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.

Making plans is hard....

Ok first of all apologies for the lack of posting...its hard...really hard sometimes to come up with witty, funny things to say...not to say that we live boring lives...on the contrary, perhaps too many things are happening that we are having little to no time to jot them down...So here is a little story that took place a few days ago...Its being written about because it fits our initial 'impromptu' theme and is still very fresh in my mind...

Planning is technically a major part of both mine and T's everyday lives since we are teachers. And though I try and rebel against this as much as possible, I have come to realize that planning ahead does make teaching a whole lot easier and more effective. Now, since I have started to accept this in my work life, I feel as though I have completely neglected it in my everyday life....perhaps on purpose, as I am a big supporter of spontaneous adventures, or simply because planning takes time and makes things nauseatingly organized...Either way, a perfect example of plan-less travel occurred on Saturday:

Thursday afternoon as I am enjoying my day off I get a thought process flowing through that goes something like this...'Monday is a bank holiday...Cousin works at a bank...I wonder if he gets the day off, or is it just a big tease of a name for all bankers...he for sure doesn't get it off, he never gets time off...I'll call him...oh its 2pm...he is probably in a meeting...but if I was in a meeting I would have my phone on silent as I am sure he does so it will just go to voice-mail...decided...calling...ring ring...
a very quite "Hello?"...
"Hey can you talk?"
this has been a typical way of responding by Cousin lately...I'm going to call him out on it as soon as I get a good opportunity:
"Ya ya ya give me a sec....Hey whats up?"
"Do you get the day off on Monday, and if you do do you wanna go somewhere this weekend?"
"Ya ya ya...I get the day off Cousin...its a BANK holiday"... (OK fine it makes perfect sense that he would get the day off but whatever...thought I'd make sure...)

Either way the conversation went something along the lines of well where do you want to go...I don't know...anywhere...but the weather will be crap...oh who cares it will be crap here as well...ok fine where does T want to go? Not sure, I haven't asked him if he wants to go anywhere he is in the shower... Bla bla bla...End of conversation decided nothing, a few ideas were thrown around but I hung up not really convinced that Cousin would be down for a random vaca as he seemed mega concerned about the weather being crap...which it is/was and has been for the past month...argh...

So Friday night a little more random discussion occurred about the possibility of going somewhere but was left with...we will discuss it in the morning...

Saturday morning...T and I wake up at roughly 8:30... not sure why, but it happened...I try and call Cousin...voice-mail...This happens over and over for a good 2.5 hours...Not cool Cousin...
While still in bed T and I start semi planning a possible weekend away...B&Bs are booked up, hotels are not in our price range and also seemingly booked up...so far not a great start...At about 10:30 we decide that we will just get ready and head over to Cousins, pick him up and go to the train station together headed to Brighton. (The idea of Brighton arose when our wonderful friends/neighbors suggested it as they had made reasonable plans at least a month in advance to have a wonderful long weekend away)...
At roughly 11:00 we make it down to central London, ring Cousins bell...He is stunned/confused at our unexpected arrival...We quickly get him and his not so ready at all to go friend (still in bed and wildly hungover) to get dressed and out the door.

By 1 we are on the train...by 2 we are sitting on the beach looking for rocks with holes through them...Not sure about you but in my family we always search for these natural treasures...Normally, or from previous treasure hunting excursions we were lucky to find one or two...The rocky Brighton beach however proved to be crawling with 'Chicken Gods' as we call them, so now I have a HUGE collection...zing!

By 3 we have decided to go see the Brighton palace...with a purse already super heavy and now filled with magical rocks we head down the boardwalk with the ocean on one side and a quaint beach town on the other.

We arrive at the palace...a wildly out of place Indian looking structure, surrounded by gardens, stands before us. We take it in, all with our heads kind of leaning to one side trying to grasp the meaning behind this weird place and move on. Our friends, M and S are waiting for us at the museum, which is located in the palace grounds...And as much as the palace totally did not fit into Brighton at all, at least it had its museum friend which was pretty much its twin sister...Full of totally random exhibitions of pretty much anything you can think of and find all shoved into one place...Entertaining? yes...Interesting? perhaps...Strange? very much so...

