February 1993
Pete Evans
Mid Winter '93 - Sofia & Kiev
Well here I am once again - alone in a hotel room in Eastern Europe. This time it is Sofia. Friends ask me if I get lonely, bored or scared on my trips. Lonely or bored, no, scared - sometimes! I always find something to do or someone to talk to if I want to. What I do find difficult is changing between a spell in London and a spell abroad. It takes a day or two to adjust.
In London I find it very difficult to enjoy and keep motivated in my work. Spending too much time at my desk makes me feel depressed and mentally sluggish. But I enjoy my friends at the bank very much, there is a group of about eight of us who socialise after work and at weekends. Almost every night one of the group organises something to do, maybe the theatre, a film, a meal or just a few drinks after work. I enjoy the mix of nationalities in this group, it makes for an interesting blend of humour and culture. A few of us play squash once or twice a week. Most of us are of similar skill so we have some excellent games.
During my spells in London I never seem to get enough sleep or even enough time for quiet contemplation. If I spend an evening at home I still don't seem able to do either of these things, I pace around my flat and wish I had gone out. So I get increasingly tired until I go away again which is probably why it takes time to adjust. I go to bed at a reasonable hour without social distraction or obligation and spend time reading and writing, both of which I find extremely therapeutic. I thrive on the mental stimulation from being in varied surroundings.
Anyway here I am...... I left London yesterday. I managed to get out of bed at 5:30 am. I hadn't slept much, we had run out of tea bags so I had had a weak coffee when I got in, from a night out the evening before my departure, I couldn't get to sleep my mind was buzzing away worrying about my departure and thinking half the night away. I don't know whether to blame the coffee or not. So I felt dreadful in the morning. Caught the 0740 flight to Sofia via Vienna. Sat next to a guy who didn't seem to want to chat so I left him alone and read the papers. When we got off the plane in Vienna I saved his hat as it blew away then he wouldn't stop talking. People are funny things! Sometimes I make a point of not talking to people to see if they will attempt to strike up a conversation before I do. Most of the time they don't but when I initiate the conversation they are happy to talk. The English are the worst for this and the Latin countries tend to be more willing to be the initiator.
There was thick snow on the ground in Vienna and it always surprises me that the planes can land on what appears to be a solid sheet of snow and ice.
The snow got thicker as we crossed Europe to Bulgaria and landed at Sofia. I negotiated a taxi from the mess of competing drivers and went directly to the Hotel. Usually I stay at the Sheraton but as it was full I was booked into the Grand Hotel. Nothing like its name, it is one of the many hotels still offering the same decor since about 1960. Dull and drab.
I changed quickly into my jeans and boots and headed for the bank's office. The pavements were slippery as hell and I was glad I thought to bring the boots. "To hell with a suit in these conditions", I thought, as I trudged through the snow. I was hoping to meet one of the contractors, called John, with whom I worked with in Prague. I gathered from the Bulgarians that he was at the hotel. I eventually found him at the reception desk of my own hotel, paying the bill for his team. Forced to pay in cash the £3500 in Bulgarian Leva filled two shopping bags and took two hours to count by hand. Unreal. We went out that night for a few beers and the four of them told me of the nightmare time they were having trying to get the office refurbished.
I stayed in Sofia for three days during which I sorted out the cabling system with the computer company and found he still didn't understand the concept and had ordered the wrong bits. We went through it all again and I took him onsite and showed him what I wanted and where. John was trying to sort out the arrangements for a shipment from England so I spent my spare time helping him wade through the red tape, along with the bank's representative.
