International marriage is quite an industry in Ukraine. Western men look for traditional wives, but the women are ready to leave tradition behind, writes Frank Shouldice in Odessa.

For Yaroslav, a forcefully enterprising 22-year-old, Ukrainian girls make the world go around. "I speak fluent English and German," he declares. "I can be your interpreter or guide, I can get you accommodation and I can get you a girl."

Yaroslav's unsolicited advice is based on his formative experiences as a cub matchmaker. "I once had a 57-year-old Canadian divorcee," he continues apace. "I took him to discos and he met a 28-year-old woman. And now? They are in correspondence."

The vision of a 57-year-old Canadian trawling Ukrainian discos had hardly registered when he tells of another case that walked straight out of Marina Lewycka's bestseller A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. "An English man came here looking to get married," recalls Yaroslav. "He found a woman who he liked. But he was 75 and she was 40. She was not interested so he went home disappointed."

International marriage is big business in Ukraine. Poverty is an underlying factor but a ready supply of beautiful girls makes the former Soviet state a magnet for Western men seeking a partner - or perhaps a trophy - for life.

Translator Vitaly Denisov, a former officer with the Soviet army, puts it more prosaically. "The situation in Ukraine is like manure," he says. "Out of shit grows the most beautiful things."

This is good news for the American-Ukraine Marriage Agency (AUMA) which has some 700 girls on file. Based in Odessa, Anjelika, the agency's 21-year-old director, considers the situation with disconcerting maturity. "This isn't the only country with this type of service - Russia, Belarus and Moldova do it too," she says. "Russian women in general are family-oriented. They are not so career-motivated and their priority in life is family and children. The women in our agency are single women who want to find a husband. The first requirement would be to meet the man in person, not just to use the man as a plane ticket to escape from Ukraine."

Whatever its overlap with the sex trade, the proliferation of a matchmaking industry here is almost inevitable. Ukraine was destroyed by the second World War, losing a quarter of its population. The majority of casualties were male, effecting a gender imbalance that will take generations to even out.

Such tragic origins cut little sympathy with Natasha Varetskaya, who set up the Adam & Eva dating agency eight years ago. "Unfortunately so many men who are still alive are hard to be called 'men' any more," she says caustically. "Drugs and vodka do their job. They are lost for society and for women as potential husbands. Personally, I think it's a sad thing. Each person - each woman - has a right to have a family. If she can't meet someone here in Ukraine and she wants to have a family she has a right to go to another country."

Varetskaya's own story reflects the harsh realities of life in Ukraine. It took almost two decades to complete her doctorate in oceanography and secure a full-time academic position. Then the USSR collapsed, capsizing her career.

"I had dedicated myself to getting a teaching post as a professor," she shrugs. "Then everything came apart - it was back to zero, having to start all over again."

Her marriage foundered and through the punitively lean 1990s she scraped by as a car park attendant on $10 a month. She acquired a computer for her son and used it to do translation work on the side. It proved a lifeline - her translation work evolved into rewriting letters for marriage suitors from abroad. With the development of internet and e-mail she set up Adam & Eva in 1998. The agency now offers accommodation, dating and marriage, a trinity of services improbable anywhere but in Ukraine.

Foreign men pay $180 (€140) for one year's membership, through which they are introduced by mail to a selection of 220 girls. The soft money is earned by ordering roses at $7 (€5.50) each, chocolates for $35 (€27.50) or perfume for $85 (€67) as part of the e-wooing process. In a country where GDP per capita runs at $7,800 (€6,136), these are extravagant gestures.

Slavic women have a handsome reputation in Europe and although Sarajevo might make rival claims, this is particularly true in Odessa. Beauty is commonplace and appearance paramount, making the Black Sea port-city a popular destination for single men, particularly middle-aged men.

A SQUAT BODYBUILDER from Yorkshire joins the pilgrimage. Locked in mortal combat with his mid-40s he has tree trunks for shoulders and biceps that looks like someone has inserted a bowling ball under each armpit. His bulk is emphasised by shorts and a basketball singlet, his toasted bronze skin reflecting the rays of the gymnasium. But whatever his muscular prowess, things are not working out for Paul. For six months he has been in correspondence with Irina on the internet. Finally he arrives in Odessa where Irina meets him at the airport.

"Good-looking bird," confirms Paul ruefully. "But after two days I got bored. It wasn't happening."

With hopes of romance fading, Paul consoles himself with a post-Irina beer on fashionable Deribasovskaya Street. He is joined by a fiftysomething American and thirtysomething Italian and the trio sit wordlessly, watching the girls go by. The American suggests they try Adam & Eva, and Paul, feeling he has nothing to lose, tags along.

