Phrasebookery

I’m in Riga, at my old mate Andzs’ flat. I got back from Moscow the day before yesterday and then had an excursion to Vilnius, Lithuania, for a show. One of the more weird things I’ve discovered on this trip is that, contrary to what we were told by pretty much everyone in Latvia and Finland before our departure, Russians don’t really drink that much at all. Certainly the kind of Russians who come to shows, at any rate. The English contingent were drinking them all under the table with ease. So when we got back to Riga and had a night off (last night) it was decided that we should get wrecked in style. With the help of some Tequila, a lot of beer, and a vat of vodka and coke, we fulfilled our mission in spades. This morning (sic) I woke up with very little memory of the end of the night and a piece of paper in my back pocket with the Latvian for ‘we are poor sex tourists’ written on it. I’m not sure I want to remember.

There are no comments