31 May 2008 – Meeting G.
Near the time for my departure for Russia, G. had indicated that she wanted to meet the night I arrived – Saturday – instead of waiting until the following day. My suspicion is she wanted to see if she was really someone she could see herself with. Since she was just beginning a 2 week vacation, if I was ugly or something, she could run away and have a vacation with little loss to herself.
She also arranged for an interpreter. This was a kind of odd situation really.
I had contacted an agency in town and they had interpreters available. The cost is $14 per hour. A little pricey, but how do you put a price on communication? I was told G. was arranging an interpreter so she had control over who it was. I remember being told G. wanted an old, ugly, woman – someone with no teeth. I think she wanted to insure I looked at only her – especially given almost all interpreters in Russia are female.
The interpreter G. found ended up being the girlfriend of her cousins friend. Tatiana is a young girl. I'd estimate her at being maybe 20 or 21. She is somewhat “cute”. She dressed “very” conservatively! I'm not sure if that's because G. wanted her to, or if she felt she needed to...
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Tatiana is still in University. I don't remember what degree she said she was trying for. Her English was passable – but not the kind of English I would expect from someone who speaks it all the time or even often. Was she the “perfect” interpreter? No. But I must admit this girl busted her butt the whole time she was around! Even though it took a bit for her to get used to my speaking and my American “accent.”
I had been “warned” by the agency that G. looked “significantly” better in real life than she did in her pictures. Having seen a number of her photo's, including a glamor set shot 2 years ago, I was already prepared for the worst!
Speaking of Photo's... G. had sent me a few “small,” e-mail, sized photos over the months that we had been talking. Most of the shots showed me a pretty girl having fun. Most didn't give me a feel for what her face and eyes looked like – at least not close up. The funny thing was, in the photo's I'd seen, G. looked like 5 different girls. (I found out later that others have commented about this as well...)
At one point, I was very “nervous” about meeting this girl. Given how she looked so different in the various photo's, “who” was she? Was it possible I was being “scammed”???
It wasn't until a few days before I left that I finally got “new” photo's of G. And ones that were clear and showed her eyes. I must say, the newest pictures were pretty good. If she looks better in real life...
Our meeting was set for late Saturday night. G. had to work that day and wanted to go hone, shower and get ready. She and the interpreter would meet my in the lobby of the hotel at around 8 pm. As the appointed time approached, and passed, I was getting nervous – no G. and no Tatiana. I noticed is was still somewhat lite outside, and wondered if the girls had gotten distracted.
I had been loaned a cell phone so I tried to call G. Needless to say, phone numbers in Russia, or at least in Tolyatti, are different that in the states. I remember seeing signs everywhere that had 6 and 7 digit phone numbers on them. I tried the last 7 of G.'s cell phone number – and was greeted with the “universal” BOY, are you a moron??? Do you even know how to dial a working number??? - message coming from my cell phone – except in Russian!
Not sure how “late” the girls were going to be, I decided me and the rose from America would wait in the lobby.
The lobby of the Park Hotel is fairly nice. Its wide open with 2 seating areas – one on either side of the main entrance. Off to the one side is a table with a few chairs. I choose there to sit, and stand, and sit.... to wait.
A few minutes passed and I felt my cell phone go off in my pocket. I had not noticed the 2 ladies approaching the front doors, but as I grabbed my phone to answer, in walked G. and the interpreter. It was funny to see G. handing her phone to the interpreter to tell me they were in the lobby – just as I was seeing them, and they me.
Oh my! The “warning” that G. was better looking in person was “significantly” off! Either that, or the source of the comment under estimated how good this girl looks when she's dressed up.
Let me see if I can paint you a picture: 5 feet 9 inches tall. Dark brown hair just touching her shoulders. A little bit of a wave or curl – but not much. Eyes a very light green! A Black gown with wide shoulder straps. The smallest amount of coloring on her eye-lids. A little bit of blush on her cheeks. Pink / red lipstick. High heels. A white knit shawl / jacket covering her shoulders and arms.
She'd told me what her “size” is – in its European measure – which I've converted into its American measure. If this girl is that size, I'm missing something. I have to believe she's at least 2 sizes smaller – MINIMUM!!!
When I first noticed G., there was something about her that caught my eye. There was something about “her” that I had not seen in the girls back home. It took my brain a moment to recognize it – Poise. Grace. Femininity.
