Sofia and Smoke Pit

Sofia and Smoke Pit

I had been in Kiev a few months when I finally found the bar that would become my salvation.  It was right off the Maidan Square and I called it Smoke Pit.  I had popped in there for a quick beer one afternoon after looking at rental apartments in the neighborhood just after I moved to town, but it didn’t catch me as any place I’d want to hang in.  During that first visit, it was crowded and in a basement with a low ceiling and everyone there was smoking, so the name Smoke Pit stuck in my mind as a reference point when I thought of the place.  I decided to check it out for  drink months later not realizing what the place would soon become for me.  It’s funny how random motivations open doors to life that would have easily remained closed, possibly forever, if events just went slightly in another direction.  This could be said about my entire experience in Kiev (and life in general) because I never imagined such a life even existed before moving there and it could also be said about this night, as I decided to stop there to avoid seeing a girl I had hooked up with at my usual place and this was the only other bar I knew.

Smoke Pit was small, dirty, poorly lit, even more poorly ventilated and, as mentioned, in a basement.  You had to maneuver down these steep narrow steps to enter.  Looking back, it’s amazing that I never fell down going in or out of the place.  It’s door was big and metal and its top hinge was always pulled out of the frame.  It was a bitch to open and close.  When you opened it, it screamed loud.  Everyone in the bar knew when someone was coming or going, but it depended on how smoky it was if you would be able to see who it was.  The place was a small box with a low ceiling.  It was gritty and the walls were covered with hand drawn portraits of people.  The paper of the portraits was weathered yellow from all the tobacco constantly languishing in the air.  They had a small bar that seated up to six people and then the room was packed with small tables and benches. 

The wife of the owner ran the place.  Her name was Sophia.  She was from Uzbekistan and had a few gold teeth.  Her black hair was short and she was from Korean descent.  She must have been in her late 20s and she always had positive energy.  Her looks were average, but her attitude more than made up for it.  Her English was substantial, not perfect, but enough to talk to and joke with.  We had a good relationship, but it wasn’t from anything I had done.  She mistakenly thought she knew me for a long time, years, and I found this out immediately when I got there this night.   

As I entered the place, Sophia was behind the bar serving customers and yelled in English, “HELLO!  Good to see you again!”  I soon found out that she always yelled “HELLO!” whenever anybody walked in, no matter who they were, where they were from or what language they spoke.  She also always yelled “SEE YOU TOMORROW!” whenever anybody left.

Despite her friendly welcome, I knew she couldn’t remember me from my one previous visit, as I didn’t remember her, but I played along and said “Hello” and sat at the small bar and ordered a beer.

When she gave me the beer, she said, “We going to new bar tonight.  You come with us?” 

“New bar??”  I said, confused that someone was being so friendly and familiar with me.  This usually didn’t happen anywhere I went.

“Yes, music tonight at new bar, we leave twenty minutes, you come, yes?”

“Uhh, I don’t know maybe, we’ll see.  I have to meet someone here.”  It was a bald-faced lie, but this is an instinctual thing to say when you cannot figure out what you’re getting into.  I had to comprehend and think over what was unfolding before me. 

“Ok, twenty minutes, we leave twenty minutes.”  She smiled, I saw the gold and she walked into the back room where the kitchen was.

I sat at the bar, drank my beer and thought about it.  I was planning on sitting there all night anyway, might as well check out a new scene I thought as I tried to convince myself to go.  I was still fairly new to Kiev and didn’t really know many places- or any people outside of the other bar I frequented, Karambol.  A little adventure couldn’t be a bad thing I told myself. 

After about 10 minutes she came out.  “We go now, you come?”

“Yeah, I’ll check it out.”  I slammed my beer, paid, and we all left.

Outside it had started snowing again.  It was quiet and beautiful.  We walked through the main square to the main road.  There were four of us.  Sophia, a guy named Ivan and his girl, a hot bleach-blonde named Natasha.  Sophia was the only one who could speak any English, and I could still barely speak any Russian, but that didn’t mean anything.  We were all “old” friends in Sophia’s eyes. 

“I no see you in long time.  Where you be?”  Sophia asked me as we made our way across the square.  I decided to tell her the truth.

“I think you mistake me for someone else.  I have only been to the bar once before and only recently moved to Kiev.”  I told her looking confused with a shrug and a smile.

“Hahaha, you joke me!  I know you.  I remember you!”  She laughed.  I decided the truth wasn’t worth the effort.

“Ok, well, thanks for inviting me along.  It’ll be nice to see something new.”

As we continued to the street, I found out we would have to get a car to take us to the new bar.  We hailed one at the main street and climbed in.  I wasn’t very familiar with the city outside of the center and had no idea where we were going or how far we had to go.  When we got there around twenty minutes later, I was totally lost and was regretting the decision to join along.  I was out of my element and comfort zone.  The new bar was in the middle of what appeared to be a residential neighborhood.  You couldn’t even tell that it was a bar from the outside; it looked like any other apartment building, which in fact, it was.  The entrance was in the back.  It was really dark back there as we made our way to the doorway.   

When we entered, the music was loud, jazz.  The place looked like an abandoned minimart that they didn’t bother cleaning with a bar thrown into the middle and a dance floor at one end.  It was nowhere near as smoky as Sophia’s place, but it was smoky nonetheless.  Old, dirty and smoky- these were common characteristics of pretty much all the bars in Kiev that weren’t high-end during these early days of independence.  

The problem with this place was the people there.  Families were everywhere.  Little kids dancing with old men and women.  It looked like a wedding or something must have just taken place.  Everyone was old and sitting with their husbands, wives, kids, parents.  I got a vodka tonic at the bar.  I figured I was stranded there for a while.  It was really snowing outside and I had no idea where I was or how I would find a ride home.  I decided to just wait it out; maybe I’d get lucky and Sophia would give me a ride back to her bar later.  Also, there were a few hot mothers lurking around, but no open seats anywhere, so I was forced to stand with my drink in hand.  The people I came with melted into the background immediately like tears in rain and I soon couldn’t locate any of them.  I drank quickly to compensate for the unfamiliar and new surroundings.  I soon lost track of how many vodka tonics I downed.

The next morning I awoke in my bed with a serious hangover.  I had no idea what happened or how I even got home.  The last thing I could remember was dancing with Ivan’s girl at the new bar with everyone surrounding us in a circle, clapping along and encouraging us as we spun in a circle holding each other.  I still don’t know anything else from that night, but from that time forward, I never questioned the idea that Sophia knew me for years, and she was always a happy, friendly face when I would come and drink at her bar, which was often.

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Another fun story about Kiev in the old days- An Afternoon in the Drunk Tank In Kyiv- can be found here:

https://libertinereflections.blogspot.com/2018/11/an-afternoon-in-drunk-tank-in-kyiv.html

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