So last January I was in Kiev en route home from a far-flung city in rural Ukraine that you wouldn’t have heard of and I can’t spell. (so let’s move on). It was a bracing day – around minus 11 Celsius – with two inches of hardened ice underfoot.
I had deliberately booked a cheap hotel for my one night stay next to the delightful train station because of these conditions and ease of getting to the airport next day. After check-in and a light dinner, I headed to the nearest drinking establishment, a pub called Porter Pub. For those who don’t know, it’s a huge warehouse of a building, on account of it being an old warehouse before transforming into a much more useful establishment.
On entry, I was offered a free shot of vodka which I thought rude to refuse. Although massive, the pub was quite cosy, warm and friendly. A live band was playing and it was a great atmosphere. Old motorcycles and pieces of machinery strewn around as a reminder of the building’s former use. Think Dragon’s Den without the surly old people.
I was happy to sit at the bar and settle in for a few home made beers. I opted for a honey beer weighing in at 4.8%. I appreciate there are much stronger beers to be sampled but I prefer to wake up in my own bed, not a hospital or police station. I happily sat drinking in the atmos and the beer whilst chatting with locals. I noticed there was a baseball bat behind the bar and thought how great it was that they had a pub sports team. I was disabused of this notion a little later as the bat was employed in a much different use during a difference of opinion at the front door.
I would have stayed much longer than I did, as my flight was not until next afternoon but I was I little concerned about the ice on the street. So I made my excuses and left.
I had, however, downed seven delicious pints of hand crafted lager and knocked back a vodka.
Somehow I had change of a crisp five pound note!