Dacha Thinking

1998 > Russia

When you go to the dacha, you come back a whole other person

A place in the sun
Nice Dachas

Mmmmm.. women!
Very worthy

Now, ain't she pretty!
Pick of the year
The Young Pioneer looks into the future

Always in control
This past weekend, I went to my friend’s dacha. It was nice
to get out of Moscow for the weekend. I spent the whole time reading,
writing letters, sleeping, and goofing off. Going to the dacha always
makes me reflective, and this time was no exception.

Ever since I arrived in Russia, over a year ago, I have had a
personal rule about dating the locals. I abstained from the wonderful
treats that were, literally, thrust upon me by the Russian women. I can’
remember exactly why I had the rule. I think it had a bit to do with the
other men here, my outlook on Russia, and my opinion of Russian

First, I saw so many expat men with Russian women, I was appalled.
Some days it seems like every expat guy here has a Russian wife. Of all
the single-when-arrived men, I am straining to remember one man who did
not find a wife, or at least try to, while here. This mass union made me
a bit skittish for two reasons. First, I hate following the crowd, no
matter where it’s going or what it’s doing. As the crowd dived into the
ladies, I looked for a more original approach. Then, as I saw why so
many Russian women would attempt the cross-cultural union, the security
(financial and emotional), the liberty (passport and family), and the
future (her and her offspring), I started to question their true

Second, when I first arrived, I was with 44 Americans, all in a bit
of group think. We stuck together, and to a great extent, were quite
aloof from the country we were to live in. Once my visa was
questionable, and my tenure in Russia tenuous, I sure didn’t want to
entangle myself with a Russian girlfriend. Even after I started at PW, I
was still quite unsure of my future here. I didn’t have a real contract;
I could be cut off with a three-month’s notice, so I was a bit
apprehensive. All this uncertainty kept me in the expat circles, where a
quick departure could be understood.

Finally, and most revolting now, was my opinion of the ladies here. I
subconsciously though of Russian women as inferior to Western women.
Yes, I know, I am shocked too! I never realized I though this way until
I was examining my life this past weekend. See, I though that since so
many dorky men were landing amazing Russian women, I, as a non-dork,
should do better. Who did I think was better (or more difficult to date,
thereby proving my superiority)? Expat women. I was downgrading a
segment of women, solely because they were not being as discriminatory
as I would expect a woman to be. Like, who the hell did I think I

Ok, so here I sit thinking about all that I have written, and what it
means. I do know why so many expat men and Russian women marry. The men
want excitement and the mix of femininity and power a Russian woman has.
I do admit that the mix excites me too. The Russian women want what an
expat man can offer, not matter how dorky he is. Maybe they are morally
above me, judging a man on his soul, not his looks. I also feel much
better about my future prospects at PW. I am going to be there after the
merger with Coopers finishes. I will be moving up, slowly but surely,
and they do pay me enough to keep me interested. On top of all that, I
cannot continue to think of any class of women as anything less than the
mysterious, wondrous, amazing, sensuous beings I admire and desire so

What did I figure out after all that? I am going to cast aside my
previous rule, and I shall try to enjoy the magnificent women this
country has to offer, if they will even talk to me after reading this.

What a difference a weekend at the dacha makes!