The big send off....
My trip to Minsk has been awesome, but on the occasion of my last evening in Lukashenkoland, Viktor wanted to do something special. He really is a great guy and tireless in his desire to entertain his American guests. Viktor had explained to us previously that Minsk is "dead" most days, excluding Thursday through Saturday. Perfect. I arrived on a Sunday and am leaving on Thursday afternoon. Without trying, I managed to miss anything resembling a night life. Well, not so fast there professor, we're not dealing with someone who is easily defeated here. The V man managed to dig up a party in a hotel the locals refer to as "The Puck". This is due to it's shape which resembles the object of a hockey player's affection. I'm told the party cranks up around 11 (yes in the p.m.). Armed with this knowledge, I decide to skip dinner for a nap. They will collect me at 10:45 sharp. I never really managed to fall asleep but it was good to lie down and at least rest my eyes.
10:30 arrived all too quickly. I was pretty fuzzy but was determined to spend my last night here in style. I changed and proceeded down the front of the hotel to await the arrival of my fellow revelers in our pimped out Lexus G430 pumping out the Usher tunes, windows down, with Eug at the wheel. While standing out front, I actually managed to give directions to a tourist. The nice thing about most European countries is that almost everyone has at least a serviceable proficiency in another language. A guy clad in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt (props for the style) had just stepped out of a cab and was staring at the front of the hotel perplexed. He asked me a question in Russian and I gave him the involuntary, pathetic, helpless shrug that one does when the extent of his vocabulary is "thank you". He asked me if I spoke Italian, in Italian of course. I don't actually speak Italian, but I do speak Spanish and I've been to Italy enough times to have a very good chance at understanding the gist of the question. I answered in the affirmative, praying for a softball. He was looking for the restaurant in the hotel. Cool. I got that. I directed him using a couple of words in Italian and the hand gestures that always accompany anything spoken in this language. Gratsi! Bono note! Prego, Ciao!
My man Eugene rolled up with Sarah at about 10:55. Sarah ran upstairs to change into her floor length, bright blue, sequined ball gown. Sarah is ideally suited for this trip. She has been a dancer, and more importantly a ballerina for 30 some odd years (apologies if I've short changed you Sarah) and she has spent a considerable amount of time in the former Soviet Union. So much so that her Russian is better than serviceable (they guys in Minsk were SO impressed). Dressed to the nines, we head out for what is likely to be a wild night. We arrive at the venue ahead of Viktor but we pay his admission and enter anyway. The security is pretty serious. There is a walk-through metal detector, bag search, and pat down. Not unlike checking out at Fry's Electronics, a mere 10 feet away, another security agent checks to see that you've paid to enter. We ascend the staircase to the second floor where the party is in full tilt. Apparently, women are admitted free before 11, so they pack in at about 10:45. We quickly run into a lovely young woman we met our first night in town, Val, increasing our entourage to 4. In this club, you don't just grab a table. There is a maitre' d who manages the distribution of guests and who will get what table. Eugene does us one better and obtains a VIP room. Pretentious as it sounds, it was actually an excellent move. The rooms aren't anything special, they are surrounded by one way glass so you don't miss any of the action, they have air conditioning (a real luxury) and most importantly, they do have some insulation so that conversation is possible without shouting at each other. Viktor arrives shortly after we occupy the room. We order a bottle of Belarus' finest, a decanter of Martini & Rossi (popular with the ladies here), and an assortment of mixers, ice, and water. The drinks arrive and we quickly have 2 (or 3) toasts, each of which equates to a shot of vodka. Suitably lubricated, we hit the dance floor. It's house music now, which isn't my favorite thing to dance to, but hey, I'm not complaining. The ratio of women to men is about (and I'm not exaggerating) 30:1. There is one guy I can see on the packed dance floor and like the majority of boys, has no moves and no rhythm. But, he's out there so he is THE man with girls grinding him from all