"In the winter we lived in the city. In the summer we lived in a small village. Not a village like they have in France... a village village. In those days most families had at least one cow. Some had a crowd of cows. I had many friends in the village."

Viktor the Siberian is telling me about his childhood. We are surrounded by drunken french people.

"It was just me and my mother. She took me to the village in the summers. In the winter it was too difficult to stay; the winter is very cold in Siberia. There were people who stayed during the winter, yes, the real people of the village. Things are different now. Many of the buildings are empty. There is no work on the farms anymore. Some people try to grow enough to live, but nothing interesting grows. My mother grows strawberries now, flowers, something interesting. She only goes to the house to prepare it for the winter."

A drunken frenchman interrupts us, settling an arm on each of our shoulders.

"Where you from?"
"Russia," says Viktor the Siberian.
"Where you from?"
"America," I answer. The Frenchman lifts his arms in amazement.
"An American! A Russian! Talking together!"
We are both taller than the Frenchman, Viktor with his Russianness, I with my heels. For a moment we feel larger than we are, two representatives of vast nations, East and West, the globe balanced between us. The Frenchman disappears back into the crowd.

"It doesn't matter who you are as an individual anymore," I tell Viktor the Siberian. "You are Russian, that is the only important thing. You drink nothing but vodka, you drive a tank and you have a pet bear." He smiles his Russian smile. I demonstrate how to be American for him... my demonstration consists of saying "Yeee-haw!" and pretending to draw and shoot pistols from my belt. He says that he is going to try that in America, and pantomimes the scene. "Hmmm... he seems American, but he must be Russian," I remark, pretending to be someone in the fantasy, "why else would he have that bear following him?"

"Bad bear!" he says, directing his attention to where I was pointing. "I told you to stay home! No!"



"There were trains that came by our village in summer," he continues after a short interlude. "They carried missiles and tanks and many arms. They would cover them with some sheets, so you could only see some parts. It is better this way... if you saw everything it is not as exciting. You can only see rocket there, side of tank."

"Usually when I hear people talking about that kind of thing, they're talking about a woman," I interject.

"Ah yes, yes, woman, I was talking about woman."

"OoOoOohh, look at those tanks."

He says that the weapons were bound for the Chechen war. He says that it was a strange war because it was a war where Russians were fighting Russians. He said that he once saw a BBC broadcast about it and every detail was the opposite of what he had seen broadcast on Russian TV. Who shot first, who refused to compromise, who was winning, who was bullying whom. Even if the journalists had the same facts they came to completely different conclusions.

There is a loud crash and raucous laughter from the drunk Frenchmen.

"What is this?" says Viktor the Siberian. "Here America and Russia are talking peacefully together-- about guns and wars-- and France is crazy."

Now I want to know what happens to the cows in the winter. I'm guessing they don't bring them to the city, but where do they go?
» randomjunk on 2013-03-27 09:51:28

Well, I've heard dreaming about losing your teeth is common, but I didn't actually lose them, they just migrated to the other side of my mouth. Not sure if it still counts, but I was thinking about that too.
» randomjunk on 2013-03-28 10:07:07

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