Category: Hong Kong

Hot and Sexually Harassed: A Russian Woman Abroad

I saw a new issue of “Playboy” today. I wasn’t looking for one (fake-breasted naked airbrushed females are not really my type), but the 18+ magazines were closest to the entrance of the store where I was hoping to get my daily fix of chocolate . The cover boasted of pictures of 16 hot Russians inside. A couple of other glossy magazines had photographs and headings involving (somewhat dressed) Russian models. So is Russian the new hot?

When I travel, I often experience a strange dichotomy surrounding Russian women. We are supposed to be hot, but easy. Put another way, we are supposed to be hot, but ready to sell ourselves to anyone who comes from a more developed country in the hopes of securing a man who would take us away from the cold Siberian nightmare of our lives. I don’t have a problem with being called hot, it’s the second part of that stereotype that bothers me.

The only country ever to have rejected my visa application was the Philippines. I was going to school in Hong Kong and looking for a place to spend my senior year’s spring break. The Philippines seemed like an interesting option, so I bought a Lonely Planet and went to the embassy. I had a valid student visa in Hong Kong (which is pretty difficult to get in terms of background checks etc), many visas in Asia, plus plenty of other visas from less exotic locales (the visas for which are notoriously difficult to get, e.g, Germany and the US). The embassy’s website suggested I brought along all the usual paperwork — an application, airplane tickets, hotel reservations, and a bank statement, stating I had $200 in my account.

The lady I met at the embassy took one look at my passport. After that, she handed it back to me saying that I wouldn’t be issued a visa. She didn’t bother looking at my paperwork. After I demanded explanation, she said I didn’t have enough money (without even looking at my bank statement). I asked her how much I needed to have in my account. When she said it was $200, I told her I had more than that. Then she said $400. I had that. Then she said, oh wait, it’s $800 for you, without explaining how I was different form other applicants. Well, I had that.
She kept doubling he amount until I asked her if I was ever going to get that damn visa. She said no. So I want and bought a Lonely Planet on Cambodia instead. The vacation was awesome.

It was only later that I realized why I wasn’t issued a visa. It was because I was a Russian, over 18 and unmarried. I am sure that my being blond didn’t help, either. Apparently, many Russian prostitutes use Hong Kong and China as gateways to the Philippines. I can understand why the embassy was prejudiced against Russian females; the problem was that I had a valid and oh-so-hard to get student visa in Hong Kong, not to mention student and tourist visas to other countries Did they really think I had spent several years in comfortable and wealthy Hong Kong, going to one of their most prestigious schools so that I could trick them all and find a very desirable prostitution job in the poor and politically unstable Philippines?

When I was enjoying the aforementioned vacation in Cambodia, a (blonde) Russian-speaking friend of mine and I went to what that Lonely Planet termed “the coolest nightclub in Phnom Penh.” (If anyone is there and looking for a creepy place to meet affluent kids of the corrupted Cambodian politicians and the Western European students sex-touring around Southeast Asia, Heart of Darkness is the place to be). While hanging out with friends, two guys approached us and asked where we were from. They seemed sober (by Southeast Asian standards) and nice and we didn’t feel like leaving just yet, so we decided to be polite and answer. We said we were from Hong Kong. They obviously didn’t believe us. As we showed them our Hong Kong IDs and laughed about it, they asked us where we were actually from. Russia, we said (both of us are not, but it’s easier than explaining all the geopolitical details). The very moment we did, the guys started openly hitting on us in a very feisty manner. We had no choice but to leave.

I went to Thailand for a winter break once. In order to avoid the traditional elephant-riding-beach-strutting-cocktail-drinking
experience, I stayed with a Thai friend and her twin sister. It was great while we stayed in Bangkok and went to several places not frequented by tourists. I experienced the wonderful Thai hospitality, great food (very different from the Americanized kind, let me assure
you) and the joys of communicating with the locals. And then we went to Pattaya. It is a buzzing tourist city located in a lovely part of Thailand. The problem is that it is buzzing with Russians. There are numerous charter flights from Russia and other post-Soviet republics to this city. As I was walking down the street with my Thai friend, her sister and their Thai boyfriend, speaking English to them, I got to hear many catcalls in broken Russian addressed at me. At first, I was puzzled. How did they know I was Russian? I was not wearing a skimpy mini skirt, a bikini top or high heels (a very common uniform for many Russian women in Thailand; I am not being negative, anyone who has been there would confirm this). I was speaking (almost accent-free) English to my friends. So how in the world did they know ?