sides. Hilarious. Now, I'm by no means an expert hip hop artist, but amongst large, white, 40 yr old bald guys, I can kick some butt. My college years were spent with a group of people who loved to dance, and did it very well. That experience combined with a few years of ballroom and the fact that I actually do have rhythm allow me to at least hold my own. So, our first foray was fun and actually everyone in our little group is a great dancer, especially Val. We more or less just dance as a group in a circle with Viktor breaking off to pursue some woman (whether or not she was actually aware of it) for a moment. Sufficiently sweaty we retreat to our climate controlled gansta pad. More toasts, more shots of Vodka, it's maybe 2:30? The music turns to hip hop and we return to the dance floor. There's the Minsk version of Danny Terrio backed by 4 hotties giving dance lessons to the crowd. We mostly choose to ignore him and just our groove on. Our little group of boy can clearly out dance anyone else of the same gender brave enough to dive in. It was an absolute blast. Sarah got me to dance some Latin, which is much easier for me after 5 shots of Crystal (in Belarus, that's a very nice Vodka, not the champagne by the same name). Sarah dances for hours everyday, and Viktor is just insane, so they remain on the dance floor while the rest of us take a break.
Val looks to be twenty something. Currently she works for Russian Chocolate (very popular stuff here) and attends University. Apparently she dropped out of the University on the first go around. She attended a college for women that she found fairly uninteresting. She wants to complete a degree in business, she wants to be an actress, she wants to come to America. Val's english is very good but she doesn't have many opportunities to talk with Americans. We might have spent an hour or so talking about her family, Belarus, school, and what the future might hold for her. Her parents have put her under some amount of pressure to "figure out what you're going to do with your life". She is the middle child bookended by 2 brothers, 5 years on either side. Her older brother is a surgeon and her younger brother is attending (or going to attend) law school, so it can't be easy for her. She is, however, very happy and a pleasure to be around.
Sarah bursts back into our little refuge covered in sweat. She and Captain Vik have been dancing for a solid hour. A few minutes later the man himself appears and collapses in a heap next to Val. 30 seconds later, he's pouring the next round of shots. It's 4 a.m., the faint halo of the sun that lets you know you're in danger of becoming a pumpkin appearing over the hillside. This is Belarus and when shots are poured, you drink them, so we do. Was that 6? 7? My only saving grace was that the entire evening I had a litre of mineral water in front of me. I think I finished 2 or 3 bottles of water on my own over the course of the night. Back to the dance floor. The crowd has thinned, but only slightly. I'm starting to run out of gas. I haven't been out this late or had this much to drink in probably 10 years. 5:15, time to go. Viktor and Val stay, the rest of us beat it back to the car, the dawn having clearly arrived. We get back to our hotel at 5;30. I promptly change the time for delivery of my breakfast to 9:30. In my room, I bite an Ambien in half and brush my teeth, crawl into bed, and slip into a coma. The alarm wakes me almost immediately, 4 hours having passed in what seems like seconds. I drag myself into the shower and dress within 10 minutes time. Breakfast arrives and I manage to pack while eating in about 15 minutes (during which time I managed to orphan my Treo, see separate post). Eugene arrives to collect me. He's right as rain, no drinking for Eugene last night, he was a very responsible designated driver (and it's always good to have a sober native should the need for negotiation with the local officials arise).
We deliver Sarah to the office. Eugene is taking me to see a couple of sites: the Belarus equivalent of the White House, complete with giant statue of Lenin, his University, etc) and do some quick shopping for gifts before transferring me into the custody of his Father and Sergey for delivery to the airport. The weather is beautiful again, a little warmer today. We walk on the grounds of the seat of power, the Federal Government and visit a brand new, underground mall. See the pix. After some quick shopping, it's off to the airport. I'm not looking forward to the next 18 hours but the memories I'll take with me make it all worth the trouble.
More later.
Ciao.
