It’s day two of my school trip to Saint Petersburg and midnight:

Sanna (my host mom) asks if I want to go roam the streets of Russia at night (totally safe) and grab something to eat. I, being an exchange student, spontaneously say yes. So off we went, not knowing a word of Russian and looking to experience the atmosphere of a Russian Bar. We finally came across one that

did not smell
had fully clothed people
offered stuff other than vodka

Naturally, in spite of the non existent regulations, I did not drink even though bars there would give a toddler a bottle of cheap vodka provided it could pay. We got the menu-

IT’S. IN. RUSSIAN.

My hand instinctively went to open any foreigner’s best friend: Google Translate. The bartender saw this and translated for us, a surprise since many Russian are shy/don't like to speak English.

Usually I take a chilli burger. Since Indian food is quite hot, for me

A Finnish chili burger = A normal Indian burger

As this was unfamiliar territory, this time I planned to take a normal Russian burger, when Sanna said

“I know what you are going to take- a chili burger”

Me: “Nah, not this time. I will have a normal burger”

Bartender: “Good choice. Most cannot handle our Chili Burger, it’s too hot!”

Me: slightly offended, heavy breathing

Sanna: realises what I am about to do “Oh no”

Me: “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED I WILL HAVE A CHILI BURGER”

And so it came.

Psh I can handle this I’m Indian. I take the first bite.

If hell was an object, it would be this burger, because

THAT

WAS

HOT

I remember my ancestors and feel glad they are not alive to see this. Beads of sweat form as I try and fail to keep a straight face. After a minute all the feeling in my tongue is gone and I immediately regret life decisions.

I do my best to finish it. The bartender watches me with pity as I shove this lump of fire and spice down my mouth. Sanna tries to help but gives up. Halfway through the campaign, with tears in my eyes, I have a drink.

The REAL manly drink. One that gives you courage to achieve your dreams and one that conquerers and demigods have used throughout history:

Milk.

With this weird tasting Russian milk I managed to finish the burger. Either it was because of the burger or the milk, the next day I had this stinging stomach ache and bathroom-craving. But it was worth it.

As I walked out of that bar I told Sanna:

“When my kids come visit you, do NOT tell them their father went to a Russian bar, that had no age restrictions, couldn’t handle his spices and ordered milk - TWICE”