Dear Sergei...
There's quite a story to this.

Years ago, I studied Russian at GCSE. A penfriend scheme was suggested as a means of honing the linguistic skills of the class – there weren't all that many of us – and my penfriend was Sergei.

This being the early 1990s, Russia was in a state of collapse, and this meant that the post was very slow indeed. Moreover, my Russian was never great, and neither was his English. This did not bode well for our correspondence. Nevertheless, we persevered; every few months, a letter would make it through the post in which each of us tried, falteringly, to say something interesting in the other's language.

I took the GCSE in 1993, which meant that, by the July of that year, I expected never to have to use the language again. But later that year, it was suggested that a school trip to Moscow and St Petersburg would be a good idea; I, the rest of my GCSE cohort, and my brother were offered the chance to tag along. We jumped at the chance.

I figured that, since I'd be in Moscow, it'd be a nice idea to get in touch with Sergei with a view to meeting him. From his letters, I knew not only his surname and address, but also his patronymic - and this meant I had a reasonable shot at finding his telephone number. With that information, I rang international directory inquiries, gave them his details and his postcode, and hoped. They came up trumps, and provided me with a telephone number.

I rehearsed what I would say for days, and rang.

I got a line.

Someone answered. He sounded my age. Was that Sergei, I asked? No. But the person on the other end told me to wait.

I heard footsteps, as if they were going up stairs. I heard a knock on a door, and muffled voices. In a flash, it occurred to me that I had rung the one communal telephone in a block of flats. More footsteps. A voice.

Sergei!

We talked. I told him of the travel plans, and what hotel we would use. In fractured Russian, we agreed a plan.
~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of months later, at Easter 1994, we were in Moscow. In anticipation of the visit, my brother and I had filled our baggage allowance with gifts and things that we had heard were unobtainable in Russia. Looking around the city, this was believable; on the streetcorners, Babushki were selling all manner of possessions to earn a crust.

There was a telephone in the hotel room, and I rang Segei's number again in the hope of arranging a rendezvous. There was no reply. Over the next couple of days, I rang two or three times more; still nothing. Eventually, we had to leave to get the sleeper to St Petersburg. We left Moscow with still-bulging bags, having failed to meet my penfriend; we were disappointed, but we had tried earnestly, and there was nothing we could do.
~~~~~~~~~~

A letter arrived with a Moscow postmark a couple of months later.

I couldn’t read it all. Not because of the linguistic gap, but because the message was all too clear, and it’s burned on my consciousness.
“Dear Enzyme
“I had a telephone call from someone who said he was my English friend. He said that he would be in Moscow on the 1st April. In Russia, we play tricks on each other at the beginning of April. Do you do the same in England?”

It was at that point I stopped reading. Sergei had gone to the hotel the day we left, which happened to be April Fool’s Day, and had asked if someone with my name was staying. Because the rooms were booked under the school’s name, the person behind the desk hadn’t been able to help. He had assumed that the whole thing was a very elaborate practical joke…

Sergei – the chances that you’re reading this are very slim indeed. But I am truly, truly sorry. There’s quite a lot I’ve done over the years that I regret, but, of all my errors, I still count this as the one that burns.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 10:29, 3 replies)

that doesnt sound as bad as you seem to think it does
Dude went to a hotel then he went home again - he probably enjoyed the walk!

rafter
baz
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 10:36, closed)

Whew!
That's my conscience salved, then.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 10:37, closed)

*resists temptation to make an In Soviet Russia joke*

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Sat 6 Mar 2010, 15:07, closed)