The answer was simple. There were so many blonde Russian women around that the local machos got accustomed to yelling suggestive phrases in Russian to any remotely blonde female passing by. Apparently, many were quite eager to be entertained by a hot Thai man. No wonder they got excited every time someone blonde passed by. (In defense of Russian women, Russian men acted even worse in Thailand. One got to see many (sadly, mostly Russian-speaking) old, fat, bald, wedding-band-wearing hairy men with two or three Thai girls clinging to them walking the streets of Pattaya).

While there are many Russian women who to go to Thailand to sell themselves, for many, like me, the only sex-related objects of interest are the phallic shrines. Those who fall in the latter category are often victimized by the adventurous local and foreign men. Many of my friends learned to say they are from somewhere else upon being inquired about their country of origin. Germany is always a good choice (many Germans are blond), although Finland (another country with a very blond
population) works best for me. Chances are, no one know enough about Finland or speaks Finnish to find the truth. (Although on a recent flight from Amsterdam to New York, an overly enthusiastic middle-aged man started blabbering away in Finnish; I had to admit I only have Finnish ancestors and don’t speak a language).

I am excited to go back to Hong Kong this summer. It is one of the few cities where there are almost no negative stereotypes about Russian women. But before I get there, I will be carefully hiding my passport and avoiding mention of my Russian nationality to anyone I meet along the way.

The Western Medical Paranoia, Herbal Teas, and Why Russians Fear the Cold

I could have become a competitive swimmer, but the Soviet Union stopped me.

I had nephritis (a kidney infection) when I was five and the doctors instructed my mom to keep me away from swimming pools. They said that any exposure to “cold” water (anything with a temperature below boiling, in their opinion) would cause another bout of nephritis. My parents strictly followed that rule, making sure I only got to swim in the warm sea in the zenith of the summer for no longer than ten minutes. It was only at thirteen that I rebelled and signed up for swimming lessons at a local pool. My coach said I had an excellent potential, but started practicing too late to achieve competitive results.

Many children who grew up in the post-Soviet Russia were banned from swimming by the doctors. According to the Soviet medical logic, a female who sits on something cold/swims in something “cold” is bound to end up with an infection of her reproductive system that will definitely leave her infertile. A male who does the same will also experience an infection that will leave him infertile. If a child has ever had a kidney issue, then a prolonged exposure to “cold” water will cause renal failure and many fatal health issues. Nowadays, there are reasonable doctors in Russia who believe in scientifically proven theories, not bizarre superstitions. But every time I am in Russia, I hear mothers telling off their daughters for sitting on the “cold and dangerous” ground. Given the cold Russian winters and the low fertility rates, those mothers might be onto something.

I am having a kidney infection right now (and I have not been swimming or sitting on cold surfaces recently) and went to see a doctor today. The hospital is in the US, so I had to tell my medical history to a doctor whom I had never seen before . I briefly mentioned my kidney infection and the superstitions linked to it and she flashed me an understanding smile. Her parents are European and she has had her share of medical superstitions as a child. She was told she would get arthritis if she sat on something cold or didn’t wear clothes warm enough. Like most children, both of us did not obey the rules and still appear to be in a fairly good health.

Apart from medical superstitions, all countries to which I have been enjoy self-help ways of curing diseases. Having a cold in Russia? Eat garlic and drink linden tea with honey. Sick in Germany? Inhale steam coming from a bowl of hot water with onions and potatoes in it. Russians in particular seem to favor herbal teas. There are teas galore in most pharmacies, believed to cure everything: from obesity to diabetes to impotency.

Just like Russians, other nations are keen on using “natural cures.” A doctor in Hong Kong prescribed me ginseng (boil a handful of ginseng roots, take three times a day with meals) for feeling tired. It ws extremely effective, although the taste was abominable. A friend of mine wasn’t so lucky. She went to a pharmacy in an attempt to get rid of something that was most likely an allergic reaction to pollen. She came back with a package of a “6-flowers-cure” – a mix of dried flowers. Since the tea — quite predictably — made her feel worse, she resorted to the original plan of taking over-the-counter antihistamines, which worked well. But then, I know someone who claims an exotic mixture of dried snakes, deer antlers and herbs makes a life-changing tea.

