Siberia
We finally landed in Krasnoyarsk. This large city in Siberia was where I first stepped foot inside Russia. It was quite handy that Victor, our tour manager, was fluent in Russian because few, if any, locals spoke English. Let's face it - there's not that much foreign tourism in the region. To drive this point home: when checking into our hotel the woman behind the desk, upon discovering we were from the U.S., asked Victor, "aren't we enemies?"
She was joking, or maybe half joking - perhaps she honestly didn't know. We would eventually be quite welcomed by another wonderful woman who worked at the hotel and regularly prepared authentic Russian cuisine for the guests. She seemed to grow fond of us confusing Americans as we showed up in the lobby every morning and night and delighted in her dill-laden offerings. We couldn't get enough of the pelmeni. One meal she tried to do something special for us, and made us pizza. Bless her heart, and I know she meant well, but it was a bit... off.
Anyway, we would rehearse every day in the symphony hall down the street. Once while sorting out our gear on stage and gabbing amongst ourselves we were taken aback when some guy, apparently eavesdropping, emerged from the wings asking, "hey are you Americans?" He, too, was from the U.S. and happened to be a percussionist in one of the local orchestras.
That somebody would move halfway around the planet for such a gig fascinated me. One of us asked, "where are you from in the states?"
"Detroit," he answered. Ah. So his relocation made sense.
At a later rehearsal Jenya and I were taking a break in the green room and heard echoes of music coming from an adjacent hall. We simultaneously recognized the song - "We are the Champions" by Queen. We sneaked into the hall to check it out, and found a chorus of teenagers absolutely nailing this tune, albeit singing in Russian. I don't quite remember exactly but I think Victor listened in as well and noted they changed some of the words to be a bit more nationalistic.
As we got familiar with the town Jenya and I learned enough Cyrillic to at least sound out words on signs and posters and whatnot. The enjoyment of this activity peaked when I saw an old lady pushing a food cart down the street with the handwritten letters at the top: "хот дог"
I struggled for a second, then laughed out loud when I realized that "хот дог" was pronounced "hot dog."
Some days later, before performing in Kansk - a town even deeper into Siberia - we were taken out that morning for food. We loaded into a van with a Russian handler we hadn't met before. I wasn't sure he spoke English until he broke the silence inside the van by saying, "Take look at my girlfriend. She the only one I got."
Everybody seemed a bit disturbed by this random utterance but I knew immediately what he was getting at. That's the first line of the Supertramp song, "Breakfast in America." He was being funny because, you know, we were a bunch of Americans going to get breakfast.
After our big show we were taken out for late night Chinese food. The restaurant was more like somebody's attic, but the food was amazing - which isn't surprising given our geographical proximity to China. We ate and drank vodka well into the wee hours. Our large group contained mostly Russians and Americans, but also a couple Israelis and a Serbian friend. Hilarity and hijinx! Proclamations were made denouncing all our respective political leaders followed by unanimous cheers of agreement. Then the aforementioned handler poked fun at Secret Chiefs 3 music by chanting a series of incongruous odd time signatures, "one! two! three! four! five! one! two! three! one! two! three! four! one! one! two! three! etc."
At 4am we slithered onto a bus which bumped down the Trans Siberian Highway back to the Krasnoyarsk airport to catch our morning flight to Moscow. Dizzy from sleeplessness we had to deal with angry baggage handlers charging us for our overweight luggage, then managed getting through security. We were without translator for this part of the journey and had no idea where to go once in the terminal. Once again every sign was in Russian. I went to the woman at the cafe kiosk and - using the three Russian words I knew plus a lot of mime - asked her which gate was ours. She politely mimed back that I had to listen for an announcement, then clearly repeated what to listen for. Very helpful.
These were just some of the odd, charming surprises Siberia had to offer us clueless Americans. Others included: beautiful parks, streets that filled with rollerbladers wearing bright colors every night, and a restaurant called "Papa" which had Peter Griffin from Family Guy as their logo (intellectual property be damned).
Our next stop was Moscow. We had little time to really explore but did manage to get down to Red Square for a couple hours. Right there in this major urban hub sat - among other things - the Kremlin, the former KGB, and Lenin's tomb. But also a Baskin Robbins, a Subway, a Krispy Kreme, and a Hooters. Also a gift shop which had a t-shirt depicting a big, angry Russian bear standing in front of a U.S. flag. Above them were two words that were written in Cyrillic that when sounded out said, "Goodbye America.
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