Ukraine Part 2...Kharkov

The six days spent in Kharkov were, simply put, outstanding.

Waking up refreshed on Tuesday morning (after having spent 6 1/2 hours on a train, and then a number of hours chatting and having drinks), in a new city, felt wonderful. New places to explore, streets to walk, monuments to see, Churches and Monasteries to visit....so much to do (not to mention that there was a brood of family and friends to visit and meet as well). So many things were done and experienced in Kharkov that it would take a countless number of pages to tell my stories. Instead of dazzling you all with masterfully told tales, I will grace you with a list of amazing occurrences and adventures (listed in no particular order ofcourse);

1. Meeting so many of V's family members, and family friends, who were all so wonderful to spend time with. I would like to send a special shout out (otherwise more humbly known as giving a special mention) to, V's father, aunt, and other grandpa, who we ended up spending most of our time with.

2. The French Bakery located on Pushkinskaya Street was a treat which we looked forward to visiting everyday. They had quite the assortment of sandwiches, sweets, and Ukrainian delicacies (not to mention their smooth tasting coffee).

3. The streets of Kharkov were very reminiscent of Montreal's (in fact the entire city was very much like Montreal). The buildings might have been in slightly (probably more than slightly) worse shape than in Mtl, but it had very similar architecture, including a small section that was known as little Paris. The streets in both cities were not only pot hole/large crack ridden, but both were also very dirty and dusty, simply beautiful.