After completing our cultural program as we like to say we headed down the lanes to find some food for our hungover, hungry friends...Linner (lunch+dinner) was served at a wonderful tapas restaurant (if I had planned on writing this then I would have looked up the name and added it to the post but...)

By 7 pm we were standing outside a pub while the boys caught the last few minutes of the football match...once again if I planned this I would tell you who was playing and why it was so intriguing for them but...

Ok so this is where the lack of planning and possibly the learning experience for our next trip kicks in...Up until this point we had had a great day, we explored, we ate, we walked along the beach...etc...T and I however kind of wanted to stay in Brighton for the night and even packed a few overnight things with us juuussttt incasesss...

So we part ways with Cousin and still very much hungover friend and decide to meet up with M and S for some drinks while we search on Ts ever so handy telephone/mini computer for a place to sleep for the night.

By 10pm we are walking along the beach again while M and S are at dinner, in search for a random place to take us in...Our search ends quickly as we find (thankfully) that the hostel filled with drunk girls either dressed as cows or milk maids is completely full...

By 11 we are on the train headed home...I really wanted to stay, and was even super whiny about it...poor T....but this just goes to show me that perhaps planning, even just a little before going somewhere is probably a good idea...

All in all, Brighton is a beautiful/ slightly tacky little town that will be revisited with a little more planning as soon as the weather gets better...

That is it for now...Hopefully T will post part 2 of his Ukraine adventures soon...


V.

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.

Impromptu vacations to familiar places...

When you somewhat suddenly have two weeks off and you have not planned anything then an impromptu vacation is just the thing to do.
 
On Skype with Papa...he misses us so much...my cousin is going home for the weekend for his b-day. I really wanted to celebrate with him since we are now in the same city once again...brain starts working...and instead of thinking about it even for a minute, my idea flows out of my mouth, into the microphone, through the magical world of Skype and into my fathers ears...there is no turning back now. The idea sounds as follows...

"Well if we find decent flights then we will go to Kiev for the weekend for birthday celebrations and then spend the week in Kharkov since its so perfectly close"....

obvious response went something along the lines of...amazing! great! see you in a few days!

So being the rational person that he is, T finds us great tickets, as my father is not taking no for an answer...His reasoning is that since I have already thought it and said it out loud that I should just stick to it and not turn back...

We buy tickets lets say Tuesday...we party in London town Friday, wake up feeling not so hot on Saturday...lounge in absolutely NO rush even though our bags are not packed, our flat is not cleaned and we have no idea how we are getting to the airport. About two hours before our flight the scramble kicks in and we are both running around the house, cleaning, packing, worrying, googling directions....
We leave late, arrive late and therefore miss our flight...I panic, I have never missed a flight. Don't know what to do. First instinct is to get really mad...then cry...then smoke...then panic some more...Call Papa (he is taking his afternoon nap)...Call sister (she is in Canada and taking her morning nap)...Call Mama...not sure what I am looking for...support, a pick me up, a way for our flight to re open and let us on...none of this happens with the phone call...

Next step...must pull myself together. The lady behind the Lufthansa desk gave us one of those "Sorry there is nothing I can do but have you pay double what you paid for the flights there and back" kind of answers (legit)...This is probably why my first instinct was to get really mad...
So once again pulled together we decide to talk to the people behind the desk again...Patrick, or Peter or perhaps Phillip turns out to be a much better behind the desk helper. He finds us a flight in roughly two hours time that does not end up costing us an arm and a leg...just an arm...

We check in. Get rid of our bags. Get coffee, sandwiches, water. We sit. Relax. Laugh at the situation. Realize that missing our flight was simply just more convenient since our layover in Frankfurt is now going to only be 1.5 hours instead of 5! 

In my family, we believe that all good vacations should start with a little adventure. Usually our trusty travel agent is responsible for the pre-flight frenzy...this time however we did it all by ourselves!

Flight takes off...LufGAnZA...London--->Frankfurt--->Kiev....on the plane near the light bulbs, in German it says :

Mash this is for you...an inside joke...made my day...I think most people will find this funny. Unless you are German in which case this is totally normal and you might get offended. I am sorry.

That is it for now. More about the vaca soon. I think ill leave it to T to talk about Ukraine...

V.