Banya, but only for the boys!

Last week was pretty run of the mill, and so when the weekend ticked by I was very keen on making the most of it. Saturday, as I drove into work through the heavy snow, my mind began to drift. Not on the job at hand, which was to prepare for an individual student, but on what to do that evening. Clubs, bars, cafes: no, what I wanted to do was something a bit more extreme. So when Jeff rang with the offer of a banya mission, I jumped. "Only there's one catch" said Jeff. "It's a guys' only affair".

I had heard a little about the all male banya tradition and to be frank, I was a little dubious as to what to expect. As I've mentioned before, the banya is a social hub for friends to gather, eat, drink, wash, scrub, steam yourself and then beat the hell out of each other with a branch off a tree, known as the venik. Information regarding the all male version is mysteriously sketchy.

"What happens in the banya stays in the banya" was the comment I received when I asked one of my colleagues about this obscure male bonding ritual. Hmm, I thought, this could be an interesting night. Curiosity was definitely ignited. It was to be Jeff's brother-in-law's Birthday and 20-30, salt of the earth, hardcore banya connoisseurs, were to be in attendance.

This curiosity only intensified after telling Nastya of my plans. She looked at me in horror and rolled her eyes , as if to say " oh my god".

And so, upon entering the banya that evening many weird and wonderful thoughts ran through my mind. All of which were pretty true! Never have I seen so many naked, drunk heterosexual men completely oblivious to any sort of personal embarrassment. One hefty bloke, after thrashing himself with the venik, completely starkers came flying out of the steam room and forward somersaulted into the 2m plunge pool. Another chap knocked himself out, after slipping and banging his head on the tiles, he wasn't rushed to hospital or told to call it a night, but was sat down and given the Russian treatment for concussion, a beer.

The night was absolutely crazy. 30 naked men, drinking, saunaring, playing pool, table tennis, swimming, arm wrestling and just having a good old chin wag.

Strangely, by the end of the evening I was asking when the next one was on. "Every Saturday night" Gena slurred. Oh God, what I am getting myself into.

Davai Luch Energia!

Just arrived back from my first taste of Russian Premier League Football and boy am I pumped!

Luch, (Vlad's home team), just drew with Moskva FC. Sure I've been to plenty of sports events, the Rugby, Rugby League, AFL etc.., But nothing like this. To start with there was virtually no build up. Back home two weeks before the Broncs play the TV, radio and newspapers are smothered in Broncos related news. Here, in typical Russian fashion, the build-up was conspicuously Russian, nothing, it seemed was going to happen,- UNTIL the day to competition. Russians have an uncanny ability to leave things to the last minute, play down the hype and act rather indifferent, until a break point. Look at the Revolution, hundreds of years of subjugation and then complete annihilation of the source.

Today's game somewhat confirmed this odd Russian trait. This morning you wouldn't have known that today was Vlad's Premier League season kick-off. No news, no hype and no geriatric morning radio commentators, crapping on about past statistics and probable outcomes. This was the calm before the storm.

I had heard that Russian's are on a par with the Brits with their football fanaticism. However, I was a little sceptical as Dasha, Artyom and Denis pulled up outside our unit block. Scepticism slowly evolved into curious expectation as the 5 of us (Nastya included) drove through the abandoned main streets of Vlad towards Dinamo Stadium. Then as we approached the stadium the build-up I was waiting for, hit me like a punch from nowhere. Streets were closed off to traffic and people sprawled out all over the place. Just like the Rugby only without the build-up.

There was one big difference, however, today was a barmy -2 degrees. How the hell were the players going to perform in these freezing conditions? But more to the point, how the hell were we going to sit and watch?!

Entering the stadium was rather surreal. Wall to wall police. The security was absolutely everywhere and I was frisked no less than 6 times by six different cops. The Russian stadiums hold a zero tolerance rule with alcohol and are extremely vigilant in maintaining this rule.

