So, Diana and I had a really good date last night.
It started with me falling down. I was walking up to meet her, wasn’t paying attention and slipped on some ice. I caught myself, but to play it off I went for the full death throes that left my lying face down on the snow. She laughed. I am so not smooth.
She helped me up told me I was late, even though I was eight minutes early. She’s told me this every date, even when I’m on time.
“So, if the guy isn’t there before the girl, is he late?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
Ah.
We had dinner at a local restaurant, held hands while she drank tea afterwards and talked for about an hour and a half . Then, we went for a walk, as you do on a Ukrainian date, even though it was –10 Celsius. She told me that Ukrainians often mark the first time they fall down in winter with a celebration. I suppose I should explain that the sidewalks and streets aren’t cleared here the way they are in America, the snow is packed down by a thousands of feet and the thaw/freeze of day/night turns sidewalks into walkways of ice. Apparently the biggest cause of injury among American volunteers is falling down. I’ve taken about twenty since the first snowfall in November. She fell at the beginning of winter, but had not done so since.
She showed me another park in the city and we had a snowball fight. Running from me, she slipped and fell for the second time this winter and mock-cursed me for making her do it. The park led to a snow-covered bridge that spanned the valley over the main river, the water six stories below us. The river was half frozen over, which shocked me because it was a huge river and I couldn't imagine it being cold enough for a river that size to freeze. It was a beautiful view, though, small houses on the right bank of the river, lights from their window lighting the icy water, a darkness on the left bank rising up: the other wall of the valley. In the distance was a lit road and some of Zhytomyr’s tall apartment buildings. Even though it was even colder over the river, I figured it was as romantic place as any for a kiss.
I wanted to be really slick and say “I want to kiss you” in Ukrainian, but I couldn’t remember the word for “kiss”. So I asked her about the lyrics to a “Peedmanula, peedvila” a popular Ukrainian folk song, because I knew the word kiss was in the second verse. But she sang it so fast I didn’t catch it.
“What was the word for kiss?” I asked.
“Was that a hint?”
“No.”
Her face fell. “Tsevoovati,” she said.
“Ya hochoo tsevoovati tebe,” I said. And then in English: “That was a hint.”
She smiled a little and I leaned in and we kissed. It was so cold I could barely feel my hands, but her mouth was warm.
No sparks, but I think that’s because she immediately went for the open mouth kiss, and I’m not too into that (sorry). But our tongues and our lips touched and moved against each other and I wondered if she thought I was a good kisser and maybe she wondered the same and she gave a contented little sigh while doing it (or maybe she couldn’t breathe) and then a few minutes later it ended and we walked back into the city.
I waited with her while she waited for her bus, and we made plans to go to a museum on Thursday, a comedy show on Friday and clubbing on Saturday, which seems like a lot. The museum had to be moved from yesterday because it was closed yesterday, the comedy show came up because her brother is in it and she wants me to go with her, and clubbing with the other volunteers is just a given.
And then, when she got on her bus, even though we had made out on a snowy bridge for five minutes, she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I don’t understand this country.
But I did get to make out with a Ukrainian!