Chapter 9: Mike and Elizaveta's Excellent Adventure, Part II

June 9, 1985, Amsterdam, the Netherlands

"Did you understand what Johan said?" Clarissa asked when we had a brief moment to ourselves when we were the first out of the restrooms at the restaurant.

"I got 'live sex show'," I said.

"Me, too. That totally explains a poster I saw when we were walking this morning, but I thought it might be some kind of joke."

"It might still be," I said. "I couldn't tell if Johan meant to be funny because I don't speak Swedish."

"Would YOU want to watch people have sex on stage?"

"As much as you liked to call me a pig when I teased you about watching you and another girl, I have no real interest. Not to mention, that would be one thing which would instantly disqualify me as a deacon. Of the places my priest told me never to go, that beats even a theatre that shows pornographic movies!"

"No kidding! And if you thought Elizaveta was outraged about prostitution..."

"No kidding! And here she comes."

"Besides," Clarissa said sotto voce, "I got the impression you were living a pornographic movie!"

I struggled mightily to avoid cracking up and managed, just barely. Clarissa winked, and when the others rejoined us, all eight of us were seated at a long, rectangular table in the dimly lit dining room. The waiter explained how the restaurant worked, fortunately in English, and we discussed what to order. In the end, we let Pia and Johan make most suggestions, though each of us identified a couple of items we thought we'd like to try.

"Are you Russian, Elizaveta?" Pia asked after we'd placed our orders.

"Yes, though my grandparents were the ones who moved to the US."

"And Mike, I'm guessing from your last name that you're Dutch?"

"Only half," I replied. "I'm half-Russian. The Russians came early in the 20th century; the Dutch came in the 17th to the New Amsterdam Colony. You're both Swedish?"

"Yes. Johan found a job here when he graduated, so I moved once I finished university, as I said."

"You're not married?" Elizaveta asked.

"Most people in Sweden don't get married until they have a child or are much older. You're still in High School, right?"

"Yes, but Mike and I are married."

"What?!" Pia gasped. "«Nej, men herregud!»" ("Oh my God!")

"«Vad då?»" Johan replied. ("What?")

"Elizaveta is sixteen and married."

"They're pulling your leg, Pia!" Johan laughed,

"They are married," Clarissa said. "Show them your rings, Mike."

Elizaveta and I held out our hands to show our rings.

"But why so young?" Pia asked. "Do you have a baby, Elizaveta?"

"No!" Elizaveta declared firmly. "But Mike is going to be ordained a Deacon when we return home, and he had to be married before then, or he would have had to stay chaste for his entire life."

"You must go to a Russian church then because I'm sure Dutch Reformed doesn't require that."

"Yes," I said. "We're Russian Orthodox."

"I just can't imagine getting married at sixteen! What about the rest of you?"

"Hell no!" Sandy said. "I agree with your opinion! Pete and I are dating."

"We're a couple," Abby said, "but nobody is letting lesbians marry."

"How long have you been married, Elizaveta?" Pia asked.

"Two weeks, as of this afternoon."

"Is this your honeymoon?"

"We went to Niagara Falls for a few days right after the wedding. This is Mike's last option to travel for the next seven years because of medical school and his Residency."

"What kind of doctor do you want to be, Mike?" Johan asked.

"Emergency medicine," I said. "Working in what's call Accident and Emergency or Casualty in the UK."

"In Swedish, it's «akutmottagningen» — acute reception. What about the others?"

"Internal medicine for me," Clarissa said.

"Pediatrics for me," Sandy added.

Our food began arriving, and very soon, the table was covered with small dishes, each with portions that were perfect for two people to try. There were quite a few duplicates so that everyone could try certain things, but also choices each of the couples had made. Johan and Pia began serving themselves, but the others waited on me to give the blessing, which I did.

"Oh, sorry," Pia said when I finished the blessing. "I didn't even stop to think."

"It's OK," I replied.

"You don't go to church?" Elizaveta asked.

