed.  She is having a great time.  She is an open book emotionally.  Her joy is infectious.  We take the clunky old bucket lift to the top of the town and walk back home.  One phase of my trip has ended.  Another begun.

[leslied]

PART 16 – STOLEN KEYS TO ROLLER COASTERS

Alia and I are up early this morning.  Anya is sleeping, she never gets up before 10.00am.  Alia wants to go swimming.  We put a few things in a plastic bag and go to the beach.  We find a public section of the beach (most is private you must pay for sun beds).  It is crowded and very pebbly.  We find a place to spread our towels and go swimming.  The beach drops off rapidly a few metres out and the water is deep.  It is also clean and warm.  We swim, dive and generally lark about for half an hour.  The beach is too pebbly to lie on for long so we go out for another long swim.  We get back to find our stuff has been gone through. The only thing of any importance which is missing is the spare set of apartment keys.  We return to the apartment.  Anya is up and we tell her what has happened.  Anya uses her mobile phone. We change.  Anya comes in and says she has been talking to the landlord. I must pay around $200 for all new locks(5!) for the apartment.  There is dark motivation here.  I simply say no.  Anya says I must pay this.  I say NO.  Anya increases the pressure in her typical Ukrainian way, this is already agreed.  I get Yankee, you agreed – you pay!  You will have gathered by now that Anya and I do not get on personally.  We have been forced into an unnaturally close relationship during this trip.  Now the bubble bursts.  There is a row.  The keys are just a detonator, the true issue is a personality clash and her control over me.  I go cold (I always do when I get very angry) and tell Anya that there will be no more discussion.  If the landlord wants money he must come here and ask for it himself - face to face.  Anya calls me a brutal monster, bursts into tears and storms out of the apartment.  Alia does not understand what the fuss is about - Keys?  She thinks I am acting like a jerk and have just been terrible to Anya who has told her before leaving that she is going to the pharmacy for blood pressure medicine!  We make lunch and eat it.  Anya returns.  She will not let this go.  She is stubborn and so am I.  I won’t discuss it further.  The atmosphere between us is glacial.

That afternoon we take the boat trip to the Seagulls Nest.  I can recommend this excursion.  For me the boat ride was the best part. You get spectacular of the coastline which is dotted with fairy tale palaces.  The seagulls nest is a small cliff top folly.  The interior is an expensive Italian style restaurant.  You can walk around the balconies outside. The views are tremendous which is why the German (I think) nobleman built it for his lady.  She was scared of heights and hated the place!  Alia isn’t scared.  We take some photos.  Anya has remained harbor side.  There is a steep climb up here.  On the way back down we stop at one several jewelry stalls.  Alia is looking at the pearls.  She will never ask for anything.  The stall holder realizes I’m an American and shows Alia the expensive stuff ($600 - $1000)  Alia just laughs at him.  I sign she can have a necklace.  Her eyes say “you’re sure?”  “Da”  Alia starts looking and bargaining.  She selects a necklace and gets a matching pair of earrings thrown in for less than $40.  She is delighted.  The cloud caused by the row with Anya lifts a bit. The ferry boat is blowing the horn for all aboard.  We run back.  We are the last on board.  When we get back to Yalta Alia wants to go swimming again.  Anya takes us to a good private place.  We spend a couple of hours there swimming and sunbathing.  Anya sits in a café.  It is dark by the time we leave the beach.  I am very hungry by now and we pass a cheap beach café which has a chicken rotisserie outside.  The smell is wonderful.  I say we will eat here.  This is not where Anya wants dinner but It is OK with Alia.  We sit on plastic and a whole chicken is brought with couple of big bowels of salad.  Dinner costs 85 hrivna – 10% of last nights bill and to me the food is fine.  Anya is fuming.  I can tell the girl talk is dark and about me.  Anya translates a remark made by Alia as “You look at me the same way you look at chicken”  I know there is lust in my eyes, can’t hide it but just what is being said.  Hmmmm…..

We end the evening at the fun fair.  I discover Alia is a roller coaster junkie and wants to go on every scary ride.  Twice!  There are a couple of virtual reality coasters her and some old village favorites.  Alia adores the pendulum ride – especially when it goes upside down and spins through 360 degrees.  I almost sick dinner back!  Anya would not be seen dead on a fair ground ride.  This is not her idea of how a vacation in Yalta should be spent.  Alia is excited and playful.  Anya translates her babble for me “Yes, I’m a 30 year old child! Great Time!”  I wonder how she would enjoy a trip to Orlando?!