The bank's representative is a very interesting and helpful chap, although sporting a goatee beard, fat cigar and looking a bit fierce. Aged around fifty, He was born in Bulgaria and trained to be a doctor until the age of twenty-three when he escaped the communist regime and fled over the mountains to the west in about 1958. He settled first in Belgium then the US where he completed a second medical degree. For some reason he then opted for a business life and has lived and worked all over the world. He invited me to lunch at the Sheraton where I learnt some of his story and later, with John, we chatted over a beer to celebrate the completion of the paperwork for the shipment. This job for the EBRD is the first time he had been back to Bulgaria and I was fascinated to discover how he was received in his home town of Sofia having escaped and led such a different life. He seemed happy to talk. He described meeting his school friends in their cold Spartan flats provided by the state, both husband and wife working all hours to obtain the bare essentials of life. No luxuries and little hope of any great change, even now. He spoke of meeting his school sweetheart, once a bright, young, slim and very sensual girl. He met her for a meal. The years had taken their toll on her, granted they do on us all, but more so here, she was old, bent and rather fat. But what was worse, the years of oppression had taken the spark from her, her mind dull and conformist. He found it an awkward and painful meeting which ended with no promise of another. On the whole he doesn't encounter bitterness but acceptance of what he has become and hope that he will be able to help them. He cannot help them all but will use his medical knowledge and influence to provide medicine and what assistance he can.
On Saturday I flew to Budapest where I stayed overnight in a small hotel near the airport in order to catch my connecting flight to Kiev early the next morning. The hotel was another drab place- more like a truck stop than a hotel and I made a mental note never to stay there again. When the toilet has a paper label stuck over it saying "Sterilised", I fear the worst about the place.
Up at the crack of dawn I took the 0910 Malev flight for Kiev, arriving a couple hours later. Nothing interesting to note of the flight except that the ground below got progressively whiter and colder as we sped northwards into the Ukraine.
The terminal at Kiev is ancient, drab and tiny. The luggage truck came right into the small arrival area and passengers scrambled for their bags. I got mine first. Then out through customs and a quick dive through the jabbering horde of taxi drivers as if I knew exactly where I was going. I didn't, so I went to the information desk to try to find out how much to expect to pay for a taxi. After much confusion I gave up, went outside and haggled with a few, getting the price down from $40 to $25. Still a rip off no doubt, but what can you do. I got into a battered Lada with a monster Russian in a huge coat and fur hat. We drove for about 45 minutes along the highway to reach Kiev. This is probably the most worrying part of the job, I am in a strange country, don't speak a word of the language, don't know the route to the hotel and I am at the mercy of the driver who I don't know from Adam. The alarm bells ring in my head and I have no choice but to ignore them. Makes 45 minutes go very slowly as we drive through the frozen countryside. We passed a large development of apartment buildings at which the driver pointed at and grunted, "Chernobyl". This is where the evacuated people have been relocated. Chernobyl still a wasteland - will they ever be able to return?
The Intourist Hotel is yet another dull drab dump. When my reservation is eventually found I find my dull drab room and fall asleep on the dull brown sheets. Later I venture down to the bar where I buy a beer for three dollars and drink it out of a chipped glass. Sitting in the half light of the brown bar room I examine my fellow drinkers and detect, to my surprise, a group of young Canadian lads chatting animatedly about kick boxing. It seems there is some event in town. I wanted to discover where but due to some bug I have picked up I was feeling pretty bad and just wanted to sleep.
Dinner was interesting. You guessed it! Another dull, drab and grey room. The menu defies description. These people have no idea of presentation. The menu looked more like a Mongolian tax return. I managed to choose black caviar followed by chicken Kiev - well why not. It was the only thing I could decipher! Beer drew a blank stare so I ordered white wine which arrived in a warm bottle. Everything arrived at once and cost $3.50 - fifty cents more than one beer in the bar. I pointed this out to the waiter who threw his hands in the air and said, " In the Ukraine now, everything has gone crazy." I went to my room and hit the sack at 9:30 p.m.
