Raise your glass
A few years ago there was a lot written on the internet about “alcoholic terrorism” in Central Asia … a phrase which has, fortunately, gone out of fashion in the aftermath of September 11th. The idea was simply that any event can be seized upon as an excuse for a party – which will inevitably be accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol.
A party where vodka is on the menu can descend very rapidly into a mammoth “drinking session” and the poor, unsuspecting, visitor soon discovers that the local capacity for alcohol is considerable … to say the least.
Apparently, this propensity for heavy drinking is found throughout the former Soviet Union. It was once explained to me that the people indulged in “binge drinking” – once a month – when they received their salaries … which they then spent on a “good night out”. Although there may be some truth behind this – it doesn’t seem to completely explain the phenomenon. Not every “occasion” worthy of a party falls just after payday!
Actually, many of the Kyrgyz – especially in the South – do not drink alcohol at all, (apart from Kumyz – naturally fermented mare’s milk), but a large number of them do. The (traditionally Muslim) Kyrgyz have a saying that: “God will forgive us for drinking alcohol – after all, he sent us the Russians who gave us the vodka to drink.”
In restaurants, spirits are usually sold by the gram: 100, 200, 500 and a small “single shot” glass (a rumka) usually hold about 50 grams. The liquid is brought to the table in a small decanter, which might contain upto 500 grams. Ordering 100 grams of vodka might sound strange – but it does mean that you don’t have to drink the whole bottle. As everywhere throughout the former Soviet Union, locally produced bottles of vodka which are sold in the shops do not have re-sealable tops – which leads to the observation that once a bottle has been opened … it HAS to be finished.
In the home, there may well be vodka – but possibly also cognac and/or the locally produced “Champagne”, (known everywhere as “Sovietskoye”). Spirits are drunk, neat, from a “shot” glass, (called a “rumka”), and followed by a chaser of Cola, fruit juice, or some other soft drink, otr perhaps by either a pickle, rye bread, piece of sausage or herring.
There is a tradition to down the “shot” in one – although the guest should really watch their hosts and take a lead from them. I often ask my hosts how we are going to drink: English, Russian or Kyrgyz style. What’s the difference?
- English style: drown a 25 gram serving (half of a local standard measure) in something sweet like Tonic Water or Lime juice to dilute it and kill the bitter taste – and then take sips of the mixture for the next 20 to 30 minutes … this usually elicits expressions of shock and horror on the phases of mine host;
- Russian style: down the contents of the glass in one … presumably so that the liquid passes quickly over the tongue thus avoiding the bitter taste and increasing the shock of the alcohol on the system … which is usually accompanied by a grimace of shock and horror on my face;
- Kyrgyz style: as per the Russian but with the exception that only half of the glass is gulped down – the remaining half remaining in the glass – it is an insult for the host if the guest ever has an empty glass or an empty plate … it must be immediately replenished.
That custom might explain why the evening always starts with a “bang”. It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that there are always three toasts in the first ten minutes. Thankfully, things then start to slow down. Early on I tried to avoid these frantic first toasts by adopting another local habit … arriving late. only to learn that it doesn’t help! Late arrivals are given a “Shtrafnaya” – a “fine” – in the form of an extra large glass to drink in order to catch up with the rest.
It is not really done to take sips from a glass – or to drink alone. Drinking is a communal activity and each drink is usually accompanied by a toast. It is customary for everyone to be expected to make a toast … so I have learned to look around the table and count the number of people so that I can gauge my consumption. It is not an infallible guide … in very large gatherings then a group of people might combine in a collective toast … but then again, as the evening progresses, a series of “Private” toasts begin where two or three people decide to share a drink together … accompanied by the inevitable toast.
Some foreigners feel themselves under a lot of pressure to drink … and a refusal can be seen as an “insult” … a rejection of their “hospitality”. Basically, however, the best advice is to pace yourself … and be strong willed.
