Chapter 13 – Life Of Traveling Rapscallion: Return Of The Boyfriend

I suppose it is about time I describe the best week spent so far in Ukraine. However I will try to avoid the overabundant details that filled the narrative of the Cornwall weekend so as to not bore my readers with the minor and (often intimate) particulars.

Therefore our story begins when Darren’s Ukrainian Airline plane landed at Kiev Borispol International Airport. He came, he saw, he conquered… No, wait, that was Caesar. Ok… so then Darren came, saw and left. The End.

Sorry, what did you say? You want some more detail than that? Well, I can’t leave you quite so uninformed, perhaps. Then let us begin the story once again from Borispol airport. One detail that may be worthy of note was my intricate journey to meet Darren there. I arrived in Kiev by the early morning express from Kharkov. After finding and paying (mostly) for the rental flat, I made my way to the airport shuttle station with 14 gryvnia in my pocket. Believing that was enough for at least one journey to the airport, imagine my dismay at realizing the price had been raised to 20 gryvnia! As usual I was late arriving to the station and now it looked that I was going to be even later to the airport itself. Making a long story short, I managed to haggle with a cab driver who took me from the shuttle station back to the flat in the center of town, so that I could retrieve my debit card, then drive me to an ATM to withdraw more funds and finally transport me and another young man (a Turkmenistani studying business in Kiev) to Borispol, all this for a little fee of course. Amazingly after all that rigmarole I was just in time to stand by the arrival gates and watch as Daz walked triumphantly, guitar in hand, along the gauntlet of family and friends to find me waiting in anticipation (and slightly out of breath from the harried journey).

Sasha, the ever-so-helpful cabbie, was hovering around waiting for the opportune moment to solicit a return journey to the city center. We agreed, as it was easy though more expense than the shuttle. During the ride back, Sasha was kind enough to give us some advice on where to eat and what to see. This was free of charge! Eventually we returned to the flat and waited there to pay the renter the remaining money owed (as I didn’t have enough when I met her earlier). The flat, (or apartment for the American audience) was just off the main road, (or high street for those of the British English persuasion) and thus right near the heart of night life and all life in Kiev. It was a large place with a real full-size bed (as opposed to the fake, couch-bed weirdness I’ve been used to lately). It also had a large living room, including television and fairly new looking kitchen. All this for only $40 a day! (Rather rich blood for me, considering I only earn a little over 5 times that per month, but it was worth it.)

After relaxing for a little while, catching our breath and saying our “It’s been so long!” “I’m so excited to see you again!”, lovey-dovey nonsense, we prepared ourselves to venture out and find sustenance. We walked along the main street, then turned right, then right again and… right once more. Eventually we found a great little outdoor café with a quaint fountain in the middle, under the Golden Gates monument. We had a delicious meal of sashlik (shish-ka-bob) and vareniki (similar to, but different from ravioli) and beer. We ate, drank and were very merry. As the cute joint closed down for the night we departed and turned one more right to complete the circle and return to our temporary home.

The next day was spent walking around the city. We saw a memorial to the Workers, an impromptu amusement park on top of a lookout point and a forest park on islands in the middle of the river. It was an amazingly hot day and we were gladdened greatly by the cooler temperatures and winds around the river. We dipped our feet into the cleaner areas of the Dnipro River and watched children play and old hefty women sunbathe in their lunch-lady sized bras. It was a lovely day followed by a lovely dinner in another outdoor café in the park where we met with some American girls who were missionaries in another part of Ukraine. We chatted with them then finished our meal and made our way back up the hill and through the woods to grandmother’s house we go… no, wait there were woods but not to granny’s house. Back to the random apartment we were occupying.

If that wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t, the day after Darren and I walked around another part of the city, this time in search of monuments and interesting sights. We found them starting with a funicular that took us up the steep hill to St. Michael’s Cathedral. We walked along, photographing here, stopping to talk there and eventually made our way to St. Sophia’s Cathedral complex. There we took an extra long break to hide from the rain and talk about life and love(s). After a while, when the complex was closing up, we decided it was time to move on to bigger and better things. Or at least different things. So we finally, through some difficulty and inspired map-reading found the highlight of Kiev – Andreiyevski Uzviz (Andrew’s Descent). A strip of winding, cobble-stoned road that is the oldest in Kiev and is the place to be for all things kitschy, souvenirs in other words. We arrived to the Uzviz after sunset and consequently as the stalls were closing up. Sunset was spent actually atop the Uzviz watching the pinkish sun disappear behind the Kiev skyline.

