Watch out all you devushka bitches, I’m coming to town!

Yes, it’s true. In a mere 9.5 hours, a flight to Munich carrying the Ukrainian and I will depart SFO (God-willing, as the Arabs say). And from Munich? Da, next stop will be Kiev Borispol airport. I’ll have my 4 inch heels, Marc Jacobs denim mini-skirt, Dior “Little Red Dress” lip gloss, and a fresh red manicure onboard with me.

What?! You say I’m too old to be a true devushka? Not true. Devushka-ness is all a state of mind and a pair of great legs. I thoroughly intend to learn from the masters (er…mistresses) walking the streets of Kiev (not to be confused with the streetwalkers of Kiev whom devushkas must closely resemble).

What’s that again!?!?! You say I can barely pronounce the Russian letters I see on street signs? That my complete and utter failure to find time to learn the Russian language will prevent me from embodying the modern slavic woman’s persona? So not true. If anything, spending 3 years with the Ukrainian has made me more slavic than any Rosetta Stone lesson could.

Case in point:

Last week, I was in the Baltimore suburbs on a business trip and couldn’t access the wireless network in the office. But I knew there’d be no problem because there was a Russian employee sitting a few cubicles over. He’s cracker-jack smart and super-nice too. I knew he could get me on the wireless…

What do you have? he asked upon hearing my flirtatious pleas for help.

Somehow, I didn’t think the words I’ll be your best friend forever that worked so well when I needed help from someone when I was a teenage girl or young devushka post-college in New York would work so well now that I’m old enough to have grandchildren in some parts of the world. I searched my pockets looking for something to give him when I realized I had no pockets because I was wearing a skirt.

Chocolate? I asked desperately, remembering I had some back at my desk I’d brought with me from San Francisco. It’s fine European, dark chocolate. Organic too! selling him on the idea that his time and assistance was totally worthy of some small chocolate that I’d bought at the Walgreens on Sacramento and Front St.

The Russian colleague started laughing, realizing what was going on.

Noooo….what do you have? Like an iPhone or a MacBook or what? I need to know what device you’re using to connect to the network!

Oh. I was shocked. Somebody would do something for me without bribery? All this time I’ve been Russified, this guy’s been Americanized.

Yes, devushkas. I am ready. And I’m bringing my camera.

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