Take the gloves, sweetie.

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I wanted to start my second part of my EVS with more going out of my comfort zone. Me and my local friend planned to go for Sambo training – that is martial arts developed in Russia. Sadly he could not go, so I had to find another place. I told about my interest to my Tajikistan friend Murat, who had been doing ji-jiutsu and boxing from the early age. One day he invited me to join the training.

Do not worry, sweetie, I told them that you are beginner.”

It is so weird that he calls me sweetie. We both are heterosexual men. At least I am. Maybe it is his bad English. Anyway, I promised to teach him English and he to me boxing. When it comes to my friend Murat, he is always late. He was late to my English lesson sometimes for 40 minutes, so it was normal we were late to boxing lessons. I was paranoid that being late to boxing lessons meant punishments and getting hit by all the boxers. ( I thought it is Russia, everything can happen here) First, I was thoroughly questioned by administration ladies. One treated me like a prisoner and I was more scared. The second was ready to get married, if I only had not been so worried that I will get my ass kicked in the lesson.

After we changed our clothes and entered the boxing ground, there was intense work out going on. Some people hitting the tabs, some people sparring, some people shadow boxing. I could greet the trainers and already I was on the ground doing some weird pushups. No warm-up and it went on and on. We had to circle and watch our hands and I felt so dizzy. Then there were reactions exercises. Then we started shadow boxing. When I looked others, they looked like boxers. When I looked myself, I looked like a figure skater. Oh boy, how tiring it all was! The trainers were having difficulties with me, because this эстонец – after this turning and hitting – had lost completely his ability to speak Russian.

Breathe, breaaathe! Don´t die!” encouraged me Murat.

I had never had such an intense workout. I had done some sport in my life, but this was´another level.
“ Take gloves, sweetie!”

I could not help to start to laugh hearing that from Murat, while serious teachers commanded us to take the gloves. I took very used gloves, that had been worn by 700 Andrei and Girill, so it smelled extra cheesy. We started hitting exercises in pairs. I teamed up with 16-year old Sasha, who wanted to spar with me. Trainers told him that take it more easy, that Estonian is in the first lesson. When we did “ soft boxing” he wanted to loose all my teeth. What an introduction to combat sports, I thought. Even though my hands smelled of extra cheese, even though Sasha was close to kicking my ass, even though I collapsed few times after push-ups, I FUCKING LOVED IT.

After the workout, I was waiting Murat. As always he was late, so we missed the bus. Then he introduced me to his Tajikistan friends. They all went monologues on their own language. One only once asked if I liked Justin Bieber. I answered yes because they looked they wanted this answer. Then I asked how are we getting home and Murat told me:

Sweetie, do not worry! You will sleep in my bed tonight.”

I mean I was happy that I was part of new brotherhood but this here was in a totally new level. Imagine yourself in front of Krasnoyarsk boxing hall, 23:00 at night, 7 kilometres from city centre, complete darkness and 5 Tajiks staring at you with glowing eyes, while one of them says golden words:


“ Sweetie, do not worry! You will sleep in my bed tonight.”

It was intimidating. ( Actually I know my friend did not mean that in that way, but still .. ) I kindly refused the offer. We took taxi. The driver had the most coolest Žiguli I have ever seen. And he knew that. They way he drove it and had swag while being in front of it totally showed it. He was a bit intimidated, when Murat told that we are coming from MMA gym. I looked to my left and one our companion was scrolling his naked selfies with other guys and speaking their language with each other. I wondered, do they also call each other sweeties?

*

Now – the day after – I am writing this, it hurts literally from everywhere. I feel like 60 -year old man who got hit by a train. ( How I know? I have lived many lives) It was scary training and there is so much progress and work to be done. BUT I STILL FUCKING IN LOVE IT.

ngktetshyym

Poksimisest Venemaal

Enne Venemaale tulekut, vandusin endale, et proovin siin võitluskunstid ära. Algne plaan oli minna Sambosse – see on venelaste MMA. Paraku polnud mu kohalikul sõbral aega ja pidin valima poksi. Mind kutsus sinna mu õpilane Murat -tadžiki poiss, kes koguaeg mu tundi hilines ja jubedat inglise keelt rääkis. Tegime kokkuleppe: tema lubas mulle poksi õpetada ja mina talle inglise keelt.

