Unexpected

Part 68

I know some people are sensitive about Russia at the moment, but a race did take place there in 2019 and Sochi does have Russian relatives, and this was written months ago, so here it is. You can skip this chapter if you like.

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"Have you had enough of the lame puns and bad jokes about your name and the city?" Sangil asks with a smile.

"Absolutely. Though I did tell the other drivers that they should throw the race so I'd be P1 and the headline could be 'Sochi Wins in Sochi!' but for some reason they weren't keen."

"Can't imagine why. So you were named after the city?"

"Yes. My dad went to university here, and started his first business here. He would have named one of us after his hometown, but Pyatiletka is a mouthful and not pronounceable in Japanese."

"Interesting."

"And Pyatiletka is where we're going."

Sangil glances out the car window to the rows of birch trees rolling by. "How much farther?"

"Thirty minutes or so. It's just over an hour from Sochi."

"Remind me again why we didn't take the GTR?"

"Because it wasn't made for bumpy dirt roads. Which we will soon encounter. And this Zhiguli was." I pause. "I think they call these Ladas outside of Russia. Anyways, I want you to experience the full Russian village adventure."

"Can't wait. It looks like your whole family is coming, too?"

"Yes, those that were at the race. We'll be staying a week."

Sangil pouts. "But not me. I go home tomorrow night."

"After just one day with my family you'll be begging to go home."

He laughs. "But I love your family!"

"You haven't been around them when they go full Russian."

He gives me a sympathetic look. "Vodka?"

I crack up. "I wasn't thinking of that, no."

When I see the houses of Pyatiletka in the distance, I wave my hand in that direction. "We made it."

"Oh, thank goodness. This was bumpy at times."

"Take a look at that old Soviet sign. It says 'Pyatiletka'."

"Let's stop and take a photo," suggests Sangil.

We pull off the side of the road and get out, followed by the three cars that my family members are driving.

"Why'd we stop?" asks Airi.

"For a commemorative photo," I reply.

After we're done my family joins us, and we take more pictures with all eleven of us.

"It's a good thing we're here," says Masaki, Mirai's husband. "Someone has been blasting Russian techno music in our car the whole ride."

"You know you love it," teases Mirai. "I saw you bopping your head."

"You keep telling yourself that. And what does ne para mean?" he wants to know.

I gasp loudly and cover my mouth with my hands. My siblings follow suit.

"What? What?!" he exclaims. "Did I just use profanity?"

"No, of course not," Mirai reassures him.

"With that uncoordinated response? I know it's something awful."