If you really do NOT want to down the full glass in one gulp … then don’t. Also, I learned very early on that it was necessary to watch who was pouring the drinks … and, if possible to come some arrangement with them. For example, I have told many a waiter that I am just a “weak and feeble Englishman” … which usually raises a smile … and I hope and trust that my fellow Brits will forgive the slight to our national character, (… and the misapplied misquotation of Queen Elizabeth I).
It is also worth checking the bottle … on more than one occasion I have been somewhat surprised by the taste and potency of the liquid poured from a bottle bearing the label of a well known brand … it turned out to be ”Samagonka”, (“hooch”, “moonshine”, home-made vodka type spirit). Like elsewhere in the world – it is not exactly legal, so it is unlikely that the average visitor to Kyrgyzstan will come across it … but when I am a guest in a private home I still try to examine the bottles before accepting a drink.
I have also learned that, on some occasions (and in some company – at least), it is better not to drink alcohol at all. It is not easy to have a drink and then, later on, to try to refuse. It is better to refuse from the outset. So if it looks like it might be a “heavy session” then I “cop-out” from the start. An illness, or religious or moral positions, or the need to be be “behind the wheel” in the morning will usually be accepted as a suitable reason for a refusal.
Fortunately the days when the foreigner was seen as “fair game”, when it was considered reasonable to try and “drink the foreigner under the table”, have long since gone. The practice, which gave rise to the discussions about “alcoholic terrorism” probably affected tourists only rarely, but for ex-pats, (like myself), it was once an ”occupational hazard’. Not all foreigners succumbed, however, … one group of hard-driven miners got a bit of a shock when hosting an official delegation of foreign consultants … when they all collapsed, leaving one swarthy Belgian standing, glass in hand, calling for the next toast.
There is a hierarchy to making toasts … and “honoured visitors” will usually be high on the list.
With some notable exceptions, I prefer to keep my speeches short. That could be because I am concerned about my Russian – it’s obviously not because I am a shy and withdrawn person. Some speeches, however, can go on for some time (there is a sort of tradition that a person’s importance is gauged by the length of their speech).
There are some standard guidelines and themes to bear in mind when making toasts.
It is usual to mention the host and his family – thank them for their hospitality and wish them: “Health, Wealth and Happiness”. As with the other “trinity”, (“Faith, Hope and Charity”), it is said that one of them is the “greatest” … in this case it is “health” – because money cannot buy it and your happiness depends on it. For a foreigner giving a toast, something about “world peace” and mutual understanding also goes down well.
During a birthday or wedding celebration, there is usually a toast to the parents … as well as to the person who is the occasion of the celebration.
One tricky moment is always when people try to drink to my health. Maybe it is a toast “to our guests”. I always point out that in our tradition, I cannot join in … I cannot drink to myself, in the same way as we do not usually applaud ourselves – although it is perfectly acceptable here … I have even heard someone say: “I want to propose a toast … to myself …”. In our tradition, if they drink a toast to me, then I sit it out … but then have to reply.
However, I have had to give a lot of toasts in my time in Kyrgyzstan … and I try to “ring the changes”.
- “The Queen … and the President of Kyrgyzstan” … this usually needs an explanation … in the UK, formal dinners usually have such a toast (called the “Loyal Toast”) towards the end of the event … and only after this is it permitted to smoke.
- “To absent Friends” – a good, old, favourite … which is much appreciated especially if someone important has not been able to come.
- “My wish for you is that you receive all that you might wish for yourselves” … it doesn’t sound so good in English, but it basically means, “so that all your dreams come true”.
- “May the ‘Best of your Yesterdays’ be the ‘Worst of your Tomorrows’” – I heard this once in a film … it basically means “so that the future is better than the past”. However, it is best used early in the evening, when it less likely that you will make a mistake – which could be disastrous – or be misunderstood.
- “That we are sitting here together – not for the first time – and, I trust, not for the last.”
And, perhaps, the best of all:
- “Pi-yechally” … which basically means “Let’s go” and is the equivalent of “Cheers” or “Down the Hatch”
Bishkek