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Found another spot, shady alley—smelled like regret and cheap perfume. This one chick, she’s talkin’ fast, “50 bucks, quick deal.” I’m like, “Slow down, sugar, I ain’t runnin’ no race.” She rolls her eyes—damn, that attitude! Made me happy, tho—spunk’s rare out here. Reminds me of Haneke’s preacher sayin’, “I’ll teach you humility.” Ha! She taught *me* somethin’—don’t haggle with a pro, they’ll school ya.

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After that, I decide to grab some lunch. Hit up this little bistro on the corner of Pushkinska Street. The food there is bomb! I order borscht and some varenyky. Like, if you haven’t had varenyky in Mykolayiv, are you even living? I’m chowing down, and this old lady at the next table starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about the history of the city, how it was founded back in the day. I’m nodding along, but honestly, I’m just trying to focus on my food. Sorry, lady, but this borscht is life!

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