It’s been a few months since the 2018 World Cup, but my liver still remembers it vividly. So does my suitcase — mostly because it still smells faintly of borscht and bad decisions.
I went to Russia with a backpack full of Strip Tees, a vague plan, and a long list of stereotypes: cold people, stodgy food, Soviet gloom, and police who smile only during interrogations. What I found instead was warmth, humour, style, and a constant sense of “wait, that’s not how Russia’s supposed to be.”
This is the story of how every cliché I packed got obliterated — one vodka at a time.
Stereotype #1: Russians are cold and unfriendly
My first twenty minutes in Moscow were pure chaos. After 36 sleepless hours and an Uber ride that doubled as a near-death experience, I stumbled into daylight wearing my Aaron Mooy tee — expecting grim faces and zero eye contact.
Instead, three locals helped me decipher the metro map. One even drew the route on his palm like a proud cartographer. They smiled when I said “spasibo” with a thick Aussie accent, then insisted on walking us to the platform.
That was the first myth gone. Not cold. Not unfriendly. Just people — kind, curious, slightly amused by the idiot in the Mooy shirt trying to find Red Square.
Stereotype #2: Russians only eat stodgy food
I went in expecting cabbage and sadness. What I got was world-class comfort food: beetroot salads that slapped, soups that revived, and dumplings so good I briefly considered defecting.
In Saint Petersburg, I ate khachapuri that could cure heartbreak. In Kazan, smoked fish and pickles worthy of a fine-dining menu. In Sochi, a seaside café served grilled vegetables, tzatziki, and olive oil like we’d stumbled into the Aegean.
Turns out, Russian cuisine isn’t stodgy — it’s misunderstood. I came home with a new love for beetroot and a new fear of my jeans.
Stereotype #3: Russians can’t smile (unless you’re arrested)
Opening night: Russia vs Saudi Arabia. The whole city pulsed like it was hosting the world’s biggest street party — because it was.
In a crowded bar, we met Vassily — tough-looking, ex-Spartak Moscow energy, the kind of guy you’d cast as a Bond villain. Except he was actually a schoolteacher. And a vodka guru.
“Breathe in. Sip. Breathe out,” he instructed, guiding us through the Vodka Breathing Technique™. “If you do this, no hangover.” Spoiler: he lied. But he also introduced us to everyone, paid for rounds, and made us feel like family.
Later that night, Ivan and David — a local couple with perfect English — took us bar-hopping across Moscow. Rooftops, basements, a possible kitchen. They refused to let us buy drinks. “You’re our guests!”
Cold? These people were the warmest hosts I’ve ever met.
Stereotype #4: Moscow felt modern — until Saint Petersburg didn’t
This one was complicated — because for a while, I thought it wasn’t true.
Early in the trip, we met Ivan and David in Moscow — a fabulous gay couple who could have hosted Eurovision and still found time to teach a masterclass in hospitality. They swept us up like old friends, declaring, “You are guests now!” before dragging us through the city’s nightlife.
We went from rooftop bars with skyline views to basement dives that looked like Cold War bunkers turned chic. They knew every bartender, every shortcut, every spot worth seeing. It was the kind of night that makes you believe Moscow has well and truly moved on — that the old image of repression and fear had been swapped for cocktails, laughter, and people just being people.
And then came Saint Petersburg.
We found ourselves in a hipster bar straight out of a Melbourne laneway — Edison bulbs, ironic décor, bartenders in beanies. It felt like the Russia that had finally caught up with the rest of the world. Until the match started.
Midway through the game, a chant broke out. Loud. Passionate. I leaned over to my new Russian mate and asked what it meant. He hesitated. “It’s… homophobic,” he said quietly.
The bar didn’t skip a beat. Everyone kept laughing, filming, cheering. Same smiles. Same vibe. Just… different. Like a crack had appeared in the façade.
It was jarring — especially after nights like the one with Ivan and David, where love felt as free as the vodka. Moscow had shown me a glimpse of progress. Saint Petersburg reminded me how uneven that progress still is.
So yeah — stereotype confirmed, but not completely. Russia is changing. Just not everywhere, and not fast enough.