Under such a libidinous assault, the office feels a little crowded. Natasha and two female staff work quietly at their desks while two feckless cats sprawl where they lay. The men are handed photo albums. Each album presents an assortment of girls, a photo accompanied by testimonials. A date is $30, which, if the chemistry is right, could be priceless.

Paul selects a raven-haired 27-year-old economics student. A short-skirted agency employee takes details on a clipboard file. Name? Age? "44." Occupation? "Manager of a sports club," says Paul, adding as an afterthought, "Actually, you better tell her I'm a professional bodybuilder. She might need to know that."

Married? "No." Children? "One." Paul leans back on the sofa, almost crushing one of the cats that has crept in behind him. "Thought that was my bag," he laughs, blushing, as he gently retrieves the petrified creature. "Two days in this place," he muses aloud. "It's enough." The staffer makes a brief phone call. "Paul," she quavers, fearing an eruption on the couch. "That lady is not in town. She is in the country with her grandmother."

"Oh well, never mind," sighs Paul, almost relieved at another setback.

"Next time!" "You wish I try her again?" asks the woman.

"No, I'm going home tomorrow," replies the bodybuilder. "That's why it had to be tonight."

MARRIAGE AGENCIES - including numerous shady operations - are pervasive in struggling Ukraine. It's a lucrative business and internet scams regularly fleece the lovelorn and the gullible through cyberspace. Only one man in 10 will, like Paul, take the next step and actually visit the country.

"These men want family in the old-fashioned way," says Natasha. "A wife who will care for him. Ukrainian women are more traditional and there are hundreds of thousands of women here who have no hope of starting a family or having children."

In some respects the exodus of beautiful women to richer countries is comparable to a brain drain - a survival of the prettiest. Some Ukrainians criticise the girls as opportunist, using their looks to jump a sinking ship. For the most part, however, survival is a respected art form in these parts. What makes it awkward is that these women seldom speak the language of their suitors - which enables dating agencies to cash in on interpreter services.

What's more, the men might be looking for traditional Ukrainian women, but the women they usually meet are educated and ambitious, ready to forsake tradition and leave Ukraine behind.

But Adam & Eva reports three marital breakdowns in eight years, AUMA cites one failure in 26 marriages - significantly lower than the national divorce rate. What are the balancing factors in a relationship founded on inequality?

"That's an interesting question," says Varetskaya. "Maybe in the beginning the man thinks he's the boss because she comes from a poor country. But the woman doesn't see it that way."

Elena, a 31-year-old economist, is a case in point. Elena lays down a few ground rules before she will agree to meet anyone. "I want to meet a man, not a black person, not a Chinese, not Muslim, not older than 40 and not younger than 28, not obese, not a farmer, not too commanding, not a religious fanatic, sincere, knowing what he wants from life, leading a sober way of life," she cautions. "Preferably non-smoking, not a fan of noisy parties and leading a not-too-extreme life - bungee, parachute jumping and things like that are not for me. The colour of hair and eyes do not matter. He should have no children, he would be realistic and optimistic, helping me to fight with my inclination to pessimism. He should have no mental and genetic diseases."

Unicef estimates that women outnumber men here by 117 to 100 and suggests the situation has deteriorated since the country achieved independence in 1991. Marriage rates have declined and divorce rates increased, leaving the foreign option the sole alternative to a single life for millions of Ukrainian women.

"The matchmaking business will always be here," insists Angelika, who, like other Ukrainian marriage agencies, occasionally receives inquiries from Ireland. "There will always be people looking for a partner."

DAYS LATER AT the Adam & Eva offices Rimma (25), a very attractive drama school graduate, is set to meet Larry, a 33-year-old businessman from New Jersey. Rimma, whose sister Ella (27), a qualified accountant, is also on agency books, confesses to being nervous that the man she is about to meet is a prospective husband.

"Ukrainian men like to have a good time but now I want something more than that," she says. "Being with the agency increases my chances of meeting someone."

If Rimma hits it off with Larry she will have to consider starting a new home 5,000 miles away.

"I know," she replies. "But if I meet a man who is right for me I could do it. In my life I always make big steps. And if he's a good man, age is not important. I think it's my choice to do this - my friends and family understand that and they support me fully. Besides, it's nobody else's business."

Larry arrives right on time and under Natasha's watchful eye, is introduced to Rimma. Then the pair stroll out into Odessa's streets.

"I never, ever thought I'd be doing this," remarks Natasha, getting back to paperwork. "But you must accept that things change and find a way to live in new conditions."