[leslied]

PART 17 – PALACES, BOWLING AND A BUST UP

This morning we are back on Anya’s schedule.  She has organized a private trip to the Yalta conference palace and the Palace of a Russian Noble (I’ve forgotten his name).  The same car and driver who did the Simferepol transfer turns up.  The conference palace is magnificent.  It was built by Tsar Nicholas the second totally without regard to cost.  This was where the famous 1944 conference between Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelt was held.  The main ballroom where the summit was held is magnificent.  The marble columns come from the same quarry as Michelangelo’s famous statue of David!  This place is steeped in history.  The apartments upstairs are full of family photos of the last Tsar.  The gardens even feature a giant redwood tree.  It is a baby, less than 100 years old but already taller than the surrounding native trees.  The ocean views from the palace and gardens are breathtaking.  We have to join the bus tour parties to go around the palace.  They make you wear cloth over shoes supposedly to save the floors but these are so filthy that they serve no purpose.  Alia jokes to me “If I washed those there would be nothing left - only dirt holds them together!”  Alia is growing distant from me.  Anya’s girl talk is having an effect…

The next palace is a mock medieval castle.  We have lunch here.  I let Alia buy the entrance tickets.  She sees that foreigners are charged a lot more than Russians, so comes back with three Russian tickets and gives me the change.  Anya is unhappy about this. I will be caught.  It will be embarrassing.  Alia puts her arm around me and puts a finger to my lips. We join a Russian tour group.  Same stupid filthy over shoes. The palace is not nearly so magnificent as the last  but its setting under the cliff like coastal mountains is straight out of a Pushkin  fairy tale.  The setting makes the gardens the memorable thing here.  I take lots of photos.  I realize that I could have bought this trip on the regular coach for a third of what it is costing me. There is no advantage to this private trip.  I am sick of Anya and her “barysh”

That evening we go out for dinner.  Anya takes us to another expensive restaurant on the promenade.  I say no and tell Anya only she wants to eat here.  Alia and I would be happy at a cafe.  I know enough Russian to hear Anya bad mouthing me as a cheapskate.  Now she has gone too far.  Anya takes us to yet another expensive restaurant.  I am really angry now. With hindsight I should have sent Anya back to the apartment at this point.  Instead I insisted on going to the beach café where we ate last night.  Part two of the row happens here.   Anya tells me I am an uncouth and uncivilized, where will she have to eat next, McDonalds!  Americans are all the same, no style or manners, just money which we think justifies everything.  She is quitting.  See how you fend for yourself!   No one who I am paying talks to me like that.  I fire her on the spot.  She must leave the table right now.  She is on the bus tomorrow morning.  She wants her money.  I say we will discuss that in the morning when we have both cooled down.  Leave NOW!  She does in tears followed by Alia.  Alia returns twenty minutes later.  “Oh Leslie, poor Anya! You pay Anya?”  I reply “Maybe”

Alia and I finish dinner.  She is obviously worried about Anya.  I want to let things cool down.  I do not want to go back to the apartment.  We visit the fair ground.  We had ridden most of the interesting rides the night before.  Alia takes me to a shooting stall.  She is amazed that I own guns.  Imitation AK47 air rifle - 20 shots, 20 hits wins a cuddly toy.  I get only 18 but Alia is still impressed. I suggest going ten pin bowling seeing an advertisement on a hoarding.  We take a taxi to the rink.  It is new and quite swish.  It is also 100 hrivna an hour.  Alia thinks its too expensive.  I say come on.  She is shaking her head at me “You complain about expensive restaurant and now come here? Incomprehensible!” (this is not said in English using these words but we are able to communicate quite well on our own)  We change shoes and I set up the lane.  Alia has never been bowling before. I didn’t think of that.  She is generally embarrassed in the company of rich new Russians and is wearing a short skirt. This makes things worse.  Her first attempts are like any complete beginners, the ball ends in the gutter.  She thinks people are laughing at her.  Now Alia is riding her own emotional roller coaster and it is her turn to amaze me.  She picks the lightest ball, takes a run, and heaves it with all of her might.  Do you know - a bowling ball can bounce?  It can if it is hurled like a shell from a mortar!  I can’t help it – I burst out laughing. So do other people.  Now Alia is determined to show everyone!  The mortar action becomes modified discus.  She is throwing the ball so hard that if she hits the pins she is knocking them down – all of them.  In the second game she gets four strikes and beats me.  She breaks her finger nails, to hell with that.  Splits her skirt and does not notice.  What an amazing woman!  By the end of the session the 30 year old child is back.

