The building may eat me

Well I have been safely (?) ensconced in my flat now for one month. Everything is wonderful, in relative terms. Except I think the building is alive and is eating the residents.

I keep on hearing tapping noises. And drilling noises. I never did want to see Hostel but I am wondering if they are making the ukrainian version.

And now the lift is working. I am scared. I now know how I will die. I wear my gloves in the lift for when it collapses around me and I have to make a desperate effort tohold onto the cables to survive. I think it is the noisiest lift in the world. My building is new. The lift I think has been reclaimed. Maybe from ebay.ru. At night I lie in bed and the whole building groans as the lift is used. 10 floors of concrete and plastic windows cannot contain this monster. When the opera stops from upstairs, I know the little people are coming with their drills and pickled cabbage.

It is not very exciting as it has been behaving better recently but you too can be eaten here 

Internet in Kharkov

The last 3 months have seen some big improvements in net access here in Kharkov. A double whammy of real 3G launching and home broadband speeds rocketing have made youtube much more enjoyable. I never quite understood the 3G approach here. The government gave the european type 3G licence to UKRTelecom, the state owned company, who proceeded to not do very much with it. In the meantime a company called PeopleNet (who have a lovely shop on Sumskaya which I for months thought was a recruitment agency) launched 3G on the funny american system. A system which Nokia make no phones for which points to its usefullness. But their broadband access is pretty cheap when you get a compatible phone; but of the few phones they sell they are expensive and are cutting edge in stonehenge terms. I enquired anyway, and asked about phone calls and roaming. Well, they have a network built in the big urban areas like Kiev and Kharkov. Go outside of that and umm, well the phone stops working. It’s not the GSM standard so cannot switch nets. Really a company that cannot survive.
Kharkov is also at the forefront of Wimax; all the areas in the city and 40 or so km around is wimax enabled. But this is priced at the high end of the market (this from a foreigner) so  only useful if you wish to retire to a country estate near Kharkov.

So along comes U-Tel, which is the 3G brand from UKRTelecom. Not the best marketed product it must be said. In fact, I had to ask multiple people if it really existed and it took me 2 attempts to find the office where I could buy a SIM. And when I did find the office, the staff had all gone to lunch. At least it was easy to buy when they returned, must have been a good mayonnaise that day. Contract data rates are much cheaper than pay as you go. The latter costs $20 for a SIM with connection and $10 credit – they took my old Nokia N70 and set it up for me enjoying the english menus. Data costs about $0.05 per MB and it is pretty reliable and fastish (I got about 380kbit/s connection speed). You are meant to be able to buy top-up credit all over the place from the street vendors but I failed; had to return to the shop. 3 contract rates are available, for $15, $30 and $60 giving 1,3 or 15 GB of data included and with rates above that amount at 4, 3 and 2 cents a MB. When asking, contract is the same word in russian but the pay as you go is some bizarre toungue twister so the phrase ‘tri G nyet contract’ works pretty well.

UKRTelecom in a burst of actually doing something then also upgraded home internet (the OGO! brand) and lowered the prices. Now they have ADSL up to 4MBit/s unlimited whereas previously anything over 512 was metered. Now 512 costs $20 a month, up to $50 for the 4MBit/s. ADSL requires a friendly (and present) landlord to sign the forms.

There is growing wi-fi availability across the centre too. Some cafes like Pushka, Fidele, KoKava and 22 on Petrosgova provide free wi-fi, you just have to ask for the password (parol in russian). These places make good temporary offices. Other cafes have paid for wi-fi where you have to buy a prepaid card (not from the cafe itself of course). UKRTelecom also have a network of paid for wi-fi hotspots but not very intensive in Kharkov. . Plus of course plenty of unsecured wi-fi spots are around as everywhere such as the hotel Chichikov.

And last but not least there are a number of internet cafes dotted around; the one in Hotel Kharkov popular with foreigners. Beware of some of the gaming internet cafes; I have never seen so many viruses on a PC in my life..