4. Attending my first European football match. I was given this opportunity by V's father who pulled some serious strings to get me into the game. It was a Europa League (formerly known as the UEFA Cup) match between Metalist Kharkov and Sporting Lisbon (a Portuguese club to which I have no affiliation, although to the people I was with that fact was difficult to understand). Sporting had won the first leg (half or match) of the home and away series 2-1, and in order for Metalist to advance to the quarter finals they needed a win of 1-0 or a win by more than two goals, ex. 3-1.
The whole event was a surprise to me, as I only found out after having arrived home with V from a day of being out and about. I was told simply to grab a warm jacket and to follow on of V's father's friends. I didn't ask any questions and simply did as I was told. I followed his friend, S, as we walked briskly through the streets of Kharkov, ending up at a very swanky looking cafe. He motioned for me to sit and gestured to the menu, stating coffee, latte, cappuccino, in an inquisitive tone. I simply stated cappuccino pajalusta (check out the kofe post to find the definition). After a couple of minutes of S chatting to one of the waiters, he motioned for me to once again follow as we walked out of the cafe. He began walking towards a massive white Lexus SUV, akin to an army vehicle, at which point he turned to me and simply stated "Driver", while pointing to the gargantuan ride. The door was opened for me and I was ushered in, sitting in between S and a man who's accent when speaking Russian was quite noticeable, J. I soon learned that J was an ex-pat American who moved to Ukraine for business in the 90's, and who is regarded as a business-man of the highest degree in Kharkov. Sandwiched between S and J, I also met an associate of theirs who sat in the front seat beside the driver, who spoke enough English to communicate well, and who happened to have visited Montreal once before. So off we were to a traditional Ukrainian restaurant to ensure that our bellies were nice and full before making our way to the stadium. The long table we sat at was absolutely covered with platters of various different kinds of food, including; kolbasa, sala, oliviya, all kinds of breads, fish, and pickles. All of this was quickly eaten during bouts of intense conversation, boisterous laughter, and shots of vodka for just about anything anyone could thing of. I only joined in for about three rounds of the vodka shots because I was thankfully put on a short leash in terms of drinking, and S did a great job of making sure that others didn't impose too much on my taking of vodka shots. After having finished every last crumb off the table, we walked back to the small white tank and sat in our previous seats. The drive to the stadium took all of about 8 minutes, as we quickly approached a blocked road by police. I was somewhat surprised as we kept on driving towards the blockade and then even more surprised as the gentleman sitting in the front passengers' seat, proceeded to employ some sort of trick out of the Jedi mind control handbook. He waved a card at the officer standing in front of the wooden fence like structure, who promptly nodded at us and began moving one of the wooden fences so that we could enter.
As soon as we entered the parking lot, the glow of the stadium slowly started creeping into our line of sight. I don't believe any word can properly describe how I felt in that specific moment in time, but flabbergasted does a pretty slick job. The newly renovated Metalist Stadium stood before us in all its majestic glory, with the club's logo prominently showcased at the entrance. I was given my ticket by S, as he grabbed hold of my forearm. I was again ushered, into the stadium, in between S and J, while I handed over my ticket to get scanned. The machine displayed a green light, that means go! I walked past the ticket checkers, all the while being held at the arm by S, as I could seem to do was look up at the stadium's exoskeleton. We headed for a side entrance, simply labeled VIP. One of Metalist's trainers walked out the door, and stopped to shake our hands before joining the rest of the team. The VIP doors were opened for us as we walked towards them, and we entered an elevator going up to one of the highest floors. Upon stepping out of the elevator, a maze of people appeared before us. The place was absolutely packed (a lot of VIPs I guess). Food was bountiful, drinks were flowing, and arm candy was present at every turn of the head. We had spent so much time at the restaurant though that we couldn't waste any time in the VIP lounge. We made our way through the crowds to finally come upon our seats (right below the private box of the owner of the club). Player presentations were just beginning for visiting Sporting, as boos reigned down from the crowd (a hostile crowd to say the least). I was asked at this moment by J who I was supporting, and I quickly responded with "Metalist no doubt". To support Sporting (especially since they are rivals of my club of choice FC Porto) would have meant that I would have to endure some serious verbal threats, not to mention invites to test my physical prowess, probably not a smart choice. After all, it would be wonderful to celebrate with everyone in the stadium if Metalist was able to pull off a win.
The game began with beautiful tifos (large images and banners, see pic below) drawn out by both Ultra groups supporting Metalist. The stadium filled with loud roars of approval as the home team walked onto the pitch. At the very same time, the home side's team song began playing as 40, 000 people (minus a few, including myself) began singing in unison. It truly was a magical moment, that raised the hair on my arms and on the back of my neck. A tingly feeling crept all over me, as I simply couldn't believe what I was witnessing at that moment. The game then began and played out without much incident. At half time it was Sporting that went to the dressing room with a one goal lead. Half time came and went, filled with caviar, bread, and drinks, as the general mood was somewhat sombre to say the least. Minutes after the half though, the home side pulled into a tie with a quick counter attack goal. The stadium erupted with cheers, song, and flares. Smoke began filling the stadium as the flares cast an eerie glow upon the far ends of the stadium (where the Ultra groups were located). Mere minutes after the goal, Metalist were thrown a lifeline as they needed only one goal to come within inches of potentially vying as one of the contenders of the Europa League Quarter-Finals. The home team was awarded a penalty as a questionable foul was called in the penalty area. Cleiton Xavier, the Brazilian captain of Metalist, stepped up to the spot and carefully placed the ball. He took a couple of steps back, as the referee made sure that no one else had even as much as a toe within the area. Xavier looked sideways at the referee awaiting the whistle to be blown. A shrill whistle sound filled the stadium, while the crowd was absolutely silent and holding their breaths awaiting the spot-kick. He stepped forward without a glance towards the goalkeeper (Rui Patricio), and carefully placed his shot low and to the corner of the net (a well placed kick). Patricio was literally on the ball all night long, and this was no exception as he correctly guessed the side of Xavier's kick and easily parried the ball out of bounds for a corner. At that very moment it seemed like Metalist dreams of advancing to the next round were absolutely crushed as they needed two more goals in roughly 30 minutes time, against a Sporting defense that wasn't letting much by. The game finished without much more excitement as it seemed like it had reached its climax with the penalty, Metalist had tied the match but lost the overall two game series.
After the final three whistles were blown by the referee, we quickly sprang to our feet and walked towards the VIP lounge and the elevator to take us down to the ground floor. The driver of the small army vehicle (white Lexus SUV) was waiting for us almost right outside the door, and we began getting in as I took one last look back towards the majestic stadium, still beautifully lit up. The ride home went by quickly as J and I spoke of football strategy and what went wrong for Metalist earlier on in the night. I was back home within 20 minutes time, thanking those who stayed in the car for great company during the game. S followed me out of the car making sure that I hadn't forgotten anything. He gave me both match tickets to keep, as motioned for me to go on upstairs to V's father's flat as he was going to finish a cigarette outside. I climbed the stairs to the flat and walked in with a large smile covering most of my face. I thanked V's father immensely for providing me with such a great experience. Surely one that I will never forget.

