One Rice Two Rice Red Rice Blue Rice

"You go talk to them."

"Me??? You at least know some words. What am I going to do?"

"Just go and do your best."

My first true archaeological experience came in the summer of 1997. I was a junior in college, and I had been anxious to join an archaeological excavation and get out in the field for the first time. Since about the third grade I had always wanted to be an archaeologist, and now I was finally about to get my real chance after taking classes and reading all these books. My professor at the time encouraged me to join him as he was going to excavate in Jordan. Exciting, I thought, and I signed up immediately.

That was quite early in the spring semester. As the weeks and months passed, I asked him about details about the trip. When? Payment? Is it happening? He wasn't sure if the dig was a go. Nervous, I spoke to a visiting professor who had an excavation in Ukraine. Afraid I'd get to summer without any dig, I jumped at the Ukraine excavation just so I had something.

It was an interesting experience.

Jordan did eventually happen, but that was decided after I had already left for Ukraine.

The project in Ukraine took place in a small, quiet town near the Romanian border, Kamianets-Podilsky. We flew in Lviv/Lvov, then the train to Podilsky (some of which deserves its own story). We lived in a school, since it was summer and students were not there. Bedrooms on the third floor, bathrooms and showers on the first (which made for interesting episodes), on opposite sides of the building. Meals were taken care of by a local woman who ran her own restaurant. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all here. Except on the weekends. We were on our own. Which is challenging in a small town with a lack of restaurants.

One evening, three of us decided to find a meal on our own. We had heard about this establishment near the center of town, so we went on an adventure to locate it. But we didn't know a name, and even if we did it would do no good as no restaurants had signs in this town. And because this particular town had a castle and various forts around town, the fact that some of those structures were taken over and turned into restaurants or other shops made it more difficult to discern between a historical building and a restaurant. 

After hours of walking trying to find something, we stumbled upon this one fort structure that appeared occupied. Even if it was not a restaurant, there was activity there.

"We know that place is open. What if we just go inside and use the phone, call the school and ask where to find this restaurant?"

"That seems like a fine idea, we should do that." The actual conversation was likely not this brief or agreeable.

"Sebastian, you should go and ask to use their phone."

This was suggested by one of the people I was with, someone who had been part of this excavation for at least three years at that point. She had been in Ukraine multiple times, had even picked up some words of the language. She was in a much better position than me to seek help.

The troubling point for me was that there were two goons standing watch outside clad in heavy leather coats. They did not appear to be welcoming. Given Ukraine's proximity to Russia, we were sure these were members of the Russian mob (later confirmed). Having heard stories in the previous days about Russian mobsters and how prone they were to violence, even learning their preferred manner of disposing of people (hitting with cars), these were not people I wanted to get into any trouble with.

"Me? Why are you throwing me to those goons? Even if I did get a phone, how do I speak to the person on the other side and ask for help? This plan is just stupid!"

After much cajoling, I finally caved and put on a brave face as I went to speak to Mr Sunshine and Mr Rainbow Unicorn. We were that hungry. We were that desperate.

"Fine, I'll do it, cowards. If I die, I hope you choke on the guilt!"

I turned to the door and walked up to them. Using my best charades skills, I motioned for a phone. My new friends did not look amused, tried turning me away, but I was determined. They looked inside and thought about my request. I turned to look for my teammates, but saw nothing. The bastards had ducked behind a wall or bush and were nowhere in sight.

After a minute or two of staring at each other, Little Miss Sunshine decided to let me in. In his Ukrainian, or Russian, I could not tell the difference, and with a gesture of his head, he beckoned for me to follow him inside. Er, I was getting what I wanted, but I started getting more and more nervous. I again turned to my teammates, who were completely invisible. I will die alone.

Inside I find a club. And it is kept extremely dark. I am escorted to the bar in the center, where a heavy set man whom I dubbed Fat Paulie was busy counting money or some other legitimate transaction. He was told what I wanted, and I just tried to smile as if I knew what was being said. They exchanged some words, and he gruffed and pointed to a door on the side.

"Oh gawd, is that where I am going to get it?" My thoughts were not positive at the moment.

Again I am escorted through the club. I look around, wondering if there was anyone there who would come to my rescue. Darkness.

Past the door I find a small cleaning area and a phone. Success! A phone! Just what I wanted! But now what? I can call the school, but the person answering speaks no English and I spoke no Ukrainian. This plan's stupidity was becoming more apparent to me. I tried anyways, but no one answered. Ugh, now what?

At that moment, a woman appeared at the door. She was smiling. She seemed friendly. Is that how death comes? 

"[Various Ukrainian phrases]."

"Uhm, sorry, I no understand."

"[More Ukrainian]."

Dumb look on my face.

She had enough of the language barrier, and just waved at me with her hand to follow her. Stupidly, I did, because I had no other option. I watch her as she crosses the room, this dark room full of mafia members, to an even darker door on the opposite side of the building. My nerves were racing, not knowing what was happening, what she had planned for me. I kept glancing about the room, sure I'd meet my end in some swanky Ukrainian bar in the middle of nowhere.

She gets to the door, turns to me, smiles, and opens the door to reveal......Brenda and Svetlana (true names withheld), two other members of the dig team. Svetlana was of Ukrainian descent, so she spoke the language and could actually communicate with the staff. Here they were, sitting in the balcony area, enjoying some drinks and food unbeknownst to anyone else. Their faces were a huge relief for me, and I finally let my guard down. My life spared another night. 

I quickly left them and walked out the front door and back to my original crew. They were still hiding.

"Follow me, bastards."

We enjoyed a fine meal, and this restaurant became a regular hang out for us. I don't remember the food all too well, but I do remember their specialty: white rice. But they made it fancy by dyeing the rice yellow or red or blue/green. 

Over time, the whole gang would frequent the restaurant together. Drinks, food, laughs, a jolly good time. One day, Tattoo Man joined our table, a most unwelcome guest. On this particular day, he was quite inebriated, but he wanted new friends, and he was not quiet about it. We may have found out he was just released from prison, and was celebrating in a fine Ukie way. But he got a little too loud for some people. Fat Paulie entered the room, and Tattoo Man started speaking to him. Fat Paulie just looked up, put his finger to his mouth, and Tattoo Man shut up immediately. We now knew how the hierarchy flowed.

After Fat Paulie left, Tattoo Man again engaged in the celebration. He liked us enough that he offered to pay for our meals and drinks. Tempting as it was, we decided being indebted to a Russian mobster was not in our best interest. We got the bill, and politely declined his offer. As we took out cash to pay, I could feel his eyes on us, staring at our money. Best to pay and make our way out with urgency.

We didn't make many more visits to this particular restaurant after this encounter. On the walk back from our dig site a week or two later, we noticed some heavily dolled up women entering the establishment. It seems our restaurant had turned into a strip club. By this point, we had found other restaurants to frequent. Sadly, that restaurant had gone, and it was fun. And tomorrow there will be another one.

The gang looking for dinner