It is a Trans-Siberian right of passage - drinking vodka with Russians on a train in the middle of Siberia. This video shares a few of the moments I'll never forget and a few that I can't really remember.

Read the story from this night

 Given the opportunity, we will choose to hang out with the locals and in nearly every instance.  The vast majority of the time, it has been a rewarding and interesting experience.  However, on the Trans-Siberian Railway we’ve learned that there are Russian locals that you don’t necessarily want to “experience” for 2 days on a train.

Peer pressure is an issue on the Trans-Siberian train with consistent reminders from other travelers that this is the “vodka train” and you must drink Russian vodka.  This pressure is lost on the Russian locals though as they need no pressure whatsoever to drink on a train.  It is a requirement for them and when mixing with foreign travelers the requirement is shared by all.

So we found ourselves in the dining car on the second night of a 48 hour journey from Irkustk to Ekaterineburg.  

Between Slava, the gigantic ex-Russian Army captain with bullet wounds and Victor, the pudgy Belushi-esque ex-Mafia family man, we had our hands full.  While our English friend Paul was busy being pressured by Slava into drinking more vodka than he wanted, I got a dose of vodka with Victor and his fellow Russian friends, who seemed to be complete blockheads.  We drank more, became friends, toasted to health, arm wrestled and looking back I can say that I have never witnessed so many scars on so many people.  I think these guys have had a hard life.

For some reason I accepted Victor’s invitation for me and Sachi to come to his room and drink more vodka. Not only did this end up with me losing a few hours of memory, but it caused Sachi to end up babysitting Victor’s Coke-spewing 4 year old child “Sergei” for over an hour.  She was not happy and I had no idea why.  What I did remember was Victor telling me at some point in the night that the wolf tattoo on his arm was from his 3 year prison term.  Apparently had “only killed one person” while in the Russian mafia.  Had I had my wits about me, I may have escaped at that point, but I didn’t.

The next day I awoke to a hangover, an upset wife and a half-drunk Russian ex-con banging on the door at 9AM with a 2 liter beer in his hand.  We were still friends and he was clearly doing me a favor by bring over the beer.  He started with the old Russian saying “A good friend drinks vodka with you yesterday, a great friend drinks vodka with you today!” as if I might appreciate the classical nature of the moment.   I would have none of it, despite him barging in, pouring a glass, spilling it on the floor and insisting I drink no less than 15 times. Of course Sachi was now noticing that she would now clean up after both father and son in our compartment. I was at a loss for more ways to say “nyet” – nothing seemed to work. Sachi would later say that when he came in she wanted to kick him in the face.  Of course, I was implicit in this frustration.  

Later Victor hooked back up with the Blockheads and they formed a roaming band of drunk-in-the-morning Russian annoyances.  They went from one end of the train to the other, peer-pressuring everyone from the night before to drink with them.  One of them even forced his way into the compartment of understandably shaken American and Canadian girls.  He would later be quite accurately called a stalker.

This band of drunks eventually caused the revelers from the night before to close their doors and hide out for the majority of the morning.  Many, including Sachi and I ignored knocks at our doors.  The foreigners on the train tried to memorize compartment numbers so we could visit one another without keeping a door open.  There was talk of passwords being used.  We were held hostage by the locals.

By about 1pm the drunk Russians had passed out – we could hear Victor snoring through the compartment walls and from that point the foreigners on the train began to appear like refugees after a bombing campaign.  Shaken, annoyed and hungover, we stuck together and decided that drinking with the locals is fun, but sharing 2 days on a train with the same people is another story all together.

 Watch the Video Here.

Today, Sachi makes the faithful transition to her 30's.  That's right, as of today, Sachi is 30 years old! She is all growns up.

Today also marks the end of what we've been calling the Annual July Birthday Jubilee.  My birthday was on the 17th (I turned 33) and her's is today on the 26th, creating a 10 day window of gratuitous non-stop birthday celebration.  What does that mean?  We're not sure really.  Maybe dessert with dinner, a cocktail before noon or a massage on the beach.  The jubilee takes many forms and we make it up as we go along. Mutual special treatment is a theme for sure.  

