Coffee Shops and Hostels

6 May 2016, St Petersburg.

While Deepa and Thing 1 went to watch the Cinderella ballet at Mariinsky Theatre, Thing 2 and I went to Eclairs, a tiny coffee shop that the hostel staff had recommended. She had said it is the kind of a place that my mom would take me to, a small place with 4 tables and big windows, and they have awesome pastries. It was exactly that. And everything was just in Russian of course.

The lady at the counter had a smile on her face, a rarity in Russia. Have I told you about the Russian face? Well, Russians don’t smile. I mean, they do smile but not to strangers. That was a departure coming from Japan, where everyone is so courteous and would always greet you with a smile on their face. Russians think that smiling to strangers is a sign of weakness, and also a sign of insincerity. Back in the days, the Soviet propaganda ridiculed the Americans’ insincere smile. Whatever the reasons may be, the Russians do a good job at appearing cold, arrogant, indifferent and rude, up until they slowly warm up to you and warm up they do. And then you are their best friend.

We got two pastries between the two of us and an espresso for me. And soon the table was taken over by cars and transformers and trains and planes and superheroes. It was the kind of downtime that both of us needed.

Later, Thing 2 voted for jeera aloo instead of going out for dinner. So we did some groceries before going back to the hostel. Somehow this guy just loves doing groceries. The hostel that we are staying at, Soul Kitchen, has a lovely kitchen, the soul of this place. Jeera aloo turned out good, and it tasted even better with the gujju theplas that my mom sent. I haven’t yet written about the 20 Kg parcel that she has sent from India. Yes, 20 Kgs of theplas and bhakris and laddu and magas and jamnagari kachori and khari sing and chana chor garam and sev and mamra and masala chai pouches and maggi and parle g. We are having a feast these days. She apparently thinks her grandchildren are starving without Indian food. :)

The best thing about hostels is that you get to meet people and listen to their stories and share your stories. On the dining table there was a Russian from Ufa, a father and a son from Helsinki, an American from Chicago and another from New York, a lady from Chile who tomorrow is going to start her 6 days journey to Mongolia on the Trans-Siberian Railway. I made them try the jeera aloo, while I tried Kozinaki, a Russian sweet very similar to chikki made from sunflower seeds and honey. Over Russian beers we talked about the Soviet times, about Putin, about Trump, Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders, about traveling to faraway places.

All this while, Thing 2 had joined the kid from Helsinki to watch a youtube video. He was passively observing and listening to our conversations. Through this year of travel, I’m sure he is not going to remember the details, the names, the landmarks, the cities that we have been to. All these might just become a blur for him. What I hope though is that he remembers, even if vaguely, these dinners, different languages being spoken around on the dining table, the diversity, the food, the smells, the laughs, the smiles.

Deepa and Thing 1 are back from the ballet. Thing 1 enjoyed it. Deepa thinks it was no where as good as the Onegin ballet that we watched at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow.

Conversations continue.