"No. We're both Lutheran, but most Swedes really only go to church to be baptized, confirmed, married, or have a funeral, or attend one of those."

"It's a State church, right?" I asked.

"Yes. It's the official church, and priests and bishops are paid by the government. I think there are Russian Orthodox churches, but I've never actually seen one and don't really know much about them."

"There are quite a few Orthodox churches in the US, but there are a lot more Roman Catholics and Lutherans," I explained. "And there are a lot of Baptists and Reformed and Evangelical churches."

"Sweden is about 95% Lutheran," Johan said, "but as Pia explained, most people don't bother with church except for the formal ceremonies. It's kind of like here in Amsterdam — most people would say they are Dutch Reformed but don't bother with church. Church attendance is higher in the smaller cities and the countryside, and the Catholics go to church more often."

"Are all of you religious?"

Pete and Abby both laughed, and Sandy shook her head.

"Mike and Elizaveta are very serious about it," Clarissa said. "Me, less so. The others aren't religious at all."

"Are you Russian Orthodox as well?" Pia asked.

Clarissa shook her head, "No. The church frowns on any sex outside of marriage, but I like the rituals, and Mike is totally non-judgmental."

We all began eating, and the conversation flowed, mostly about what life was like in Sweden and the Netherlands because Pia and Johan seemed to know a lot about the US. When we finished our meal, we agreed on Pia's suggestion of a club that wasn't far from the hostel. We spent about an hour there, dancing and drinking. I danced mostly with Elizaveta but did dance once with Clarissa and, at Pia's request, with her. At the end of that hour, all of us who had traveled were beat, so we said 'goodbye' to our new friends and headed back to the hotel.

Our bedtime routines took some time as six of us had to share the bathroom, but eventually, Elizaveta and I climbed into the bottom bunk and snuggled close, facing each other. Clarissa shut off the light and got into the bunk above Abby, just as Pete had gotten into the bunk above Sandy.

"We're the only ones sleeping in the same bunk," Elizaveta said quietly in Russian. "I hate that I have to wear a nightgown, and you have to wear pyjamas!"

"We don't have to," I teased in Russian. "I'm OK with being naked in front of everyone."

"No way!" Elizaveta replied fiercely. "And tomorrow, they can all go do something because you and I are going to fuck! It's been two days since we fooled around and five since we fucked!"

"Poor baby," I teased.

"You make sure it happens, husband!"

"Yes, Kitten."

Our whispered conversation in Russian was finished, so I kissed my wife, she turned to spoon, I put my arm around her, and we fell asleep.

June 10, 1985, Amsterdam, the Netherlands

On Monday morning, Clarissa's travel alarm clock woke us all at 7:30am. My body clock was a mess, and I'd woken about 2:00am, but fortunately, I'd been able to get back to sleep. The single bathroom made things a bit complicated for our morning routines, but by rotating couples, we made it work. The shower was too small for two, which disappointed Elizaveta, and seeing her naked certainly reinforced her demand the previous day that we find a way to spend some private time together. When everyone was ready, we left the hostel and walked to a nearby bakery, where we bought croissants and coffee for breakfast.

Once we found a place to sit, Abby went over our plans.

"Our list of things to do includes the walking tour of the city, the Rijksmuseum, the Stedelijk museum, a boat tour on the canals, the «Bloemenmarkt», and a visit to a «coffeeshop» as well as the 'Red Light' district. Johan suggested Madurodam, which would mean taking a train. According to the railway timetable, the trip to The Hague is about ninety minutes, with a short tram ride from the train station in The Hague to Madurodam. He also suggested a visit to Utrecht, which appears to be about forty minutes away by train. Is there anything we're missing?"

"What about the beach?" Sandy asked.

"Because the Netherlands is renowned for its beaches?" Pete asked.

"Well, no; I suppose not. Windmills and tulips?"

"The guidebook says there are tours," Abby said, flipping a page. "I think we'll have to choose between the three excursions or give up our afternoon in Brussels on Thursday."

