I joined the wrong Corps.
Last night was the annual blow-out bash to raise money for YouthCAN. YouthCAN is a Ukrainian organization that does empowerment projects for youth and teaches them about grassroots activism. I'm going to be training their councilors in two weeks on classroom management and lesson planning, and may be working with one of their summer camps this summer. In any case, to raise money they hold a huge 25 hrivna a head party every year in Kyiv, at the Marine House.
The Marine house is where the U.S. Marines live. It's a huge three story mansion in Kyiv, has its own bar, game room, fully equiped workout room, dance floor, home theatre system with stadium couch seating and is lived in by, dun, dun, dun...five marines.
Yes, there a grand total of five men from the United States Marine Corps here in Ukraine, assigned to protect the U.S. Embassy. Apparently there's an arsenal there and they are able to defend it for weeks and weeks if need be. But since the embassy doesn't require a whole lot of guarding, mostly these five men spend their after hours in bars picking up Ukrainian girls or chilling at their mansion, watching DVDs in the theatre room. Oh, in addition to staying at the marine house for free, they get "hardship" pay in addition to their American salaries for having to live in a developing country. This is what our defense budget goes towards.
I'm telling you, I joined the wrong Corps.
Oh, and here's a bit of irony: when we arrived at the mansion, we found the front gate being guarded by two Ukrainians.
It's interesting that I had to go to Ukraine before I went to my first frat party. Or the equivalent thereof. There was at least 200 people packed into that house, most of them Ukrainian, most of them female, most of them wearing very little clothing. It was nice, actually.
Even nicer was being able to order things in English. Although since a cup of water alone cost 5 hrivna, I didn't order much.
I spent most of my time on the dance floor. The music was provided in turns by a really good cover band called Esperanza and a DJ who spun hip hop. Down time was spent talking to volunteers who were at the party (since the Multicultural Group meeting was on Friday--which I had to be at--and the HIV Awareness group meeting was on Saturday, there were a ton of volunteers in Kyiv for the weekend), many of whom I hadn't seen in two months.
I actually wasn't interested in meeting any girls, as I barely have time to see Diana more than twice a week now. I didn't mind looking at them, though, especially the three that decided to start making out with each other. Pretty soon a ring of guys were around them, some taking pictures and one (one of the marines) video taping. Like I said, my first frat party was in Ukraine.
Still, it was a lot of fun, if a little claustrophobic at times. I cleared out at 2:30 AM and the party was still going. When the last of the people, left, though, those five marines would still find themselves all alone in that huge mansion with all the ammenities (unless, like I suspect, a few Ukrainian girls stayed behind).
Man I joined the wrong Corps.