Not all stereotypes are true. Sadly, bears do not casually
roam the streets of Tomsk, nor have I encountered any balalaika-playing
babushkas. But there is one stereotype that the Russians live up to with
indisputable distinction. I am of course talking about vodka. It is evident in
every spirit-serving establishment on every night of the week, the selection of
brands in your average newsagents is spectacular and the statistics speak for
themselves (according to The Economist, Russians consumed almost 2 billion
litres of vodka in 2012, which works out as about 45% of the world’s total
consumption and 13.9 litres per person, including children). I have dipped my
toe into this spiritedly flowing world of excessive consumption and have made a
few observations.
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| Vodka selection. About 27 different brands there... |
Firstly, let’s examine the name: vodka (водка). Vodka is the diminutive
form of the word ‘voda’ (вода),
meaning water. Thus, one could literally translate vodka as “little water”.
Perhaps this gives weight to the myth that Russians drink it as if it were
water. Indeed, anything seems possible in a nation where beer was only legally
deemed an alcoholic beverage on the 1st January of this year! Of
course, it’s not all about vodka. Beer is very popular here too, but plays
second fiddle to its far superior companion. As the saying goes: “Beer without
vodka is like throwing money to the wind” (пиво
без водки – деньги на ветер).
My experiences with vodka in Russia have been varied, but
can be separated into two categories: English drinking (a means to an end) and
Russian drinking (for pleasure). My English drinking exploits are largely
forgettable, but the Russian drinking sessions have been pleasantly memorable.
Misha, my neighbour, has taken on the role of instructor, or perhaps guide, when it comes to
casual drinking. He tells me that he does not get drunk, merely progresses from
one state of happiness to the next. The midnight curfew means that we often
find ourselves at home after a night out, still in the mood for a drink. In true Russian fashion, we ensure that some tasty snacks are within
reach, bread or nuts being our preference, and enjoy the vodka that Russia has to offer. The method I have learnt is
relatively straightforward. Firstly, we make a toast, a compulsory part of the
process (Russian toasts tend to be quite long-winded). Secondly, we sharply
exhale before drinking the vodka, thereby allowing the liquid to enter our bodies
like a breath of air. Thirdly, you must eat something, but it is a good idea to
smell the food first. After all, around 70% of our taste comes from the smell. Creating
the right atmosphere is also important and it would seem that we have settled
on opera as our music of choice. Misha described my sister’s recordings as
“perfect vodka music”. I’m not quite sure what that means, but have a listen
and hear for yourselves.
However, not everything vodka-related complements the
stereotype. By and large, excessive drinking is limited to a few holidays,
where consumption is accompanied by vast quantities of food, aimed at soaking
up the alcohol. Secondly, I have been surprised at the number of people of my
generation that drink very little, or even nothing at all. I believe I know
two, young teetotallers at home, but it seems to be a far more popular
lifestyle choice out here. Arguably, this is because of the alarmingly low male
life expectancy and the hundreds of thousands of deaths each year related to
alcohol. Whatever the reason, it was an unexpected surprise I have to say.
The other stark contrast between Russian and British
drinking is the choice of alcohol. The English favourites of wine, whisky and
gin & tonic are replaced by vodka and cognac; no one has even heard of the
Jagerbomb. Normal practice in bars, particularly for older generations of
Russian men, is to buy a bottle and just serve themselves. There is no rush or
urgency to drink; they merely find that vodka is a very nice addition to their
food and company. Unlike at home, it is very unusual to see someone drinking
alone in public.
All in all, vodka is a part of Russian life. It is not a
myth that they love the stuff here, but drinking to excess seems to be more of
a British hobby than a Russian one, particularly among younger generations. I
shall leave you with my translation of one author’s thoughts about alcohol:
“[Alcohol is] the water of life, an enigmatic liquid, possessing an
amazing power to change a person’s mood, transporting him into a world of
day-dreams and happiness.”
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