While we're talking about getting old and fragile, I must also remind us of the follies of youth.  Last night we met a puppy that couldn't have been more than 9 weeks old.  As soon as I stopped to take a picture, he stepped off a 4 inch step to say hello and promptly fell directly on his face. No harm was done of course, but it reminded us of what not to do tonight as we celebrate.

Anyway, please join me in wishing Sachi a happy (and fall free) 30th, far from home!

We have to admit that the movie "Lost in Translation" has left an indelible mark on our expectations of what your supposed to do in Tokyo. There is surely no better place on earth to experience the karaoke phenomenon and last night we repeated the experience of the characters in the movie and rented a karaoke cube for two hours- from about 1:15-3:15AM at a cost of US$58 including a drink and two dishes of gyoza. (Karaoke is singing along to music videos you choose.)

Of course, you can't fully experience karoake without a few drinks, so we also went to have dinner and take part the famous Roppongi nightlife.  Once again, Sachi's japanese skills enabled us to find restaurants that do not cater to foreigners and have menus that look like this:

We had sashimi. 

Roppongi is known as a place where foreigners go for nightlife and there are hundreds of bars, taking up the first 5 stories of real estate for many blocks.  For some surreal atomsphere- we went to a reggae bar (in Tokyo remember), where I played darts with a guy named "Hide". Later we went to the Motown Bar, where I couldn't believe the popularity of the Mexican beer Corona and the number of attentive bartenders. The service in Tokyo is amazing.

 Having sufficiently found new courage, we were ready for karaoke, which I have to admit was very, very fun.  I think Seattle needs a karaoke cube joint.

Here are selection of the songs we sang:

• Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding
• Pretty Woman -  Roy Orbison
• You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi
• I Will Survive - Gloria Gaynor
• Sweet Caroline - Neil Diamond
• Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye
• Dancing Queen - AbbA
• My Life - Billy Joel
• King of the Road - Roger Miller

 Inquirys should be directed to our agent.

At least you didn’t wear blue! – Laughed the Queensland Reds fans we happened to meet at the train station after saying it was our first match ever. We weren’t sure where we were headed, but followed them through the station onto a shuttle bus to Suncorp Stadium to challenge the New South Wales Waratahs in the Super 14 home opener. The same group even cheered the bus driver and gave us inflatable cheer sticks – courtesy of Coke. Not quite rugby hooligans.

The match itself was incredibly hard-hitting and resulted in a few bloody noses. These guys make NFL players look silly with all their pads. There had to be some sucker punches in those piles!

Throughout the match, the unfamiliar kept us busy and guessing. After a player caught the ball and got pummeled by an opponent there was a penalty “Failing to Remain on Feet”.  Did we hear that right? Who could have remained on their feet with that hit? Maybe we misheard the call.

The referee stopped play for halftime with 35 seconds left on the clock and I had to stop asking Lee why – he was as clueless as I was.  He was confused about why they kept kicking the ball out of bounds- sometimes to the cheers of fans.

The scene was filled with boxes of fries, meat pies, XXXX beer and Bundy (rum) and cokes – 4 or 8 carried per person. I ordered a ginger ale and the server automatically grabbed a liquor cup and then stopped with a puzzled look – “Just a ginger ale? No liquor?” We’ve seen shirts that say, “My drinking team has a rugby problem” I’m sure we’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg.

To our surprise, there were no vendors of jerseys, flags or anything you don’t eat or drink. No handmade signs or painted faces in the crowd. One of the corners of the stadium tried for about 10 minutes to start the wave, but it never caught on past a few sections. We know better than to take the comparisons to American sports too far.

 It’s just our first…By the third or fourth I’m sure we’ll be arguing the calls with the best of them! This site helped some, for a starting point.

