vlad.tribnet.com / Issue #548 / Vladivostok by Braille / Reading article...

Two blonde English-speaking girls in a Russian bar usually do not go unnoticed. My friend and I experienced this firsthand last Friday. As we were having some drinks in a bar, soon we found ourselves surrounded by Russians asking for our attention. Sorry mom, I broke the do-not-talk-to-strangers-rule.

The night started off with two of our male friends. We were going to have some drinks, maybe dance a little, and just have some fun. In one of Vladivostok’s bars we got acquainted with a nice Russian guy sitting at the table next to us. After our two friends had gone home, the Russian invited us to meet some of his friends.

Five minutes later we were sitting between a bunch of Russian bikers and their girlfriends. Every one of them wanted to talk to us. One guy decided we would do well as objects to practice his English on. Another guy just kept assuring us not to be afraid of him. The third was very eager to teach us dirty Russian words. Somehow I have managed to forget every single one of them.

An interesting night it was, to say the least, especially when a tray of test tubes appeared on the table, containing a fluid of some kind. We were not able to find out exactly what it was. One person at the table said it was vodka, in which case I probably would have tried some. Another person though, said it was absinth, which reduced my willingness quite a bit. I was having fun and thought that drinking an unknown, possibly hallucinogenic, liquor would be tempting fate.

As the night went on, we two exotic foreigners were way past our curfew. The dormitory closes its doors at one in the morning, locking out every student that likes to party a little. So when we were invited to go to a club to dance, we decided it would be a nice way to kill time until the doors of the ‘obshchezhitie’ would open again.

We went with the five of us. The first Russian we met that night, one of the bikers and his girlfriend. This club, however, turned out to be a big disappointment. It was deserted, probably because no one in Russia can afford their ridiculously expensive drinks. Having agreed on these facts we got out of the club as soon as we got in. A new plan was made and we headed for a different place to dance.

I can not say for sure how it happened, but somehow the group got split up and my friend and I were alone with the first guy we met. It started to feel a little creepy, just a little, but still. Maybe the others did not get away from us by accident. Maybe the guy had set it all up to get us alone with him, for all we knew.

We thought that if we would watch out carefully for each other it would be safe enough not to kick him in the valuables and run away. He wanted to take us to a German cafe. He got the idea in his head that I was German, or did not understand that the Netherlands are not just a province of Germany, so of course I had to see this place.

We ended up standing before a very dark and unfamiliar alley. According to our Russian acquaintance, the cafe was just around the corner of this ally, but we were unable to see it from where we were.

A tiny little voice in my head screamed for attention, panicked heavily by the situation. Robbery and white slave trade crossed my mind. Of course, I know it is not very likely that a new friend will try to harm you, but why take the risk? We told our new friend we wanted to go somewhere else. We preferred a familiar cafe, although a bit more expensive, over either going into that alley or just roaming the streets until six o’clock. The Russian was very persistent, which made us want to go into the alley even less.

He then made another attempt and invited us home, for tea or to call a taxi. Of course we did not even consider his offer and went straight home. There we waited until we could enter the flat.

A couple of days later I wanted to see whether we had escaped something bad, or if we had just been foolishly cautious. I found the alley and, a lot braver in daylight, went in. At my right a building in typically German architecture appeared. I expected Hansel und Gretel to come around the corner any second. The building, of course, accommodated a very nice German cafe, not at all a bad place to have spent our long night in. When I got in, a friendly face asked me for my coat. The beer was excellent, as was the service provided.

First impressions, maybe I should learn to trust them a bit more. We were invited to what may be one of the nicest places in Vladivostok, and we threw it in his face. Is it too late so say ‘I am sorry?’