"I think we should do the tour of the windmills and tulip fields," Elizaveta said.

"I have to agree with that," Clarissa said. "And I do want to see the miniatures at that place Johan suggested."

"Is it possible that we could go to The Hague and go to Utrecht from there?" I asked. "Basically, do those, and then come back here for the debauchery tour?"

"That might work," Abby said. "I don't have a train schedule for The Hague to Utrecht, but I can't imagine that would be a problem."

"If the museums are open in the evenings, we could do that instead of a club," Clarissa suggested. "And the flower market can be part of our walking tour."

"That sounds like a plan," I said. "I take it there are early trains to The Hague?"

"Yes," Abby said. "Pretty much as early as you want. Tomorrow or Wednesday?"

"Tomorrow is cool," I replied.

"Then, if there aren't any objections, we'll do the walking tour this morning, a canal tour this afternoon, and the Rijksmuseum this evening. Tomorrow, we'll visit the other cities, and then Wednesday, we'll take a bus tour of windmills and tulips."

Nobody objected though I was wondering how, with that schedule, Elizaveta and I would have time together. Paris and Spain would not be a problem, as we'd have private space, but I didn't think Elizaveta would accept that answer.

"How long is the canal boat tour?" I asked.

"About two hours," Abby replied.

"You wouldn't mind if Elizaveta and I did something as a couple for a few hours after lunch, would you?"

"Coupling?" Clarissa asked with a smirk.

"Something like that," I replied with a grin.

"I see all of you smirking!" Elizaveta said in an accusatory voice.

"Chill out, pussy cat," Clarissa teased. "It's not like it's a state secret! I think the four of us can find something to do while you have your itch scratched!"

"You!" Elizaveta growled.

"Oooh, Kitty is riled up!"

"Ignore her, Kitten," I said. "She's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"And she's going to get a rise out of YOU later!" Clarissa retorted, causing the other three to laugh.

I wanted to laugh with them, but I controlled my reaction so as to avoid an early eruption of Mount Kitten. When she exploded, I wanted it to be in private, naked, with me buried inside her.

"Let's plan free time of two hours after lunch," Abby said a minute later. "Mike and Elizaveta can have the room."

"Thank you," I replied.

We finished our croissants and coffee, then set out on our walking tour.

"This tour map is basically a loop around the city, and we can start anywhere on the loop. If we walk over one street to Nieuwendijk, we can start there. It's a pedestrian shopping street. It's a bit early for them to be open, but we can window shop."

"I'm not planning on buying too many souvenirs," I said. "Anything we buy, we have to lug with us for another five weeks! If I see something smallish, maybe. But it's not like we have a lot of extra space at home, either."

"I think Mike has a point on buying stuff," Pete said. "A T-shirt or something like that would be OK, but not much more."

"The guide says some shops will mail stuff back to the US," Abby replied. "But I can't imagine that would be cheap!"

We turned onto Nieuwendijk, which was paved with red brick, and walked along, stopping to look into windows.

"That's gorgeous!" Elizaveta said, pointing to a tea service in blue and white porcelain.

"«Delft Blauw»," I read from the sign. "It is really nice. I think it comes from a town by that name."

Abby flipped some pages in her Netherlands guidebook.

"Yes," she said. "It's in the southern part of the country, between Rotterdam and The Hague. There's a marketplace, as well as factories where they make the porcelain."

"I wonder how much it would cost to have a set sent back to the US?" Elizaveta said. "It would make a perfect accent for the china we received."

"What about the Russian tea set?" Clarissa asked.

"Believe it or not," I said, "that's basically an everyday set with silver plating. To everyone but Russians, it looks like something you'd reserve for guests like good china, but it's not, really. We can come back and check it out, Kitten."

"What the HELL is with 'Kitten'?!" Clarissa asked. "Except for that whispered conversation last night when Elizaveta basically demanded you find some time alone, you haven't spoken a word of Russian!"

"For which all of us are grateful!" Abby said.