The Gold Coast is the tourist capital of Australia, and we ended up in a little place called Surfer’s Paradise for one night before heading north again.  We never dreamed the Gold Coast would have a scene on this scale.  We pictured a more rustic place with hotels and cafes and mini-golf.  What we found is much more like Miami Beach, Waikiki in Honolulu or Daytona Beach – a monstrosity of tourism. Amazingly big, and the waves don’t look that good for a place with such a name.

A bit of trivia… Surfers Paradise become popular after a local entrepreneur Bernie Elsey got the idea to have the meter maids wear skimpy gold bikinis in 1965. We saw a couple while there- not that impressive if you ask me. :)

The Gold Coast is not really what we came to Australia to see, but we had a fun night. We ended up spending most of the night at a piano bar called Howl at the Moon, where Sachi found her version of heaven, singing and dancing to songs we all know by heart. 

I find it funny to sing songs like “Sweet home Alabama” and “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” in other countries.  I can’t help but think that some of the meaning is lost on the Aussies.  We did sing a rousing version of “Down Under” by Men at Work – and some of the meaning was likewise lost on me.  

In the end, we left the amazing party scene to come back to our room and go to sleep around midnight. You can enter bars in Surfers Paradise until 3am, then once inside, you can party until 5am, but once you exit after 3, you’re essentially locked out.  

We’re still on NZ time (3 hours later) and we can’t really afford, financially or physically, to party ALL night long, at least not tonight.  Speaking of "All Night Long" we've heard that Lionel Richie song covered twice by live musicians in less than 24 hours- is Lionel Richie the David Hasselhoff of Australia? Probably not.

I first met Hal at the Blogs n Dogs conference in Banff, where he told me that he spends a lot of time in NZ and would be there when we come through.  Sure enough, we met Hal today with his lovely partner Trish.  They live in the town of North Havelock, just south of Napier, in the heart of North Island wine country.

The theme for today was wine tasting.  We went to about 5 different places including:

Matariki, Unison and Trinity Hill were wines that were a part of the region called Gimblett Gravel. In visiting the wineries, it's easy to see why.  The vineyards are planted in soil high in gravel content.  A river used to flow through the region, which imparted the soil with the gravel.  About 120 years ago, the river changed course, leaving the land for great grape growing.  The gravel allows water to flow through the soil more quickly, intesifying the taste of the grapes (so they told us). At Unison, a tiny winery, the vinter himself poured our tastings.  This is, obviously, Trinity Hill below.

Clearview and Kim Crawford were two others on the Hawkes Bay Coastal village of Te Awanga. 

After the wine tasting, Hal and Trish treated us to an awesome dinner and real bed for the night, which is very welcome after sleeping in Squeak, our campervan.  We have had an awesome time and, once again, had a  great experience with locals.  Trish is a lifelong Kiwi and taught us about the educational system, regional reputations and the Hawkes Bay area.  Hal, an American who has done business all over the world, told us great stories about the issues with doing business in China and secrets of the Olympics.  Hal and Trish completely rock and we owe them a huge thanks.

Tomorrow, we're off to Peka Peka Beach and meeting a guy named Maitland who we'll hang with for a couple of days.

By the way, Sachi was originally going to write this but the wine and dinner got the best of her and she had to retire for the evening. More soon from her...

I think we're getting a little stir crazy.  We have 23 days before we leave and the monetorium is in full effect, so we're not going out.  Sachi mentioned that we got a handy-dandy blender for our wedding and have some rum in the cabinet.  So, we decided to make it a dark Seattle November Friday night at home- with Boat Drinks.

 Everything we know about Boat Drinks, we learned from Stephen Gwyn's Boat Drinks page.

Boat drinks are drinks that are drunk on a boat. Or near a boat. Or while wishing you were on a boat. Or near someone who is wishing they were on a boat. They tend to be colourful, sometimes too colourful. They tend to have fruit in them. The tend to taste almost, but not quite, booze-less and they tend to pack a hidden wallop.

As a general (but not infallible) rule boat drinks have two main ingredients:  Rum and A paper umbrella.

We call tonight "practice", sans paper umbrellas.