Scent and Sensibility

I'm squeezed in between a girl who stands 5'11 and another one at 5'8

Applying for a Russian visa is pretty much the primer for any tourist, worker, or expat, of his future in Russia. Application is long, tedious, chaotic, and sometimes, even shaddy. I had to wait for 2 months to get my visa, and during those two months, my co-applicants became my comrades. We all experienced the same shit and insanities of application, so inevitably, we shared some personal stories about each other. I met a lady who said she was going to work in a Moscow Citibank branch, and a met I couple of seamen who were going to be stationed somewhere north in the eastern region of Russia.

Most of the applicants were not first timers, and they shared their personal experiences to me-- the novice, the virgin, the first timer. The men told me Russian women were beautiful and tall, but smelled funky. I already heard some stories about Russians and their propensity for the musky dizzying type of oflactory stimulation, so I wasn't suprised. I figured, the cold climate probably turned them off from bathing. I promised myself that as long as humanly possible without killing myself, I will continue to be hygenic even in Siberia (read: I will take a bath once a day).

So I arrived in Siberia, and indeed, I saw women that could be trees and some who could give Angelina Jolie a run for her money. I'm Asian, so I'm considered slim in Western countries like Europe and America, but in Siberia, I was just average. A big letdown on my smugness.

But what about the smell? The infamous funky smell?

Well, I arrived early spring, so it was still very cold. I suppose making a daily excursion to the shower and hand washing your clothes with freezing fingers did not appeal to Russians. I was so paranoid that I would start smelling like the general population that I overdid washing my laundry (My first apartment had a washing machine) and of course, bathing was never a question. It was so surreal when I decided to eat my Kimchi noodles inside the office, and my not-so-fresh-smelling colleague in the next cubicle kept giving me the evil eye. I asked him if my noodles smelled bad, and he replied sarcastically, "Well, its not the best smell in the world." My eyes almost bulged out from their sockets. He had the gall to tell me this when I dont even have to see him to know that he has entered the room because I can already smell him a few meters away!

So, inspite of looking like Slavic goodesses who lost their way from the catwalk and ended up in the streets with normal people, I always knew that I smelled better than my Russian counterparts. (ok, bitch alert)

Then again, maybe they thought I had a weird smell because I smelled of soap?