From Russia with Love

DDT, Alexei and the Gang

Being the end of my semester here in Russia, I haven’t had much time to write posts, although recently my life in the Motherland has been quite exciting. Most of my time has been devoted to cramming for finals, writing essays and performing in a play put on by our phonetics class called “Little Red Riding Hood goes to RGGU” (RGGU is the name of our university here, I was the Lion, king of all animals. It really took me back to the good ol’ days of The Lion King). The title of my final essay for my grammar class was ‘Dangerous Russia?’ In it, I discussed the state of the world from an international student’s perspective; those countries know as very popular destinations for students studying abroad, Australia and France, have experienced much civil unrest this semester. To boot, natural disasters have plagued much of the world. As a result, Moscow, experiencing one of its warmest winters in recent memory, has turned out to be a wonderful place to study this semester. Who would’ve guessed?
That being said, I’d like to recount some highlights of my life since Thanksgiving. The weekend after Turkey Day, the American students were overcome by a sudden urge to have some Mexican cuisine (a rarity in Moscow). We found a restaurant, Panch Villa’s, not far from the Oktiabrskaia metro station, which advertised Margaritas and authentic Tex-Mex cooking/environment and quickly made our way there. It had been a long week, and we all just wanted to have a margarita and burrito before calling it a night. Unfortunately, Pancho Vil’ia (as it was called in Russian, apparently no one tolded them what a double ‘l’ sounds like in Spanish) was very popular that night and we were unable to get a table. The aroma of the chili con queso sauce already filled our noses, and the urge for tacos was too strong for us to turn back and find another restaurant, so we opted to sit at the bar. It was at that point that we fully understood what they meant by ‘Mexican atmosphere’. There were no barstools, but bar saddles! To sit at the bar, you had to straddle a saddle mounted on four wooden legs (Lindsey and Sara tried to eat side-saddle, but after about fifteen minutes, this proved too difficult). There was a James Dean western playing on the flatscreens behind the bar and I knew that if I just had a shotgun and Stedson hat, I would have fit right into the wild-west drama.
Sitting at the bar wasn’t very condusive to conversation, so we entertained ourselves with our closest neighbors and enjoyed our food. The margaritas were excellent; Marco even got a rum and coke (aka – Cuba Libre) with a high quality Venezuelian rum that he had been missing (for those not in the know, Marco is a native son of Caracas). After finishing our second margaritas (which were free; we got our orders in with five minutes left in Happy Hour) and burritos (somewhat-reasonably priced at 180 rubles or $6), we left.
After such a grand time at Pancho Villa, we weren’t quite ready to call it a night (it was, after all, only 8:30), so we decided to go to the Tatiana’s Day Bar (Tatiana’s Day is Students’ Day in Russia) near the dorms for a beer and friendly conversation. We all wanted a good night’s sleep that night, so we agreed to have just a beer (VERY reasonably priced at 50 rubles, or $1.66, for .5 L). Finallly sitting face-to-face, we got so carried away with conversation and movie trivia, that three beers later and before we knew it, the bar was closing. It was almost midnight and we were all quite tired, so we decided to finish our drinks and head home. With five minutes and 150 mL of beer left, we were approached by two Russians who asked us where we were from (we had given up on our language pledge around 10:30 and were conversing in English). We explained that we were from America and continued to shoot the shit with these friendly, if not a little tipsy, Russians. They invited us to come and help them finish their bottle of vodka and introduced us to the rest of their posse (in all, three guys, Alexei, Ilia, and Kiril and one girl, Alexei’s girlfriend, Natasha). Alexei was obviously the alpha male of the group; we decided that this was a result of his height (he was the tallest, I’d say around 6’2”) and the fact that he had a girlfriend. Our conversation, having moved on from introductory pleasentries, turned to the subject of Russian music (Ilia and Kiril were in a band, managed by Alexei, of course), how we liked Russia/Moscow, and what we thought of Russian Vodka. Kiril and Ilia proceeded to make moves on Sara and Lindsey, the only two available girls at the table, and in general, the Americans were enjoying themselve since we had actually met some Russians who were interested in hanging out with us! This continued until the bottles of vodka were empty and the management kicked us out.
