July 27, 2019 | Author: Mircea Popescu

mp_en_viaje: aand hello from derpy ukraine.

diana_coman: lolz, what did the ukr do?
diana_coman: or, most likely, not do

mp_en_viaje: it's basically greater timisoara,
somewhat larger, somewhat more decrepit, ~same really.

Might as well go into detail, huh.


Above, the immigration queue. Kiev has the tiniest airport that ever graced a rural community of about 50 thousand or so souls -- the whole thing is like three rooms and their respective corridors.

Yet nevertheless, in spite of minuscule traffic, they manage to produce queues!

Depicted above, just about the entire contents of a mostly full 200-seater ; the Ukrainian immigration process produced a monstruous queue almost worthy of say Istanbul, a place where 2-5k people land every ten minutes. This because... well... derpystan hasn't figured out how to use multiple booths yet! The booths are physicaly there, whoever was contracted to build this mini-airport thing did understand how airporting goes in principle ; but... the having's not quite enough, not by itself. Gotta also use. And... well...

On top of everything else, they take 5minutes+ per random traveller ; most everyone is out of there in ~15 seconds, but then some people go through at the rate of ten per hour. Thus after sitting in the queue for a boring ten minutes or so during which it scarcely moved two feet, I was just about ready to throw a hissy fit -- demand to see the whoever the fuck is in charge and thunderbolt my finest at him. But then... the queue starting moving, and Hannah's prediction (~fifteen minutes) was satisfied to the minute. What happened ?!

What happened is complicated, but typical : after the Russkis came in with the rape&fucksticks, whatever was left of the Derpistanis decided to show them!!! and so created an insane process with fingerprinting and complicated paperwork, to be applied to Russian nationals only. It didn't occur to them however to also separate "Russian national" from "Foreigners" queues, so that everyone non-Russian could admire live before their eyes how much and how deeply it sucks to be Russian (according to the Ukrainian immigration authorities), which'd be pretty much the only way they'd actually collect the downstream benefit of their action.

Instead of this, Derpystan deemed it right and proper to simply have me wait in line behind some Russian that'll take forever. I don't know whether the tall chick in front of me is Russian or Lebanese (ok, I could venture a guess, but still), all I notice is that the process randomly takes either seconds or minutes, which of course pisses me off, but it pisses me off at the Ukrainians as the obvious guilty party. Thus instead of gathering the actual benefit of their anti-Russian legislation, in the shape of me pointing and laughing at the tall chick stuck somewhere way behind (and her getting butthurt from being laughed at by all the affluent foreigners -- pretty much the only thing that can penetrate the Ru-grade thick skull, now as in 1719), they just end up with a buncha pissed off non-Russian foreigners on their hands (and a buncha Russians confirmed in their belief that Ukrs are too stupid to live, and if given a gun will shoot own foot).

I delve into detail here because it is deeply illustrative -- this is quite what I mean by derpy, and it's systematically and throughout repeated, reconstructed and universal in Ukraina.


Yet the (very comfortable, and quite well placed, and well managed and well run) hotel has... door keys! They can't give you multiples, though ; and the rooms contain two forks and two spoons. Why save on that ? Well...





Nothing reminds me more of the clubs in the good old days, back when the world still worked, than this balcony. Sit and watch the titsea undulate beneath, pick what you want.

What, you think I'm kidding ?



Here's a metro station. The metro is inconvenient, labyrintine, ill lit and ill signalled, overfull and in numerous details shockingly reminiscent of Buenos Aires. Which I suspect is not at all a spurious similarity -- they're both "countries" of "nations" of orcs that wish to present white being maintained into some semblance of credibility by free Euro money, such as is available.

The locals are peculiarly cute about this, too. They go about self-advertising to each other among themselves a putative belief that they'll actually be allowed to join the EU, at some point in the future! And furthermore, that this "joining" will, somehow, conceivably make some sort of difference.

