Sunday, May 17, 2009

Monkey beer



I took the above picture in Cambodia. You really need to click it to see it at full size to appreciate it. The monkey has one paw, in a fist, slamming on the beer can. The other is at his head as if pondering how it all came to this.

First I love this picture, second, it sums up my weekend! The canuck that had previously been shacked up in my apartment took leave on Friday. Not without much unnecessary drama. While I'm glad to be rid of said drama, it did leave me a little out of sorts if for no reason other than my apartment was now empty. So I watched a film on Saturday, Dogville. I could not possibly recommend this movie, except for people who like to watch fucked up shit poorly executed. Maybe I missed the point, but just because it's experimental doesn't make it cool hipsters. As the movie was 3 hours long, I took a nap halfway through, only to be awoken by the phone. It was a guy from Moscow I had met a few months ago. He was in town and wanted to see me. What timing! All became brighter (except for the rest of the movie) and I made plans for the evening.

aside: as we were on the phone, a ten year old Russian boy walked into my apartment and then walked out. I'm supposedly living in a "Student Hotel", but really anybody can live there. It's basically a super overpriced apartment complex. So now there's a group of 10 year olds seem to be occupying a room unsupervised. Prior to this my hall was unfortunately only Chinese and Koreans. Nothing against them, but the food they cook is less than pleasant smelling and they are difficult to understand. With the exception of my friend that lives next door. Also, while the Canuck was in residence, we noticed sheets on the fire escape covered in pigeon poop. We're pretty sure that the Asians are catching pigeons for food out there. Good on em, it just smells!

Then my Chinese friend calls who I haven't been able to see in quite a while, and I talk to my American friend about going out and a night is in the works. Hit up the first bar, meet up with the Americans, consume beverages. Blini en route to the next bar. Catch up with my Chinese friend at Fidel. And then play the waiting game for my Russian. And in he comes, like a hurricane, like a drunk drunk hurricane. I'd like to give him the excuse that he did come in on the train from Moscow and probably drank all the way, as is the custom. But his friend wasn't so blindingly drunk. After he poured half his beer on me, he made his way to the dancefloor, where he fell down and almost went to sleep. His friend rouses him and he proceeds to bother the DJ enough to have himself removed. I'm not sure he wasn't battered a bit by security. After all this, he still keeps calling me to go "гулятинг". The past time of Russians. What I typed there is a bastardisation of the word "To walk/stroll". I'll give him a chance to be sober tomorrow. If he's drunk at 3pm, I'm out.

In the middle of this, as I'm at the bar, all the sudden a friend that had gone back to his country shows up. I still can't figure it out, but apparently he went back to Turkey, and decided he preferred Russia. Probably something to do with girls. Either way, we were super stoked to have him back. I think I could come back to Piter in 20 years and the Turk and the Chinese will still be sitting at that bar.


We'll save bridge lamentations for another day.

3 comments:

Rory said...

As your editor, I would strike the entire last paragraph and leave it with the line "[they] would still be at that bar." Although the bit about the bridges being up lends some pathos, perhaps it could be worked in earlier, as an aside that foreshadows the bustedness of the night.

Cool pic.

Traveling Ciguapa said...

done.

Rory said...

Oh, I just meant when this comes out in book form.