Katie: the piano is going well! As this story shows, love life is otherwise.
So I was hanging with my neighbors (the girls teaching me piano) a few nights ago when they pulled out their Institute's yearbook and asked which girls I thought were attractive.
Honestly, most of the girls (from a a class of about 30) were decently attractive, but I only found one girl hot, and I pointed to her.
"That's Oxana," I was told in Ukranian. "We know her. She'll be here tomorrow." Well, I had to be in Kyiv the next day, but it so happened that yesterday as Steve and I were going downstairs to go jogging, we ran into Alla (one of the neighbor girls) and Oxana. And they both looked stunning, having just come from one of their piano exams, which are done as recitals, and having dressed up for them. Oxana looked even better in person. Just think very-fit Ukranian blonde with sparkling blue eyes in a skin-tight black shirt and white skirt and that would be her.
They asked what we were doing, and I told them we were going jogging, but whether they would be at my neighbor's apartment later. Oxana said that she was tired, that she was going to go home soon. Poor timing I figured, and Steve and I departed. We got about two blocks before I said "let's go back. We'll jog later."
So we went back. The apartment had a number of guests, including Oxana, and we all talked together for about an hour, some syrgic mess of Ukranian and Russian with the Ukrainians throwing in the occasional English they learned in school, which is was along the lines of "Yes! Super!"
I got Oxana to play piano for me, and she did a great version of "My Heart Will Go On". The piano was great, the singing atonal, but I wasn't going to complain. My Ukranian has been doing a lot better since I started hanging out with my neighbors and Oxana and I ad a pretty good conversation. By the smiles, I figured we were hitting it off.
She asked what Ukranian foods I liked, and then offered to cook me borcht. I was all over it. Ukanians have a saying: "Harne borcht, harne divchina." It pretty much translates: "a good woman cooks good borcht." In other words, she was throwing her goods onto the table. I was very happy with the way this was progressing.
We arranged to eat it today, her coming over to my neighbor's apartment to cook it. We hadn't nailed down a time, but I got off work at 6 and figured she'd be in the process of cooking or about to get started. I made sure my clothes looked good so I could go straight from work to the apartment, and I even printed up the lyrics to a couple Ukranian songs I know. I'd played the songs for my neighbors before, upon request, but they only knew the choruses, and i can't sing in English, let alone Ukranian. I figured post dinner, with the lyrics they could sing and I could play and the night would go well.
I show up about 6:15, and am told the borcht is there, but Oxana was not. I don't know what got lost in translation, but apparently she thought we had set a time for 4:00 PM. I wouldn't have said that because I was working. I was also confused, because I know times in Ukranian. It's one of those things I've had to use almost every day for nine months. Anyway, she had come over, made borcht and waited and waited and finally left.
They gave me her number, but only her roommate was home. My neighbors insisted I still eat the borcht, which I felt was wrong, but they told me she'd be more offended if I didn't. So I sat and ate it with them, commenting frequently on how good it was while all the time feeling like a total ass.
So, yeah, bombed that one.