Just like in all the TV travel shows, there just happened to be a wedding in the village involving one of Ruslan's many relatives, so naturally I was invited to join in the merriment.
Normally I'd wear something a bit smarter for a wedding, but Ruslan was convinced that what I was wearing was fine and so, since he was my guide and means of access to the rest of my wardrobe back at the hotel, I deferred to his judgement.
As the remaining daylight drains from the sky, so the guests numbers rise and the party gets started.
The seating arrangements seemed to be on a sex segregation per table basis, but other than that it was unclear if there was any particular formula for who sat where. This fine selection of villagers, friends and family at my table, non of whom spoke English, took me under their wing and made sure my vodka dish was never dry....
and that I emptied it...
regularly!
Well lubricated by now, I was easily persuaded to follow the tradition of giving tips to this young lady shaking her thing around the reception... whose idea it was that I should join her in the process, I don't recall, but as the token novelty foreigner there, it was my duty surely?
No doubt due to the beers and vodka I'd consumed earlier in the day with Ruslan and friends, and reinforced by the endless and enthusiastic supply of vodka at the party, there's not much more I remember from the night! I don't know who the bride and groom were, when they arrived, how late the party went on or what the band sounded like!
No comments:
Post a Comment