Saturday, March 15, 2014

The Oligarch’s New Clothes

Breakfast is usually served around 10:30, so I’ve been taking advantage of the morning hours to get some writing done. Yesterday, I went to the kitchen around 9:30 for some tea thinking no one would be up, but I was sorely mistaken. Having postponed his morning gym session, the Oligarch was badgering Olya for his morning coffee. And he was doing it in his underwear. I don’t know if he forgot pants or if he just didn’t care, but his tighty whities were doing a poor job of keeping the family jewels contained, and nothing kills your appetite like a sexagenarian’s package.

I kept waiting for someone to comment on his attire, but no one said a thing. The Oligarch instructed Olya to make breakfast, mentioning that two people were coming from Novosibirsk to discuss business. I figured the arrival of colleagues would remedy the situation, but as usual, I can’t begin to fathom the inner workings of Russians. Not only did the Oligarch greet Sasha and Lidia with enthusiastic hugs, but he also transitioned into business mode without batting an eye. He even asked Lidia if she wanted “яйца,” a word I’m fairly certain refers both to “eggs” and to a man’s balls. Lidia fielded the question with aplomb, saying, “I’ll take an omelette.” Good call, Lidia, I think we’ve all had our fill of яйца this morning.

My time with the Oligarch and his girlfriend is quickly coming to a close. They leave Monday afternoon, and the rest of us return to Moscow on Wednesday morning. However, the Oligarch has made it clear that Elena is a fan of me and they want to make me a permanent fixture in their lives when I finish my Fulbright in June. Ten days is one thing, but I don’t think I really want to become part of the Oligarch’s orbit. But do I tell him this now, or after they take me to the Seychelles next month?

1 comment:

  1. LOL, never thought about this, but so true: "... nothing kills your appetite like a sexagenarian’s package."