Thursday, February 09, 2006

Naked Desert

Image hosting by Photobucket
This is what happens in Ukrainian dance clubs...
Finally! I've gotten so used to random things happening to me that when they don't, I start having withdrawals. Luckily, a fix came. The past 12 hours have been very, very cool...

I was in Kyiv the day before an in-service training, as were many others. I had expected it to be sedate and spent the day doing what I came to do: abusing the internet and printer to get work done for my site. But in the evening, munching pizza and watching "Desperate Housewives" at the Peace Corps office with some others, a discussion emerged: we should all go out to a club. It was a Wednesday, but what the hell?

A number of volunteers wanted to go to Art Club 44, a live-music club that plays dance music late at night, nixing my proposition to go to Club 112, which plays good dance music all the time. The reason? Art Club 44 had no cover.

Regardless, I couldn't immediately go because I had to meet my host for the night. I had met Peter through Carrie, whom he worked had with, and in addition to being a great guy, he has an apartment in the center of the city, walking distance from both Art Club 44 and Club 112.

Image hosting by Photobucket
Peter and his girlfriend Masha

I met Peter at a bar near his apartment, where he was engaged in some very Ukrainian traditions with four other Ukrainians: his girlfriend and her friends. Not wanting to slight the customs of this great country, I soon joined in on the toasts and the vodka flowed. Sitting to my left was a very cool Ukrainian named Denys, who lives in London and manages a bar there. I now have so many connections in London that the gravity of them all will surely drag me there soon.

Two bottles of vodka and some new friendships later, all the Ukrainians had decided to come to Art Club 44 with me. Peter begged off, having work in the morning. He gave me a spare set of keys to his place so I could let myself in and headed out. I led this merry band of Ukrainians across the artic tundra that is Kyiv at the moment and we arrived at Art Club 44 just in time for the live band to end. No dance music followed: they didn't play it on Wednesdays.

So, collecting the Americans and met there by Sasha, whom I taught with at a PDO last summer (and who also works with Peter), we decided to go to where I wanted to go in the first place: Club 112.

And now is when it gets interesting…

The sign at the ticket window said "Fruity Wednesday" in Russian, and I thought maybe that referred to the drink specials. But we came in just in time to see a very attractive girl wearing only a thong lie down on a table. Then a man and a 60-year-old woman (her mother?) proceeded to tastefully decorate her in fruit and whip cream.

Image hosting by Photobucket
The woman getting decorated in fruit and whip cream

This was pretty damn cool in itself. But then they invited everyone to come eat fruit off her--without using our hands. We weren't sure if they were serious, but one at a time people went and ate a piece of fruit or a dollop of whip cream off of her. I went up. A small dollop was on an erect nipple a few inches from my face, but I wasn't sure of the protocol and instead sucked up a dollop from her arm. I love my life. And I’d been lacking in fruits this bitter Ukrainian winter.

Why haven’t more parents thought of this incentive to get their kids to eat healthy?

Image hosting by Photobucket
One of the first to try a bit of fruit


Me, enjoying a bit of whip cream

And it kept going: they started playing rap and hip hop, a rarity in Ukraine, and it turned out that in the year she had lived in America, Sasha had learned how to rip as good as anyone you’d see in a music video. When it comes to popping and locking, she’s even better than me! [The ego speaks! But when it comes to dancing I feel it’s warranted]. She and I wrecked a near-empty dance floor while Ukrainians and Americans watched on.

Image hosting by Photobucket
My old teaching partner, Sasha, with whom I wrecked the floor.

And it kept going: crashed on Peter's couch but only got a couple hours of sleep because he had to get up early to go to work. No mind: I got to take a hot shower with water pressure that was more like an assault (and oh so sweet) and Peter made us breakfast: eggs with melted blue cheese (not the dressing, the cheese) and green Tabasco sauce. Awesome.

And it kept going: we both had to get on the same metro line and we were still coming down the stairs as one pulled: normally too late to get on. But it just sat there, possibly due to some technical problem, but as if it were waiting for us. We got on and the second we did, the doors closed and it started moving.

And it kept going: I got to Peace Corps office to a mob of people all coming for the training. The new volunteers had all just picked up packages sent to them from home, and one very, very kind one offered up Cheese-its and pudding. I accepted this offer (as did many others), bought a Pepsi, and am about to have a very beautiful junk-food lunch.

Image hosting by Photobucket
My beautiful junk-food lunch

Heading off to a week of training and no internet access. So I’ll be off the radar, but hopefully this streak of luck won’t be...

Did I mention I licked whip cream off a near-naked woman in a club? How the hell does that happen?!?