My trip to Minsk has been awesome, but on the occasion of my last evening in Lukashenkoland, Viktor wanted to do something special. He really is a great guy and tireless in his desire to entertain his American guests. Viktor had explained to us previously that Minsk is "dead" most days, excluding Thursday through Saturday. Perfect. I arrived on a Sunday and am leaving on Thursday afternoon. Without trying, I managed to miss anything resembling a night life. Well, not so fast there professor, we're not dealing with someone who is easily defeated here. The V man managed to dig up a party in a hotel the locals refer to as "The Puck". This is due to it's shape which resembles the object of a hockey player's affection. I'm told the party cranks up around 11 (yes in the p.m.). Armed with this knowledge, I decide to skip dinner for a nap. They will collect me at 10:45 sharp. I never really managed to fall asleep but it was good to lie down and at least rest my eyes.
10:30 arrived all too quickly. I was pretty fuzzy but was determined to spend my last night here in style. I changed and proceeded down the front of the hotel to await the arrival of my fellow revelers in our pimped out Lexus G430 pumping out the Usher tunes, windows down, with Eug at the wheel. While standing out front, I actually managed to give directions to a tourist. The nice thing about most European countries is that almost everyone has at least a serviceable proficiency in another language. A guy clad in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt (props for the style) had just stepped out of a cab and was staring at the front of the hotel perplexed. He asked me a question in Russian and I gave him the involuntary, pathetic, helpless shrug that one does when the extent of his vocabulary is "thank you". He asked me if I spoke Italian, in Italian of course. I don't actually speak Italian, but I do speak Spanish and I've been to Italy enough times to have a very good chance at understanding the gist of the question. I answered in the affirmative, praying for a softball. He was looking for the restaurant in the hotel. Cool. I got that. I directed him using a couple of words in Italian and the hand gestures that always accompany anything spoken in this language. Gratsi! Bono note! Prego, Ciao!
My man Eugene rolled up with Sarah at about 10:55. Sarah ran upstairs to change into her floor length, bright blue, sequined ball gown. Sarah is ideally suited for this trip. She has been a dancer, and more importantly a ballerina for 30 some odd years (apologies if I've short changed you Sarah) and she has spent a considerable amount of time in the former Soviet Union. So much so that her Russian is better than serviceable (they guys in Minsk were SO impressed). Dressed to the nines, we head out for what is likely to be a wild night. We arrive at the venue ahead of Viktor but we pay his admission and enter anyway. The security is pretty serious. There is a walk-through metal detector, bag search, and pat down. Not unlike checking out at Fry's Electronics, a mere 10 feet away, another security agent checks to see that you've paid to enter. We ascend the staircase to the second floor where the party is in full tilt. Apparently, women are admitted free before 11, so they pack in at about 10:45. We quickly run into a lovely young woman we met our first night in town, Val, increasing our entourage to 4. In this club, you don't just grab a table. There is a maitre' d who manages the distribution of guests and who will get what table. Eugene does us one better and obtains a VIP room. Pretentious as it sounds, it was actually an excellent move. The rooms aren't anything special, they are surrounded by one way glass so you don't miss any of the action, they have air conditioning (a real luxury) and most importantly, they do have some insulation so that conversation is possible without shouting at each other. Viktor arrives shortly after we occupy the room. We order a bottle of Belarus' finest, a decanter of Martini & Rossi (popular with the ladies here), and an assortment of mixers, ice, and water. The drinks arrive and we quickly have 2 (or 3) toasts, each of which equates to a shot of vodka. Suitably lubricated, we hit the dance floor. It's house music now, which isn't my favorite thing to dance to, but hey, I'm not complaining. The ratio of women to men is about (and I'm not exaggerating) 30:1. There is one guy I can see on the packed dance floor and like the majority of boys, has no moves and no rhythm. But, he's out there so he is THE man with girls grinding him from all sides. Hilarious. Now, I'm by no means an expert hip hop artist, but amongst large, white, 40 yr old bald guys, I can kick some butt. My college years were spent with a group of people who loved to dance, and did it very well. That experience combined with a few years of ballroom and the fact that I actually do have rhythm allow me to at least hold my own. So, our first foray was fun and actually everyone in our little group is a great dancer, especially Val. We more or less just dance as a group in a circle with Viktor breaking off to pursue some woman (whether or not she was actually aware of it) for a moment. Sufficiently sweaty we retreat to our climate controlled gansta pad. More toasts, more shots of Vodka, it's maybe 2:30? The music turns to hip hop and we return to the dance floor. There's the Minsk version of Danny Terrio backed by 4 hotties giving dance lessons to the crowd. We mostly choose to ignore him and just our groove on. Our little group of boy can clearly out dance anyone else of the same gender brave enough to dive in. It was an absolute blast. Sarah got me to dance some Latin, which is much easier for me after 5 shots of Crystal (in Belarus, that's a very nice Vodka, not the champagne by the same name). Sarah dances for hours everyday, and Viktor is just insane, so they remain on the dance floor while the rest of us take a break.