My god this is a boring post. Give me a correctly spelt cappuccino !

A pain in the ass; or so many women, only 2 cheeks

I’ve been ill. This is scary in any case to me, but in a country where the medical system has lacked investment for a good few years it is doubly scary; add in not speaking the lingo well and it’s triply scary.

Each hospital here has a number and a speciality. Hospital #15 is where I suspect all the english people end up; well known to the locals as the loony bin. The normal procedure is to find the correct hospital for your ailment, then find the right doctor for your specific problem, knock on the door and interrupt some other patient being examined in their underwear. Believe me, watching girls buy clothes in Babarashova market is far more entertaining.  Then the doctor looks at you through some funny circular disc, prescribes some medicine and then you are expected to tip him/her a few dollars.

So I was dragged screaming to hospital #30 something which is the ENT variant. You are not allowed to enter until you have deposited your coat in the cloakroom. I did wonder what you would have to take off if you didn’t bring a coat, but rules are rules and people’s jobs depend on them. There they dragged me to an X-ray machine (or the hospital museum perhaps) where I had to pay $1.40 for a blurry picture of my sinuses. Then back to the ramshackle queue for the doctor, which  some people seemed to know how to bypass without using a Lexus. The doctor said I am likely to die from my sinuses exploding and required an immediate sinus drainage procedure. Whilst this was being translated I admired the sterilisation treatment being given to the ‘tools’ in the dirty sink. Then I watched in awe as they were placed wet onto a bloody cloth.

I asked where I could find a private clinic and ran for my life.

The doctor in the private clinic which had a marginally better hygiene regime, but looked a much nicer place to die  (hey the Fiji Lounge is near) suggested he drain my sinuses and confirmed a course of anti-biotics etc and the now legendary Noc-Sprei (too many people carry one for their noses; it makes me wonder about all those Lexus fumes enveloping the town). So I succumbed to having them drained. But in the meantime I would have to be injected with anti-biotics. In the UK, these were always taken orally, but here it seems that would risk the chance of making people happy. So, a jab morning and evening, and a different nurse each time. This evening the nurse was speaking with another nurse whilst sticking her pointy into my butt so to speak. So, in 2 days that’s 3 women and a new one tomorrow.

Oh, if anyone wanted to know, never have calcia glucuoate injected into your bottom. Particularly if you want to sit that week.

Well. I’ve got my birthday to look forward to. And now I know a new word in russian. Pain. Sans au chocolat.

Someone is trying to tell me something

Living in Ukraine makes one feel mortal. I came home tonight to see a multiple car accident outside my flat. A good example of the lack of respect for any rules/laws often occurs outside my flat. Situated opposite the main police station I see many people come to pay their “respects” to the valiant officers. Unfortunately the police station is in  a one way street, meaning to park outside requires a quick drive the wrong way right outside the station. Perhaps due to looking out for policemen they always neglect to check for traffic, and tonight a Lada came out worse in the fight with the Volga (always my preferred taxi). It was bloody.

So I have many close calls with death here. The old Antonov airplane with the fuel pouring out the engine, the car which made me jump off the pavement into the road to survive, the balcony that fell 5 metres in front of me, the girls I stare at too much with their 10cm stilettos, the sushi, the hospitals, the taxis with the cracked windscreens, the taxi drivers at Misto (thanks Max), hmm, I could go on but I have to finish my vodka now. So yesterday I was sitting at the MILF cafe with mon bon ami David, sipping my cappuccino talking about God, when something whacks me on the head. I teach the MILFs’ children a popular western swear word and see a branch by my feet. David remarks I am bleeding. The waiter comes and removes the offending branch and puts it back in the park. That makes me feel better. I feel dizzy. Drink more cappuccino. Does not help. Multiple tissues later the manager brings me hydrogen peroxide; not sure if this is to make the food taste better or my head feel better. I recall this is what I put on my teenage acne (how life revolves!). I survive.

Then I go to seek religion and fail. I need one more branch attack.