We get back to the apartment late but as I feared Anya is waiting.  She won’t leave this till morning.  I do not want to discuss things now but I am given no choice. She continues the row involving Alia further.  Alia has her own fears.  Top of her list is that I will use and abuse her like that last rich Russian boyfriend.  She cannot understand my behavior and so fears the worst.  Anya plays on this.  Alia starts siding with Anya.  Everything is falling to pieces. I cannot cope.  I decide to end the whole thing right now.  I tell Alia if she feels like that she can return to Kherson with Anya tomorrow morning. No more discussion.  I am going to bed.  I take two sleeping pills and lapse into eight hours of unconsciousness. 

Now a break in my tale. 

Having these rows with Anya in front of  Alia was the worst blunder I made in my entire trip.  Alia does not speak English.  This row had nothing to do with her but Anya involved her to put pressure on me.  We were in a weird “ménage a trios” A wise man would never have let the situation go so far.  If you are going to argue with an interpreter or agency - do it entirely away from your lady.    From a customer perspective, as my employee Anya had no right to act in this way.  However being on a trip with an interpreter is like being in an emotional pressure cooker.  You are together for 8 to 12 hours a day.  If you are compatible you may fall in love.  This happens to some younger guys.  If you are incompatible it is likely to end in a row.   If you don’t get on with your interpreter, change to another before it becomes a problem.  This is better for both of you.  If you are dealing with a professional agency this won’t be a problem.  It might pose problems with a small agency (they may regard you as a *snip*, which on a personal level, you might well be!)  If like me you have planned your entire trip on hiring a single interpreter – here is the major downside.  On a personal level, I know I was largely responsible for what happened.  My behavior and events like the forest picnic had driven Anya to distraction.  I was also extremely confused and at the end of my rope.

I am paying and to borrow Anya’s description, Americans think this justifies everything………

[leslied]

PART 18 – THE COMPRAMISE TO AFTER THE CONCERT

I awake late but in a calm frame of mind.  The girls are already up.  Over breakfast I talk with Anya. I insist we talk alone, so Alia goes to the beach.  There was a frank discussion, the details of which I won’t bore you with.  The agreement was made mostly on my terms.  The emotional BS between Anya and I ends.  We adopt a professional approach for the last 4 days of my vacation.  No more fancy trips or meals.  I want “time out” to be on my own.  I give Anya 200 Hrivna and tell her to spend the day with Alia however she likes, but keep away from the beach above McDonalds as I will spend the day there.  I also give her two seats for tonight’s concert by a Russian male singer.  I had already bought these and had planned to go with Alia.  She can go with Alia.  The next day I will pay for Alia and her to go on the bus trip to the caves that Alia wanted to see but will not go myself.  The day after we will all travel back to Kherson together on the coach.  I have a day in Kherson and then travel back to NYC.  If Anya calms down and carries out my wishes I will pay her in full when we get back to Kherson, including the next three days even though she is only baby sitting Alia. 

Why did I come to this weird complex decision?  At the time I had many logical but with hindsight I realize delusional reasons.  The true reason was I did not want to loose Alia.  After my display of temper last night Alia will not stay in Yalta alone with me.  The sane decision would have been to pay off Anya, give Alia 100 Hrivna, and put them both on the late morning bus to Kherson.  I could then have chilled out in Yalta on my own and returned to NYC.  I could have also gone back to Kherson, contacted Alexandra and continued to date but I did not want to.  I’d had my fill of that.