On the street, the Americans found their second wind, realizing that randomly meeting outgoing Russians doesn’t happen every day, and agreed to continue the evening in truly Russian fashion with vodka in a deserted park. We made a quick run to the nearest 24-hour produce store, bought two more bottles of vodka, and made our way to a park not far from the dorms that’s connected to the old Dom Pioneerov (Pioneer House. The Pioneers were like co-ed communist boy scouts; every Soviet child was basically expected/required to take part in this society of endoctrination) and commenced drinking. The all the required toasts were made: to ‘novoe znakomstvo’ (new introductions/friends), ‘druzhbu’ (friendship), ‘mezhdunarodnuiu druzhbu (international friendship), ‘zhenshchiny’ (women), etc. We drank, took pictures and exchanged phone numbers until both bottles were empty and my watch told me it was already 2:15. I looked up to see that most of the Americans had already left, leaving only Lindsey and me in the cold, dimly lit park with our new Russian friends.
I couldn’t feel my toes. My ears were freezing (Lindsey gave me her earmuffs, but I had in turn given them to Alexei, who was absolutely fascinated by them! I think ear warmers are a completely foreign concept to Russians). I wasn’t the only one freezing in the Moscovite night; Ilia explained to me that he was freezing too (this was, however difficult to understand, since in his inebriation, his speech began to overflow with ‘mat’, the Russian swearing language which is so crude and rude, that the only reason foreigners learn anything about it is to be able to recognize when an ‘unsavory’ (and possibly dangerous) character is in one’s presence). Our drunken collective decided that it was time to go inside somewhere to warm up; the first thought that came to mind was, ‘Well, it’s pretty warm in my house, which is only a three minute walk away.’ I knew I couldn’t leave Lindsey alone, though. I didn’t find our companions dangerous in any way; they were actuallly quite ‘druzholiubivnie’ (friendly). I stayed mostly because there’s an unwritten rule (actually, it might actually be written in our study abroad handbook) that it’s always safest in general when you stay with your fellow students. In a foreign country, we are after all, our best protection, and at 2:30 in the morning, I wasn’t about to leave my beloved, fellow-Kansan to the proverbial ‘drunked wolves’ (there is a proverb about drunken wolves, right?).
We made our way to Tverskaia Street and found a tavern that was miraculously still open, order another round of beer and some fries and tried to warm up before the place closed in a half-hour. Alexei continued to declare his love for Natasha, something he had been doing about every five minutes since Lindsey told him that he had to make sure she knew by telling her every day (more on the pecularities of Russian relationship later). They asked us what we were studying and Lindsey explained her thesis topic as their eyes collectived glazed over. The five of them were all seventeen and only Alexei was currently studying in college (at the nearby Mendeleev Chemical Institute); needless to say, they were less than intrigued by the unknown dissident poet that Lindsey is currently researching.
After being kicked out of the night’s second bar, we still had a good hour before the metro opened again (not to mention the dorms. Lindsey was basically locked out of her house until 5 am). ‘Davai poguliaem!’ they all suggested (lets go for a stroll), and we took a leisurely walk on chilly Tverskaia. The boys continued to hit on Lindsey, seven years their senior, and I continued to do my best to cockblock them, holding Lindsey’s hand and pulling her into dark alleys every once and a while, pretending that I needed to taste her sweet lips. In reality, we were really planning our exit strategy. It was already six o’clock and our desired bedtime had come and gone hours ago. Coming full-circle, standing infront of the tavern we had warmed up in hours ago, Lindsey and I said our goodbyes. Everyone double checked their cell phones to make sure we all had each others’ numbers, and ten handshacks, kisses and hugs later, we made our escape.
At such an ungodly hour of the morning, neither Lindsey nor I wanted to go straight to bed, at least not on an empty stomach, so we made a quick stop by our favorite 24-hour Shuarma stand on our way home. I was in my bed by 6:30am; Tatiana Nikolaevna, who often has trouble sleeping, was up when I got home. Of course I didn’t pop my head into her room to great her but went straight to bed completely exhausted from my unexpected night of Russian fun. Before I went to bed, I checked off ‘Drinking in park’ from my list of things I wanted to do while in Russia and slept like a baby until 3pm the next day.
I got up and met Tatiana in the kitchen where breakfast was waiting for me. Being the sassy old lady she is, she asked me when I would have dinner, “In an hour maybe?” I ignored the sarcasm in her voice and explained that I wouldn’t be eating at home that night because I was going to a concert.
