I'm glad U didn't fall victim to the 'green snake', Steve -- <font size = "4">The Drunks Bar </font size "4">

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Date Posted: 13:45:55 07/07/01 Sat
Author: <font color="plumb">NKLS Cody</font>
Subject: I'm glad U didn't fall victim to the 'green snake', Steve
In reply to: SteveH 's message, "Addendum" on 14:53:25 07/06/01 Fri

Too bad you weren't there long enough to qualify for a library card at this very special place:

Russia's poisonous nectar

Mixed messages to be found amid the exhibits at the Vodka Library

By David Filipov, Globe Staff, 7/6/2001

GLICH, Russia - With the peculiar expression of reverence and dread that Russians reserve for their national beverage, Vladimir Shabalin raised an ancient crystal shot glass of vodka. And then he put it down without drinking.

Shabalin is the director of the Vodka Library, a stunning homage to Russia's obsession with its favorite libation. The ''books'' in this library are thousands of shimmering bottles of vodka, crystal-clear representatives of the many epochs and varieties of the spirit, all encased like rare artifacts in thick glass. The exhibit has a dual message: Vodka is not just something to celebrate, but also something to understand and fear.

''Vodka has never done anything good, but without it, Russia would not exist,'' Shabalin said.

Shabalin is acutely aware that vodka is not only Russia's liquid pride and joy, but also one of its most fearsome killers. Russian health and police officials estimate that alcohol abuse was a factor in half of the 350,000 accidental deaths in Russia last year. One study suggested that two out of three Russian men are inebriated when they die.

Visitors to the Vodka Library, 200 miles north of Moscow in the ancient Volga River town of Uglich, can request a ''taste test'' of the local brands. But it comes with a somber lecture from Shabalin on the virtues of responsible drinking and the perils of succumbing to ''the green snake,'' the Russian euphemism for alcoholism.

Given the devastation that drinking has caused in Russia, it might seem strange that Uglich authorities have chosen to erect a monument to vodka on the leafy square outside the Vodka Library. But that is the plan.

Sculptor Ernst Neizvestny, famous for having crafted the headstone on the grave of former Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev and well-known for his drinking binges (which got him thrown out of the Soviet-era Artists' Union), has agreed to take on the job.

During a visit to Uglich, Neizvestny explained the need for a monument by quoting an ancient Russian expression: ''In Russia we have happy drinking, without which we would not exist.''

A walk through the library's main exhibit retraces Russia's bittersweet romance with vodka. Visitors can pore over century-old czarist brands, drably labeled Soviet-era bottles, and the legions of counterfeits that sprang up after the Soviet period. Displayed next to the bottles are artifacts of various eras, such as currency and distilling equipment. Young women in bright traditional garb direct visitors to the well-stocked shop near the exit, where Uglich vodka can be purchased for the road.

Uglich was chosen for the library because it was the home of Pyotr Arseneyevich Smirnov, founder of the legendary Smirnoff brand. After a brief period of prosperity in the 19th century, the family immigrated to France and sold the brand to a businessman, who changed the spelling of the name. But Smirnovs are still local heroes in these parts. There is another museum in Myshkin, a 40-minute drive from Uglich, dedicated to the Smirnov family.

In the effort to caution against the evils of abuse as well as venerate the national drink, Shabalin has a doctor give tours of the Vodka Library that feature real-life exhibits such as the preserved livers of patients who died of cirrhosis (''Many people have quit drinking after visiting our museum,'' Shabalin said.) Reproductions of czarist and Soviet antialcohol posters on the walls detail the efforts of previous generations of Russian leaders to combat alcohol abuse.

Shabalin tries to educate anyone of the 6,000 annual visitors to his library who will listen on how to drink vodka properly. Half a shot glass per sitting is the norm for women, two shot glasses for men, he said, as he invited three guests to imbibe classic Uglich vodka from a murky green bottle. Vodka should be sipped, not tossed back in one gulp, as many Russians like it. And it should be accompanied by a snack, such as pickles, herring, or black bread.

And, of course, the vodka must be Russian.

''We tell children, `Don't drink vodka - but if you have to, drink domestically produced vodka,''' Shabalin said.

Because Russian laws forbid drivers even the slightest taste of alcohol, Shabalin's guests, who traveled to Uglich by car, were forced to go away dry.

That did not keep him from trying to persuade them to have a sip. As he explained, traditional drinking etiquette requires that the host get the guests drunk, egging them on with such exhortations as ''you can't stand on one leg'' (after the first shot) and ''God loves a trinity'' (after the second). And so on.

It is hard to say when vodka became a Russian national pastime. One theory has it that Russia's leaders are responsible for making people dependent on demon vodka. In the 16th century, Ivan the Terrible forced its sale at state-run inns, while levying taxes that made the production and sale of beer and mead unprofitable. Subsequent czars retained the monopoly on vodka, except for a brief period, 1863 to 1896, during which noble families, like the Smirnovs, were also allowed to produce and sell the drink. The Soviet government kept the monopoly; vodka sales provided 25 percent of the USSR's budget.

''It is a myth that drunkenness is a national characteristic of the Russian soul,'' said Grigory Zaigrayev, a senior analyst on alcohol abuse issues for the Russian police, in a recent interview. ''The culture of unrestrained drinking was forced upon the people by the tough alcohol policies of the state.''

Former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev tried to curtail drinking by cutting vodka production, but that just drove up demand for moonshine. Boris Yeltsin, the former president, ended the monopoly but also relaxed licensing requirements, which led to a proliferation of underground distilleries.

Death by acute alcohol poisoning has risen each year. Last year it jumped to 34,000 from 29,900 in 1999, according to Russia's State Statistics Committee. So far this year, the rate is 10 percent higher than in 2000.

Alcohol may have played a role in as many as 25 percent of the 2.2 million deaths in Russia last year, said Irina Demina, vice president of the Russian health society.

Despite those grim statistics, alcohol consumption is at a record high of nearly 15 quarts of pure alcohol per person per year, up from about 11 quarts 25 years ago.

''Russians are becoming even more of a drinking nation,'' Demina said in a recent interview.

It is hard to say how the trend can be stopped. Zaigrayev argues that Russia's harsh post-Soviet economic realities have driven people to drink more because, at $1 to $5 per bottle, vodka is one pleasure they can still afford.

Shabalin believes a culture of drinking does not mean that Russians have to be a nation of drunks. With better information, he said, Russians could learn to drink properly.

''To say that vodka is the same as alcoholism is like saying love is the same as venereal disease,'' Shabalin said. Prodded, he added that he often exceeds the norm of two shot glasses.

''Vodka is evil,'' he shrugged. ''But what can you do?''

This story ran on page A1 of the Boston Globe on 7/6/2001.
� Copyright 2001 Globe Newspaper Company.

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Replies:

Vy ochen' glupiy. (NT) -- Steve, 04:54:13 07/18/01 Wed