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I was studying Russian at Moscow State and our group had been assigned two young handlers from the university to show us the sights after classes, get us ballet and theater tickets, and so on. One night they took us to a restaurant with a "show." I kept asking what the show was, and finally one of the guys said, "It is...it is like nothing you have ever seen before."
As we ate, we were serenaded by a band, and one of the songs they sang was a slow-motion version of "Hotel California," sung phonetically. The crowd clearly loved it and was familiar with it, and many sang along. I was sitting with the handlers (my roommate and I had kind of hijacked them from the group during the term) and as they drank and sang, their faces were full of embarrassment, resentment and cynicism. It was a complex moment -- totally maudlin (because, seriously, "Hotel California"!), and yet exposing my privilege to myself in a way I didn't recognize until much later.
After we ate, the floor show began -- torch songs, acrobatics, dancing, hoop tricks...by that time our handlers had gone back to their cheerful, slightly contemptuous selves, good-naturedly mocking the performers under their breath to my roommate and I.
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