"So true!" Pete added with a grin. "I used to feel like I needed a full-time interpreter when Mike was talking."

"I prefer the Russian word," Elizaveta said, "but really, we want to get past that."

"Thank you, «Котёнок» (katyonak)," I replied with a grin. ("Kitten")

We began moving down the street, looking through the windows of other shops.

"Is Tasha going to give up on being Russian?" Sandy asked.

"She and I talked about it in the past, and I think, honestly, to make a formal break with her dad, she will. I'll bet she doesn't teach her kids to speak Russian just to make a point."

"Whoa!" Sandy gasped. "That's a huge change!"

"Yes and no," I replied. "The OCA is rapidly de-Russifying. ROCOR is more Russian, but I'll bet even they eventually use more English than Slavonic. The real holdouts will be the Greeks. It'll probably take at least until Sophia's kids are adults and maybe even the following generation. If they don't, they'll lose all the kids."

"Kind of like the Catholics ditching Latin back in the 60s?" Sandy asked.

"They just took 1500 years to get with the program!" I chuckled. "We've always had liturgy in the local languages. The US is the aberration because it was purely an immigrant faith, with very few converts. That's changing now, but slowly."

We continued until we came to Dam Square, where we saw the Royal Palace, which, according to the walking tour book, had been built as a town hall but was now used by the Queen for official state functions. Next to it was «Nieuwe Kerk», which had been built in the 15th century.

"That kind of tells you how young America is," Clarissa said. "If the 'New' church was completed in 1408!"

"We'll see «Oude Kerk», the 'old' church next, on the edge of the 'Red Light' district," Abby said. "It was built in the 13th century."

"So you can sin and go to confession next door?" Sandy asked.

"If it's Calvinist, they don't do confession," I said.

"You know," Abby said, "I never asked, and tell me to butt out if it's none of my business, but do you really tell your priest all your sins?"

"It would kind of defeat the purpose if I didn't," I said. "It would be like you going to the doctor and not telling him all your symptoms, or worse, actually lying to him and expecting him to heal you anyway."

"The two things are totally different!" she protested.

"Not really; one is physical healing, the other is spiritual. Both are necessary."

"I'll take your word for it," she said, clearly deciding not to continue the discussion.

"You never did answer her question about demons," Pete said.

"I don't know that I can answer it, at least not to her satisfaction. If she doesn't believe in them, nothing I say will matter, and she'll view it as superstition or a rejection of science. But the key thing to remember is that science can't actually say anything about spiritual topics; that's the realm of philosophy or, more specifically, theology.

"Miracles, for example, are by definition not repeatable, and as such, not subject to scientific inquiry in a way that could establish proof. That said, you COULD debunk a miracle by showing that the claim was false. As for spiritual beings, our souls, and similar ideas, I can offer no scientific proof, but neither can science offer any disproof."

"It's a non-falsifiable hypothesis," Abby said. "And it is, in the end, 'special pleading'."

"It is," I agreed. "But so what? I'm not asking YOU to believe it, only to accept that I believe it. I don't think you were around when I told the story of the man who was at home when a flood was forecast."

"No."

"He prayed for God to save him. A military truck came by, and he refused to go with them because he was relying on God. The floods began, and a boat came by. They offered to take him from the second-floor window to safety, and he said he was relying on God to save him. The waters continued to rise, and he had to climb onto the roof. A helicopter came by and offered to rescue him, but he refused, saying God would save him. The water continued to rise, and he drowned. He arrived in Heaven and complained to God that he had prayed and not been saved. God said, 'I sent a truck, a boat, and a helicopter! What more did you want?'"

Abby laughed, "Nice."

"He rejected three 'miracles' because they didn't conform to what HE thought a miracle should be. Similarly, while we pray for the sick and anoint them, we realize God works through the hands of the surgeon or cardiologist or the mind of the psychologist to heal the sick. God provided us with the senses and the intelligence to discover how to understand and manipulate the world around us. Orthodox Christians do not reject science or medicine or anything like that."