You Ain't Right Club

[GotSmart]

OK.  Here is a contender.  Nominator and Overload, can I have a vote on this?  Brought over from the Russia thread.

YARK name ~~~ Drinks With Wolves.

Scott7022So I haven’t really posted anything scary. 

We are staying just outside of the city of Urtusk. We were invited to a locals house by one of the executives behind the project. We arrive and are invited in for a Banya (traditional Sauna), much hotter than the Scandinavian version most are familiar with. It is a huge house and the house surrounds a large courtyard. There is plenty of food and drink and we are treated like kings. We are still sleeping in the vehicles but being out of the wind will make tonights sleep truly comfortable. 

The traditional Banya is heated by a wood oven on a common wall. Twin three inch pipes run inside the wall and water is pumped in a circle from an open container through these pipes into a shower room. It is a communal style shower. The pipes continue under the ground to the outhouse. At the outhouse they emerge and circle the structure completing the hot water loop. 

The pipe’s water is hot, not scalding but, hot enough you have to move out of the showers spray on occasion. It also stops the snow from accumulating on the paved path to the outhouse and kept the outhouse remarkably warm. 

We all shower, enjoy the Banya, offered vodka, and change into our best expedition going out gear. The table is set and traditional toasts are made. We all enjoy a great banquet under the covered part of the courtyard. The dishes from the wall oven seem endless and after “just add water” food, our tummies are happily uncomfortable. 

The libations continue and I hear the call of nature and excuse myself to go to the washroom. I walk out to the outhouse and with the Banya lights now out the path is under the two sodium vapor lights and stars but to the left and right is total blackness. The white snow simply stops as if it intersects a magicians black curtain. 

I enter the outhouse and marvel at how large it is. One gold Edison style bulb illuminates the stone walls and flecks of silver white snow that float in the top openings and drift to the floor. 

Returning to the party I encounter the owners massive Siberian Husky. I have seen Huskys at home but, nothing like this one. His top shoulder is close to my hip and his head is massive. His ice blue eyes lock on mine, and a low growl escapes from his chest. All dogs love me so I go to one knee and in English beckon him over. He tilts his head left and right at the strange language, stops growling and takes one tentative step. My Russian was pretty bad back then but I managed in Russian; ”Dog here, come sit good.” The massive animal moved slowly but eventually got close enough I could pet him. He pushed his nose into my shoulder and I rubbed the snow off his thick winter mane. He jumped back and looked around and then with one more glance at me ran off into the blackness. 

I returned to the party and concerned that our host may not know his dog is out, asked him. It took a little translating as our host was a little drunk, and as his dog had been killed last winter, confused. I told him about the dog and as this was being translated I showed him the paw prints just off the path to the outhouse. Those big prints in the snow in front of where I had knelt down. I still had black and grey fur on my red shirt and the wet nose print near my collar bone. He blinked in disbelief and gesturing size at my hip said, “Head” in English. I corrected the measurement to the dogs head at my tummy. 

“Not dog my friend. Wolf!”

He then brought me back into the gathering area and told the story to those on my team and those that had come from the city. They listened eyes wide alternating between the storyteller and me. Then a toast was raised. After, I asked what the toast was. “To lucky guests and full wolves!”