You know, the limp-dick European Union that didn't take Turkey back in the 2000s, when Turkey wanted to and the EU could've, conceivably, absorbed it. The sad, hopeless European Union that meanwhile completely fucking bankrupted itself, and all but ensured an enduring foray into the inconsequential with morons like May, Merkel and the rest of the oldwoman orchestra at the helm. That EU will... let Ukraina join. How the fuck ? Look at a map sometime, seriously now, how is this supposed to work ?

Do you know what there isn't any of, for a three mile radius around that picture ? Convenience stores. There's nothing like a 7/11, there's nowhere to buy a thing of milk, or even a bottle of water. Just little bistros and knick-knack stores and assorted nonsense as far as the eye can see, what, you might want to not have to transport a pound of carrots five miles ? But... but... that wouldn't be derpy enough!

So, an Europe that increased its "households with no running water" per capita figure by a degree of magnitude (and its "schools with no running water" per capita figure by two or so degrees of magnitude) when it let Romania join (and never fucking recovered, nor ever will) is going to... what exactly, build the missing ten trillion instances of ten thousand different things that inexplicably aren't here ?

How ?! Just fucking... how ?!




That's a "local homebrew alcohol" paddle. Guess who got paddled with it ?

By the way, from left to right : almost excellent, utterly horrible, best excellent, most excellent, kinda horrible and somewhat dubious. Guess who made the classification ?


Above : upon trying mystery murky drink #2.

Below : upon my announcement that this is now an official harem punishment drink. Notice the female tendency to seek support in each other. Womens' styles are more co-operative, as they say.




I'm picking up a book!









There's a lot of ye olde sovok memorabilia and nostalgia items about ; both in this particular venue and throughout the country in general. Though I suspect you've perhaps already noticed.







Yes, the word "Penthouse" is scribbled on that sad brownstone tenement, fit to head the fleet of the proudest slumlord. Go ahead and ask me again, "derpy how ?", why not, I'm here all night.




Some kind of subteranean entrance ; honestly I've never seen holes this fucking oppresively sad anywhere besides maybe bucharest.


We're ahem. I might be taking the real harem out to check out that putative penthouse harem later. We see.



Iconographic confusion. What's the letter M really mean, anyways ?



But, enough of the day, time to move into the night. A night during which my cock has been in so many eager, youthful mouths I lost tracki. This is no kind of rhetorical exageration ; at one illustrative point I still remember, after taking a piss I turned away from the toilet and into the hallway, cock in hand, so my slave can lick it clean (why use more paper than one has to, amirite ?). This nearby slut we hadn't even talked to yet (but who was hopefully eighteen, I guess ?) pounced on her and sucked the salty right out of her mouth. Hawt!ii

I say the world needs more parties like that, and more toilet lines like that at parties like that.


I'm tempted to call this the metawhorsosis. Doesn't it have a certain ding to it ?


Bimbo whorganizing the show.








The sluts were some of the star attractions of the fetish party, I'm really good at caning them and they're really good at being canned by me, so there was a lotta applause and such. Go sluts!



This is a sushi joint, which wasn't merely open at four in the morning ; it had its happy hour!!! then. Can you believe this shit ? I know of no place in this world, not fucking Boston, not fucking New York, not fucking anywhere you have such party infrastructure at the ready.

Are you fucking kidding me, restaurants ready to go for when you're done drinking ? Sushi ? Tom Yam ?! Holy shit I'm in love!!!


Pretty cool and comme il faut, neh ? Yet on the other hand...



This is Ukraina. I can't say I don't like it ; but it sure as fuck can get pretty infuriating a tratti.

  1. This, as of Saturday morning, mind you. I landed here Friday evening.

    Meanwhile I finally managed to wash most of the lipstick and eyeliner potpourri offa it (no small feat, some of that waterproof shit can be hard to remove), yet I still can't produce anything like an accurate count.

    Ukraina, still holding the slut crown of braided hair and flowers up higher than everyone. []

  2. I know this "sounds incredible", but the thing with public sex is... I have witnesses! []