Faceplant

I met up with a couchsurfer for some coffee at one of the five-thousand McDonalds in Kiev. You can't throw a rock without breaking a McDonalds window in Kiev. This one happened to be right outside Alex's house so I knew the area well. The couchsurfer I met there was a great conversationalist and three hours passed by quickly. She was great to look at too which helped a lot. I then headed out to meet Lera again and I invited her out to El-Mate for some tea and sushi. Walking hand-in-hand we made it to El-Mate only to find that it was jam-packed. Adriano offered to seat us at his hookah prep station which was right in the middle of waitress traffic. We moved some stools to his minibar and felt really exposed to the rest of the room. Fine by me, I like conquering uncomfortable situations but Lera was feeling too self-conscious. We hung around the bar for an hour before Adriano asked one of his friends/patrons if we could share his table. He agreed and we sat down for some delicious sushi while exploring our sublime environment.

Getting back home was somewhat more of an adventure. Lera lived close to where my hostess lived so we took the metro together and took a nice walk at a park nearby. It was dark and somewhat abandoned and I started to wonder if Lera's intentions were a bit more sinister than she let on. I've heard of all the caveats of following a beautiful Ukrainian girl home where thugs would be waiting to rob and beat the hell out of visiting tourists so I kept looking over my shoulder the whole while. It ended up that she was truly interested in me for me and we had a wonderful walk and talk together before saying goodbye. She directed me towards the general direction of my hostess' house and I was off like a bolt.

I eventually found the metro station nearest my hostess' house but could not remember which direction she lived in for the life of me. There was an all-night fast-food place called Foxey Burger where three Ukrainian men we loitering. I approached them and started making small talk with them. I couldn't communicate with one of them at all but the other two were making an effort to speak with me in English. “Where you from?” one asked. “Canada” I replied. “Oh! Canada! Very nice!” “Sure” I replied. “Where you go now?” “Home, on Bresnievska street.” “Oh, very far! You take taxi?” It was already late and I did not want Olisia to wait up for me too much longer so I decided “Yes, taxi. And you? Where are y'all going?” “I take my burgers and then buy vodka” replied the most English speaking one. “You like vodka?” I replied as I pulled out my little mickey from last night. The one I couldn't communicate with snatched the mickey from me after I took a small swig to show them that the vodka was clean. He proceeded to down a quarter of the bottle in one big gulp. “Wow... easy there friend!” I warned. The second guy took a more civil drink and handed back the empty bottle to me. There were a couple of drops left so I finished it off as the first guy started to look green. “You ok?” He held up his hand to me as if to say Please don't speak now, I am trying to keep this down.

Within a few short moments he was leaning on what looked like a utility box while he puked his guts out. Nice. I grabbed my order and said goodbye as quickly as possible and left them while I got into the nearest cab. “Bresnievska?” I asked him as I showed him the text that my hostess sent me. “You have money?” “Yes, 20 grivni?” “O.K.” and I got in.

We got to the apartment in two minutes and he pointed to the building. “Yes, that's it.” I pulled out my wallet and took out a fifty. “Fifty” he said and held out his extended hand to me. “No, twenty” I replied showing him two fingers. “No fifty” he replied holding out his hand with all five fingers spread out. “No, twenty,” I said again showing him two fingers, “it's only twenty from the metro.” “No, fifty.”

Now I was starting to get pissed. The worst experiences I have in countries where I look like a tourist is with cabbies. They always try to rip me off. In this case it was the equivalent of three dollars but it was the principle that always bothers me most. I hate being taken advantage of economically. I hate people who try to milk me for more money than the service would cost a local. It's the principle. Not this time I thought. I am not a victim, I will not accept this from anyone anymore. It's time you stood your ground Pavlos, time you say NO! to thieves, liars and assholes. He started to drive away from the apartment and I knew I had to act. It's now or never! I opened the door of the moving cab as he was pulling onto the main road and bailed.

Yeah, I bailed from a moving cab. There is a first time for everything.

I placed my right foot on the rolling concrete and hopped onto both feet as the momentum of the moving cab pushed me forward alongside the open door. My cell phone dropped out of my jacket pocket, flying to the ground and sliding face-down towards the curb. I pivoted, following my phone towards the curb while crouching down to pick it up. I hopped onto the sidewalk in a single fluid movement and started running towards the side of a building turning right to negotiate the corner and then ducking right again while trying to hop onto a step leading to a closed door. It was too much. My body weight combined with my heavy backpack made it practically impossible to stop myself from smacking my face right into the concrete wall. A gush of liquid filled my nose as pain shot up into my brain. Nice. I squatted down and peaked around the corner to see what the cabbie was doing while my hand explored the damage the wall graced my face with.  

The cabbie pulled around the corner to make his way back to the front of the building. I waited in the shadows while I pulled out my Foxey burger to nibble on while I waited for his next move. He went around the back of the building and I had my chance. Ducking low and running across to the building I pulled out my phone and dialled my host while finding another dark spot to hide from the cabbie. The phone showed the the call was open but I herd nothing in the earpiece. I called again. Same story. Great, my phone is busted. I tried a third time routing the call to speaker-phone. A groggy, flat voice answered. “Hey, I'm downstairs. What's the code?” “Four-five ka.” “Cool, I'm dialling now.” Heart beating hard in my ears, I got out from an outcropping of concrete and ran to the lighted doorway.

I wondered whether my running in concrete dream had to do with stepping in concrete at the island, hitting a concrete wall with my face or running from a pissed cabbie. I dialled the code and waited until the call was answered. It was an extremely long thirty seconds. The door opened and I ran up top-speed.

My hostess was visibly annoyed and distressed. “Hey, sorry about that...” I said to an emotionless face. “Want to take a shower?” she asked. “Sure, that would be great.” I answered as I dusted off my jacket from the powdered concrete it picked up from my recent hooliganism. A quiet evening ensued, with her working on a translation contract while I surfed the net and started writing this post. I fell asleep at two-thirty and apparently snored my ass off.

“How was your sleep?” I asked her the next morning. “Not good. You snored.” “Yeah, sorry about that.” The morning was just as awkward as the previous night. “Hey, I am sorry for being such a terrible guest...” I started to apologize. “It's ok.” “No, it's not. Can I please do something for you? Maybe a nice little lunch downtown today?” “No, it's o.k.” I felt like I was being a burden so I decided to pack my stuff and leave her apartment. “I am thinking of going to Lviv today. I'll grab my stuff and try to find a host.” “O.k.”

We said our goodbyes and I was off to start a new day, without any plan, place to stay or idea of what to do next. I ended up at El-Mate again to meet up with Shawn over some more hookah and mate tea while I pondered my next move.