The Kiev Restaurant opened in the late-70s. 24 hours. We went there after CBGBs, Max’s, and the Mudd Club. Bacon and eggs as the dawn broke the morn. It was a scene. I had a fight over a tape recorder with Samo and discussed a photo-roman with Klaus Nomi. They went from obscurity to fame. I stopped going to the Kiev after the cook served well-done eggs. I sent them back and the waitress brought a plate of transparent eggs on top the first order. His message couldn’t have been clearer. That was 1980.
Kiev meant the Kiev all those years.
Not anymore.
I landed in the Ukrainian capitol yesterday. An hour drive into the city. Onion-bulbed domes gleaming in the May sun. I booked into the Domus Hotel and walked around the old town. Punks drank on the corners, goths in the alleys, and bums in the parks. Broken beer bottles glittered on the streets. It looked like a tough city, but Im recognized that there was a distinct female/male advantage. Something like 55/45% in the youth. And none of them fat like Americans.
No 7/11s or fast food.
And the beer is cheap.
A long-hair was playing Nirvana in the main square.
His audience consisted of all ages and two old men danced along to FEELS LIKE TEENAGE SPIRIT. They even knew the words. Not a bad town.
Kiev.
For a related article click on the following URL
https://www.mangozeen.com/2008/12/20/new-york/walk-like-a-woman-by-peter-nolan-smith-2.htm