Are You Russian?

Whilst travelling solo through the Levant I often found myself being asked the question,

‘Are you Russian?’

Which always left me confused, wondering which of my physical attributes could possibly lead these taxi drivers and souk stall holders to believe that I was of Russian herratige.

Those of you who know the sinister undertone to this seemingly innocent question will be laughing at my naievity, as these men were not asking me about my nationality, but rather about my proffession, and whether it involved the exchange of sex for money.

I look back with fury at the times I shrugged off this assumption, good naturedly setting these lecherous men straight, without reprimanding them for their impertinance.

Now, I can confess to have come across a few prostitutes in my time in the Levant- and it seemed that none of them actually were Russian, which had me even more confused about the origins of this ‘secret handshake’ type question.

Until I came to Tajikistan.

Tajikistan, due to its former Soviet ties, is filled with Russian women. And whilst I’m sure not all of them are working girls, they certainly all seem to dress as if they are. Young and old- they are heavily made up and bare plenty of flesh, unlike their modest and graceful Tajik counterparts. The loose traditional dresses sported by the Tajik girls are in complete contrast to the outfits hugging the behinds of the paler skinned , thinner eyebrowed Russian women. These ladies would catch your attention even in cosmoplitan Melbourne, so striking are their outfits and heavily penciled brows.

And yet, for every woman that stops me in my tracks, , there is a Tajik or a Russian or an Uzbeck taking a good long look at my cargo pants and beanie wide eyed and bewildered. Children on the street squint up at me, without the judgemental Levantine recognition of the infidel, but rather with genuine open jawed wonderment at such a foreign creature. It is unnerving, to say the least.

I resolve to make an effort to fit in more, and not pick cultural sides. I will find a traditional outfit for Nor Rus that I will team up wiith the embroidered slippers favoured by the Tajiks, in spite of the wet weather.

And I will scour Sad Barg for my very own buttock hugging, curve exposing possibly sequined outfit.

For a change, I’d LIKE to be mistaken for a Russian.