interesting people...

                                                                                


Interesting people,,, the language of a smile is universal…

Its getting late in the afternoon and we’ve just rocked up in a medium size Siberian City called Kurgan.Its all pretty much uninspiring as we enter the outskirts and suburbs, tall grey square deteriorating buildings that look as if they have been built to depress the hell out of you.It’s a flat place with bumpy potholed roads with the odd fleck of colours announcing that one square section of a concrete block is a shop rather than a residential building.Scruffy dusty bushes and trees try meagerly to add some life but kind of just say to you that they would really rather be somewhere else.As we get closer to the centre of town the traffic increases and sidewalks appear with girls in mini skirts and make up and shoppers cruising between stores and café’s.Siberian summer really brings out a parade of fashionable babes and dudes; with about 8 months of the year having to be completely under wraps everyone seems keen to take this short seasonal chance to strut their stuff,,, and inkeeping with the designers of their democratic state, consumerism seems like the only sensible thing to do…
We stop the truck close to the centre on a side street and immediately a car full of young guys pulls up next to us and introduce themselves.Within a few minutes we have related our story and ask them for some directions to a laundrette and an internet café.They were all very friendly and actually drove infront of us to the laundrette to show us exactly where it was.Unfortunately it was already closed, none of us had washed anything for nearly 3 weeks now and we were all starting to look like real truck muck, the dust and diesel fumes of the road engrained in just about everything we all owned.We resigned ourselves to humming for another day or two and headed for the internet café which we also got a personal escort to.As everyone was discussing what tasks had to be done on the net, I was approached by a short fairly rounded jolly looking man, probably in his early 50’s sporting white Chino’s and one of those sailors caps that you would commonly see on old men riding up a European Riviera on their weekend motor cruiser.His small but significant statement against the norm protruded out the back of his cap in the form of a short blonde ponytail…A few curious questions and some international sign language conveyed that we were both travelers and he immediately wanted to confirm this recognition with an invitation to take us to the Banya.Great, that was exactly what I needed,,,I quickly told everyone about our new invitation and after some keen responses we all went into the internet café to do our things and made an appointment with our new friend Venice to meet him in 10 minutes outside.We must have got a bit carried away with our quick mission, and about 15 minutes later Venice appeared inside beckoning me to come out and join him to the banya.I tried to explain that everyone would be done in a short while and that we would’nt have to wait for long but he had a firm plan in mind and wanted me to follow straight away.I managed to understand that he would drive me to the Banya so I would know where it was, then I could return and pick up the rest of the gang in a short while when they would definitely be ready.Cool…I jumped in Venice's very new and posh car, he was obviously a wealthy and succesfull man here in Kurgan, and we literally sped off down the road.He was also keen to show me the handling qualities of his new car and we squeeled around almost every corner until we were heading over a bridge and out of the city completely.A few quick flashes of possible strange scenes popped up in my mind, but when I looked at my new friend next to me I could only chuckle and surrender to whatever funny situation might lie ahead.After the bridge we turned off the road onto a dirt track and headed into the maze of sandy tracks that wove themselves around a whole city of garden houses and vegetable plots that the Russians call Dascha’s…Many city dwellers have one of these garden plots just outside of the city where they either do their own vegetable growing in the short summer months or just use them for recreational purposes to relax out of the busyness and hum drum of the city…We came to a stop infront of one big set of gates and Venice beeped purposefully a couple of times on his horn.A few seconds later the doors were opened by a young and very pretty blond and completely naked girl called Veka…U-huh…Now my imagination was really starting to run away with itself,,, a bit of composure and I asked
“is this your wife ?”
“ Nyet, nyet,,, girlfriend…”
Venice replied…
I did not know what I was expecting but such open and unabashed nakedness together with a big smile and strong handshake in introduction was,,, well,,, unexpected…
Venice showed me proudly around his Dascha, which was beautifull, pointing out his personal banya, sleeping house, various gardens and sitting/relaxing areas, and a path running down to the river where he had built a jetty stretching out into the water where you could dive off and go swimming.He gestured that all this was his and now he was offering it all to me and if I would go and pick up my friends then it would also be theirs too… Inbetween all his proud displaying he would say in English
“naked good”
and then ushered me back into the car so we could return and pick up everyone else.Wow, this was certainly going to be an unforgettable experience…Within a short time we were all back at the Dascha,,, minutes after we were all naked,,,and after a few rounds of the scorching hot banya followed by a swim in the river, we found ourselves sitting around a bonfire watching a dvd of Venice and Veka’s travelling holiday from the year before.They had driven an old Lada from Russia to Europe and back through Ukraine and Georgia to Siberia, videoing their experiences along the way.It was refreshing and inspiring to see that this couple was breaking out of the Siberian isolation and exploring new realms,,,and absolutely hysterical to see them bringing their own unique senses of Siberian self with them wherever they went.Inbetween all the landscape shots and video clips of them on boats, riding bicycles and meeting local flok in all the different places they visited, were interspersed images and clips of them having sex with eachother or with other people, or just various angled shots of their genitals.We all exchanged amused and slightly shocked smirks and glances at first but after a few of these clips we were all openly laughing out at the almost cute obsurdity of their ways.To Venice and Veka this behaviour was quite natural and a picture of them performing various tasks with eachothers and others genitals was no more or less remarkable than of them sitting on a beach or eating ice-cream…They quite obviously noticed our amused responses and when another such scene would appear on the screen Venice would casually remark
“Sex”
give a small chuckle and say
“Siberia, sex good…Hollandia sex good ???”
“No, Holland no sex,,, cheese and football…”
I replied…
“better sex”
said Venice…
It was’nt long after that that we all made our bedtime acknowledgments, thanked Venice and Veka for a truly unforgettable and entertaining night and went off to sleep, our own cultural limits of physical generosity remaining intact and slightly more enlightened to liberal the ways of our hosts.Aftre all, Siberia is a fairly unforgiving place for most of the year , what else is there to get up to in order to stay warm and have fun at the same time…In the unconditioned generosity displayed to us this evening, somewhere between the lines was suggested even a more intimate sharing of self,,,yet in our own natural response it was taken as simply as one would respond to having a guest refuse sugar in their coffee,,, no offense even slightly thought of and an open welcoming house still remaining for us to wake up to the next day…
The morning was spent playing fools around the Dascha, beating drums and dancing, laughing uncontrollably at Venice dressing up in a self made grass skirt and beating a wall hanging depicting Lenin with the pirate flag that we had presented him with as a token of our appreciation…
Somewhere at the end of the morning we managed to get our things together, fill our water cans from the local well,,, get a new ladder made by some of Venice’s neigbours as ours that we use for entering the truck by the back terrace was stolen during the night,,, and set off on the road direction Omsk…
There was not much left in anyones familiar perceptions of ‘a normal day’ anymore.Around every corner lies something unexpected, some special meeting, an unforeseen event that propels you head first into the here and now.It is this moment that no escape is ever sought from…