American women are feminine, don't misread what I'm writing. What I'd noticed about G. and some of the other Russian women I'd seen is feminine on a different level. As if “feminine” is a part of her very core, and she knows it and isn't afraid to embrace being feminine.
When G. and the interpreter were walking into the lobby, I remember being mesmerized watching her walk. I'd seen women “strut” before. Especially women who thought they were “special.” But to see G. strut and walk, I realized what I was seeing wasn't a women with her nose in the air. This wasn't a girl who thought she was better than everyone else.
One my way to the airport Friday morning, I had stopped at a florist and had purchased 2 red roses. My thinking at the time was, if G. and I got on, one would go to G. and it's match would go to mom. I had brought one of the roses with me to the lobby.
As we approached each other, I reached for her hand and gave the back of it a very gentle kiss and said “hello” to G. I was given a brief “hug,” in return for the rose I brought G. I explained that the rose came from America and was a “gift” to her from my home. She smelled the flower with closed eyes and smiled. I got a thank you in return.
We adjourned to the hotels first floor “bar” to talk and spend time.
G. had been out “shopping.” Apparently it's tradition to give gifts when you meet someone for the first time. G. had purchased me a bottle of Cognac, a “coaster” with a picture of a local church, a box of Russian chocolate candies and a chocolate bar. I had sent G. a box of locally made chocolate from a store close to home for her birthday. G. had said she had enjoyed the chocolates I'd sent her. The candy for me was her way of giving me a taste of her local sweets.
Our meeting was “awkward”... Both G. and I were nervous. We shared a bottle of Champagne and even had a toast or three. I have no idea now what we talked about any more. I only remember talking to G. and touching her from time to time. Her dress was stylish, with open shoulders and her upper back exposed. As we sat talking, I would lightly touch her arms or gently and lightly run my hand up her back or over her shoulders. For the most part, I think G. enjoyed being touched...
G. wasn't interested in sitting in the hotel bar. At one point, she mentioned going dancing. Of course, this would mean trusting myself into her hands alone as the interpreter wasn't able to stay with us. She needed to go home and make dinner for her boyfriend.
G.'s English and my Russian are on par with each other – very few words!
It only took me a few minutes to decide that having a go at a disco with G. was an experience I needed to have. Our language differences would have to be conquered.
2 taxi's ordered and we said good night to the interpreter. We'd meet her again the next morning.
Side note: I didn't realize it at the time, but, apparently G. had decided in the hotel's bar that I was worth having around because when we were making arrangements to part with the interpreter, we were planning on meeting the next day. I remember G. saying in one of our phone calls that if we didn't have “chemistry” at our meeting, we would part company. She'd said that “only” if we had chemistry would we have a “second” date.
I have no idea where the taxi took us – somewhere in the city. I remember the “disco” was a pirate themed club, and is one of the most popular clubs in town. This was to be my “first” exposure to a “Lada” taxi.
During the ride G. and I cuddled in the back seat. She smelled her rose from time to time and smiled. When we arrived at the club, G. went to get money from her purse to pay the taxi. Being a gentleman, I said “нет” and reached for my wallet. The look I got was priceless. (You know you are a part of “pop culture” when a real life moment reminds you of TV. But this was one of those moments captured by the MasterCard TV commercials.)
Having no idea the cost, I let G. fish out the correct amount to pay the driver. I exited the taxi and offered my hand to G. I got her purse instead, as she slid across the back seat towards me. A second extension of my hand and out came G.
The front of the club looked like any other “club” I've ever seen: Parked cars, BIG Neon sign. The one difference I noticed right away was there was no line waiting at the door.
When we entered the front door, I was surprised to see no one except employees in the lobby. It was about 11 pm and here we were at a “popular” club, and there was no line. G. spoke with the door man and he disappeared inside. It was a few minutes before he returned and we were let into the club and shown to a table upstairs. Looking around us, I noticed tables with groups of people eating and drinking.
Our waitress came by real quick and she and G. spoke about G.'s rose. The waitress wanted to put the rose in a glass with water, but I pointed out the water bottle on the bottom of the rose. In the end, the rose was placed in a large “vase” provided by the waitress.
It turned out, our time in the “disco” was to be my “first” exposure to the changes happening inside Russia.
