To the Brotherhood of Nations!

So, since I am Russian and all, let’s address the 750-ml gorilla in the room.  Yes, we drink vodka, often in large quantities. It is the one stereotype about us that is factual and correct, for the most part. But no, we won’t be able to tell you “which vodka is the good one”, so stop asking. Vodka is a very functional drink, you see. It gets you from Point A to Point Passed Out on the Floor by the most direct and uncomplicated route, and this is what we appreciate it for. Definitely not for the taste or the bouquet.

“So, I see now!” yells an anthropomorphic teary-eyed bottle of vodka in a famous Russian sketch comedy show. “You just need me to get drunk and fight each other. And, silly me, all this time I thought I was delicious!”

Also, we don’t toast each other by saying “Na zdrovya”, mostly because this phrase isn’t actually Russian. To the extent that we do accompany our imbibing with motivational words, they can be simple utterances such as “Nu, za vsyo!” (“OK, here is to everything!”), affirming observations such as “Khorosho poshla!” (“It went down well!”) or more substantial pronouncements, like “Za druzhbu narodov!” (“To the brotherhood of nations!”).

In fact, since we actually possess a very flowery and poetic language, we have an altogether indecent amount of words for getting drunk, all of them relaying different subtleties of the condition. Think of it as Inuit words for snow, only far more tragic. Here is a brief crash course in the Russian drinking vocabulary, which may hopefully bring you a bit closer to understanding our ancient and noble culture.

I will start with bukhat, a word that means “to drink purposefully and resolutely with the express goal of getting drunk”, an act also known as “the history of Russia.” There is no direct translation into English, as you are very unlikely to ever hear a phrase such as “Hey, have we come to this party to make small talk, make meaningful connections and network, or to bukhat, like normal people?” in English.

The opposite of “bukhat” is prinyat, which translates directly as “to take” (as in “to take medicine”). It means, “to have a quick drink to get just a bit tipsy, giving one the resolve needed to face the daily torture of Russian life or quell the throbbing of the Russian soul.” It implies willful moderation and enviable self-restraint, though of course not to the point of denying oneself alcohol altogether, an utterly unrealistic expectation of a Russian male. “How am I drunk?” says a typical Russian husband upon returning home clearly under the influence. “This is not drunk! I have merely “taken” a little bit with an old friend!”

Propustit (“to pass through oneself”) is almost a synonym to “prinyat” but relays the presence of a more nonchalant attitude, where getting tipsy isn’t done by necessity (because, hello, Russia!) but for the fun of it and out of an established habit. “Propustit” is always done in good company and never implies a somber occasion or a state of unseemly inebriation. “Let’s go pass one through” is something you would hear from a friend who is extremely happy to see that you have made it alive to the end of the week.

Nakatit (“to roll one on”) is similar in that it also involves a quick drink rather than a prolonged, dedicated activity, but is in a slightly heavier weight class. When involved in “nakatit”, the doze may be bigger and the results more noticeable. It’s “prinyat” for real men. “So, are we gonna roll one on, or what?” says a factory worker to his proletarian colleague at the end of the shift, a phrase that can be found in most Russian dictionaries under “Rhetorical question.”

Nazhratsya is the boundary by crossing which we are getting into some good hardcore Russian-style drinking. Literally, it’s equivalent to “stuffing one’s face”, but it always means “to get sloppily drunk in an undignified manner.” A person to whom the word refers can never be considered a respectable member of the drinking community. “Last night, Boris had stuffed his face again, how does Lyuba tolerate him?” is something you would hear old Russian women say as they keep their eternal watch in front of the entrance to a Soviet-style apartment building.

Nabratsya (literally “to fill oneself”) sounds and means almost the same but isn’t quite as derisive and may imply a less revolting condition or a higher societal status of the drunk. A Russian man is not expected to go through life without at least one episode of “nabratsya.” “So what if I filled myself a bit last night?” a Russian man might commiserate to his comrade in arms. “Am I no longer the pinnacle of creation? Is the a reason to hit me with a frying pan?”

Nalizalsya (lit. “licked his fill”) has a very specific meaning, which is “to arrive at the doorstep embarrassingly drunk late at night to the dismay of one’s extremely angry wife” as this word is almost exclusively wielded by wives in the phrase “nalizalsya again!”

Kvasit (“to pickle/ferment oneself”) is similar to “bukhat”, but it’s a more folksy, happy-go-lucky type of phrase. The goals of the collective are the same but the masses are perhaps approaching the task with slightly more good humor.

Naglyukatsya (“to get into a hallucinating condition”) is getting us back to the “undignified/sloppy drunk” territory and does, as the word suggests, imply raving, talking with imaginary friends, performing self-criticism before the comrades and engaging in feats of strength. “Look, Yefim Semyonovich has naglyukalsya!” says an amused teenager to his chain-smoking friend as they watch a septuagenerian neighbor empty his trash bucket into someone’s questionably-parked car.

Zalit glaza (“to fill one’s eyes”) is a classical phrase dating back to the Czarist times. People who want to feel more with it and modern can substitute “glaza” for “zenki”, a more slangish term. In either case, it means to get into a state where you don’t recognize either important party members or the immediate members of your family. “What can you do with him, he has filled his eyes again!” laments Luybov Stepanovna to her aunt in Smolensk as her husband remains out of commission for the second day straight while in a deep conversation with the fridge.

