Offering restaurants, cafes, a swimming pool, sauna, a games room, a bowling alley, lounges, and entertainment in the form of a night club and bar with live music and dancing; (most of which did not operate during my stay) the hotel should have focused on getting running water to its bathrooms, having light bulbs in lamps, stocking the restaurants with food and drink, and putting clean linens or duvet covers on beds. The walls in common areas were often unpainted and unplastered cinder block construction with Intourist Posters plastered around...the most interesting of all the artwork that was on display around the hotel.
I was surprised by how bad it was considering my experiences in Moscow by that time. The Ukraina and Leningradskaya Hotels knew how to do things right even during the worst of times. Central Siberia had some catching up to do with the influx of tourists coming by train and plane. Novosibirsk would eventually become the third largest city in Russia and today there are more than a dozen four and five star hotels in the city that became famous as a center of science and technology mainly thru Novosibirsk State University. NSU can proudly claim itself as the producer of much of Russia's academic elite. Those same claims were freshly being made in 1992 as I was there for the first time being hosted by my new friend Dima and his assistant, Sergey.
The Intourist was built for both the tourist and for visiting professors and researchers coming to NSU. It is not difficult to tell the difference between a table with five physicists discussing high-energy physics in English, four businessmen speaking Italian and discussing their frustrations with banking in Russia, and a table where a family from Germany is visiting as tourists. The Intourist was filled with 75% the first type of visitor and 25% businessmen and tourists. This overabundance of scholarly types did not stop the prostitutes from camping out in all of the common areas and lounges during all times of the day. As I entered my room for the first time, #738, I felt the door being held open as I carried my bags inside. The tall blonde woman in the yellow dress I had seen sitting in a chair by the elevator had followed me to my room.
"Hello. I am Lena. I am waiting for you near the lift." she thoughtfully let me know. I kind of laughed, said "Thank you" but closed the door quickly to make sure there was no doubt in my action or body language. I felt so dirty after four days on the train without a decent shower I couldn't even imagine taking her up on her offer. From what I understood from Sergey, Dima wanted to have dinner at around 6 and would be there at about 5 in the lobby bar. That gave me quite a bit of time to get cleaned up and relax.
A knock at the door interrupted my unpacking. I opened the door the two inches that the safety chain allowed and the room filled quickly with a cheap perfume I had smelled in flea markets in Krakow and sometimes in Moscow lounges. The woman at the door was a red-head with extremely over-done eye-liner and mascara. She asked if I would invite her in for tea or a cocktail.
""No thank you. I am having a meeting soon. Good bye." I closed the door but had to push hard as she was pushing back on it.
A call to the front desk followed this encounter, "Please ask the nice ladies in the hallway to leave me alone. I will not be needing their services. I am in room #738. Thank you."
A man with a British accent replied, "Right right! We'll let them know, Sir!"
With another knock at the door about five minutes later, I did not open it but loudly asked, "What is it?!"
"A gift from the front desk, Mr. Mays." a male voice answered in English. I had already started to undress and asked him if he could leave it by the door.
"Not a good idea, it is champagne and some biscuits. It would be stolen in 5 minutes." the man replied.
Surprised, I opened the door and took the bottle and box from the young bellman. I had two dollars in my pocket and gave them to him. He acted very surprised that I wanted to tip him. He seemed like a student-type and I wanted to make a friend here since the hotel was already presenting me with challenges.
"How late are you working today?" I asked him through the small opening.
"Until midnight, Sir." he answered.
"Maybe I will see you later, then. Thank you! What is your name?" I asked.
"Vincent" he said.
"OK, Vincent. Thank you, again." I smiled through the crack in the door and then closed it. I opened it again to watch him walking away. He looked about my height and had closely cropped brown hair with very Slavic features that could be Russian or Polish or any other Eastern European slav. Depending on how long I stayed in Novosibirsk, a helpful assistant might be needed and since I was cash "heavy" these days, I thought about Vincent as a possible candidate.
***
The front desk called up around 5:30 that afternoon to say that Dima had arrived and was waiting for me in the lobby bar. I was ready and headed out to meet him. By this time, three more women had joined the first blonde that I had seen sitting by the elevator. They were all either smoking or putting on makeup as they sat around a knee height table. I'd come out of my room quietly but there was one woman who had an eye on me and told the others I was coming their direction. I looked around to see if there were stairs I could take to avoid any unpleasant confrontations. No chance.
"My friends have come so now you can choose. You prefer blonde or brunette? Little big like Basia or small like me?" said the blonde I had met earlier.
"Thank you. Good night, ladies." I said with a slight smile.
"Why he said good night?" I heard someone ask another as the elevator door opened and I stepped in.
"How was your trip Mr. Billy?! You covered thousands of kilometers going through the beautiful Russian countryside! It must have been a wonderful experience for you! Are you tired?" Dima loudly greeted me sitting one table away from the bar and bartender that was polishing glasses and putting ice cubes into a bowl. The bar looked strangely different from when I came through snooping for a place to get a beer or any drink for that matter. Nothing was available and it looked deserted just a couple of hours ago. Now there were actual liquor bottles on shelves and some cartons of juice were standing side by side...cherry, blueberry, elderberry, pineapple and orange. And the ice really confused me. That was like a loaf of bread in China...out of place with the traditions and conditions that I thought I understood prevailed here.
"If you want your beer, we have Budweiser for you. Would you like?" Dima asked me. Again, somewhat shocked but deciding not to act too surprised, I said, "Yes, a beer please and a shot of chilled vodka."
"Chilled?" the bartender looked at Dima confused and asked.
"Kholodno" he answered in Russian. The bartender nodded understanding.
"Never too early for business but I want you to know that we have many official invitations to meet. Maybe too many. Some will be disappointed but I understand you have only 5 days for this part of your trip." Dima started our conversation.
"Maybe more than five days if it is worth our time." I told Dima since my return to Chelyabinsk to meet Yuri and others was in not less than ten days. On one hand I really hoped that I could come away from this part of the trip with good leads for Embassy Joe. On the other hand, I was scheming about sneaking back to find the family house where Katerina and Zhenia were staying to fill the time until I met Yuri.
"So tell me who is dying to meet with us, Dima? Also give me your opinion who we SHOULD meet with and why. Let's assume that we have one full week here before we head back toward Chelyabinsk." I said to Dima as we munched on olives and peanuts, the only customers in the Intourist Hotel Siberia lobby bar.
Dima motioned for the bartender to bring us our drinks. He looked at my beer, a Czech Budvar (Budweiser) and laughed. "Breakfast drinks during business are bad luck but I'll let you have one first." he joked. I had noticed during our first meeting in Warsaw that he felt better when I drank vodka with him. As much as I hated to drink like this in a place I didn't know very well, I had a few shots...but a lot less than he did.
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