Bashku

Marina has a sister named Natalia. Natalia is seven years older but there's no way of knowing that by looking at them. Like many Russians, Natalia and her husband have a dacha, or a country house. They also have two children, a frantic dog named Skippy (but say it like a Russian, say Skippye), and a circumspect cat named Bashku.

Marius was appropriately concerned that after celebrating the new year until roughly 8am that his blood alcohol level was nigh low enough to pass any half way responsive sobriety test. So the driving once again fell to me as we set out for Marina's sister's family's dacha. There are those apostrophe's again.

The police here, whom everyone calls (phonetically) meelitsaysky, or military, tend to disappear for about 48 hours, themselves downing every last bottle of vodka then can find. But then they start to reappear at virtually every intersection, with their mobile labs, pulling people over and collecting their bribes. If you don't have the 500 or the 1000 Roubles on you you're likely to find yourself without a driver's license for a few months.


We drove northwest, towards the airport. At night the highways and the country roads could be anywhere. Texas. Canada. Anywhere. Except for the Russian signage and the complete lack of any lane markings, it was impossible to feel like I was in Europe. As I've said before I love driving in other countries. It helps me to bond with the place. Even stopping for gas has the effect of making me feel closer. Marius' Nissan Xcterra is seen below.


Marina sat bundled in the back, still nursing the cough with which she arrived.


So on we went, birch trees lining the snow-dusted roads. Eventually, we found the small gathering of houses that constitute this ersatz hamlet. But these were not classic Russian dachas. Many of them were modern affairs, many looking not unlike two story suburban tract houses you might find in Anywhere, USA.

In this particular development, the houses all possess some number of acres. The neighbors are a few hundred snow-chocked steps away.


Sergei is Natalia's husband. They are building a larger house next to the completed guest house. But it's in the guest house that we all gathered. Of course a tour of the still-under-construction main house was required, a tour that began with an architect's model.



The full five Rouble tour revealed a three story doma that included a wine cellar, a Turkish bath and a media room to make Jack Warner envious. In Los Angeles a house like this would easily cruise right past the million dollar mark. Sergei is doing it for $350,000.


Back under the guest house's pitched gables, we gathered in the living room, on the floor, around a circular coffee table laid out with more dumplings and Fish in a Fur Coat. When we first got to the dacha the dumplings were on the balcony, cooling under a checked cloth like those movie pies on a country sill.


Yeah, I didn't get a picture of that.


The neighbors came over and we all tucked into the food. I tells ya', I do loves this Russian food.

The lovely Rewin sisters took pictures with their father...


Sergei and Natalia gave Marius a Kazahk equestrian hat and horse whip as a gag gift, ostensibly to aid him in controlling Marina.


But Marina had other ideas.


So like any other family in any other part of the world, everyone ended up lounging around the living room, the TV tuned to the most popular comedy show in Russia.


Bashku was settled into the warmest room of the house.


I would show you Skippy but he just moved was too fast for my camera. Literally.

The kids went to bed. Marina and Marius were reaching their operational limit due to their previous night's revelry. I was beginning to feel the first deleterious effects of Bashku's dander. But before we left, Natalia and Sergei presented me with a gift, a bottle of vodka. Now, what makes this particular bottle special is that it is, quite literally, one of 200. Commemorative vodka bottles are common here but this one is singularly uncommon.

As you may be able to see, it is called "Putinka." By now, you may have deduced that this is a tribute bottle to President Vlad. But moreover, below the Russian language "Putinka" it says 90 lyet, which means 90 years. And there is a seal. So what this bottle is really celebrating is 90 years of the Russian equivalent of the FBI. Again, people who don't know me making me feel like part of their family.