A Mother's Concern

"I just checked your photo site yesterday, am feeling a Mother's concern about so many reference to pubs, bars etc. I know the picture probably does not represent the trip but would like to see more scenery."

Updates - 30 January

From Kiev, Ukraine

Perhaps I've let my readership down at this blog. In fact, I have been hard at the writing, polishing up the Gorchitza interview and beginning a few other articles that I think will be of general interest. These will be submitted to various non-blog outlets. So that takes time away from writing for the blog. But here I am, back at last, so let's go!

As the old joke goes, on Wednesday night an American, a Frenchman, a German, and three young Ukrainian women walked into a sushi bar. We then moved on to an excellent cellar bar that the girls recommended. I discovered there is actually an excellent Ukrainian wheat beer that tastes almost exactly like America's "Blue Moon." (I know Nathan will read this with great interest.)

One of the girls is a dancer. She bragged about her strength, so I challenged her to an arm-wrestling competition. She nearly beat me. She told me she will be doing more strength-building for the next month and promises to beat me next time. I have no doubt she will.

On Thursday I boarded a train and began a 28-hour long journey from Kiev to Bucharest. A fun young couple, whose only shared language with me was a little bit of German, provided company for about half the journey. Afterward I had the compartment to myself. At night it grew too cold, but by day the temperatures rose to sweltering conditions. I found no way to control the climate in my compartment, so I was literally sweating on the way down to Bucharest.

Advice to 50 year-old men who speak no English but who nonetheless invite themselves into my compartment in order to talk to me about being an American: I am not interested. Sorry. It's not that Americans are standoffish. It's just that it's intimidating and creepy when I am traveling alone and some guy who has no language commonality with me invites himself into my space bubble like that.

I arrived in Bucharest only a few minutes late, where I was greeted by Adi, who works at my friend Razvan's IT company. Razvan was struggling back at the office with the installation of a bunch of new office furniture--desks and cabinets and the like. The place was in chaotic disarray when I arrived, and some of the cabinet doors had been installed improperly, so the company doing that received a lot of fussing as they tried to make it right. Reconnected with Marius there, who is working on building a house about thirty minutes from the office.

Razvan's apartment is extremely cozy, and it is wonderful at last to have a room of my own to disappear into. Two adorable cats add to the comfort. And of course, most of all, Razvan's and girlfriend Roxana's hospitality has been tops.

I am now preparing to meet up with Cristina, the young woman I met on the airplane two weeks ago. We have been looking forward to this ever since we parted at the Frankfurt airport.

Bank of America: Possibly the Most Incompetent Bank on the Planet

Bank of America took down my Ukrainian address information in order to send me a new debit card to replace the one Piraeus Bank in Kiev refused to return to me without all manner of ridiculous bureaucracy.

It's been one week since I spent five minutes patiently spelling all the letters out for the Ukrainian address to a Bank of America representative. And today I learned that Bank of America went ahead and sent the card to my listed home address in the United States instead.

So I'm back to square one.

Gorchitza Live Project - Crystal Hall - 22 January 2010

From Kiev, Ukraine

Sexy dancers in sci-fi clothing and a young woman braided like Yulia Tymoshenko were among the many hundreds of people crammed into an invitation-only music performance in honor of the official opening of Crystal Hall, a venue said to be Kiev's biggest nightclub.

Gorchitza kicked things off with a lively set of funky house tunes. Their singles "Time is Right," "One True Message," and the currently charting "Final Cut" went over well and saw many in the crowd singing along. But the new material from their forthcoming album was particularly tantalizing, especially a track called "Friend," which saw singer Allois depart halfway through as the tune transformed into a tough-as-nails instrumental techno workout that tore up the dancefloor. Considering Gorchitza has solid English-language lyrics married to clever musical ideas, all they need now is some international distribution and a few good gigs in other countries to find them fans outside Ukraine.