While some nations favor a more natural approach to treatment, some favor pharmacological industries. A widely spread stereotype claims that the North Americans consume more anti-depressants than the rest of the world (Prozac, anyone?). Interestingly enough, many mental disorders are considered “purely American” worldwide. You can rarely find a European talking about a bipolar syndrome or ADHD. While both disorders certainly get diagnosed and treated, it seems to happen less often than in the US. In fact, I might have been diagnosed with ADHD if I grew up in the US.

I was extremely active and loud as a child. A friend of my parents has a guest visiting from the US. She was a psychiatrist and, taking one look at me, announced I had ADHD. My parents simply ignored her diagnosis (that was soon after the USSR collapsed, and no Russian was going to take an advice from an American doctor)–besides, they did not know what ADHD was. I tried researching it in Russian recently, but it was futile. None of my Russian friends had heard about this disorder and they certainly don’t know what a Russian term for it.
Apart from being loud and active (which I still am), I never exhibited any other symptoms of ADHD. I wonder if I would have been treated from it had I grown up in the US? You know, just in case I had it.

The “Western medical paranoia”, as the doctors in Russia refer to it, proved to be very contagious. I was very overworked when I came home to Russia for the winter break once. I was in my senior year of high school in Hong Kong. School was exhausting, college applications were annoying and I never wanted to hear the word “SAT” again. The Russian weather was cold and gloomy and I missed the Hong Kong sun. I couldn’t sleep properly. I kept having nightmares about lipase and helicase (Biology was my least favorite subject at school). I guess all I needed was lots of rest, maybe some retail therapy and chamomile tea to calm my nerves. However, by that time I had spent enough time abroad to think I also needed an anti-anxiety medication (I was pretty proud of myself being oh-so-civilized and westernized). My mom thought the idea was hilarious, but let me find a psychiatrist (the only available medical specialist in Russia who deals with anxiety etc; there are psychologists, but all they can do is talk to you since they don’t have a medical education and can’t prescribe anything).

The doctor seemed surprised when I told her I came because I couldn’t sleep properly.

-Do you have hallucinations?
-No.
-Any suicide thoughts?
-No.
-Sleep-walking?
-No…

She glared at me. “So WHY are you here?”

I have been sticking to the chamomile tea ever since.

Grooming and Globalization

I bought a bottle of a life-changing leave-in hair conditioner in Cambodia.

I woke up in Phnom Penh one day with very misbehaving hair from dry, hot air and lots of dancing the night before. So I went to a supermarket across the street and bought the first bottle with the word “conditioner” interspersed with the Khmer letters on which I set my eyes. It was produced in Thailand by Pantene. It worked wonders for my hair and I took it with me upon returning to Hong Kong. When I realized I was running out, an excursion to the hair-product aisle at a local supermarket proved futile. Pantene offered a variety of hair conditioners to its Hong Kong customers. Some of them of the leave-in kind, but none of them had the desired texture and efficiency. I took a picture of the bottle and sent it to my friends in Thailand. They said nothing similar could be found in Bangkok or anywhere else in Thailand for that matter. My American friends said they could not help, either. Google did not yield a response to my desperate request. I gave up.

Went I went to Russia for the summer break, I saw a familiar-looking bottle in a hair salon. With a slightly modified shape and with Russian instead of Khmer, it was that very same hair conditioner! I bought three bottles on the spot and took two of them with me when packing to go to the US to school. However, what I did forget to pack was my favorite razor. I learned from an online search that the brand (Schick) did not offer the exact same kind, so I settled for a four-bladed “Quattro.”

I was pretty happy with it until I went to Russia for the winter break. I needed a new cartridge and encountered raised eyebrows aplenty upon inquiring for it at the stores. “Four razors? In a *female* razor?” Left with no choice, I bought an environmentally-unfriendly disposable kind.

I am going back to Hong Kong this summer for a summer job/internship. I haven’t checked yet, but I am very sure the exact kind of a razor is not sold there. The kind I have in Russia is not sold there, either.

I have to have three different razor models – made by the same brand – in three different countries if I want to maintain basic hygiene. Apparently, the globalized world has a lot of unwanted body hair!