Chris, the man, had bought all the MiddKids tickets to the DDT concert that night. DDT is one of the biggest rock groups in Russia. This year, they came out with a new album and are celebrating it with their 25th anniversary world tour. That Sunday night was their last concert in Russian before touring abroad, and Chris convinced Middlebury to pay for our tickets, calling it a ‘cultural experience’ (as a side note, to justify this as a learning experience, he gave us all a history of the band and printed out lyrics to their most famous songs to learn so that we could sing along with the thousands of Russians in the stadium). Because of the mob-like crowd that would undoubtalby be at the concert that night, he advised us to come in small groups and to just meet up in our seats (our seats were in the nose-bleed section of the stadium, which of course were the cheapest, an important fact considering there were about ten of us all together. In the stadium, I was, however, quite relieved not to be infront of the stage with six hundred or so drunk Russians). Lindsey, Sara and Steve (grad students who all live close to me in the dorms) had all bought tickets as well, so we decided to go together. I met Lindsey at the same place I had said goodbye to her just twelve hours earlier, and we went to get some more Shuarma for dinner (this time, we got two each). We returned to the dorms and ate while pumping up to some DDT cds (Steve had just bought a MP3 CD with all their albums on it). Steve and Sara were pregaming with some vodka, but Lindsey and I were still a little drunk from the night before. I took one shot to help my hangover and we were off. (As a side note, 50 mL of vodka really does heal most stomach problems!)
We arrived at the Olympic Stadium, and much to my relief, it had a roof. This relief was short-lived when I saw the security check points we would have to go through to get into the stadium itself (in all there were about four). The first checkpoint was not so much a line as it was a mob of people, drunk and collectively singing their favorite songs (Rodina, Polednii Osen’) while pushing and shoving their way through two small entrances. I thought rush hour in the Metro was bad, but we were nearly crushed to death in this mob. I’m surprised we even made it in together, much less in one piece.
Russian security is quite peculiar. Woman are always let through with no problem unsless they have a bag or purse with them, in which case, they simply have to open it up and show the contents to the policemen. Sometimes, women are patted down, but only if there is another woman on hand to do it. Men, on the other hand, always get wanded and are often patted down by the imposing guards who resemble army troops more than police officers. This, of course, is the most ideal situation. At the concert, the guards seemed more interested in making the other three lines after the mob move quickly and mostly just let everyone pass through.
Inside the stadium, I was actually more scared that outside. People were running all over the place, pushing and shoving, not caring how hard their elbows dug into others’ ribs. Even in the hustle and bustle of Moscow, I’m not very frightened by large crowds of people, but waiting around for my companions to use the bathroom, I became very uneasy (although it was VERY interesting to watch all the people that came to the concert. It became clear that DDT attracts a very wide demographic of the Russian population. I saw elderly people, hippies and even goth/heavy metal types who were all united by their love of DDT). All I wanted to do was find my seat and relax, which I did do right as the concert began.
It was an amazing concert, allbeit hard to describe. DDT’s music is sometimes more intense than Metallica and sometimes as calm as Cat Stevens. There were back-up singers who sang in the style of Russian folklore (often wailing in accompianment to the lead singer), and in general, we all did our best to sing along with the thousands of Russians we were surrounded by, often with litte success. At one point in the concert, the lead singer made a comment on the tons of foreigners who are now coming to Russia and basically ruining everything. Needless to say, the crowd’s unanimous cheer made us feel a little uncomfortable, but all in all we enjoyed ourselves quite a lot.
When the group left the stage, I booked it. After my experience getting into the stadium, I wasn’t too keen on making my way through crowds of people in the fire hazard that would be exiting the place. In any event, I had to get up at 7am the next morning to teach English and after my long weekend, I knew I was overdue for a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it turned out that I missed a truly awesome encore where they played all the songs that I actually knew the words to. This disappointed me, but early the next morning, I was happy with my decision.
The following Tuesday, I woke up and couldn’t swallow. My neck was swollen and no matter how much I wanted to cough, my throat hurt too much to even think about it. For the next three/four days, I was paying the price for my amazing weekend. Luckily, I felt good enough to meet Alexei and the gang the next Friday night. This time I was sure to get home at a reasonable hour. They all quized me on the slag expression they taught me the last weekend (‘Gospada! Davai namandiachimcia!’ or ‘Ladies and Gentlemen! Let’s get shitty/drink until we pass out!’), we played some pool and had a great time. I even got home before one!

posted by Misha Molodoi @ 12:45 PM