Val looks to be twenty something. Currently she works for Russian Chocolate (very popular stuff here) and attends University. Apparently she dropped out of the University on the first go around. She attended a college for women that she found fairly uninteresting. She wants to complete a degree in business, she wants to be an actress, she wants to come to America. Val's english is very good but she doesn't have many opportunities to talk with Americans. We might have spent an hour or so talking about her family, Belarus, school, and what the future might hold for her. Her parents have put her under some amount of pressure to "figure out what you're going to do with your life". She is the middle child bookended by 2 brothers, 5 years on either side. Her older brother is a surgeon and her younger brother is attending (or going to attend) law school, so it can't be easy for her. She is, however, very happy and a pleasure to be around.
Sarah bursts back into our little refuge covered in sweat. She and Captain Vik have been dancing for a solid hour. A few minutes later the man himself appears and collapses in a heap next to Val. 30 seconds later, he's pouring the next round of shots. It's 4 a.m., the faint halo of the sun that lets you know you're in danger of becoming a pumpkin appearing over the hillside. This is Belarus and when shots are poured, you drink them, so we do. Was that 6? 7? My only saving grace was that the entire evening I had a litre of mineral water in front of me. I think I finished 2 or 3 bottles of water on my own over the course of the night. Back to the dance floor. The crowd has thinned, but only slightly. I'm starting to run out of gas. I haven't been out this late or had this much to drink in probably 10 years. 5:15, time to go. Viktor and Val stay, the rest of us beat it back to the car, the dawn having clearly arrived. We get back to our hotel at 5;30. I promptly change the time for delivery of my breakfast to 9:30. In my room, I bite an Ambien in half and brush my teeth, crawl into bed, and slip into a coma. The alarm wakes me almost immediately, 4 hours having passed in what seems like seconds. I drag myself into the shower and dress within 10 minutes time. Breakfast arrives and I manage to pack while eating in about 15 minutes (during which time I managed to orphan my Treo, see separate post). Eugene arrives to collect me. He's right as rain, no drinking for Eugene last night, he was a very responsible designated driver (and it's always good to have a sober native should the need for negotiation with the local officials arise).
We deliver Sarah to the office. Eugene is taking me to see a couple of sites: the Belarus equivalent of the White House, complete with giant statue of Lenin, his University, etc) and do some quick shopping for gifts before transferring me into the custody of his Father and Sergey for delivery to the airport. The weather is beautiful again, a little warmer today. We walk on the grounds of the seat of power, the Federal Government and visit a brand new, underground mall. See the pix. After some quick shopping, it's off to the airport. I'm not looking forward to the next 18 hours but the memories I'll take with me make it all worth the trouble.
More later.
Ciao.
posted by Jaybeau at
3:57 AM
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