When the waitress brought menu's, G. mentioned to the waitress that I didn't speak Russian – only English. I only know this because I heard “Americanski” and what I thought was the word “English.” The waitress opened my menu and pointed out the English pages at the back. This was a great relief as we had no Interpreter at this point and it would have been really awkward ordering a drink in English and hoping” for the right thing.
Early in the evening, my in country cell phone went off. It was an SMS from the “agency” asking me how it was going and how I was doing. It's funny, I had just “attempted” to take a picture of G. – only to cut off part of her head in the attempt. Of course, G. had to return the favor by snapping one of my “trying” to navigate an unfamiliar cell phone to reply.
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One of my favorite photo's of that evening is the second one of G. that I took. Looking into her eyes I could tell she was “happy.” Not necessarily happy with “me,” but happy with “life” and such. Here I had traveled ½ way round the world, we'd met and now I had accepted her suggestion to go “dancing.” The smile on her face in that photo strikes me as being very genuine.
I will admit here that I'm not much of a dancer. I never really had much call to learn or practice over the years. I can slow dance fairly well, having learned the basics over the years. But the faster stuff??? Not really! And G. LOVES to dance! Oh my, does she LOVE to dance.
The next several hours are a blur! Quite a bit of time dancing to the fast music. Me sweating up a storm! A couple of “slow” dances with G. close. Even the occasional time of G. resting her head against mine.
The “event” of the night was a woman who was wandering thru the club and decided she wanted to dance with me. And this girl absolutely did not want to take “no” for an answer. I suspect she was somewhat intoxicated! She even tried to get G. to come dance with her – and this girl was persistant. It took a bit, but this girl wandered out onto the dance floor by herself.
Was she put off by the fact that neither G. nor I wanted to dance with her? NOPE! I know that because G. and I were back out on the dance floor a song or two later and this woman was behind me dancing with “us.” And I could tell she was dancing with me/us because I felt her hand on my back from time to time. The look on G.'s face was just priceless! She was rolling her eyes and laughing at the antics of this woman.
But I also got the feeling that G. was not overly interested in letting me dance with this usurper either... I don't recall how I learned it, I think it was the interpreter telling me the next day some of the things G. was saying about the “disco,” but... I seem to recall that G. made it clear that she felt this woman was trying to cut in on her and take her dance partner. I also seem to recall a comment being made that I was being “watched” by the other women on the dance floor. The “3rd” that we had picked up stayed with us off and on for about ½ the evening.
The club has it's own dancers and they perform shows and do their own singing and dancing. That night there were 2 really good female dancers on the stage, and these girls could dance! There was one dance number the performers did that was right out of the American Old West – The Can Can! The old time skirts! The petticoats! The tossing and dance moves. It was spectacular!
G. and I watched this from the balcony up on the second floor. G. was clapping and dancing to the music. I even mimed and joked with G. that we should try the tossing and such. She laughed and said no – but with a big smile.
After a few drinks, and a lot of dancing, it was time to call it a night. We climbed into a cab for the ride back to my hotel.
The ride was quiet on G.'s and my part. We simply sat in the back seat cuddling, holding hands and enjoying each other company. G. had put her purse between us so we couldn't site quite side-by-side, but I did manage to put my left arm across her lap (she was on my left in most of the cab rides.) Her free arm would entwine around mine from time to time, or she and I would hold hands. I rested my hand on her leg and she didn't move it – a good “sign” if you will
I noticed G. smelling her rose a few times. Each time she would smile, toss her head back a little and would say “good” with her Russian accent.
I was treated to G. laying her head on my shoulder a few times during the ride. But the roads were so bumpy that she had to lift her head or risk getting bruises. Having had a few drinks, I suspect G. wasn't as much worried about a bruise or two – she seemed to enjoy being “close.”
When we arrived at the hotel, I again pulled out my wallet so G. could pay the Taxi driver. I was given a parting kiss... Or, more accurately, I was able to kiss G. good night on the cheek. G. and the taxi continued their journey towards G.'s home.
When I got back to my room, I remember thinking about all the things I had seen. I was amazed that I was actually in Russia! Immersed in a culture I had no clue about, couldn't read the signs, understand the language, nothing! My head was spinning with all of the “input” I had received over one afternoon/evening. And this was only the beginning of my 2 week “journey.”
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