I was in a confused state of mind.  Booze would only make me maudlin so I decided on exercise.  I went to Vasil’s gym at the far end of the beach above McDonalds. This is a small men’s gym with lots of free weights.  It is 10 Hrivna for a workout.  I am the only foreigner in there.  I work out slowly and methodically.  I work out with weights only to keep in shape.  I am no bodybuilder.  Several of the Russian guys in there are.  Of course an American stranger causes interest.  My Russian is almost non existent but it suffices.  These guys are very friendly.  Two hours later I leave exhausted for the beach.  Spend the afternoon sunbathing and swimming.  This really does help me calm down and by the time I am eating Schashlik at a beach café in the early evening I have chilled out.  I decide to go back to the apartment in mid evening as drinking is not a good idea and watch TV.   The Russian version of “Candid Camera” is on.  One sketch features a sexy store greeter who meets male customers with a full kiss on the lips.  In Russia this causes such embarrassment and consternation.  Only the last young guy kisses her back and asks for a date.  On Russian TV he is portrayed as outrageous. If they tried that sketch in mid town Manhattan the guys would form a line!

The girls return from the concert.  The atmosphere is immediately tense.  If looks could kill, those Alia is giving me would zap me to a bubbling pool of glop on the carpet.  Alia is a volatile woman.   I know I’m walking on glass.  One wrong move now and she will burst into tears, through my presents in my face, pack her rucksack and walk to the bus station.  I retire to my room.  Later Anya comes in.  She tells me Alia is very upset.  She does not know why I have dumped her?  All her hopes are gone.  She also tells me that I am in love with Alia.  “No I’m not” is my reply  My mind still entertains that idea though….
 

[leslied]

PART 19 – CAVERN TRIP, PHOTOS AND RECCONCILIATION

This morning we all go to the bus station to buy tickets back to Kherson.  I also buy two trip tickets to the caverns.  This costs 130 Hrivna.  The private tour Anya arranged would have cost 700!  You see it had to stop.  I try to explain this to Alia myself.  She now understands something of what was going on and the reason for the argument.  She wants me to come too but I feel unable to rejoin the “ménage a trios” I tell her to have a good time and make sure she has money for lunch and drinks.  On the way back to the apartment I drop my films off for processing at a kiosk.  I want to give Alia some of these photos before I leave.  I then decide to go back to Vasil’s gym.  I am now accepted by these guys, they have adopted me as a mascot.  The work out is harder today these guys are involving me and pushing my puny efforts on.  About half way through two girls come in.  They are the girlfriends of two of the bodybuilders.  These girls are tall and slim and would stop traffic anywhere in the US.  They are just about the best looking girls I have ever been up close to!  They are also fit (not bodybuilders)  I watch in awe as they pump out sets of 100 on the inclined sit up bench.  I try this after they have finished and at that angle can manage only 20 before my gut busts.  The atmosphere is very friendly. We are communicating fine with my poor Russian and their poor English.  I just need to get over the embarrassment of my terrible pronunciation. They invite me to go with further down the beach for a swim.  The sun beds here are cheap, 5 Hrivna.  I swim and then fall asleep exhausted in the sun.  I awake to find myself covered by a towel.  They did not let me to get burnt.  I agree to meet up with them for dinner at a cheap beach café later and return to the apartment picking up the photos on the way.

I shower and change then check out the photos.  They rip my guts out.  The ones taken in the forest are the worst.  The feelings of what might have been.  The middle aged man and the young woman.  There is real affection here.  I cannot deny it.  I leave them on Alia’s dressing table and go out to dinner.  The girls are back late around 10.00pm.  Dinner is very lively.  Such a change to be with ordinary people rather than in this “agency dating bubble”   Later there is Vodka and pickles on the table and I have been “picked up” by a good looking woman in her thirties. She is on holiday.  She speaks some English and I have no doubts about her intentions. Her hand is stroking the inside of my thigh and she wants to go skinny dipping!  Well now I know I am in love because all I can think of is Alia!  I am willing Anya to call my mobile and she does.  I lie “I have to go to let them into the apartment, I will be back”  Fortunately I have only had a couple of shots of Vodka and I munch Tic Tac mints on the way back….

Alia is at the dining table going through the photos.  They are having the same effect on her.  I say she can have whatever photos see wants.  She begins to sort them into two piles, well one really.  She attempts some English “Alia greedy for photos”  I tell her “have them all I can get reprints in NYC”  There is a complete change in our non verbal behavior.  Are we back on track?  She is also very happy, the caves were wonderful.  She had never seen anything like that before.

