This Man Is Very Drunk

 

FINALLY, A DRUNK GUY... WITH GRAPES

Rewards in Russia depend not on plans or actual destinations like an art museum or pretty pretty mountain. But the random occurences where you don't know what's happening, where you're going, why you're doing it, or if you should.

The Trans-Siberian runs some 9500 kilometres from Moscow to Vladivostok, crossing seven times zones along the way. During the Soviet Union, though, it finished here in Nakhodka, an international port town with an enviable bay lined with shipyards and loading docks, and facing a far off pair of mountains named Brother and Sister. During the '70s, the Soviets lopped off the head of the Brother -- mining it; a 'sad day' says one local -- but taller Sister stands untouched. I took a local bus out to see if it could be climbed -- it could, but not by me -- when a very drunk man found a new friend: me.

Walking back to find a bus stop, at least 2km away, he ran up to me, then padded his shorts looking for a phone. He pulled out some keys. 'That's not a phone,' I added helpfully in bad Russian. 'Wait... You wait... here.' He ran off. I did wait for a couple minutes, but thought - as clouds gathered - I'd best move on. I kept an eye back, and 90m down I saw him coming finally. I lazily, guiltily, went back. He had grapes.

Gray-bearded Nikolai wreaked of vodka too, and had two (apparently recently) severed fingers from the hand holding the grapes. His middle and ring finger were stubs, with blackened ends and exposed stitches. He handed me grapes and I took them. 'Eat!' I nibbled, and he yelled out, 'No! Like this.' He put six or seven, along with the vine, into his mouth and chomped.

I apologized that I spoke Russian poorly. I studied it 16, no 17, years ago. '16 Years! 17 Years!' He stopped, holding out his arms dramatically. 'Russian language.... everything...' he said pointing around. 'It is heart!'

His sister and niece pulled soberly up in a car and, when Nikolai opened the door, I dutifully got in. They took me to a bus stop down the road, the women laughing at the drunken rants.

As I got out, Nikolai offered 'it is better to walk and talk.'