Now for something less depressing
Jul. 14th, 2006 12:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pecuniumKiev is great.
I loved it last time, I still love it now.
I am at less liberty than I was. I don't have my compaionable roommate (which is to say I am not able to just grab someone, wander about and be back when I feel the mood). I am stuck with groups, and find myself sitting at tables wishing to move on, or just head back to the hotel.
Furhter I am now the only one who speaks Russian in the party, which is a different set of stresses.
C'est la guerre
Memory is a funny thing. I know this place. The halls, the roooms, the streets. I recall them. I would be comfortable wandering about alone (though it wouldn't be the safest of things, this area is one where locals are safe, and tourists mostly so. But it is a mecca for scams and minor robbery, because it is a tourist zone, as well as one where those with money to spend come to dispose of it).
The light has been less than perfect, but last night there was thunder, and some rain, and the humidity dropped and the clouds have since abated. The food has been swell. Then again, I am good at finding swell food. I am, because I am the colonel's interpreter, eating in the colonel's mess. Food is on a prix fixe menu. The standard is appetizer (dried meats, or cheese, or salted/smoked fish) a salad, a soup, a main course, bread and something to drink. Yesterday was a roulade of pork, with some chopped meat in the middle, for starters we had smoked salmon, and salt pike. The pike had tough skin, sharp bones (but not more than one per side, and those attached to the spine), a cole slaw, and some chicken soup.
Today was solyaniki which is a clear broth, with pickles; this one filled out vegetable, ham, and cow's cheek, and stuffed cabbage.
Last night I had a locally brewed, unfiltered, pilsner, as well as a small amount of bock from the same brewer, sausages, saurkraut (sautéed with onions, so it was tangy, and sweet), and a differnt sort of soup with kvass (a mildly fermented drink, made from rye bread, water, and raisins) chopped egg, horseradish, scallions and chopped tongue.
The breads are wonderful, the local blue cheese is made with either a fat-rich milk, or cream, so the body is light, and smooth, while the veins are not as sharply flavored as roquefort, or bleu. This may be an illusion, because it's not as salted as either of those.
Coffee is almost findable; one must look for someplace which serves espresso, elstwise it's Nescafé.
I'm doing the same job I've always done, translating for the American leader of the excercise. I also get to play aide de camp cultural advisor and tour guide. All in all, I am having, as I expected, a pretty good time. I'll be glad to be home (and looking forward to being in the new house, playing with the dogs, exploring the neighbourhood; making a renewed acquaintance with LA, and a learning a new part of town, seeing old friends and meeting some I only know through other venues).
I loved it last time, I still love it now.
I am at less liberty than I was. I don't have my compaionable roommate (which is to say I am not able to just grab someone, wander about and be back when I feel the mood). I am stuck with groups, and find myself sitting at tables wishing to move on, or just head back to the hotel.
Furhter I am now the only one who speaks Russian in the party, which is a different set of stresses.
C'est la guerre
Memory is a funny thing. I know this place. The halls, the roooms, the streets. I recall them. I would be comfortable wandering about alone (though it wouldn't be the safest of things, this area is one where locals are safe, and tourists mostly so. But it is a mecca for scams and minor robbery, because it is a tourist zone, as well as one where those with money to spend come to dispose of it).
The light has been less than perfect, but last night there was thunder, and some rain, and the humidity dropped and the clouds have since abated. The food has been swell. Then again, I am good at finding swell food. I am, because I am the colonel's interpreter, eating in the colonel's mess. Food is on a prix fixe menu. The standard is appetizer (dried meats, or cheese, or salted/smoked fish) a salad, a soup, a main course, bread and something to drink. Yesterday was a roulade of pork, with some chopped meat in the middle, for starters we had smoked salmon, and salt pike. The pike had tough skin, sharp bones (but not more than one per side, and those attached to the spine), a cole slaw, and some chicken soup.
Today was solyaniki which is a clear broth, with pickles; this one filled out vegetable, ham, and cow's cheek, and stuffed cabbage.
Last night I had a locally brewed, unfiltered, pilsner, as well as a small amount of bock from the same brewer, sausages, saurkraut (sautéed with onions, so it was tangy, and sweet), and a differnt sort of soup with kvass (a mildly fermented drink, made from rye bread, water, and raisins) chopped egg, horseradish, scallions and chopped tongue.
The breads are wonderful, the local blue cheese is made with either a fat-rich milk, or cream, so the body is light, and smooth, while the veins are not as sharply flavored as roquefort, or bleu. This may be an illusion, because it's not as salted as either of those.
Coffee is almost findable; one must look for someplace which serves espresso, elstwise it's Nescafé.
I'm doing the same job I've always done, translating for the American leader of the excercise. I also get to play aide de camp cultural advisor and tour guide. All in all, I am having, as I expected, a pretty good time. I'll be glad to be home (and looking forward to being in the new house, playing with the dogs, exploring the neighbourhood; making a renewed acquaintance with LA, and a learning a new part of town, seeing old friends and meeting some I only know through other venues).