[leslied]

PART 20 - YALTA TO KHERSON

Today my trip to Yalta ends.  I am up early for a final walk along the promenade.  To my surprise the massive British cruise ship Oriana is at the central wharf behind McDonalds.  She dwarfs everything around her.  There are lots of elderly Brits walking on the promenade or enjoying a morning coffee at the many cafés.  I talk to a small group of them.  It is over a year since I was in England and then it was just for two weeks.  I am now more New Yorker than Brit.  The luxurious life these people lead on vacation is so structured, everyone has a specific time for a coach trip to the Yalta conference palace,  the ship leaves in less than 12 hours.  I reflect on the difference between their experience of Ukraine and the maelstrom that I have been through but I would not swap experiences with them for all that has happened.  The situation with Anya has resolved itself with few words between us.  Many of you may have experienced a blow up with a work colleague.  These tend to be resolved in one of two ways: Loathing and spite, and one person leaving or acceptance of differences and a fresh start.  Anya and I have taken the second course.  I return to the apartment to pack.  Just before we leave the landlord’s babushka arrives to check the apartment.  Everything is fine.  She asks respectfully for a few Hrivna, enough to replace the lost keys.  I pay her and reflect that the blow up occurred for nothing…

Alia and I are sat side by side on the coach.  It is a modern Volvo model, with on board toilet and a movie screen.  It costs 40 Hrivna for a one way ticket to Kherson.  It is much more comfortable than the train.  It is cheaper too.  The trip takes seven hours with stops at half a dozen bus stations.  I am the only foreigner on the bus.  There is an American movie, dubbed in Russian playing.  Alia does not like the violence.  She worries that American society is like the movie.  We are “talking” together quite intimately.  From my viewpoint it is rather like being with a small child who cannot say more than a few words yet.  You know how the other person feels and can express simple things.  I must appear the same to Alia.  The expressions between us are of increasing affection.   Coming into Simferepol I judge the time is right.  Anya joins us.  I tell Alia “I want you to be my girlfriend,  I will stop dating other girls and only see you”  “ You promise?” is her reply “Da” and the deal is sealed with a kiss.  At Simferepol bus station discussion continues.  I agree to pay for private English lessons, Alia promises to work hard at them.  I want to have a meal here as there are some cafés.  Alia says no wait.  An hour later we pull into the bus station of a small town.  No dining facilities here that I can see here.  Alia asks for 10 Hrivna and walks into the bustling little open market.  She returns with three large pastries, a kilo of grapes, a big bag of apples and a large bottle of water,  She squats down by the coach and washes the fruit with the water.  We get in the bus and are away again.  The pastries are hot and filled with chicken and vegetables and the fruit tastes great.  I get 60 Kopeks change from 10 Hrivna.  Lunch for three for $1.90 – Wow. 

We arrive in Kherson at 7.00pm.  Alia and I agree to go out for dinner on our own tonight.  We need a taxi.  I had more agro with taxi drivers than anyone else in Ukraine.  The guy at the head of the line has a filthy, decrepit Volga.  Anya won’t use this cab because of her clothes.  There is a modern Lada station wagon but he is near the back of the line.  I go up to him and negotiate.  Of course, it happens the other drivers insist I must use Volga and I argue.  Anya hates this (she would use her mobile), but as usual money is money and we get into the Lada.  Here’s a tip,  always agree the fare before you start, in Kherson there are no meters.  Alia comes around to my apartment at 9.00pm and we go out to dinner at “Kano”  which is a small family run café in the center.  It is a large plastic conservatory and has a live “one man band” in the evening.  I have used this place a lot, the food is excellent and dinner with drinks is less than $20.  The old lady who owns it spoils me, I have been a regular customer.  Later we talk with the musician, he speaks excellent English, learnt from two years working in a hotel in Cyprus.  He helps us out with some impromptu translation.  He then starts playing slow music and we dance.  I notice a couple of guys staring at Alia.  Why?  Then I realize she is wearing the same skirt she split bowling.  My Russian is not good enough to explain this situation so I motion we sit down.  When we leave I decide to tell her by joking.  I poke her “popka”  through the hole with my finger.  Immediate outrage and she swivels the skirt around sees the split and turns crimson.  “It’s OK” I say “OK??” is her reply with a look that says don’t you dare b*llshit me.  I just start to laugh and soon she does too.  We walk back towards my apartment.  In Lenin square she stops and talks to a taxi driver  At my building she won’t come in but necks with me until the cab turns up.  Oh well….

