Russia, November 17, 1998
It's Just a Few Drops of Vodka...
The mind is a horrible thing to pickle with vodka
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Lets face it, while I sit in Moscow, I have nutting to do,
so I do what I want, I party. I now know all the cool yet cheap
bars in Moscow. Unfortunately, there are only a few, so I'm now
bored. I am starting to tap the massive house party scene here.
See Russians do not got out for a party, but usually throw
one in their house. This is a vestige of a time when there wasn't
any place to hold a party. As my circle of friends grow, so
do the opportunities to inebriate myself in the comfort of someone's
home. This past week I went to two house parties, one small, one
big.
The American party was thrown by a friend of mine, Jennifer. She is an ex-PCV living the good life in Moscow, giving us all an example to follow. I have no idea, well I don't remember actually, why she threw the party, but it was quite fun. Jen, her housemate and fellow ex-PCV Marcie, and I started out just chilling and talking, then people started to arrive. Our friends from Ryazan, Sasha, his girlfriend, and Max and another ex-PCV, Matt. We started to drink before dinner was served, and the conversation flowed as free as the alcohol. After dinner and a few more drinks, we made our way to the next party, at another ex-PCV's apartment. Tamala has an amazing view from her balcony on the 25th floor. All of Moscow's center, including the Kremlin, TV tower, Hotel Russia, MGU, and environs are visible from the Stalin building where she lives. I was amazed and scared by the view. The balcony came up to my waist but did not have a railing. If someone pushed me as I stood at the edge, I would go right over, turning into puree when I hit the mesh screen protecting the entrance. All that night I had nightmares about that balcony! At this second, larger party, a language gulf emerged. The English speakers separated from the Russian speakers slowly but surely. Each group would tire of the stress of translation and slip back into their native lounge. It is unfortunate, but natural. I tried to cross back and forth between the two until the vodka took hold. There was a group of Russians who kept making me drink. 'It just a few drops of vodka,' they would say as they poured me 100 cl of the clear liquid. Now I can handle a bit of vodka, everyone here has to, but not that much. Soon I was looking at the inside of my eyes, opting to sleep before I drank too much. Later that night everyone headed to a nearby bar to usher in the dawn in style. Yours truly went home and curled up to await the dawn in pain. Oh, that was a long day! |
