I’m in Russia right now. Just returned to Moscow this morning after taking the overnight train from St. Petersburg. This time I was able to sleep. On the way from Moscow to St. Petersburg two days ago, I was unable to sleep on the train that left Leningradsky station just after midnight, partially I think because I was on the top bunk and Aya put the idea in my head that I might roll off during the night. On the return trip, Aya and I both had bottom bunks with the two tops occupied by two complete strangers who spoke little English. I was a little paranoid at first that the guy, a young man with a blond crewcut, was a white supremacist. Following that logic, I assumed that he wouldn’t take too kindly to interracial couples and might slaughter us in our sleep inside the locked cabin. Fortunately, this did not happen. He turned out to be a quiet and pleasant roommate. By that, I mean he had no problem going to sleep when we did and didn’t bother us at all except to wake us up at 6:45 am to tell us that we would be arriving in Moscow in 15 minutes. Our other bunkmate was a young woman with some Asiatic features but obviously Russian. She didn’t say a word at all.
We had a good two days touring St. Petersburg spending the entire first morning at the Hermitage Museum, definitely one of the best art museums I’ve ever visited. I had no idea the breadth and depth of their collection. Actually, I thought it was just a palace and didn’t realize it housed paintings at all. Certainly, I didn’t know it had Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raffael, Rembrandt, Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Matisse and many other great masters. And my expectations about St. Petersburg were totally off as well. I had in my mind a small port city but apparently there are 4 million residents here, and while it is not near as large as Moscow, it is really quite sprawling. It even has its own Metro. Right now, the city is in a period known as “White Nights,” meaning it doesn’t get dark for long. Sunset occurs at around 11pm and it never gets completely dark, followed by an early sunrise at around 4am I think. Dostoevsky, who lived in St. Petersburg, coined the phrase “White Nights.”
Here are a few quick thoughts on Russia, my first time to a former Iron Curtain country. Moscow is a surprisingly beautiful city. Much of the architecture is grey, boxy and cold, but there are also plenty of beautiful old structures, mostly cathedrals. Everything in Moscow is on a massive scale; the city is horizontal, nothing like New York. There aren’t many tall skyscrapers, but there are hordes of immense structures.
The green space is also omnipresent. Trees and parks abound in the middle of the city and even more so outside. On a drive to the country I felt like I was on the Garden State Parkway or an on a parkway somewhere in rural Connecticut.
Capitalism has arrived with a bang. Luxury car dealerships are abundant. Ferrari. Lamborghini. Rolls Royce. Bentley. American brands are everywhere, unapologetically. McDonald’s, Citibank, Sbarro, Starbucks… Giant billboards dot the highways hawking everything from Samsung phones to Mercedes. Moscow is extremely expensive, allegedly the world’s most costly city.
Communism has been reduced to mere kitsch, more fodder for the capitalist consumer mill. Che Guevara t-shirts and other paraphernalia are ubiquitous as our McLenin’s shirts (a parody of McDonald’s and the USSR.) Of course, some unpleasantries remain from the old days. The government and its lackeys are obviously very paranoid about outside influence especially from the West. Why else would they require foreigners to get stamps from each hotel they stay at, providing a record of their movements within the country? Of course, you have to pay for this service. I can’t help get the feeling that despite the transition to capitalism and elections (sham or not), Big Brother is still watching here. I imagine that spies are still listening to conversations (not that this isn’t happening in America under the Bush regime).
Then there is the corruption and kickbacks. This is particularly rife in the city of Moscow courtesy of the city’s mayor and his billionaire wife. Our small group was kicked out of one of the churches we visited in Mosocw-Christ the Savior-because our guide was not an official guide registered with the city government. Valentina is a friend of my mother-in-law, and she was doing us a favor by giving us a tour for free. Apparently, this didn’t go over well with the spies. An un-uniformed guy wearing jeans said something to her in Russian after listening to her speak to our group of four in English, an obvious red flag. She tried to ignore her but then he called the guard, a tall and imposing man in the mode of Lurch from the Addams Family. He marched over to her purposefully and aggressively as if he was going to punch her in the face. Instead, he told us to leave. This was the first time I’ve ever been kicked out of a church.
