Cross Cultural Exchange

August 20, 2009


As if the Kazakh wedding wasn’t enough celebration for me for one week, I got roped into another birthday party tonight.

I had sworn off liquor after I spent last Sunday vomiting the entire contents of my stomach so I was feeling good when I walked into my dressmaker’s home tonight.

Armed with a coffee cake (they don’t know it’s a breakfast dish in America) I smiled widely and said, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in Russian.

“Great! You’re here! Go sit down!” she said enthusiastically.

After all of us were seated around the tablecloth on the floor she ran out of the room and returned second later with a huge smile on her face. My stomach turned as I saw she had smuggled in a bottle of vodka.

“My father didn’t see me!” she laughed and winked at me. “It’s my birthday and we’re going to party!”

Ohhhhhhhhh nooooo…I thought. Not again. No more vodka…

To live in a country where it’s incredibly rude to refuse food or drink is usually no problem for me. I typically enjoy eating and have always enjoyed alcohol.

But as the final rounds of toasts were made and my cup sat on the tablecloth unfinished they all pointed at me.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU DRINK?” they said in accusation.

“Okay that’s it!” I yelled. “You’re all pointing at me but look at YOU! You didn’t drink! And neither did you! AND LOOK! Your cup is half-full!” I accused right back at them. “This is NOT FAIR. You guys all like to pick on me because I’m American and it’s easy. But if you’re not drinking, I’M not drinking.”

With that the whole party erupted with laughter and the two girls sitting next to me told me okay, that’s fine. Let’s just take this last one together.

So we did and when the next round of toasts were made I happily raised a glass of Turkmen orange soda.

Sometimes you just have to draw a line.