For us, as much as we love to go out, it's usually to a quiet, laid back place where we don't have to stand. Standing is a real drag. Dancing is only an option after an entire bottle of whatever the bar special is and usually ends in embarrassing pictures that my friends are gracious enough to forward the next morning.
Not so in Russia. Even the Siberian parts.
It was a week ago Saturday that we met up with some of Hubs co-workers for a light dinner and drinks. All of his co-workers are about our age and after spending the entire week working long hours, they were ready to let loose. And I don't blame them. All of them are working in a small town of 100,000 people on a rotational basis without the luxuries of, say, a decent grocery store, McDonalds or a corner bar. We were introduced to the favorite fish of the region and when Hubs said he didn't trust the fish here in Siberia, it was described to us as "frozen fresh". It's a white fish served raw and in strips and you're supposed to dip it in sea salt and bon apetit! Awful. Just awful. Poor Hubs wasn't paying attention to his food, rather, he was listening to a story and I tried to intercept him so he could be prepared for the fishy slime but alas, he had to learn the hard way. When asked, I of course said that it was "pretty good, not my favorite but good..." so therefore felt obligated to eat more strips while under their watchful eye. I never thought I would say this but I really appreciated the ketchup/mayonaise mixture served with the fish. All in all, though, the snacks ordered were delicious and the company was second to none! We learned all about where people had been, what conditions were like and what people think of America. I love those conversations. We also chatted in depth about this whole Pussy Riot thing. They're officially sentanced to two years for hooliganism (yeah, its a real thing...) for protesting via singing an anti-Putin song in front of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow. Everyone was surprised that Americans would have such an interest and be so outraged by their arrest. They said it wasn't the song that landed them the prison sentance, it was the fact that they did it on the grounds of the largest, most sacred Cathedral in town. If there's a definition for "Hooligan", I'd say that about nails it.
Anyway. We had a couple drinks at the restaurant and moved on to the club. (side note: no one had ever heard of drinking vodka with water. It was a painful process trying to explain that you pour a shot of vodka in a glass then fill the rest up with water and add a lemon - they had no limes. In the end they brought me a vodka and red bull. Expat problems...)
The club was a short walk, we check our coats (yes, coats. It's freezing here! First time Hubs had a birthday in 50 degree weather!) and headed upstairs to the bar. On the way, we were handed ice cream cones. I was walking behind one of Hubs' co-workers and commented, "is this laced with cocaine or what?" (half joke, half expecting it to actually be laced with cocaine...) He, very seriously says, "no, I think it's just ice cream." Russians must not be much for banter. Hubs and I often talk about what they must think of us and it always gets a good laugh.
It was at this club that we were introduced to the Russian version of the Long Island Iced Tea. It goes something like this... rum, vodka, gin, tequila and coke. Only one of the guys just wanted the tequila and coke. No ice. And they all wanted us to get one. I, of course, was all for it, but Hubs ordered us rum and cokes anyways. He is my rock.
A funny thing that we've noticed in Russian clubs is that next to the DJ Booth are usually a couple small stages where ladies dance. Its nothing dirty, it's almost like they're teaching the crowd how to dance. And it seems to me that no one really pays attention. Dudes aren't creepin' around the club, they're out there dancin there ASS off! So, I see an open stage and decide that its time for me and my two new girlfriends, who are engineers with Hubs, to get up and show our moves off. Because if theres one thing I do remember from club days, it's that you have to just bite the bullet and make a royal fool out of yourself. If you can't dance (I would argue that I have some moves, but my friends would probably argue the opposite...) then you go get on with your ridiculous self. Better to make people openly laugh and point when you're being purposefully silly than laughing and pointing when you're being serious.
We get there and our spot has been taken by a dude in a fedora. Nothing against fedoras, but when the dude dancing on stage has one, you probably shouldn't challenge him to a public dance off. Unless you're me. Then you push your way up, dragging your new Russian friend behind you and you just dance your hiney off. About two minutes later, the music stops and the DJ starts talking and waving us down from the stage. My new friend says that we've won a dance contest! To which I respond, "we weren't even up there that long..."The DJ starts talking to me in Russian and what can I say? "Da!" (yes!) quickly followed by "Angleeski...?" (English?) Blah blah, more talking and confusion, waving at Hubs who us upstairs watching and laughing hysterically. Then suddenly he's by my side. "oh hey, that was fast, you were just upstairs..." immediately followed by my friend grabbing my hand and saying we had to go, something bad was about to happen. In my mind I was half convinced that we were being auctioned off into sexual slavery the way she said it and dragged me behind her back to the group, Hubs close behind.
We go upstairs and our group is practically on the floor laughing. Apparently, right after I waved at Hubs laughing upstairs, his co-workers told him that he should get down there because the DJ just told us to take off our shirts. (Not a good time to say "da" which was what I did.) Boy, Hubs can move. I felt horrible for dragging my new friends down with me. But we all had a good laugh and quickly moved on back to the restaurant we had started in to close out the night. Finally heading home at, you guessed it, 5:30am.
Writing this, I have literally laughed till I cried. What a great way to end a rough week. When I think about how awful I felt about the uncertainties, the waiting, the uncomfortable hotel mattress, it really seems small in comparison to the fun we had that night. Feeling the acceptance, the adventure, even the shitty food is better with good company. (and ketchup-mayonaise as previously noted...) My heart is so full and just when I think it can't get any better, we are introduced to new marvels, new stories and new friends who leave the most lasting mark.
Cheers to the new, the surprising and the quick exits. You enrich our lives and our Saturday nights.
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