5. The days spent in Kharkov flew by as we always had something to do, someone to visit, or something to go see. It finally came time to make our way to Kiev after a week spent in Kharkov. We could've taken the same train back that we took to get there (super modern) or the ancient Soviet overnight train. We obviously opted for the train that screamed Soviet era, fully equipped with windows that didn't open. We were to sleep in a four bunk room, shared with two other passengers. Upon arrival onto the train we discover that our fellow room-mates were a portly and smelly middle aged man with bountiful amounts of food and drink, and an older politician or diplomat type who travels to Kiev for work on a weekly basis. V and I had the top bunks, while our fellow passengers had the bunks below us. We quickly made our beds, and packed up our luggage in a quasi compartment above us. Since there was no ventilation (all windows had no opening capabilities except for a small window roughly the size of a loaf of bread located outside the compartments that could half open), and were stuck in a small room with two other people, one of which smelled terrible, that was hot to the point that sweat was dripping of my brow, it made for somewhat of an uncomfortable sleep to say the least. In the morning, tea was being served in beautiful glass mugs with ornate silver cup holders and small spoons inscribed with the train company's logo. We had little time to finish our tea as we were to reach the station in only a few minutes time. Our bags were lifted down from above us, we grabbed our coats and other personal items, and made our way off the train as soon as it stopped at the station. We hopped into one of the first cabs we saw, missing the four minute window that was given to us to find V's uncle at the train station parking lot, and off we were to rest and eat a bit before embarking on another sightseeing exploration of Kiev for the next day and a half.

Part three to be posted soon....

The Metalist Ultras tifo.

Not a happy camper....it really wasn't that bad.

V settling in to her bed for the night, with a smile on her face.

T.

Three Rules

The following are three rules that everyone should just know and subsequently follow;

1. Never fill one's glass while they're holding it. Have them put it on a table (or any suitable surface) for  filling purposes.

2. Never put keys on a table.

3. Never give someone money at night.

• If money absolutely has to be exchanged then one must put it on the floor to go ahead with the exchange.

As told to both V and I by a friend of a friend during a late night studio session in Kharkov, Ukraine.


T.

Ukraine Part 1....Kiev

We landed at Kiev's Boryspil International Airport at roughly 2:30 am local time, welcomed by swells of pouring rain. After having been met at the airport, we quickly walked to the car, and proceeded to change certain pieces of our wardrobe which were more club appropriate. It was V's cousin's birthday weekend and we were therefore expected/very willing to party all weekend long. Sitting in the car on the way to the club, I felt like a six year old for the first time in a while. I knew what sounds Cyrillic letters made, but trying to read words by piecing sounds together proved to be very difficult while speeding by in a car.

Kokos was the name of the fine establishment we were quickly escorted to, for a fine night of celebration (at least that's what we imagined was in store for us). What we got instead was a tacky looking, rather empty club, that left a lot to be desired (shots that just so happened to be lit on fire seemed to be the theme of the night). Nonetheless we had a good time partying it up until 6 am, going to a friends' place after having left the club (the majority of clubs tend to close around 6 am, in fact there is no official closing time. Clubs will stay open as long as there are paying customers present). One of the most surprising occurrences of that night though was the fact that after a number of drinks, most of the people we were with could spew out comprehensible english phrases (in between bouts of yelling this is Ukraine, a la "this is Sparta", quickly followed by the downing of a whiskey or vodka shot). I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep up if the endless drinking of shots was the name of the game being played that night so instead I took the mixed drink route (mixing whiskey with coke), which based on the Ukrainian-styled peer pressure, led me to believe that "real" men didn't mix their drinks. In the end, my fellow drinkers were okay with the fact that I had mixed my shot (some of them did as well) and the "peer pressure" was simply a facade to try and get me, for the lack of a better term wasted. Most conversation that night revolved around the discussion of world football events, including (but not limited to); the upcoming Euro taking place in Poland and Ukraine, Portuguese football, the Europa League match between Metalist Kharkov and Sporting Lisbon,  Chelsea Football Club, and Cristiano Ronaldo.