Ära muretse, kallike. Ma ütlesin treenerile, et sa oled algaja,”

lausus ta. Kallike? Mina arvasin, et me mõlemad oleme heteroseksuaalsed mehed. Vähemalt mina. Ilmselt oli asi tema halvas inglise keeles. Kuna Murat armastab igale poole hilineda, hilinesime ka trenni. Kartsin, et vene poksitrennis tähendab hilinemine lõuga saamist. Õnneks lõuga ei saanud, aga kohe kui ruumi astusin pandi pumpama. Siis läks lahti meeletu tempoga reaktsiooni harjutamised, löögiharjutused, pumpamised ja koordinatsiooni harjutused. Vaatasin ümbritsevaid tadžikke ja nägin poksijaid ja MMA tegelasi. Vaatasin ennast ja nägin ilu-uisutajat. Meeletu tempo ja intensiivsus. Olin esimese veerandtunniga läbi, aga trenn kestis 1,5 h! Pärast kõike seda keerutamist ja treenimist, olin kaotanud täielikult võime vene keelt rääkida. Küll oli treeneritel raske! Õnneks oli neil kannatlik meel!


„ Kallis! Kallis! Pane kindad kätte!” õpetas Murat inglise keeles. Väga raske oli naeru tagasi hoida, kui Tadžiki
paksjor sind keset higiseid ja vihaseid mehi, poksikotte ja testosterooni sind kallikeseks kutsub. Ma lootsin, et asi oli ikkagi tema inglise keeles. Haarasin siis kapist kindad, mida olid enne mind kasutanud 750 000 Andreid ja Ivani. Tegemist polnud enam tavalise juustuga, mis seal sees oli vaid kreeka halloumiga. Mõnus lõhn!

Meid pandi paari löögiharjutusi tegema ja „ õrnalt poksima”. Minuga paaris oli 16-aastane Ivan, kes kohe küsis, et palju kaalun. Siis tegi ta mulle ettepaneku, et ma laupäeval tuleks sparrima( võitlema). „ Õrna poksi” ajal sain aru, mis tal plaanis oli. Minu hambad. Paistis, et ta oli pool aastat just selle nimel treeninud, et minusugusele esimese korra vanal kikud välja peksta. Treenerid ütlesid, et ta rahulikult võtaks, et ma esimest korda – aga Ivan ei jätnud jonni. Arvasin, et sellega on kõik. Aga ei ! Viimaseks harjutuseks oli räme pumpamine, kus ainult mina väsimusest pikali kukkusin.

Isegi kui mu käed haisesid halloumi järgi, Ivan mu kikusid taga ajas ja trenn minust kõndiva zombie tegi, armastasin ma seda! See oli midagi uut ja pani elama. Muidugi jäime bussist maha, sest Murat oli neetult aeglane. Varsti passisime keset Siberi baraadasid, ümberringi kottpime ja mind jõllitamas 5 suurte silmadega tadžikki. Nad ajasid omavahel omas keeles mingit asja. Üks küsis ainult korra, et kas mul Justin Bieber meeldis. Küsis kuidagi agressiivselt, seega ilmselt ootas, et vastan jaatavalt. Vastasin.

Kuule, kallis. Täna magad mu voodis,”

lausus Murat. Ma lootsin, et asi oli tema halvas inglise keeles. Siis ta seletas, et busse enam ei käi ja nad kõik elavad lähemal. Sain aru, et pärast trenni on tähtis kamraadlus ja vennalik armastus ( kurat, see on vale sõna) aga siiski pidin loobuma viisakalt. Tahtsin oma kodus olla. Võtsime siiski ühise takso. Taksojuht oli üliägeda Žiguliga ja sellest täielikult teadlik. Sellist bossi polnud ma varem näinud. Samal ajal vaatas minu kõrval üks tadžikk sõbraga duši all tehtud selfiesid.

Jätsin tüüpidega oma maja ees hüvasti ja mõtlesin, et elu on ikka nii fucking veider, kallis.

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3 thoughts on “Take the gloves, sweetie.

    • Krismar Rosin December 31, 2016 / 2:03 pm

      В школе. И я жил один год на Кипре.

      Like

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