Unbelievable Russian hospitality
When I visited Russia for the first time in my life it seemed
to me that absolutely all people in this country were more
than happy to welcome me in their homes. Really they were!
All the men I met looked as famous Russian Bears. And all the
women I saw looked as famous Russian
Brides as they were described
in my favorite “Maxim”. So many fresh experiences, so many
discoveries! I’ve really lost my head and became a bit crazy.
One morning I woke up and opened my eyes. I was lying
on the sofa in a room I couldn’t recognize. The pillow
was soft, the blanket was warm, the linen was fresh and
it was buzzing in my head as in a damned bee hive. Surely
it was the morning after… But after what? No idea. I tried
to close my eyes and to force my memory – nothing but nasty
buzzing. “I’m not in the hotel, it’s bad,” – was my first
brilliant idea. “But I’m not in the prison, it’s good,”
– was the second strikening. It was the last thought I
managed to generate because the next moment I opened my
swollen eyes and saw a policeman quite in front of me.
The horror froze my tongue and I couldn’t mumble a word.
Everyone knows that there is nothing as awful as Russian
prisons, maybe only the bad dentist’s armchair. I tried
to say “Hello! How are you?” and heard a strange plaintive
sound “Huuuuuu…” I screw up my eyes waiting for his angry
roar and having opened them I saw him… smiling. He started
to speak Russian. I understood only that he wasn’t going
to arrest me. Then he got something from his big pocket.
It appeared to be not a gun, but a can of cold beer! Mystery!
It wasn’t a dream.
Later in the kitchen I was told a fantastic story. The
day before I was walking along the Tverskaya Street and
gazing at numerous Russian Brides on the right and on the
left. All of them were so pretty and so different… I was
in a romantic mood and decided to drink something somewhere.
When I entered a cozy cafe I saw the prettiest girl in
the world. She was sitting at the small round table and
waiting for someone. Providence pushed me to her. Her name
was Katya and her friend hadn’t come. She was a student
and spoke fluent English. We drank vine and ate chocolate,
laughed and liked each other very much. Then we decided
to go for a walk… But there was no wallet in my pocket
– no cash, no cards, no passport – nothing! I appeared
to be a beggar in the heart of the foreign country, and
a pretty girl was looking at me. Shame on my stupid head!
Those Russian sluts in the street attracted my attention
on purpose, they were a gang, that was one of them who
had stolen my wallet. But what could I do, I even didn’t
Katya understood everything at the first glance. She smiled
and paid for the dishes and vine. I nearly cried… She took
my hand and we went away. Katya said that her father was
a policeman and she was sure he would help me. She invited
me to her home and I had to accept the invitation because
I couldn’t even get to my hotel. When Katya’s parents learnt
that I was a foreign student they became so happy as if
I was their son lost many years ago. They started to calm
me in my sorrow, invited to live in their flat and to feel
at home. Katya’s father asked me a dozen of questions about
those girls in the street, their appearances and dresses,
put something down it his notebook and phoned somewhere.
Then he promised me to find at least my documents and cards.
Katya interpreted everything to me and it was great success.
Then her mother came in. It was time for supper. We sat
down at a big table in the kitchen and I couldn’t believe
my eyes. The table was served for a real banquet with a
hundred of guests. And the four of us had to eat all that
food and to drink all that drinks! There were pickles and
mushrooms, cabbages and tomatoes, herring and sprats, cheese
and sausage, pies and toasts and so on and so forth. Later
came some main dishes with strange Russian names and splendid
taste. I’m fond of good food, but it was impossible to
eat everything served that evening. My new friends did
their best to make me forget my trouble. But I still was
in a blue mood. I drank some vodka or some beer… maybe
I drank both of them, it’s difficult to recover.
Several hours later I found myself not so unhappy it seemed
to me earlier. We sang in Russian and in English. I even
began to understand some Russian words. Then we drank to
friendship and to Russia, and to Katya, and to me, and
to our parents, and to… Many other important toasts were
And then was the morning after. But my buzzing head appeared
to be the worst thing that morning. Healing beer did its
work. The kind father-policeman promised to teach me to
drink and to make me a real Man. My passport and my cards
were waiting for me on the table. There was no cash found
but it was a good pay for daydreaming and childish credulity.
And I have found the most precious treasure – my Russian
Bride, my Katya.
About Russian Brides