Waking up around 10 am the next morning, we had little time to get ourselves ready as we were to set up for another party taking place that day. We arrived at V's Uncle's new house, sitting on the banks of a fast moving tributary of the Dnieper River, ready to help anywhere we could. There was meat to be marinated, drinks to be poured, and floors to be cleaned. Everything that needed tending to, got done well before any of the guests arrived. We were to have a Georgian themed party, and no expense was spared. A Georgian band was brought in, filling the house with the sweet sounds trumpets, small guitar-like instruments similar to Greek bouzoukis, and an accordion. Delicacies were served, which as you might have guessed were native to Georgia, including an incredibly tasty Georgian red wine, Georgian salads, dips, and really anything else Georgian, except for the sushi which was served. I'm pretty sure sushi isn't a staple of Georgian cuisine, despite it being amazingly tasty and my eating 8 pieces of it. By the end of the night, some had had a couple too many drinks to be able to drive legally (although legality is a very gray area in Ukraine), and I was called upon to drive the monster that was the family car, the Toyota Sequoia. To say I was a little nervous would have been a very fair statement. I had only been in the country for roughly 19 hours at that point, and from what I had seen on the streets, it seemed that some regarded traffic laws as mere suggestions. As interim captain of the SS Sequoia, I couldn't show any fear though, as I comfortably took my position in the driver's seat. My fears were laid to rest when a) there wasn't too much traffic (it was 10 pm on a Sunday night) and b) those who did share the road with the monster were seemingly respectful of traffic laws. It took roughly 25 minutes to drive to central Kiev, and not once did I feel uncomfortable while driving through the Ukrainian capitol's streets. Just in case you're wondering, we all arrived home safely, and no one was harmed in the process of getting home, despite irrational fears of my "Canadian Driving" in Kiev. V's uncle even went so far as to thank me, and state that I was in his opinion "a good driver". Mission accomplished, and I can now tick off "driving in eastern Europe" and "driving in an ex-Soviet country" off of my list of things to do.

The next day V, myself, and her grandfather, were to leave for Kharkov at 5 pm. We decided to take advantage of the late departure time, as well as having a great guide with us (grandpa), and get some sightseeing done. The first sight actually occurred prior to our leaving the home for the day. V and I climbed to the roof of the flat, and had a spectacular view of an Orthodox Church (who's name I cannot recall). We snapped a couple of pics of the beautiful golden domes, and quickly went on our way to view more sights. Throughout the rest of the day we saw Saint Sophia's Cathedral, Saint Micheal's Monastery, a couple of monuments, the arc of friendship, and an old stereotypical soviet Lada. That was really all we could fit in the day as we had to make our evening train to Kharkov. I was filled with expectations of a locomotive styled train that hadn't been changed one bit since Lenin was doing his thing. We were greeted instead with a brand spanking new train, and we were hopping on for its maiden voyage to boot. The six and a half hour train ride passed by in a breeze, filled with mini-domino playing/dominating by grandpa, and his seemingly ingenious business proposals. We finally arrived in Kharkov at 11:30 pm, greeted by V's father (whose meeting I was definitely looking forward to, although slightly nervous about). The meeting went well, and we were soon on our way to his Kharkov home, ready to settle in for the upcoming week (the topic of our next post).....

Wielding a "banya broom", posing with the unknown Orthodox church.

St. Michael's Monastery

The Arc of Friendship, erected well after Grandpa's time because according to him, he "didn't know what it was, and it clearly wasn't that important"

LADA....my dream car

Riding the rails

T.