Wednesday 3 October 2007
DOUG R.
(England)
Curiosity killed
the
cat?
Part 1
Curiosity
killed the cat? It nearly killed me. First Contact.
I am one of those people who always wants to look over the other side of the
hill. I also respond to the challenge if someone tries to stop me looking!
Only seven years ago our world was so different. In that short time the
growth of the internet and the collapse of the communist Russian Empire had
changed many things for ever.
I found the new pleasure of trawling through those internet catalogues, as
one does. There were hundreds of photographs designed to entice gullible
westerners into making acquaintance with Russian lovelies. These glamorous
girls were apparently desperate to meet me. Could this be true? I had read
how Russia had been falling apart, how their ancient barriers were falling –
but...
The camera cannot lie, can it?
I made tentative enquiries of some angelic examples of the beauties
displayed in the catalogues. Most did not reply or were not interested in
me, or not interesting to me. Maybe I was too honest or ugly? I soon stopped
looking.
I soon decided this aspect of the internet was not for me. It is not my way
of meeting new people. Most in the catalogues were probably telling lies, or
exaggerating or indulging in other deceits. Few seemed genuine, but one or
two stuck in my memory. There were various loose descriptions of age, body
dimensions and imagined or invisible weight I simply did not believe.
I suppose it is unreasonable to expect someone to describe themselves as
lazy fat and stupid?
I received an email months later, asking if I was still interested. This was
well timed. My divorce had just come through and I would shortly be moving
address. I replied. She replied to my reply.
Eventually we developed daily email correspondence. It gave me something to
look forward to. I suspected she had trouble writing in English but could
read my letters easier. It was much later that I discovered how difficult
this translating had been for her. The standard of teaching English in
Russia is not good, and that’s
being polite.
She posted me a short letter and several photographs of herself at and
around her home. She looked more natural and attractive to me than the
studio glamour versions.
I decided to telephone her as a surprise- which it was.
She did not talk very much but I needed to hear her voice. I liked the sound of her and how she had responded
to this simple contact. I wanted more. I was intrigued. I wanted to develop
this relationship and to meet her.
I looked
around for ways we could meet. One of the main blockages was the incredible
bureaucracy involved in the simple act of meeting someone across that
fundamental divide we knew as The Iron Curtain.
The first
problem was the need for visas, then the problem of distance. I lived near
London, she in Odessa. Total problems seemed race, language, culture,
distance and two sets of bureaucracy. I was still curious and interested in
the challenge. This was certainly a challenge. Little did I know.
My income derived from sales and marketing for a health and beauty company.
They were planning a business promotion in Warsaw. Poland was one of the few
countries she could visit without a visa. I did not need one either, so a
meeting in Poland was possible.
What the hell was I doing? I was seriously contemplating- no, making
definite arrangements- to travel to a country I didn’t know, where they speak a language I couldn’t pronounce. Was this madness due to the internet,
with people throwing common sense out of the window?
I felt some mysterious force was on my side and making plans for me. Let’s say a Mystery Organiser was watching over me? There
were so many obvious problems and obstacles, yet everything began to slot
together. We agreed to meet in Warsaw. She could travel by overnight train
from Odessa and I would fly direct from UK.
So all was arranged. I was committed. My foolish madman’s dream was to become reality.
End of part 1
DOUG R. (England)
