Nina studied me for another moment. Then she let it pour about what usually happened when people found out she was Ukrainian. She’d been living in Slovenia for years and holy crabs did she have stories.

Back then, the Slovenian word for female Ukrainian was synonymous with prostitute. I’m being serious. When people said Ukrajinka they meant prostitute, and the implications were solid.

Like when a cop checked Nina’s papers on a sleeper train, closed the cabin door and whipped out his junk. Nina pointed back at the prick pointing at her and asked what it was, perhaps a pencil, did she need to sign something? The cop didn’t appreciate the wit, they rarely do, and he ordered the train be stopped and the defiant Ukrajinka hauled off to a deserted train station at two in the morning. Nina said alright I am a hooker, bought and paid for, and you sir are about to find out what happens when you mess with mafia property. Then Nina was escorted back on the train and she didn’t need to sign anything.