I got a text from Kuba - they were also in Kyiv - inviting me to the same jazz club where I had been the evening before, I declined. It gave me some satisfaction to hear that Paddy has had trouble acclimatising to Ukrainian cuisine and has spent most of the last week on the karzy.
I had dinner with my Russian pals Vitaly and Alexey, then they talked about going to a club. "At midnight on a Tuesday?!" I asked. I've been in Poland too long where during the week there is nothing happening and nowhere to go. "We will find somewhere!" they enthused. After some heated discussion with a taxi driver and 10 minutes drive we ended up in a small bar that was throbbing with music and bodies. In Poland this would be difficult to find, even in Warsaw or Krakow. The Ukrainians have a different energy, brighter and more optimistic. There is a pulse here and a sense of fun that I've never felt in Poland, and Ukrainians are not so proud, or angry and bitter about their past which is a breath of fresh air. There's nothing more common (or boring) than a Pole ranting about the Second World War.
On looking around at all the scantily clad lovelies eyeing us Vitaly screeched in my ear "Come on! They will suck it!" Succinctly put and maybe so... but did I want it sucking? And having to go through all that chat, all that routine, all that effort... I just couldn't be bothered. I was happy to sit back and relax. I planted myself at the bar and watched while the barman played with bottles and ice like Beckham with a ball, the whole bar oozing fun and excitement... sex was just a moment away. I've sat in 'exclusive' (and very expensive) bars in London which were like bingo halls compared to this place. Fabulous music, loud laughter, outrageous sexuality... this spot was nothing short of sensational. And the finest vodka was being splashed everywhere, back in Blighty spirits are measured out carefully into steel thimbles... yawn.
Slumped at the bar towards the end of the night, and entranced by nubile dancers sporting slogans and miming words they did not understand, I was approached by Vitaly over my right shoulder, he put his arm round me and said, "there's a guy wants to meet you... he's a gangster." I glanced at my watch, it was six o'clock and I told him I that I was ready to go, but simultaneously felt a black presence sit down on my left. I turned to find a 22-carat grin and a hand heavily laden with sovereigns outstretched towards me. He introduced himself in Russian and ordered some vodka for us. In Eastern Europe, vodka can bring the most unlikely people together. The shaven-headed man in black was utterly charming. He had had a few drinks. On his left sat a giant of a human being - his bodyguard - with his eyelids half closed, it had obviously been a long night. I noticed two other bodyguards watching us from the end of the bar. I kept expecting Joe Pesci to pop up between us. The Polish language is closer to Ukrainian than Russian but we managed to grab at certain words and communicate. I turned to Vitaly for help but he was pumping and grinding with the last remaining die-hards on the now quite empty dancefloor.
The gangster was entertaining and I enjoyed talking to him, although I shed no tears at his departure. He ended by telling me that if I needed anything whilst in Kyiv that I was to call him, and giving me a last hard slap on the back, made his way toward the exit. The club bouncers lowered their eyes and took half a step back as he strided out with his bodyguards following in single file. He commanded some respect although Vitaly later dismissed him as a small-timer. I looked at the vodkas lined up before me like soldiers waiting for drill practice, they now sparkled with new appeal.
On delving in my back pocket for my wallet later in the day, I pulled out a creased beer mat. On the back the gangster had scribbled his name and number, with the words in Russian "You are my friend. Chelsea!"