Zalozhit za vorotnik (“to stuff it under one’s collar”) is also a XIX c. turn of phrase and is positively aristocratic, implying a napkin being tucked under one’s shirt before the procedure of getting wasted commences. A modicum of self-respect is important to the Motherland. “Shall we stuff one under our collars, ensign Rzhevsky?” enquires a Tolstovian hussar while gracefully sliding off a camp follower’s thigh.

Prinyat na grud (“to perform a chest press”) is a phrase that properly showcases the act of drinking in Russia as hard and necessary labor rather than pleasurable activity. As the old adage says, “drinking is not playing sports; you need a lot of health here.” You may hear this phrase in a garage, in the context of “Not much left to do here; we’ll just replace the carburetor, perform a chest press and then, the oil change.”

Vrezat is a particularly aggressive term deriving from both the word for “to cut” and the slang term for “to punch straight in the goddamn face.” It implies a quick, purposeful intake of a large doze regardless of circumstances and consequences. A cavalry attack of drinking. “Kolya, depression is a serious thing and you need to treat it responsibly. Let’s punch one in the goodamn face!”

Razdavit (“to squish one”) can only be applied to an entire bottle of hard liquor. One can’t be said to “razdavit” a glass or a bottle of beer (what are we, Americans, to get drunk on fizzy stuff?), rather it’s a decisive triumph of our glorious forces over the impossible odds. “Why are you standing here like you aren’t one of us? Let us squish one apiece”, proclaim glorious workers to their shy compatriot in a show of proletarian unity.

Vzdrognut (“to shudder”) is a more esoteric term, which usually implies a ritualistic drink on a specific occasion that traditionally calls for one (saying goodbye to a friend, saying hello to a neighbor or… I don’t know… Tuesday?). It carries a real “ain’t no thing” vibe. “So, we’ve snuck a bottle into Vasily’s hospital room and shuddered a bit. I tell you, cardio wards are no place for sobriety.”

Tyapnut (“to hack one”) and deryabnut (“to bang one”) have the same basic meaning as “vrezat” in that a quick, decisive, cavalier action is implied, but both sound amicable and less aggressive. Again, a rather humorous attitude to the idea of getting seriously wasted is shown. “Whether you hack or bang one, the most important thing is to always mind your pickle”, sagely instructs a mustachioed traffic cop his new charge on his first day.

Ostogrammitsya is a real triumph of literary Russian as it’s literally means “to anoint oneself with (or “to avail oneself of”) 100 grams.” If you ever use this phrase, you let everyone know that you are involved in a sacred ritual of Russianness and not some slovenly vice. “It is necessary to anoint yourself with 100 grams”, advises Igor Gennadyevich a nervous funeral attendee before he assumes his pole-bearer duty.

On the opposite end of the spectrum of respectability is khryuknut which literally means “to oink.” It’s obvious that a person who does this cannot hold his liquor and will be reduced to the Orwellian vision of the Soviet society in a matter of minutes. For shame, comrade! “Look at this idiot Ilya, he is oinking again”, you will hear directed at a regrettable citizen attempting to lick spilled brandy off a park bench.

The term obmyt (“to wash something off”) has an extremely specific meaning. It means “to have a ritualistic drink in order to celebrate a major purchase, thus making such purchase lucky and durable.” Usually reserved for cars, an action Russians see absolutely no irony in. “Why are you operating this newly bought chainsaw without having washed it off first?” yells an incredulous dacha dweller at his neighbor. “Here, let’s squish one right now and we’ll cut that oak down right after!”

This is by no means an exhaustive list. You need to live (and, preferably, die of cirrhosis) in Russia in order to fully appreciate the richness of our alcohol-related vocabulary. But I will wrap it up here, with the most important term.

… which is uiti v zapoy, a phrase that literally means “to go away into the vortex of drinking.” And yes, it has both the escapist and the morbid connotations at the same time. A “zapoy” is often translated as “binge” into English, but it’s not entirely correct. The Anglo-Saxon binge is a singularity, an event that happens to a citizen once in a while, rarely lasting past one evening, though, of course, carrying dire consequences. A proper Russian zapoy relates to a binge in the same way as a sabertooth tiger relates to a household kitten.

A real zapoy is a condition of continuous drinking over a period of several days or, often, weeks and even months. A zapoy is when an alcoholic falls off the wagon, but it implies a continuous, uninterrupted state of being drunk with no other activities in between. Officially it’s characterized as a period of heavy drinking longer than 24 hours during which so much alcohol is consumed that the body can no longer properly metabolize it. Getting out of the zapoy alive usually entails the loss of recollection of the entire period. “He is in a zapoy” is sometimes regarded as a legitimate excuse for being away from work. People who get in and out of zapoys will often drink very little or none at all in between. They are referred to as “zapoyny” drunks…

This is it, for now. But, hey, there is a different collection of terms pertaining to various levels of intoxication, which is just as exhaustive and fascinating. Until next time, then…