Blocked in Vladivostok

In 2003, my husband and I were in the process of adopting our two sons from Russia.  During our first visit to Vladivostok in December, we stayed at the Acfes Seiyo Hotel.  From our point of view, it was a somewhat upscale hotel and catered more to business travelers rather than adoptive parents like ourselves.  During our trip, we had a translator/facilitator (Anya) who went everywhere with us and helped us accomplish our adoption business.  We came across very few people who spoke English, so our translator was very important to us.  At the end of each day, she’d drop us off back at the hotel and trust that we’d be able to fend for ourselves in the hotel restaurant.  Each night we were able to pull off just enough Russian to point to what we wanted on the menu and be able to say “please” and “thank you” without embarrassing ourselves.  Little did I know how quickly this would all change…

One of the last evenings before we flew home, we had dinner as we had been doing all week.  Everything was going well and after enjoying our meal, we headed back to our room.  A bit after we got back upstairs, my husband said his stomach was upset and he headed to the bathroom to do his “business”.  Not long after, he comes out with a very sheepish look on his face and informs me that he has plugged up the toilet.  At this point, I should mention that my husband has a propensity for doing this.  It’s happened in numerous hotels in the United States and also at one in Canada.  By this point in our marriage, I am a seasoned pro in going to the front desk to ask for a plunger (God forbid he would do this himself!), so off I go to the front desk at the Acfes Seiyo.

When I arrive at the front desk, I’m greeted by a very nice woman (I don’t remember her name) and I begin to explain my predicament.  As I’m talking, I realize she doesn’t understand a word I’m saying.  I suddenly remember that I’m in Russia, at a hotel where almost no one speaks English.  I try speaking more slowly, like this is really going to help.  I try using my hands, in big sweeping motions, but I’m still not getting through.  I finally grab a piece of paper and a pen and try to draw the problem.  I am not the world’s greatest artist, so to this day I am not sure how she figured out I needed a maintenance man, but she did.  I write down my room number and she gets on the phone and sends me back upstairs.

About five minutes later, there is a knock on the hotel door.  My cowardly husband is hiding under the covers on the bed and won’t answer the door, so the task is left to me.  I open the hotel door and before me is this HUGE Russian man wearing fishing waders.  I can only imagine the look on my face, but I let him in (without breaking out in laughter) and lead him to the problem.  I then watched his face to gauge his reaction because during my trip to the front desk, my husband had managed to use every clean towel in the joint to try to stop the overflowing toilet from ruining the floor.  At this point the HUGE Russian turns to glare at me.  I try to apologize, but realize it won’t matter because I never learned the Russian word for “sorry”.  I turned and went to sit on the couch, my head in my hands, wondering why I bothered to travel the world with the crazy man I married.

After the HUGE Russian got the mess cleaned up, he sent the housekeeper to our room with clean towels.  I could tell by the smirk on her face that he had told her the entire story in detail.  The embarrassment was starting to creep in, but I hoped this would be the end of it.  By the next morning, we could tell that the story had made the rounds because many of the hotel workers were pointing at us and giggling.  Even our translator noticed, which prompted me to tell her what happened (to the great embarrassment of my husband).  After she stopped laughing, we got on with the events of the day.  To this day, whenever my husband and I are in the plumbing department of a store, I go find a plunger and put it in our shopping cart.  This will undoubtedly get me a glare from my husband, who makes me take it back.  You’d think after six years this little exchange would get old, but I find it amusing every time.  My husband…not so much!

Laura Terbrack is a wife, mother of two and a self-professed tech goddess. In addition to her busy job as an IT professional, Laura is a contributor to FREEISMYLIFE and just started her own blog called “Laura in the Motor City“. Follow her on Twitter at @lauramotorcity.