Another element that lingers from the Soviet epoch is the customer service or lack thereof. At best, the hotel staff is indifferent to the tourists. At worst, they are outright hostile and dishonest. Often, they don’t speak enough English to communicate properly, but even those that do, have told lies for no good reason. I asked the concierge at the Park Inn in St. Petersburg how to get to the indoor aqua park which they advertise prominently. She told me it was closed because there are many problems. Big problems. In response to my further questioning about when it would re-open, she said she had no idea. Then, I learn from one of our travel companions that not only was it open, but it was packed. I really can’t think of a good reason why she would lie to me about this. Her English was good (people in St. Petersburg our much better with English). There are countless other examples of this type of thing here but this was the most blatant lie. This morning, I heard a front desk member at Hotel Cosmos in Moscow tell a guest that there is no smoking anywhere in the hotel. “Really,” he asked in disbelief. “Yes, ” she said. “We are a 3-star hotel.” As if that would explain the no-smoking policy. In reality, I’ve seen many people smoking in the lobby-everyone in Moscow seems to smoke and it is so annoying sometimes-and there are ashtrays in every room. Explain that.
Communism did have some positive impacts, particularly in the area of the arts. Communism is/was beautiful, while capitalism in contrast is ugly and tacky. An example, is the spectacular public art in many of the Metro stations. (I’ll try to post some pictures later.) It’s hard to imagine that this would have existed if it was up to the capitalist system. In the U.S., during the New Deal, sort of America’s Communist period, millions of artists were hired by the government under the Federal Art Program of the Works Progress Administration to create art for public buildings. The quest for profits does not necessarily lead to great works of art.
On our second day here, I experienced a true Russian ritual as we spent the day with some Russian friends. We went to a café on old Arbat Street, a fashionable district and a wide pedestrian-only street. They bought a few bottle of vodka and I traded shots with them, something I haven’t really done in years. The custom is to down your shot, then wolf down some food. We started with a blini, a Russian crepe, with red caviar, the unexpensive kind which you can find in any sushi bar. I didn’t like caviar before, but the texture and saltiness has grown on me. And after a nasty shot of vodka, almost anything taste good. After the second shot, we repeated the ritual but this time with a smoked salmon blini. The third one was followed with a sweet blini with chocolate. It was only noon at that time, but it’s never to early for vodka with the Russians. I had to endure a fourth shot a few hours later over lunch. I only drank the vodka for the experience and to be polite to our hosts, but I really do not like it. I prefer a beverage I can enjoy and savor slowly, not one that tastes so bad I have to immediately chase it with salty food. On Wednesday night, we were have a drink at the lobby lounge and Aya suggested a try a White Russian, a drink I tried after I saw “The Big Lebowski” ten years ago or so and immediately took a liking to it. I thought it was a little corny ordering this drink in Russia and was quite sure it was an American drink, but I thought it would be amusing. It wasn’t very good.
Muscovites are rich now, but they not at all fashionable. They dress like Americans did in the 80s and style their hair to match. Mullets are big here, on men, women and children. Mulletskies, I call them.
Everyone here assumes I’m Russian and speaks to me in Russian. It’s good that they don’t think I’m a tourist but difficult because I cannot speak Russian. I memorized the phrase “ya ne govoryu poruskie,” which means ” I don’t speak Russian,” but I have no idea how my pronunciation is. While I’m here I’m trying to decipher the Cyrllic alphabet which has many of the same letters as ours, although some have different sounds, and some are the same as Greek such as gamma.
Knowing the language makes it much easier to get around on the Metro. The system is quite extensive and busy. It is also reliable with very short waiting times. There is one line that travels in a complete circle intercepting all of the other lines. In general, we didn’t have any problems getting around as long as we carefully listened for the names of the stations. There are no signs in English. It’s definitely a challenge getting around a city where very few people speak your language.
I took a short run this afternoon outside in the park across the street from our hotel. The park is vast but not nearly the size of Central Park. It reminded me a little of Flushing Meadows in Queens. Not very nice, but lots of people. I didn’t see any runners despite it being a beautiful day. I think some people were staring at me and laughing and a few shouted. I’m not sure if it is because they knew I was a foreigner or because they think running is funny. There are some marathon champions from Russia so I don’t think this country is a stranger to running, making that reasoning a bit peculiar.