Slept for 12 hours solid and still feel a bit rotten. Tried for half an hour to phone Computerland here in Kiev. No chance. Went for breakfast then negotiated with a cab driver and hired him for the day. Took a while to find Computerland, but eventually did, in a tall grey block with a suicidal lift. Met with the head of the company and discussed my requirements and things in general. He seems optimistic but has great difficulties getting anything done. They don't make things easy for free enterprise. VAT is due for an increase to a rumoured thirty percent. The bank is exempt but whether I can wade through the red tape to get the exemption is another matter. I left them with my specification to price up for tomorrow. Next job on the agenda was to find a way to get to St. Petersburg, I had been unable to book a flight from London. Found that there is a new airline, Air Ukraine, which flies direct to St. Petersburg, instead of via Moscow which would have involved changing airports and waiting four hours. Managed to buy a ticket in US dollars after waiting in several queues for about an hour. Then back in the taxi and on to the Nationalna Hotel where the EBRD has a temporary office, although there are no staff in it yet. It is just a couple of hotel rooms but looks adequate enough for the short term. Looks like someone has jumped the gun and gone out and bought a computer for the office. A cheap Taiwan clone with pirate Lotus and printer. I hope it belongs to someone else. I have been trying to get the relevant people to tell me their requirements for weeks. I despair sometimes. Tried for half an hour to phone London then gave up. Back in the taxi to the hotel to try from there. This place is a joke! There is a sign in the business centre of the hotel:- Faxes $13 plus $14 to turn the fax machine on. I told the girl she was a pirate in a skirt, she grinned from ear to ear and laughed. I asked to phone the UK. Charges are $9 per minute. Satellite lines, the sign offered. I tried to get through and was told the satellite was down and to use regular lines at the same rate. What could I do? I tried for half an hour then gave up. I tried later from my room and got through after another hour. In the mean time I wrote this. Later I paid $250 for this twenty-seven minute call.
At the beginning of this I said I have never got lonely yet. Maybe not lonely, but I am fed up. I really am considering starting smoking again, just to calm myself down. I get so wound up with trying to get anything achieved. I would love to go to the gym for a workout to burn off the frustration but there are no such facilities in the places I am visiting these days. Those days are gone, I fear, just the tough ones like this remain. Everybody smokes out here, maybe partly due to the amount of standing around in queues one has to do. I enjoy smoking although my lungs and health do not, I have substituted fitness for smoking, to keep me in a good state of mind. I know it is better but out here I can't get the exercise I need so my thoughts return to smoking as a means of relaxation. I will try not to start as I would rather do so by choice than pressure. We shall see. One of the reasons for not starting is that I am spending a week in Prague with James, also from the IT Dept, where there is a squash court in the hotel. We plan to play every evening - I would hate to give him an advantage. Besides I have just spent fifty quid on a new racquet. Thank you for listening, I feel better already. Like I said, writing is therapeutic.
Well, one trauma after another on this trip, I gave up giving up and started smoking in a senseless but satisfying bid to repair my shattered nerves. There is a time and a place for everything and this was the time and the place for smoking. Enough said.
Dinner in the hotel again, with three feet of snow I don't feel like venturing out to discover the delights of the very few restaurants in Kiev. I sat alone at a table next to a table with two Russian girls of dubious intent. They caught my eye whenever I looked their way, flashing long legs in a very disturbing manner. "Love you long time?". I declined their invitations and made my way to one of the hotel's several bars. A smoky rather sleazy place full of more women of dubious intent and, strangely enough, lots of men with Italian accents. I propped myself on the bar, adopted a "cool" pose, smoked myself to death and watched people watching me. After a while and several beers I started chatting to a group of young Germans who are in Kiev working at a new and very expensive restaurant. Later we moved a basement bar in the hotel that I hadn't yet discovered. "This is where it's all happening", my new drinking pal, Reiner, informed me. The place was packed with people of all ages and nationalities. Reiner has been in Kiev for several weeks, like an old hand, he talked of his experiences, working as a cook in the restaurant and the night life in the hotel bars. After a couple more beers I turned in.
March 2nd , this year is going to fast for the amount of work I have to do, ten new resident offices in some of the most remote areas of Eastern Europe. Heaven help me if they are all as troublesome as Kiev is proving to be.
More snow overnight, giving us about three feet in total, fortunately it is not very cold. Today I had arranged to meet the manager of Computerland in our office in the Nationalna, at 2pm. I spent the morning, admittedly a slightly late start, trying without success to phone London, putting together the equipment order and figuring out my expenses from a mangled heap of receipts. The Computerland guys showed up at 4:30 pm. That's the way things work out here. We went over the order and I really started to wonder how this installation will pan out, as I helped them do their job of putting together their quote. Their English is not too good and their knowledge of business just as bad. Computerland are the first Compaq dealer in Kiev, having qualified only six weeks ago. It is easy to be critical but I believe that with a little help from me and from Compaq, they will do OK I had hoped to get the order placed but we only reached a partial agreement. The rest will have to be done by fax. He told me more about the governments plan to increase sales taxes to about thirty percent. A short sighted and hardly encouraging bit a news for those attempting to do business here. Back at the hotel I managed to get through to London and discovered to my relief that the mystery computer system does indeed belong to someone else.
