So I think I’m a pretty lucky girl, getting to turn 20 in Russia--the land of adventures, new friends, and lower drinking ages! We began by exploring the ostensibly “Mexican” cuisine of Petersburg. (It reminded me of getting Tex-Mex for my birthday in Texas, except it was Russian, and therefore indefinably stranger somehow. They also put dill and mushrooms in it...) Honestly, it was like being in the Twilight Zone of restaurants--the menus and decor were familiar, but lacking a better description, somehow Russian. It was surreal ordering mexican food in a language other than Spanish or english. I can’t decide if my favorite part of the hybrid ambiance was the costumes of the waiters or the american pop songs from 20 years ago translated into Spanish blaring over the speaker system. There was only one other group there, celebrating a birthday (and possibly an engagement, because they played the wedding march at one point). This may be due to the lack of TVs; Tres Amigos was the only place not invaded by soccer fans watching the World Cup game. I ended up being serenaded for my birthday with a russian-accented version of “Cumpleaños Feliz” (and a spontaneous bit of “Happy Birthday” in English from the toast-drunk table on our right.)
Having escaped this strange island of Mexican food filtered through too many cultures, we walked back to the university to wait for another friend coming to join us. The evening light was beautiful and warm, and we watched the lowering sun light up the griffins on the Banker’s bridge, while listening to distant groups of Russian jamming out to their guitars.This peace was not to last, because the we were located by our first Very Interesting Person of the evening--Vladimir, a drunk Russian who was only too thrilled to meet Americans “who actually talk English!” (as opposed to what?) Luckily, our third person soon appeared, and we made our first well-timed exit of the evening, leaving Vladimir to his lamentations. And so we began our journey down Dumskaya street--even though it sounds like doom, it doesn’t actually mean it (at least for us three)! Keeping the latin theme, we put in our first official celebratory appearance at Fidel bar...where the good dictator Castro reposed above the dance floor. I think the capitalist music of high school American dances might have offended him, as well as the rather sad disco ball.
A note on Russian clubs--I intend to make a more detailed and objective study later, but I was mostly struck by the very metro and European appearance of the male patrons here. Also, I really enjoyed the attention we three girls got from said metro males, after all, who doesn’t want to bask in attention on their birthday? Perhaps it was too loud for good conversation, but it was fun talking to a polite German our age, and interesting having Russians attempt to buy us drinks. We tired of pop,locking and dropping it under the gaze of a dictator...
And so, we proceeded in the twilight to the karaoke bar Poison--an auspicious name for an auspicious night! It started off a quiet night, but we set the bar high by singing “Drops of Jupiter.” As we were flipping through the karaoke selection, I saw “I Could Have Danced All Night,” from the musical My Fair Lady. Being me, I couldn’t resist an opportunity to show off...I loved watching assorted Russians wander in to listen, and seeing a few drunken waltz steps! (And who doesn’t need a standing ovation on their birthday?) It payed off in more ways than one, because soon my friends and I were being courted by some impressed duet partners! The most memorable of these was Mitya, an electronic dance DJ who managed to mimic the lead singer of the Cure while being a half-step flat...If I had been the “waitress in a cocktail bar” the song referenced, he’d have had a drink in his face. (I hope I’m not actually a karaoke snob though!)
Other than all that applause, there’s no better feeling than finding strange typos in the karaoke bars song list--I would love to sing some of these new versions, especially “2000 miles” by the Proclaimers (instead of 500 miles) because if I did actually walk that far, with some swimming included, I think I would make it most of the way to my American friends. (To misquote my favourite hobbit: I definitely missed half of you half as much as you’d like, and a few of you more than you deserved ;) !)However, I’m not sure you all could have jammed out to I Love Rock n’ Roll quite the same as Samantha, April and I!
After clearly winning at karaoke, we began our walk home in the 400 am sunlight...and met our final challenge for the evening: the Algerian Lovers. Reduced by our combined stunning American good looks, they began to chatter with us, and asked us to take pictures with their foreign flag. I particularly enjoyed being told how pretty I was...until Ahmid added that I would really love his family in Algeria, and that, “I am modern man! You would be happy with me!”
In conclusion, I escaped my 20th birthday without getting abducted, or engaged, and even got to sing!
No comments:
Post a Comment