Food problems....or issues

Our first experience with being problem vegetarians in Russia. It went as expected. Want it in Russian, or English? It's funnier in Russian.

Hostess: blahblahblah
reallyfastrussianthatIdidn'tunderstand
blahblahblah, pork shashlik?
Me: We don't eat meat.
Hostess: It's not meat, it's pork.
Me: We can't eat that.
Hostess: Chicken?
Me: Can't.
Hostess: Fish?
Me: No, not fish, either.
Hostess: Well, what do you eat?
Me: We can eat potatoes. Do you have potatoes?
Hostess: reallyfastrussianhere
she'sgettingimpatientwiththedifficultamericans
somethingabout french fries?
Me: Fine.

Our food comes last. It's a handful of the greasiest, most awful french fries I've ever had. And half a tomato. And half a pickle, but sliced lengthwise. Luckily it's like 2 o'clock in the morning and we're really not that hungry. But, I ate the pickle.

We watched a Mosfilm comedy from the 50s. It was actually pretty funny. Something about 4 factory workers, 3 men all sort of vying for the affections of one woman who is alternately oblivious to them and flirting with them in turn. In the end, they're all industrious comrades, no meddlesome romance ever ensuing. Ahh, you gotta love the soviets!