Just Because I Am White Does Not Mean I am Russian

I have today been pondering a question I have asked myself many times before; why do so many Russians in this city assume that all other white people are also Russian? Despite the hordes of Russian tourists and menus and signs written in the Russian script, we are in fact in Thailand. At any one time, Pattaya will be teeming with Non-Thai tourists and residents from across the globe. You just have to walk down the street, hearing a multitude of different languages being spoken, to appreciate how varied the nationalities in this seaside resort are. I can only presume that it is the general feeling of superiority that many of the Russians here seem to possess that leads them to talk to everybody they come in contact with in Russian. Although much of the time, from the surprise in their expressions and voices when I answer them in English, I do genuinely think that I am mistaken for being Russian, I have often seen them speak to Thai people in Russian. They just expect everyone else to be able to speak their language, despite the fact that it is far from widely spoken outside of their own country. What's worse is the frequency with which they get angry and impatient with the poor Thais for not being able to understand them when they bark an order in Russian at them.

I have lost count of the number of times that someone has stopped me and said something very quickly in Russian, clearly assuming I will understand what they are saying. At the beach, on the street, by the pool and, today, in the supermarket. I was at the check-out, waiting for a poor student cashier to work out exactly what he was supposed to do when someone gave him cash, when a plump middle-aged woman in a sack of a dress turned to me, rolled her eyes and said something derogatory, motioning her head to the teenager so I was left with no doubt who she was talking about. He was wearing a badge that informed shoppers that he was a student so it was probably his first day on some sort of work experience programme. He was completely flustered and clearly embarrassed about not knowing how to open the till and this horrible woman was alternating between huffing and puffing and laughing at his expense. You didn't need to know Russian to understand what she was saying. I tried to ignore her but she would not stop talking to me in Russian, her conspiratorial manner communicating that she clearly assumed I was one of her fellow countrymen and therefore of the same opinions as her. All I could do when the young cashier scanned my shopping was smile a lot, thank him profusely at the end and hope that he didn't think I had anything to do with that nasty woman.