6 cups of coffee and 20 pairs of sneakers
NeMoskva spoke with traveler Alexander Plastkov about overcoming the fear of social interaction, forced hunger, and the need to become famous.
"My family didn't approve of my first trip: it was too out of step with the norm. It's like, you're born, you finish school, you work five days a week, and you drink on the sixth. But what's this—I just went on a trip unemployed? I found myself outside the system." — laughs the now famous traveler Alexander Plastkov.
He came up with the theory of "6 cups of coffee," which, by drinking with people in 500 cities, allows you to meet new people and unite all the people of the country. "There's the 'six handshakes theory,' which says the entire world knows each other through six people. Until 2020, I wanted to make this theory the symbol of National Unity Day—to unite all regions through a single handshake. But then the pandemic hit, and shaking hands became irrelevant. So I had to change the name and concept: now it's '#6cupsofcoffee.' Instead of one handshake, there's one cup of coffee. So, roughly speaking, I want to unite all of Russia through one cup of coffee." " he says. Plastkov set out on a journey across Russia, wearing a white hat and shirt, a scarf, and carrying Nordic walking poles and a backpack. He visited 192 cities: the first trek lasted from June 2019 to December 2020, and the second from April 2021 to the present. His journey was interrupted for now in the spring—Alexander met the one woman he's willing to stop for. For Traveler's Day, NeMoskva spoke with him about what drove him out of his warm apartment, whether coffee is loved in all cities, and the general image of the Russian he encountered along the way.
- Alexander, are you a settled person now?
"Yes, that's how it happened, and it's all 'l'amour's fault. It's worth it. I stayed in the town of Rtishchevo near Saratov. But there's no coffee here at all! There's only the Khlebny Dom chain, but they only have instant coffee. Let's just say I'm a donkey trying to raise coffee culture here. It's a vast underdeveloped field. People love coffee, but there's no coffee here."
Actually, I've already told many people that I was an introvert, a social phobe, and I didn't like socializing. I also started playing computer games. My best time spent on the computer is 36 hours. And so I set out to conquer myself—to learn how to communicate with people. I went on my first trip in 2019, but it ended with the onset of the pandemic. Six months into the journey, I realized I'd learned to talk to people. I started small—communicating through social media. I'd find local communities and write: "I'm so-and-so, going to your city, could you help me with this and that?" Some responded, some didn't. If a house or hostel didn't accept me, I'd spend the night in a tent. That's how I walked from St. Petersburg to Pskov [more than 260 km]—to my grandmother, who is now 92.
It was difficult at first, but then, when I started getting filmed on TV and written about in the media in different cities, it became easier—people started recognizing me. People began to trust me more, and were more comfortable getting to know me and helping me.
— Was it worth it to learn to communicate with people?
"Of course, it's real life! For example, I was on my way to Orsk, and a local entrepreneur and philanthropist, Oleg Krivko, wanted to meet me—he simply liked my idea of bringing people together over six cups of coffee. He built a monastery for his city. He also changed his life: he visited the Nizhny Novgorod region, was impressed by the sight of the Mikhail Sarov Monastery, and built a replica. People in this format see a little more; they're interested in the unusual, the unconventional. It was an interesting conversation; I wrote a positive post, someone read it, and it lifted their spirits—look, that's also beneficial. If I had stayed home, I wouldn't have been able to communicate in person and tell others about it."
There was also a time when I didn't want to communicate at all! I left Volgograd for Gorodets, wearing my white hat and carrying a brown flag with the hashtag #6cupsofcoffee in my backpack. It was March 2, 2022. I don't know who the police took me for, but they stopped me and started picking on me: show me this, show me that, and ended up jailing me for 24 hours under the pretext of "failure to comply with police orders." Some "emergency services officer" allegedly complained to them about "someone in a white hat and carrying a brown flag" wandering around. Maybe they thought I was some kind of ISIS member. My followers saved me—they kicked up a fuss and called the head, but I still had to wait 24 hours. I got out of that city—I broke the rules, got on a train, and went to Krasnoyarsk. From there, I walked across central Russia.
I celebrated that very day—February 24—in Volgograd. And everything was as before: I admired the city, went for a jog. People around me were talking about politics—exactly what they'd heard on TV. I think 90% of them were like that. They said everything was going well.
— What did the average Russian think?
"There are no 'Russians,' we have nearly 200 nationalities. Russia has left its mark on each of them, but each nationality still has its own customs, behavioral culture, and habits. It's impossible to describe every nationality. It's impossible to create a 'general portrait of a Russian.'"
I'll just say I met more good people. Some helped me, and I helped others. Yes, that happened too. For example, in Uglich, Yaroslavl, over a cup of coffee, I learned the story of a family whose house burned down—it was struck by lightning. I bought them some groceries and wrote them down. video, and people helped get the children ready for school. And then their house was rebuilt. It's a shame I can't help everyone. I've walked through many villages with a population of five or ten. There are no roads, no healthcare, not to mention anything else. People complain that ambulances don't come, and if you go to the hospital yourself, you'll get stuck. I've seen incredible, but unnecessary, beauty—take the ruined churches in the Tver region, for example. I walked through the vast Novosibirsk region: while I was fed in the smaller areas with populated areas, there I had to go hungry. Simply because there's nowhere to eat—there are no houses or cafes for tens of kilometers. I walked through the forests of the Chelyabinsk region, seeing wild boar and elk tracks in the woods. I didn't mean to go there—sometimes there would be a road on an old map, but in reality, it had long since been overgrown with forest. This is because the country is vast, and the people are very diverse.
— How many bast shoes, as they say, have you worn out?
"In four years—20! I'd just started wearing the 21st pair when my girlfriend made me wear some expensive shoes. The money for the sneakers came from either my followers or just people I met along the way. Sometimes I'd walk 50 kilometers a day—what shoes could handle it? You can't find much in holes in them, even if you were really short on cash. I'd buy new ones, even if they were the cheapest. Although sometimes I'd earn some money myself: I'd make a video of myself at a coffee shop, telling everyone they had the best coffee."
— Have you achieved your goal?
— No. I was planning to drink coffee in 500 different cities, but I haven't managed to do it yet. The idea itself is simple: six cups of coffee — six new acquaintances, six new stories, each person with their own coffee and their own acquaintances. I go practically without money, and whether they'll buy me a coffee or do a good deed is always a lottery. It unites, and unity is always important. I wanted to become famous, even famous, to make it easier to change people's minds. Here's what I mean: the majority's plan is to be born, finish school, go to work five days a week, drink on the sixth, or even drink all weekend. I've seen all of this on my travels. But that's not interesting, that's impossible. I want people to change, to understand: if you do bad to someone else, it will all boomerang back on you, but if you do good to someone else, you will feel good, good will come back to you. At least in small ways. I'm trying to promote the good tradition of "suspended coffee": a person comes, pays for their coffee and another cup. Anyone who doesn't have enough money can drink it. It's a small thing, but it's nice.
Photo: from Alexander Plastkov's VK page
