Russian Roulette

I have a Russian friend in Tokyo who thinks we are crazy to drive and camp here. She kept saying that it is really dangerous….that Russians are violent and she will fear for our lives!

I hope it’s not controversial to say that Russians are rather brusk on first meeting. No one smiles; customer service is non-existant (I’m not exaggerating – you are treated with utter disdain); the language is harsh; the men are heavy set and strong; the women stern and the Russian ‘stare’ is unwavering. After spending so long in Japan, it’s an absolute culture shock.

Last evening we stumbled upon a lake-side holiday chalet complex that was half way through being built. Greeting us at the entrance was a lovely young Russian man who spoke fabulous English. “Fantastic” we all chorused – “We’ll stay here.” We parked up the cars and Pavel came over and talked to us about the site. His parting words were: You will have a lot of trouble tonight from the Russians so if you need me during the night please come and get me. Oh dear!

There’s no doubt about it; we stick out like a sore thumb…two Japanese registered ‘look-at-me-cars’ with four foreigners inside. Not before long a huge drunk man approached stumbling, like a menancing bear, towards us. Oh dear, Russian Roulette, here we go….here comes that bullet. But no….he wants to dance, and hug, to frolic in the sea and give us a kebab. Empty chamber.

His two intoxicated brothers come over, their wives, his 18 year old son and his gaggle of friends. We are surrounded. One very drunk brother takes a fancy to Captain and in very limited English asks him where we are from. “England.” From behind him, a friend of the son mimed a throat being slit while shaking his head….”no we are from….New Zealand!” Oh dear, Russian Roulette, here we go….here comes that bullet. But no….he wants to kiss, and hug, to tell us that, even though he’s a Christian, he loves everyone. Empty chamber.

Four men from a two day long wedding party, with glassed-over eyes and dodgy valour tracksuits, stumble over next. As we have no common language the phone comes in use. They type out a message and show us the translation. It reads, and I quote, ‘The roads here have really killed us.’ OMG…a direct death threat, an encyrpted murder message. Oh dear, Russian Roulette, here we go….here comes that bullet. But no….after an imprompto charade he acts out steering a car on a bumpy potholed road. Empty chamber.

So the barrel keeps on turning and with each rotation it’s our own prejudice that comes under fire.