More Stranger Strangers

Ulan Ude, Russia

It seems that every new evening lets me cross paths with more weirdos - I mean, interesting people.
First of all, I changed hotels. The kids from the previous night had told me of a much cheaper place. This was Hotel Kolos. Nobody spoke English but the rate was less than half that of the previous night. Somehow I managed to check in. This was an all Russian hotel: bathroom (and toilet) down the end of the hall, using the shower cost an extra 30 rubles, key to the shower available from the floor's janitor (who seemed to be absent chatting with the cleaners a lot). The room was not great; first, I had to eliminate the unwanted room mates (fast little buggers but my shoe was faster). But then again, it wasn't much worse than my room at the "international" hotel with its smelly bathroom.
That night I decided to celebrate my nightly savings of 400 rublesby going to a restaurant that had been recommended in the guide book. On this warm summer night there were no free tables outside on the terasse. Inside, shiny music videos were playing on a large, sexy plasma TV. There were hardly any people except at one or two tables. I ordered and watched the other customers, notably a big table in the middle of the room with three girls. The table was obviously for a larger group and full of bottles and glasses - the remains of a party. One girl in particular was being very loud and happy. At some point she noticed me looking, I smiled and she said hello. Where was I from? Germany? Would I like to sit with them? Sure. I took my food over. Her English was uncertain but understandable. This evening looked to be interesting: sitting with three pretty girls in party mood, the night still young, hey! We made small talk and I was introduced to her friends (who seemed a bit soberer than her). The girl next to me spoke better English and had even been to Germany - quite close to Bonn, actually. Coincidences! They were celebrating another girl's birthday but everyone else had left. Why were they still here? They were waiting for the guy who would pay the bill. Where was he? They weren't sure. The drunk girl was trying to reach him on the phone. He had vanished in the direction of the toilet a while ago - sleeping it off already maybe (don't laugh - I've seen it happen). While waiting the girls started arguing with the staff over the bill. Some of the numerous bottles hadn't even been opened but figured on the bill. The waitresses weren't happy about it; they had been ordered.
Then the wallet man made his entry - still as drunk as you could possibly imagine. Don't know what (other than God's will) kept him upright, somehow he managed to lurch over to our table. The drunk girl was delighted. He, however, didn't seem happy at all to find another man at the table after his absence. His eyes seemed to say it all: I was not only another man, a rival, but also a foreigner. I didn't like the looks of him: too big, too drunk, too unpredictable. After my experience in UK I knew I had to be careful around him. Between wetly kissing the drunk girl he kept staring at me with bleary, unfriendly eyes. "Hey, American!" His accent was thick. He wanted to shake my hand a second time. The girl next to me explained that I was not American but German. "Hey, American!" "Germania", I said politely. "American." He collapsed into silence. I tried to ignore him, concentrate on the girls, make conversation with them. They didn't seem comfortable either. But he was not to be ignored. "Hey, American!" His volume was increasing. Had I been to the army? Yes. So had he, he boasted. A para-trooper, he claimed to have been. Oh, great! "American", he repeated his mantra. Despite my waryness he was beginning to get on my nerves. At the same time I realised that that was exactly his intention: he was trying to pick a fight. "Ya is Germansky", I told him. He didn't believe it. When I tried to ignore him he swore at me. Then the girls persuaded him to go and pay the bill. Within moment an argument errupted between him and the staff, loud enough to attract the security guard from the door. He looked like a member of spec ops in an American film. "Hey, fucking American!" I patiently corrected him again. It did no good. He didn't like Americans and he didn't like me, so it was one and the same to him. I tried to make conversation with the girls but he interrupted again. "Hey, fucking American!" "What?!" I had thrown caution to the wind and snapped at him before my brain kicked in telling me I was being stupid. The girl next to me said sorry and he had had too much to drink. I knew that but it was no excuse to misbehave like this. I also excused myself and said that it was probably best if I left. The girl agreed. Then I took the opportunity and walked out. I almost felt like apologising to the security guy - I didn't know why but I felt bad for him.
I'm beginning to wonder how common this excessive drinking is here. Drunk Buryats in the street, drunk Russians in the cafe. Fighting, door security even for a normal restaurant. It's like UK all over again! What would the next day bring?
The next day I had almost given up the hope for another encounter when...
The next evening I wanted to try pose - dumplings and a speciality of the region I had read. But where to go. I knew the place from the day before but maybe there was a place that was known for good pose...
While I stood there thinking, looking at my map a young man spoke to me. I didn't understand, I'm from Germany. "Parlez-vous francais?" Hot damn, the guy spoke French. He looked harmless (compared to previous encounters here positively boring). We began chatting. How did I like Ulan Ude? Over there - he pointed - was the original site the city was built. That over there was a concert hall. I was surprised how much French I could still dig up. Sometimes he wouldn't understand or lacked a word. Then we switched to English. And finally to sign language to describe what we meant. The whole conversation must have been an interesting mixture to and outsider. Still, he was eager to talk - he reminded me of some encounters I had had in China.
Then I mentioned I would really like to try pose and did he know a good restaurant for them? He said he mainly ate at home. But Ulan Ude has many restaurants, he would take me there. I followed him. I began realising there was something wrong when he headed straight for a pizza place, went in and asked for pose. Of course, the answer was a clear no. Where else could we go? They didn't know. He proceeded to ask random people in the street who in turn pointed in random directions, giving him strange looks. We tried other places at random. All without success. This one was full, that one was closed, yet another one had no pose. The closest we got was a shop that sold pose but only in the morning. His face was assuming a slightly harrowed look. We had covered most of the old town by now. I followed him trying to tell him not to worry, it wasn't important. He didn't understand - maybe refused to. How could I politely tell him to forget it (because I didn't want to waste the entire evening) without hurting his pride as a local? I knew he was trying hard but this was pointless!
In the end we ran into a friend of his (who also didn't know where to eat pose). After brief introductions and chat I took the opportunity. My hotel was nearby and I really wanted to go back, I told them. So, after shaking hands and thanking him we parted - or I escaped, as you like it.
I wound up in the restaurant from the previous night.. No drunk Russians here this time. Enough adventure! With a plate of pose in front of me I relaxed. I'm not sure what to make of people here. They are nice, but sometimes a bit strange.