Yekaterinburg

I fell into a deep sleep, alone in the room. When I awoke it was getting light outside and I was no longer alone, in fact a quiet count found seven, not including me. Three weren't wearing any clothes and this unfortunately did include me, though the other two were some way away, blocking the door in a fairly involved way. The problem was once again vodka and special occasions. The phrase was always the same "I don't ususally drink vodka but because you're here its a special occasion...". I would probably say the same, or would have until arriving here but as I am always the special occasion I have heard the phrase far more often than my liver would wish. Last night I'd been drinking with Anton, who is studying in Yekaterinburg. He is a punk, but a punk with heart, having compiled and released two charity CDs in the past year, as part of his work on the fanzine, Knap (Russian punk backwards).

On the way back from the tram to his apartment we bought the vodka in one of the ubiquitous little shops, called Produkti. While we had been touring the town Anton preferred to keep conversation brief, avoiding the hassle of confused mistranslation. On public transport we had a fairly strict no talking policy, which I suppose did avoid scores of pitying stares as I ummed and ahhed through my phrasebook. It did make our tour of Yekaterinburg metro stations a little surreal but one could pass the time trying to decipher the horoscopes on the carriage televisions. At home however there was a solution to our language woes in the form of Anton's computer and a program called Magic Gooddy, which gave us at worst some idea of what the other was saying. The surreality of these conversations, usually silent apart from the tap tap of the keyboard, was increased considerably when the toasts began. In Russia, every shot should be occampanied by a toast. So we would fill the glasses in the kitchen, sit and reflect for a few moments, then troop into the living room cum bedroom, type out a toast nod, then rush back to the kitchen and drink before we lost the intended sentiment. With the initial toast, which was to meeting, Anton had typed that traditionally there must not be a big gap between the first and second drinks. This would have been fine but Anton did not seem to want any real gaps at all. This was testing not only on the stomach but also on the brain, as this many imaginative toasts were increasingly hard to come by, and considerably harder to type. I understood that we were toasting to "Peace in the world" (Though as the words for peace and world are the same Russian the program actually produced World in the World), "Less stereotyping of punks" and even "Adequate housing in Africa". By the end of the third bottle we had been joined by Alexey but the combination of the long day's sightseeing and the long night's toasting had left me somewhat drowsy and I apologetically head to bed in the guest room, alone but not for long.

The next day Anton was understanably feeling a little worse for wear but Alexy and I decided to head out to explore a bit more of Yekaterinburg. We first headed for Uralski Pelminy, a buffet restaurant specialising in the delicious Russian dumplings. I particularly enjoyed the Soviet posters, my favourite being on ewith a slogan something along the lines of "Spoil your child and he will become a worthless drunk in later life". This was illustrated by a top half showing parents offering gifts to a chubby baby, whose pose and facial expression is then echoed by an unshaven scruff laying on bench. After an unsuccessful attempt to visit the Military Museum we met several wedding parties at various other sights around the city, including strangely the immensely powerful, evocative but not very romantic war memorial. We also visited the church erected on the site where the Romanovs were killed, as well as the little chapel next door to their aunt, who died after being thrown down a mine, buried alive and then poisoned by gas pumped in afterwards. Personally I would feel that even sainthood and a church was not really adequate compensation. We passed a statue of Pushkin walking in the snow on the way to some wooden buildings then on the way back the Russian weather obliged the statue's creator and provided a real blizzard to give the statue its proper context. Faced with this we retreated to a cafe, Alexey for a beer, I still only able to manage a juice. After this we headed to the station, a while before the train was due, to get some interviews and record station announcements. The announcements done we headed for left luggage, so that we could move about a bit more freely. I was feeling fairly tired and had fallen asleep several times while sitting in the waiting room, waiting for trains to be called out over the tannoy. However, the luggage man was a cheery fellow and after he had given me the token with which I could reclaim my bag I felt cheerier too. As we were leaving Alexey suggested that this luggage man sounded as though he might have something to say. I agreed, so we headed back in and Alexy asked if an interview would be possible. At first I thought we were being given the standard reply about it being his job and problems with the boss but Alexey said no, the only problem was that we must first drink some Russian vodka. The offer was not hugely appealing but this was work so I took a deep breath and stepped into the back room. Thankfully he only had enough for one shot each but even this was going to be quite a challenge for the two of us. While he went to get something to eat afterwards Alexey looked around for somewhere to tip the stuff but the room was pretty bare. So with chocolates to ease it down we did one more toast and then I set the recorder going and we started the interview.