[leslied]

PART 21 – THE FINAL DAY TO NYC

This morning I go the bank to cash travel checks.  I pay Anya and astound her with a substantial tip. I need to keep this lady on my side.  We meet Alia.  It is her 30th Birthday next week.  I want to buy her a present, what would she like?  Make up, please.  Anya knows just the shop.  New Russian, full of imported make up and accessories.  The girls start to shop.  Devoushka’s smile is beaming as the purchase pile grows.  The final purchase is perfume and I make the final choice.  Alia is delighted.  We go for a farewell lunch.  We hurry to finish this in order to meet the English Teacher Anya recommends.  She is middle aged and speaks perfect English with a British upper class accent. She is highly qualified.  I agree to pay for an intensive 2 month English course for Alia and buy the text books and tapes - $300.  Alia promises me faithfully that she will work hard at these classes and her teacher promises regular progress reports.   

I go back to the apartment and Alia comes with me.  For the first time she comes in to help me pack.  Later we talk.  I give her a $100 dollar bill, she stuffs it down the front of my shirt. I say take it, I know you are broke and shove it down her cleavage.  She shakes her head at me holds out her hand and says “Tic Tac” I give her a mint.  She pops it in my mouth and then kisses, giving me the Tic Tac with her tongue and taking it back.  Now I’ve not experienced that before!  Then she says “Leslie, No Sex!” I say “OK” and she pulls me down onto the bed….

Anya arrives with a Taxi.  We leave the apartment in a somewhat disheveled state.  Anya gives us both a look which says “I Know what you’ve been doing”  We go to the train station and sort out our compartment.  Alia is with me and Anya leaves us alone.  I am hugging Alia and she is trembling in my arms.  The train starts to pull away.  Panic.  We run to the door, the stairs have been lifted, Alia jumps barefoot from the train landing like a cat on the platform.  She runs up to the end of the platform waving and crying.

It is over……..  I feel totally drained.  I sleep through the night until we reach Kiev.  Frantic transfer to Borispol airport, through into the departure lounge and boredom.  18 hours in transit to Newark.  We are delayed.  Retrieve a plastic bag full of mail (mostly junk) from my box and go up to my apartment.  It feels like an alien environment even though its home.  I am totally exhausted and jet lagged.  The last message on my machine is Alia’s voice “Leslie, Leslie! Are you safe!”

[leslied]

POSTSCRIPT

All this happened a long time ago.
 
After the trip I realized I had been VERY stupid.  I had “matched” (i.e. settled for one woman - Alia) far too soon.  I should have stayed in Kherson and continued to date.  Let things happen naturally.  Going to Yalta was a bad idea.  I should also have fired Anya before I went to Kherson.  She was following her own personal agenda, not trying to help me find a girlfriend.

The basic problem was within me.  I was trying too hard to find a girlfriend  and when I happened upon a likely candidate (Alia) I was trying everything within my power to make it happen.  This “wish fulfillment” strategy had to end in tears and it did - mine!

I spent maybe fifty hours writing this trip report.  It served as an alternative to psychotherapy.  Writing cleared my mind and gave me perspective not only on the situation but on my own motivations.

I got very good advice from the mentors of my generation:-

JB “you need to get your Sh*t in a pile and see if you can lift it son!”
Witchdoctor (Ron) shared his vast experience gained as the owner of lifetime partners in Tver.
And of course Andrew who as always gave excellent advice if you stopped and thought about what he said…

I started to plan a winter trip to see Alia, I needed to get closure on this situation.  I also paid someone to check up on what was happening in Kherson.  It was predictable.  I had stupidly paid her debts, given her a monthly allowance, and several gifts.  I had tainted the relationship with $$$.  If you act like a “sugar daddy” you will be treated like one!  Ron was correct, there was no way of turning this situation around.  Alia’s  demands escalated, prompted no doubt by Anya.  I started to back off.  No more western Union.  The final ploy was we should get engaged  on my next trip.  I trashed the relationship and let it burn…

My friends breathed a collective sigh of relief! 

This was short lived though as I announced I was going ahead with my winter trip to Ukraine.  This time Jack Bragg would be my guide and I was DETERMINED to learn from my mistakes!

THE END