Hey kids! It's vodka time in the park

At the end of my last post, I promised a photo diary of my recent vodka kiosk experience. Alas, the wait is over and here you are.

I want to keep my commentary to a strict minimum (ha! that'll be the day). I'll merely offer a slight preface.

Elizabeth had read in the Lonely Planet about the ubiquitous alcohol and tobacco kiosks which sell convenient little 'nips' of vodka. It's at times like this that I much prefer the Ukrainian word - ГОРИЛКА ('horilka')- which bares a striking resemblance to 'horror liquor' - than the Russian ВОДКА. Now, I have a healthy appreciation for liquors of all kind and I have been partial to vodka in the past. But since one epic night back in May when I got my ribs cracked by a Russian bouncer in Riga, I've had this Pavlovian gag reflex - think the Ludovic technique vis-a-vis a bit of the old ultraviolence in 'A Clockwork Orange' - to the thought of drinking it again. I think I got over that in Tel Aviv when out on the town during my good pal Yonni's stag/bachelor party, as we progressed from convenience store to convenience store downing shots of vodka in plastic cups. But that was good stuff. I like, even love, the good stuff. The stuff sold in kiosks here is far from good stuff. It's downright horrid stuff.

But Elizabeth was steadfast in her determination to hunt one of these kiosks down, and it wasn't too difficult in the end. Despite Kyrgyzstan not being the alcohol-fuelled society that is so prevalent in large swathes of Eastern Europe, one is still never too far from the ghastly stuff. It's everywhere. So she goaded me into asking for it, and so I did, asking for 'a little vodka'. And there it was, presented to us in a neat little 100ml plastic container (much like the containers of orange juice we get on planes) for the low, low price of 14 som. That's around 30 cents. The Coke we bought as a chaser was around 50 cents. Welcome to Central Asia kids.

So like naughty school children we slunk away and found a nice secluded bench away from any prying eyes and the busy street. I really struggled (my fraternity days are a looooong ways behind me), though Elizabeth came off as the consummate pro. She was mighty impressive. The pictures tell the whole story. I'll start with the way it ought to be done before the dismal pictures of yours truly's attempts to get it down in a dignified manner. I was put to shame, though I learned my lesson.

The professional approach. Or, watch and learn kids

And now, for how it shouldn't be done

And that's only the smell

Still life in Bishkek

But wait, there's more

I have yet another special treat. And yet another disclaimer. You see, all those years in a fraternity, all my Eastern European vodka drinking experience and many other life lessons besides, I was never taught the proper technique for drinking such vile vodka. It sounds so simple and basic, yet it wasn't until Elizabeth told me the proper way to do it that I was able to get it down in a more civilised manner. Conveniently enough, she didn't mention this until after my initial attempt. The results of my 2nd attempt, when I polished off the remaining contents, will be uploaded very shortly in video format on Facebook.