Stereotype #5: Moscow is grey and joyless
If Moscow’s grey, then I’m a teetotaller. The place glows. Red Square looked cinematic. St Basil’s was a technicolour dream. The Kremlin shimmered like it knew it was in every tourist photo.
Saint Petersburg had Milan’s style and Stockholm’s cool. Kazan was buzzing with football fever. Even Sochi felt more like Miami than the Motherland.
Samara? Okay, Samara was peak Soviet Lego set. But even there, people smiled, offered beer, and proved that warmth beats concrete.
Stereotype #6: Russia is dangerous
Before the trip, everyone warned me: “Don’t mess with the police.” Turns out, they were fine. The whole tournament ran like clockwork. Security everywhere, but never oppressive.
The only time I felt close to danger was when my mate tried to climb a statue in Samara. The officer just sighed, shook his head, and muttered something that probably meant “not worth the paperwork.”
No bribes. No intimidation. Just calm, organised chaos — the best kind.
Stereotype #7: Russian taxis are terrifying (okay, this one’s true)
Every stereotype has its survivor — and for me, it was taxis. Russian rides make rollercoasters look tame.
Every Uber felt like a test of faith. No seatbelts. No speed limits. Just a quiet driver in a decade-old Lada doing 140 through a roundabout.
But the gold medal moment came in Sochi. My mate and I had booked a ride to the stadium for the Australia–Peru match, kangaroo inflatables in hand, adrenaline pumping. About fifteen minutes in, the driver pulled over in what looked like the set of a low-budget crime film, locked the doors, and started yelling in Russian.
Through Google Translate, we pieced together phrases like “You pay now or walk forever” and “This not Peru this is Sochi.” Hard to argue with either, really. After ten tense minutes of gesturing and bargaining that could’ve won Oscars, he sighed, muttered something tragic, and drove us the rest of the way — just in time for kick-off.
I’ve never been so happy to see Mile Jedinak take a penalty. Or to stand on solid ground again.
So yes — Russia was friendly, safe, and full of surprises. But their taxi drivers? Absolutely feral.
Stereotype #8: Russian fashion is all fur hats and tracksuits
Wearing Strip Tees across Russia was part cultural experiment, part survival test.
In Moscow, a guy stopped me in Red Square, squinting at my Supreme Leader Mile Jedinak shirt. “Who is this man?” he asked, like I was smuggling propaganda. “A Central Coast legend,” I said proudly. He nodded — the international symbol for “I have no idea what that means.”
Later, at the Propaganda Museum, I wore my Mooyakovski tee — Aaron Mooy as a Soviet futurist icon. The attendant stared for ten seconds and said something that sounded like “brave.” I took it as a compliment.
By Kazan, the shirts had become conversation starters. Locals asked questions. Fans pointed. Security guards smiled. Strip Tees turned out to be a weird kind of social passport — uniting football nerds everywhere.
Stereotype #9: Russia still suffers from it's austere political past
Desperate for tickets, my mate and I panic-bought “hospitality packages” for the Denmark match — private box, premium food, endless booze.
We treated it like an eating competition. Prawns. Vodka. Champagne. At one point I was waving a rosé yelling “GET STUCK IN!” at the pitch like an aristocrat in crisis.
The Danes in our box were incredible — all leather jackets and good vibes. We hugged after Jedinak’s penalty like old mates. Worth every ridiculous rouble.
Turns out Russia can do luxury — and still feel like football.
Stereotype #10: Football divides
The thing I’ll remember most wasn’t a game or a goal — it was the people.
Mexican fans dancing with Germans. Russians laughing with Japanese tourists. Aussies swapping scarves with Senegalese drummers. For a few weeks, the world stopped being divided and started being loud, messy, joyful, and human.
And through it all, my Strip Tees shirts became tiny flags of football love — sweat-stained, beer-soaked, and somehow still sharp.
Stereotype #11: Russia is cold
Not once. Not physically, not emotionally. Russia was warm. Funny. Generous. Chaotic in the best ways.
I came home broke, exhausted, and proud — with three new mates named Igor (all unrelated) and a suitcase full of Strip Tees that had survived vodka, rain, and questionable dance moves.
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
Would I pack electrolytes next time? Absolutely.
Wore Strip Tees. Made friends. Drank vodka. Lived football.
10/10 trip. No stereotypes survived.
0 comments