Following the souvenir stands down the quaint old-school road, we accidentally created another circle and found ourselves back at the funicular. We went back to the flat but this time managed to make it to a grocery story to buy some things for breakfast the next day. The following morning we feasted on overcooked oatmeal, made edible with slices of banana and apple and instant coffee – a sacrilege in my book but necessity sometimes. This was our last day in Kiev, that night we were to take the overnight train to Kharkov so we went first to the Uzviz once again for gift shopping and bought only two things – little booklets describing the Orange Revolution in English. Then we walked back to the Golden Gates where we took photos with Yaroslavl the Wise. Still not sure who he was or why he was so wise, but I’m sure I’ll learn before I leave. Here we took it easy for a while and chatted. Then, with time running short we hoofed it to the Cave Monastery where the monks who were buried in natural caves beneath the complex were remarkably preserved and therefore believed to be even more holy. Unfortunately the caves were closed (the same caves that I was shoved into by Kate my previous visit to the capital) and thus we had to content ourselves with pictures of the gigantic, gilded cathedral instead.

Satisfied with our touristiness, we rushed a bit, being late as usual for Darren and myself, to the train station to collect our things (being placed in left luggage earlier in the day) and board our train to my city. The overnight train was interesting, as train rides usually are. It was Darren’s first time in a 3rd class (open compartments) ex-Soviet train. We bought our linen and made our beds (top bunks for us both – great idea putting the two short people on the tallest rack but eh, what can be done? Perhaps using growth hormones would be one option). Anyways the ride was uneventful and we arrived in Kharkov on the morrow of Friday as planned.

I realize now that I’ve broken my promise to shorten as best as possible the traveling tales. It’s actually as succinct as I can make it so bear with me a few more lines. This will be quick, I promise!

Kharkov is the Detroit of Ukraine. Old factories, derelict buildings, spotted with the signs of New Russian riches, it is a city full of tough guys and tougher woman. (This is what I imagine of Detroit at least, not having been there myself.) Point being, that there is nothing particularly outstandingly special about this city besides the fact that I live here now. Therefore all I could show Darren was my everyday life here. Babushka’s place, my work, school, my class even! We returned on Friday to learn that John, the other native speaker from America, had refused to substitute my classes while I was in Kiev and so there was no one to lead the class that night. I checked with Daz to make sure he wouldn’t mind if we went in for a little while and had a bit of lesson. He was all for it and so we went to school and did a little Q&A about British life and times. My students loved it and moreover Darren enjoyed the time spent with average Ukrainain people too. After that he and I enjoyed some delicious pizza at a café around the corner.

Our last full day in Kharkov, we just walked around the heart of the city, Sumskaya street. Took some nice photos of Lenin and fountains and strolled through the central park. The next day Darren was to take the overnight train to Kiev and then get to the airport before 7am to board a plane back home. So again we took it easy and just wandered the city, looking at sights and talking all the while. The last night, just before his train departed, we had pizza again accompanied by too sweet wine and a delectable dessert. It was a perfect end to a perfect week and a rather bittersweet moment as I had to again say goodbye to Darren. Through a haze of drunken taxi haggling we arrived at the train station in plenty of time. We sat outside in front of the fountain for a while, not really speaking (a rarity for us!!) but letting the magic of the moment take effect. Finally it was time. We went to left luggage, retrieved his bags and guitar (which went mostly unplayed during the whole week) and went to the platform.

As he boarded the train and found his cabin, she searched frantically through the open windows to find him again. At last she could make out his form in the fourth window from the entrance. She watched, holding her breath and her tears, as he put away his luggage and settled in. He sat down on the seat and then turned his attention to the window. From there he waved to her and she waved back, smiling as big as she could in order to hide the sadness in her eyes. The music playing from the loud speakers on the platform reminded her of an old black and white movie. For a moment, that’s where she imagined herself to be. Suddenly the train let out noises signaling its departure. Her heart leapt into her throat, as she could barely make out the words he was mouthing to her. The train began to move, so did she. The train was pulling out of the station, taking with it such precious cargo. She was having to say goodbye to him again, this time she was at least assured it would not be their last encounter. Walking down the platform to the exit, keeping him always in sight, the music and night affected her and finally she let the tears flow. The train began to pick up speed and eventually her view of his window was gone. She walked back to the public transport that would take her to her lonesome home. Drying her eyes she recounted the days they’d spent together and cheered by the memories made her way home to a restful sleep.