Vodka
I hadn't been in the country for more than 3 hours before the first shot of vodka appeared, hovering before me like a strange apparition, a cultural welcome mat comprehensible to the most jaded traveler.

"Drinking is the joy of the Rus. We cannot live without it."

10 centuries ago Vladimir of Kiev reportedly intoned this mantra to reject the abstinent ways of Islam. The Rus have lived up to this ancient legacy and made vodka a staple of every diet, with the average Russian drinking about a bottle a week.

Shuddering a bit after the oversized shot, I decided to take it slowly. I put down the glass and silently smiled at my Ukrainian and Russian hosts, thinking I'd hold off 'till later in the evening. But just as silently, one began to refill all our glasses.

It was time, they told me, to learn some good drinking songs...

Rocket Fuel
There were many different kinds of vodka placed before me over the course of my stay: pepper vodka, lemon vodka, orange vodka. And, with each bottle there lay a minor mystery. Which factory had it come from? The export quality Stolichnaya comes from the Kristall factory, and is priced accordingly. The domestic varient comes from factories all over, and runs about two bucks for a 750 ml bottle. Depending on which factory, you could get anything from the good stuff to rocket fuel.

The trick, they told me, was to shake the bottle and watch the bubbles swirl. If they form a nice clean swirl in the middle of the bottle, you were alright. Otherwise you were looking at the express elevator to an hangover.

Then there was samogon, or home brew. I only dived down this road once, foolinshly thinking, 'how bad could it be?' Bad. The foul swill nearly sent me running for the porcelain altar, choking and gasping after one throat burning swallow. The clear liquid could have peeled the paint off your car.

Index

Doom

Toilet

Lodging

Transit

Tourism