The Triangle

Issue date: 2/17/06 Section: Entertainment

Media Credit: minivodkaguy.com

You thought you could hold your liquor? Russians will drink you under the table. I have some solid travel advice to any Westerners planning on flying solo to Russian Siberia or Mongolia: Do what is necessary to ensure you are physically carrying vodka on your person at all times. This will be especially handy if you speak only minimal Russian or Mongolian. Besides this proposition striking you as being absurdly impractical, it may also seem a bit extraneous when attempting to frugally pack your luggage.

The truth is that foreigners must recognize and respect the cultural significance of vodka in Siberia. One may first argue that vodka is an expensive commodity that is too bulky and heavy to carry when trekking around a foreign country. We all know that premier import vodkas can be very pricey in the United States. Costs of fair to good quality locally distilled vodkas sold in Siberia and Mongolia will seem very reasonable to Western travelers. Where did this vodka standard come from? Vodka is just one of many legacies left behind from years of Russian influence in Mongolia. Also, the lands of Siberia and Mongolia share a mercilessly inhospitable natural environment. The region is high in elevation, home to legendary deserts and is frozen for much of the year. Don't forget: Through the long winter ahead, vodka will "keep us warm, comrade."

On a darker note to some, vodka can be an effective tool in the art of bribery. Despite being distasteful to our Western sensibilities, travelers must understand that bribery is simply a way of life in much of the Second and Third worlds. Fortunately, in my travels to the region thus far, I have never found myself in a situation in which bribing was necessary or even advantageous.

The day before leaving on a Gobi Desert expedition with four other independent travelers, I had discreetly purchased a small, slender bottle of local brand vodka and shot glasses at the corner grocery store to fit snugly between my other items stowed in my daypack. When our first day of driving came to an end, we set up camp for the night in the central prairie lands a few hundred kilometers south of Ulaanbaatar.

After eating a hearty beef stew for dinner, I opened a bottle of French wine that was given to me that very morning as a gift from the owner of the guesthouse I was staying in Ulaanbaatar. Today was my 22nd birthday, and to my pleasant surprise it is his custom to provide French wine when a guest has a birthday during their stay with him.

Continued...

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