Parties happen if you're at the right
hostel. Joanna's boyfriend was over, Pauhlo (owner of the Center Station hostel), and his friend Marcelo. Pauhlo was shorter with
long, curly hair. He was the one that was planning on taking her
across the world in his old, beat up van. Marcelo was taller and
skinnier, with an easy smile on his face. They were cooking some
Brazilian food, clattering the pans and the knives as they created
their Amazonian smells which leaked into the common room. Another
Ukrainian girl came over, bringing her Turkish guy friend. He was studying in Germany and had stopped in Ukraine to spend
a night. I couldn't figure out if the Ukrainian girl was with him or
not that night.
I pulled out my accordion and started to play, to give some entertainment. The Ukrainian girl – who I'll just call Tanya – lit up (even more) and bounced. She wanted me to keep playing and I wanted to keep playing for her. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her and her smile. “You'll have to buy me some beers,” I told her.
“Okay!” she said. She and the Turk ran downstairs to the market and brought me up a few bottles of beer. Not bad, but only if she wasn't with the Turk! Eventually Marcelo came in and sat down, using a nearby bucket as a drum to play along to the accordion. The time was passed like this, until the dinner was served.
The next day, I ran into Pauhlo, who was hanging around the hostel, visiting his girlfriend. “Hey man, we're having a Christmas party over at my hostel. Come on over and bring your accordion.”
On Christmas Eve, I was waiting in the hostel with William, the Scotsman and a random Japanese kid, Suyu. We were going to go to the party together, but we were waiting for a call from Joanna, to know when everything was ready. Slava was going to join us as well, but she said was going to be late. When eight o'clock hit, the original time of the party, she called up and said, “I'm here and waiting, where are you?” I decided we should then go and said to everyone else, “Forget it, let's just go, if we're early, we're early.”
We called a taxi. We waited outside for another fifteen minutes and gave up on our taxi. I hailed one off the street and negotiated a decent price. When we arrived at the address, Slava was already there and waiting. She didn't appear to be as happy as the Cheshire cat, instead she had a stone frown on her face. “You're mad, aren't you? Please forgive me.”
“No, I won't,” she said. And that was clear, as she mostly ignored me the rest of the night. But not to fear, there was Tanya, the Ukrainian girl, who was there, but if only she wasn't with the Nepali guy! When I pulled out my accordion, she lit up again, keeping rapt attention on me as I played and sang, though the Nepali guy was keen enough to keep his arm wrapped around her so she didn't float off too far my way.
Central Station hostel had an interesting format. It took up two apartments in a newer Soviet block complex, one on top of the other. To go from the common room, which simply looked like someone's living room and kitchen, to the sleeping quarters, one had to actually go back into the main stairwell. The location was a bit badly placed - that is, not close to a metro, but it was right next to one of the more interesting and popular bars in Kiev - Palata No 6.
The night progressed and people were up and dancing as I kept pace with the accordion, people in lines and circles going along, moving to the rhythms that I played. Marcelo pulled me out of my corner and brought me into the line, and there we were going around, me at the lead with the accordion. Invigorating! Normally I'm fairly shy, both with my writing and my playing, as I don't think I'm all that great. Which is why it feels that much more immense when I see people enjoying my playing.
The night went on and eventually wound down, people coming in and out. Several Brazilian plates were served, and finally, near midnight was the turkey. It was a turkey bigger than any I had seen from the United States, which is saying something, since we usually inject ours with all sorts of growth hormones. The food was eaten fairly quickly and the crowd began to dwindle around 3, where people either went off to clubs or back to their own hostels and beds. Which is where I ended up, back at the hostel.
I pulled out my accordion and started to play, to give some entertainment. The Ukrainian girl – who I'll just call Tanya – lit up (even more) and bounced. She wanted me to keep playing and I wanted to keep playing for her. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her and her smile. “You'll have to buy me some beers,” I told her.
“Okay!” she said. She and the Turk ran downstairs to the market and brought me up a few bottles of beer. Not bad, but only if she wasn't with the Turk! Eventually Marcelo came in and sat down, using a nearby bucket as a drum to play along to the accordion. The time was passed like this, until the dinner was served.
The next day, I ran into Pauhlo, who was hanging around the hostel, visiting his girlfriend. “Hey man, we're having a Christmas party over at my hostel. Come on over and bring your accordion.”
On Christmas Eve, I was waiting in the hostel with William, the Scotsman and a random Japanese kid, Suyu. We were going to go to the party together, but we were waiting for a call from Joanna, to know when everything was ready. Slava was going to join us as well, but she said was going to be late. When eight o'clock hit, the original time of the party, she called up and said, “I'm here and waiting, where are you?” I decided we should then go and said to everyone else, “Forget it, let's just go, if we're early, we're early.”
We called a taxi. We waited outside for another fifteen minutes and gave up on our taxi. I hailed one off the street and negotiated a decent price. When we arrived at the address, Slava was already there and waiting. She didn't appear to be as happy as the Cheshire cat, instead she had a stone frown on her face. “You're mad, aren't you? Please forgive me.”
“No, I won't,” she said. And that was clear, as she mostly ignored me the rest of the night. But not to fear, there was Tanya, the Ukrainian girl, who was there, but if only she wasn't with the Nepali guy! When I pulled out my accordion, she lit up again, keeping rapt attention on me as I played and sang, though the Nepali guy was keen enough to keep his arm wrapped around her so she didn't float off too far my way.
Central Station hostel had an interesting format. It took up two apartments in a newer Soviet block complex, one on top of the other. To go from the common room, which simply looked like someone's living room and kitchen, to the sleeping quarters, one had to actually go back into the main stairwell. The location was a bit badly placed - that is, not close to a metro, but it was right next to one of the more interesting and popular bars in Kiev - Palata No 6.
The night progressed and people were up and dancing as I kept pace with the accordion, people in lines and circles going along, moving to the rhythms that I played. Marcelo pulled me out of my corner and brought me into the line, and there we were going around, me at the lead with the accordion. Invigorating! Normally I'm fairly shy, both with my writing and my playing, as I don't think I'm all that great. Which is why it feels that much more immense when I see people enjoying my playing.
The night went on and eventually wound down, people coming in and out. Several Brazilian plates were served, and finally, near midnight was the turkey. It was a turkey bigger than any I had seen from the United States, which is saying something, since we usually inject ours with all sorts of growth hormones. The food was eaten fairly quickly and the crowd began to dwindle around 3, where people either went off to clubs or back to their own hostels and beds. Which is where I ended up, back at the hostel.
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