You may think that a sober crowd equates to a subdued crowed, but here at Dinamo Stadium no such chance. Like any European football match the atmosphere was electric. Chanting, drums beating, smoke bombs exploding and fans hypnotised by the spectacle were all part of the event. Although, unlike the Euro matches, this one was being played at extreme temperatures.

Dasha, Denis, Artyom and I very snug in the stands.Smoke bombs!Maybe the police weren't that vigilant. Take a look at what the two old mates managed to smuggle in.

S 8 Marta

Happy International Women's Day! Not that many of you back home would have celebrated or even known what a special day the 8th of March was. Barley raising one iota of interest in Australia, IWD is HUGE over here. The public holiday sees Russians celebrate women and the accomplishments they have made to society. Men give presents and pretty much do everything for the woman or women in their lives. Partying starts the day before the long weekend at work and employees hit the turps as early as 10 in the morning. Most people start work then! Nastya, who is auditing one of the big firms was told by the female director not to come and ask for information as she was to drunk to be of any help. That was at 10am.


The holiday is rather interesting as it sees Russian women, who generally go over board in the high maintenance stakes, take pruning, pampering and ultimately their presentation to mindboggling new levels! Out come the even more eye catching frocks, the "I've just spent half a week in a hairdresser" hairdos and the all important towering stilettos. Glamors as far as the eye can see. For the guys it poses a captivating sight, gorgeous women dressed to the nines with a "this is my special day" mischievous smirk on their faces.

Nastya and I celebrating the 8th of March.

Part 2- You know you've been in Russia too long when..

21. ..you walk into a crowded room and shake absolutely every man's hand.
22. ..you second guess shaking someones hand over the threshold of an entry.
23. ..political correctness is just a silly foreign concept.
24. ..you don't even think twice about donning that fur coat or hat.
25. ..you forget what someone with dark skin looks like.
26. ..you stop and stare at the dark skinned one with the rest of them.
27. ..you forget there are gay people in the world.
28. ..the words plan and improvise become synonyms.
29. ..you actually see a woman not wearing high heel.
30. ..Oh my God, you buy a man bag!
31. ..you absolutely never leave home without polishing your shoes.
32. ..you start to develop callouses on your elbows from arm wrestling.
33. ..arm wrestling overuse injuries become a constant battle.
34. ..you think of a toast before every drink.
35. ..chasers change from lemon and coke to black bread, pickles, sausages and even a whiff of the index finger.
36. ..after a strong shot, you headlock the nearest woman and smell her hair.
37. ..you've seen a 10 Ruble note, by itself, transform into a paper crane.
38. ..you know all the words to Status Quo's "You're in the Army Now".
39. ..you forget that Disco once upon a time, died.
40. ..you think Boney M is still in the charts.

Don't get caught without your STILETTOS!

Stilettos and Russian women are synonymous with each other. Nowhere else have I seen such mandatory devotion. Forget about New York, Milan and Paris, here the stiletto reigns supreme for every occasion. Picture this, it's -20 degrees outside, the ground is a slippery death trap for any pedestrian, let alone a stiletto packing one, and every girl and woman is battling on through the snow, over the ice with her towering pumps on. Quite a sight! Almost majestic as these women balance, as if walking the tight rope, across a surface so unpredictable, one false move spells pain!
I've lost count of how many times I've unceremoniously gone arse over tit. This time of year sees the hospital wards packed with thousands of embarrassed victims who have succumbed to the ice. My good friend San Deep was one such unlucky victim, smashing his arm into a million pieces as his feet were whisked away from underneath him.
For the women here however, a strange evolutionary trait has occurred. Very rarely do you see the high heel wearing lady stack it. It always seems to be the fashion conscious gentleman who bites the dust. Has the stiletto just become like an extension to their natural body?
I believe so. Further evidence can be seen in the field of sports. St Petersburg, one of Europe's most enticing cities, is famous for it's architecture, elegance, bridges and now the very dangerous sport of high heel sprinting. Check out the prowess of these high heeled athletes.