Jay Sebag, aka "The Voice of Martin Solveig" who has been lending his vocals to the popular French DJ's hit tunes for years, belted out a set of Solveig tunes. Think of it as particularly brilliant karaoke. The diminutive Mr. Sebag doesn't look like he should have a voice that big, which makes watching him strut up and down the stage working the crowd all the more wonderful.

DJ's Light and Lulik steered the ship competently throughout the night.

And I can't give a bad review to the two rapper guys and DJ from Moscow, because somebody else at the club last night did, and after the would-be critic told them that they sucked one of the rappers leaped off the stage and kicked him in the head. So I will simply note that these tough guys have a bright future ahead of them performing medleys of other artists' top 40 songs and kicking people in the head.

Gorchitza - First Reaction

Super talented group, second album coming soon, so watch for a multinational release. They sing in English. Really, nothing should stop them from becoming a prime force in European pop music. If the Romanians can do it consistently these days, Gorchitza deserves a shot also.

From Kiev, Ukraine

The Sunshine/Preparing for Gorchitza

Not a cloud in the sky today--a very rare sight in Kiev. Ice is coming off the sidewalks as well; the city seems to be digging out. It might be the coldest day since I got here, however; perhaps a Siberian cold front chased the clouds south.

I am headed for a Gorchitza VIP/press-only event at a club's grand opening. Just learned it's got a black and white dress-code theme, so I spent the morning running around town with Lauren looking for stuff we could wear. I think I have something to wear now, but Lauren has been frustrated trying to find clothes that will fit and be stylish. Gautier, a nice French guy who is doing an internship at the French embassy here and who is also bunking with us, will also be along for the fun.

The band's manager told us that since it's an invitation-only event there is no entry fee, but he suggested, "you can bring some whiskey as the present for band - ))) it should be warmly accepted))" So today I learned where to buy whiskey in Kiev: basement of the Billa grocery store. Cost for a bottle was about $30; whiskey is a luxury item in Ukraine and Romania, so it makes sense they would ask this Yankee to bring that. :-))

So next time I write expect to hear a lot about the very talented Gorchitza. Here is their latest, currently-charting single:

The Kiev Metro

From Kiev, Ukraine

At various camouflaged locations all over Kiev there are metro stations. The entrances to these are tucked away amongst various shops and stores. To find one, just look for the "M" hovering above the entrance. It's a bit like finding Waldo, minus the fun.

Once you locate the entrance to the metro, you descend some stairs into an underground shopping mall. The mall is a good place to observe beggars, entrepreneurial babushkas, and groups of teenagers sipping from open containers of alcohol.

More menacing than drunken teenagers are the police officers walking in groups of two, three, or more as they patrol the area. They are there to serve and protect. And to hassle you. Do not. Under any circumstances. Make eye contact with the police officers.

Once in the underground mall you spend still more frustrating minutes trying to locate the entrance to the metro itself. Sometimes there is a sign directing you to that entrance, and sometimes there isn't.

Eventually you find it. You buy your tokens from a woman at a window near the entrance, place a plastic blue coin into the turnstyle slot, and away you go.

In some metro stations at some times of day the crowds are terrifying. People flow towards the escalator in a waddling mass, bodies crushed against one another. Your ears are bludgeoned by a cacophony of shuffling and stomping and shoving.

You are made especially aware of that noise when you are jostled onto the escalator, for then a sharply-contrasting quiet falls. You have entered the eye of the hurricane. Everyone stands still, their once-shuffling feet now silenced, as they rush downward into the bowels of the city. The machinery moving the escalator makes a menacing throbbing sound. Occasionally a coin rolls by, released by some kid above you who is curious about how far it can go before it bounces off of something.

While the escalator itself moves swiftly, the journey is long. (And some metro stations require two long escalator rides.) People going up survey those coming down (and vice versa) with impassive stares. Advertisements glow in light boxes along the way to tempt the captive audience. Lauren tells me that many of them are advertisements for the advertising spaces they occupy.

Your ears detect the coming roar of the crowd. You exit the eye and reenter the storm. The sounds of shuffling and stomping and shoving fills the air once again as the crowd peels off into opposite directions towards their subway cars.