Back at the hotel I stopped for a beer and bumped into a bunch of Canadians from the embassy. Another dinner in the hotel, the food is depressing, starter and main course tend to arrive together which makes one gulp down the starter before the main course gets even colder. I enjoy an after dinner cigarette without much guilt - yet.
With an early start planned for the morning I head for the bar early for a couple as I've read all my books and Russian TV doesn't do much for me. Met a bloke from Liverpool who is working out here for GEC. He talked about Chernobyl and the radiation effects. An area of some fifty miles around Chernobyl is uninhabitable without protective gear. If the wind had been blowing the other way at the time of the disaster, Kiev would have been wiped out, some five million people. The wind blew the radiation, a much reduced dosage, over to Scotland instead, falling on all those lovely lamb chops. The radiation doesn't reduce evenly as one moves away from the power station, as one would expect, but effects some areas more than others, depending partly on the precipitation at the time of the blast. Today, in Kiev, radiation poisoning is still a very real worry. Westerners seem to be more worried than locals who are fairly convinced by the official toning down of the dangers, and the lack of any alternative but to live with it. The expatriate community does seem to take precautions and my friend, Howard, explains: Don't walk in the rain. Don't stand under drips from buildings. Don't eat mushrooms. Shower three times a day, don't drink the water and live out of canned food as much as possible. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars and proceed directly to jail....... Apparently I need not worry too much in the short term.
Later we went along to the casino to have a look; I am not a gambler but I am happy to watch others lose their money. There were some cool customers on the blackjack tables and although I don't understand the game much I could see the chips disappearing back into the croupier's pile at an alarming rate. I calculated that one guy lost about $400 dollars while I watched. The croupiers are lovely young girls, very sharp and lightening fast. It was a pleasure to watch them at work. Howard tells me they are all from Finland and work a three week on and one week off shift system. There were a couple of what I had assumed to be hookers, maybe they were and hoping to increase the nights taking with a gamble, playing a mean looking game. They seemed to be doing better than the men with Italian accents. With an early start the next day I arranged a wakeup call for six a.m. and hit the sack.
I awoke at the ring of the phone and checked the time. It was seven a.m.! Mad panic, shower, dress, pack and out the downstairs in twenty minutes. I complained bitterly to the front desk about the late wakeup call as I checked out, paid and dashed out to the taxi I had arranged to pick me up. Thankfully he was still waiting. Off we went on the forty minute drive to the airport. Almost got there before I realised that the hotel had not returned my passport when I checked out, too late to go back, we continued to the airport hoping the flight was delayed. It wasn't, for once, so I sent the driver racing back to the hotel to pick up the passport. They refused to had it over to him without a bribe of five dollars which wasted twenty minutes. By the time he got back my flight had gone and I was trying to find out what other flights were available. My lack of Russian made communication almost impossible with the staff of the new Air Ukraine. The next flight turned out to be two days later, on the 5th. My taxi driver helped a great deal being able to speak limited English. We returned to the hotel and enroute I, in a fit of desperation, asked him how much he would charge to drive me the 1200 km to St. Petersburg in the taxi. He laughed, I laughed, he laughed and I cackled insanely. "Seriously!", I said, "It will cost me a bomb just to stay in the hotel another two days and combined with my salary and expenses it might be cheaper to say to hell with it and drive". He tried to guess if I was joking; I was past joking. He thought for a moment and suggested $600 which I knocked down to four. I damn nearly took him up on this but in deep snow and a tight schedule it would be madness .... but if it were summer?!
In the end I decided to cut my trip a little short and returned to London via Frankfurt on a Lufthansa flight. In Kiev airport I met a German guy in the bar who insisted on filling me with brandy before boarding the plane. I have never liked brandy but after the past few days it tasted surprisingly good.
P.S. On my return to the UK I smoked like a trooper for a week before going away again. I got thrashed at squash by a friend which pissed me off. I quit again when I went away on my next trip, a week in Prague with James Muir and with a squash court in the hotel, I was damned if I would let him have the advantage of me smoking.
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