Since I’ve got time to kill while I’m waiting for my first flight (and am finally starting to destress about the things I might have neglected to pack or do before I left my house), I thought I might do a post to describe how things got to me sitting in the airport. I’ve already shared this information in assorted emails and conversations, but there are still pockets of people who I’ve not yet shared this with. For those of you who do already know this story, you can probably skip the rest; there might be assorted details that aren’t quite what I would have told you, but the gist is still the same.

If I wanted to go to the very start of this “origin story,” I’d have to take you back to the rollicking days of the early seventies, when I was in third grade and we got a new student who could speak both English and Russian. Suffice to say that an eight year old, that is pretty cool, and it turned out to be the sort of thing that sticks with you. Or at least it stuck with me, to the point where every few years I’d make a futile attempt to learn Russian, get pretty much nowhere, and then let the desire go back into hibernation for a few more years. Then a couple years ago, that pattern changed.

My employer at the time — looking at the ever-expanding global business opportunities — initiated an online foreign language program. There were only a few languages being offered, but Russian was one of them. Apparently all the planets and stars were in alignment this time around, because I started those online courses and managed to stick with them. (Not 24/7, mind you, but far more diligently than in the past.)

As language and culture are closely intertwined, after a few months of rote lessons, I felt some context and history would be a good step. I didn’t think I was at a conversational level by any means (and, honestly, I still don’t), but I figured that what I knew would be a great supplement if I were on a tour. Think about it: I get to see Russia, experience some of the culture of this language, and it wouldn’t hand to worry about hotels or getting lost or anything. So that was my plan.

Then I discovered that it was something of a hassle to visit Russia. Maybe things have since improved, but at the time, everything I was reading suggested to me that it might be more trouble than it was worth. But in my Russia research, I kept running into data for Ukraine. Ukraine, as it turned out, was far more interested in having Western visitors. Russian, though not the official language was still widely spoken and there were a lot of similarities in culture. It didn’t take much convincing to get me thinking that Ukraine would be a good fit to my educational goals. Plus it was about time for me to renew my passport and go somewhere.

A tour was still part of the plan, but me being me, I didn’t want it to be just any tour. I wanted something interesting and maybe a little off the beaten path. I did find some tours like this, but they tended to be sponsored by international dating agencies — the “mail order bride” people. Still, it did seem like a good opportunity, and I figured I wouldn’t have to do all the agency sponsored events. So I registered and got signed up for a tour.

I won’t go into all the details — I think I cover most of them in earlier posts anyway — but the tour got cancelled and I ended up going on my own. It all worked out, and proved to be quite the thrilling adventure. I won’t say that Ukraine got into my blood, but I definite felt that future visits would be a possibility.

I was still technically a member of that agency site and, being an apparently-breathing Western male, I got a lot of contact messages from the women on the site. Most of the messages were very ignorable, but some were quite touching and sincere. It seemed that being on that site was actually helping me in my language/culture goals. I don’t know if I gained any special insights into Russian or Ukrainian women’s psyches, but it did seem like I was getting a good glimpse into how many women I that part of the world viewed relationships. (Or maybe I was just seeing how they perceived what Western men wanted in relationships.)

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Well, wouldn’t you know it — I’m almost done with this post, but then have board my first flight, don’t have time in Amsterdam to finish it, and then don’t have internet access my first night in Kiev. I’ll finish this up quickly, and then start thinking about my post for my first full day here.

As I had said, some of those contacts seemed quite genuine and sincere, and of those, I felt that a couple warranted a response. And so it was that, while not setting out to be such, I became one of those creepy guys writing Russian women online. Only it was far less creepy because (a) it’s me, and (b) I wasn’t looking for a woman in or just out of college. (That’s the bread and butter for these online agencies; from a sociological perspective it makes sense, but still, not my thing.)

I think I only sent three or four responses, and by chance one of those responses was to Viktoria. We really seemed to hit it off, and so on my second trip to Ukraine, we spent nearly the full week together. That was my 2012 trip (I think, it’s all a blur anymore) and she was the one I usually referred to as my companion.

As I said, we seemed to connect, and after a couple years of letters and visits, I am now here to get married. And all because there was a girl in my third grade class who could speak Russian…