Lviv Through Polish Eyes: Last Night At Dodgy Metro Club. Boze!

Two hours...

The blond-haired, blue-eyed Ukraine doll who I had been singing to the previous night wasn't coming.  I had been nursing two import beers for the past 2 hours at an outdoor tent by the Fashion Club where we had meet the previous night.  She had sent one text stating that she was arriving "late."  Late does not mean "two hours."  I paid my tab and walked back to the hostel.

Things had taken a downward spiral since the Polacks and I had visited Lyiv Stadium.  The bus breaking down wasn't the problem; it had only added to the ridiculous absurdity of the day. The problem started after this incident.  While walking back we stopped at a small restaurant for some much needed hot food.  It occurred to me that I would need more cash for the night.   I walked across the street to a nearby ATM and tried my card:

"An error processed read is in your card.  We are sorry."

Many idealistic people love to say that they don't need money to be happy.  These people have never been in the middle of Ukraine when their bank account stops working.  I had already called my bank and they had said such a thing might happen, so I had hard cash wired to me as 'Plan B.'   Plan B was now Plan A and it would have to suffice for the next weeks' travels through Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, Hungary and Slovakia.  All of these countries had 'red flags' for my bank, so I had to assume the worst.  'Cheap' Ukraine was know a little less affordable.

I would have been only slightly annoyed with the credit card malfunction, but it got worse when we returned to the hostel because the Dutch University Orchestra had taken over the place.  They were impossible to avoid and they still didn't give two shits about socializing with our Polish/American group.  Despite this Rado and I continued dogging the girls with such clever pick-up lines like, "What instrument do you play?" and "Do you speak Polish?"

They continued to ignore us in a polite, proper Western European style.  And in proper European style, they decided to engage each other in a strip-ping-pong game just to test their drunken limits.  My Polish comrades and I watched for a while but eventually left when we realized the girls weren't getting completely naked.  I had a date to go on anyway...

My date was an epic fail, and was further compounded by the fact that my credit card wasn't working properly.  Even if my blue-eyed, blond-haired Ukraine doll hadn't shown up, I still would've drank my ass off...under normal circumstances.  I had to restrict my spending and return to the hostel to drink.  I am a hostel manager, so naturally the Retro Hostel manager and I had plenty to talk about.  She recommended that I go to 'Metro Club' to have a good time. My Polish comrades were already there.  But just one thing...

"Be careful because many girls are 15 and 16 years old. They make you buy drinks."

Thanks for the warning.  According to this Facebook graph, Metro Club is very popular in Lviv (at least I think that's what it is.)   I don't have pictures from the club.  I can only refer you to the website: http://www.metroclub.com.ua/   

 I imagine the frequent amount of girl-related activities explain the popularity, for example the monthly Miss Facebook Metro Club Competition.  Go ahead and vote.  The winner gets an iPad; which is probably equal to a typical month's salary in the Ukraine.  Holy Crap!

Yes, many pretty girls who I hope aren't 15 and 16.  If you really want to file through all of the pictures from their past events, you will find one of the Retro Hostel manager and I talking together, as well as the Polacks and the annoying Dutch Orchestra Students.  Metro Club is fun in a dodgy, sketchy way, but we had more interesting things to talk about:

"So, we both working in hostel...what country do you think was the best to sleep with?"

"For me, it was France.  French girls at my hostel were the best.  And you?"

"I looove Italians men.  I have a very good storys."

She told me the stories.  I told her my stories.

We ended up back at the hostel talking into the early hours.  She surprised me with her knowledge of world history, and I surprised her with my knowledge of Slavic History.  We mused over the Czech/Slovak division, the intricacies of the Balkan War and the similarities in the various Slavic languages.  She expressed pride over the common 'Slavic Brotherhood' that exists regardless of whether one is Russian, Czech or Serbian.  At some point I asked her for details about Viktor Yushchenko and his political opponents who tried a poison assassination attempt that caused his face to get disfigured.

She was amused that an American would know about this Ukrainian political shit.  Personally, I think it is one of the more amazing facts that I have read about in recent worldwide political history.

By the way, she was a Slavic History major...

"Ayyyyyyyyyyyyy.....!!!!!"
"Boze moj!!"
"Boze moj!!"
"Ohhhh. Boze!!!!"

After continued talks of which country in our respective hostels had been the best in bed, eventually we decided to try it ourselves.  We had been drinking for a long time, and she invited me to sleep in her private room rather than sleeping on the lobby sofa.  These are difficult decisions.

I suppose it was done in a very professional (if blurry) way.  When all was finished, neither of us had won the competition.  She still believed that Italians were the best and I still believed that Frenchies were the best...

I don't have pictures to remember the craziness of that night at the hostel, and its probably for the best.  However my Polacks 'brats' did send a photo to me.  Here we are up to no good before going out.  I hope the next time we meet it will be even worse.  Stay 'debil' my brothers.

A whole lot of dupa at Retro Hostel Schevchenko