ещё одна бутылка водки

The first Sunday of September is a holiday in Kazakhstan. During my time here, I’ve learned a substantial amount about local holidays – Nauryz, Chrishenya, Constitution Day, Sabantui – but for me this one holds a special place. Of course, all holidays are better when you celebrate with your friends and, as with most holidays here major and minor, we celebrated Teachers’ Day with a feast. The usual players were there: English teachers Saule Sairanovna and Galina Anatolevna, host mom/home economics teacher Natalia Borisovna, PCV Mike Mesquita. In addition, a Kaz-18 volunteer Devin came up from Kokshetau for a final round of visits before heading back to New York. With English and Russian speakers present, our conversation meandered back and forth between the two languages with the same ease with which the food and drink found our stomachs. We covered all bases, from “What surprised you most when you came to KZ?” to “Why aren’t you married yet?” to “What do you think of the local girls?” We talked about books and philosophies (Devin), my single host mom (Mike), and things more common like experiences here and future plans (Me).

We had decided to make the cooking part of the evening as simple as possible by buying pelmeni, which you simply boil for 5 minutes, and I taught the teachers about Alfredo sauce which had been sent from home (thanks mom). While preparing the sauce while SS worked on salads, she mentioned that we had several zakuski (snacks/appetizers) that the sauce would go well with, to which I asked if the pelmeni were not a glavnoe blyudo (main dish). She said, “Vodka - glavnoe blyudo. Vse otstanie - zakuski.” Everything else is just an appetizer. We had toasted once each, finishing two bottles of vodka, when SS’s husband came home from work. He looked a bit tired from work at the factory when he came in, but perked right up when he saw the “celebratory table” laid out. He had just de-shoed and finished the round of handshakes before noticing our lack of vodka. With a look and a shrug he said, “Well, I’ll go get more.” There is a Russian saying, “No matter how many bottles you buy, you’ll still have to run and get more.” I’ve never been to a feast that someone didn’t go on a vodka run.

Since that first week of September I’ve been invited to two more feasts, one for my host mom’s 47th birthday and the other for her sister’s 50th. Natalya’s party was at home, with friends and co-workers, and followed the same progression as the others. The zakuski were prepared, the salads served, sausage and chess and fruit laid out, vodka and wine distributed. I was full by the time the glavnoe blyudo came out, a tray of chicken and scalloped potatoes; I was in pain when the second glavnoe blyudo, beshbarmak, was announced. Thankfully Mike was there and needed to go home to get some work done for the next day. I decided he needed an escort home. I don’t know if I would’ve survived a third course without an excuse to leave. When I came back, the Maker’s Mark (woot-woot KY) had made its appearance, ending its four-month stint of sitting on top of the TV. The next day (Friday) was a struggle to say the least.

Tatiana’s party was a family affair, with no English teachers to fall back on. I spent most of the evening listening, catching bits and phrases of conversations, trying to piece together meanings of unknown words. I wished I had brought a tape recorder or even a pen and paper. We ate and toasted and toasted and ate. Tatiana told the rest of her visitors what she had learned from me earlier about how our family gatherings and birthday parties in the US aren’t quite like they are here. One of her coworkers was in disbelief – “You mean you don’t give birthday wishes?!” Another added – “must be pretty boring.” Even another – “Sucks to be the birthday boy.” I did my best to defend our tradition of giving presents and cards, and to explain that we still have fun and laugh to the point of tears without vodka (given, we do drink beer and wine fairly often at parties), but they weren’t convinced. It didn’t help that Tatiana remembered my dad saying how impressed he was with the toasting tradition here and his plans to take it home with him. I smiled and gave my toast to the birthday girl. Her husband put on his coat and went to go get another bottle.