2003 RUSSIA

Letters From Russia

These are excepts from letters written from Russia, by me. These are from the first trip that I took, shortly after I married my Russian wife.

March 20, 2003

Well, I am in Moscow. I would have phoned someone to let someone know that we are alright, but the concept of pay phone is strange here. You have to get tokens from the post office to use in the pay phones. No token, no phone call.

We are not in the original apartment. Larisa’s aunt arranged for us to use a vacant apartment next to hers, but it was not exactly vacant, It was more like abandoned with a couch/bed (divan in Russian) left behind. It was a disaster.

The apartment was typical for a communist era apartment. It had one large room walled tastefully with poorly patched plaster of various colors, a separate four foot wide kitchen with a broken two burner stove, and the pervasive smell of moldy furniture. As it had only one main room, there was, of course, only one electrical outlet. They must sell a LOT of extension cords in Russia.

We spent one day looking for a hotel before we gave up. I don’t know if it is because capitalism is new here in Russia, or if Russians have always been crooked, but we were conned (“Just pay us the money and THEN we let you see the room - don't worry it looks just like this picture that I showed you.”), lied to (“Oh, no, We couldn't have said $60 a day on the phone. The rooms here rent for $100.”), and disgusted (“You must understand, sir, that all Russian beds are that small, and peeling paint is considered quite fashionable this year.”)

I also found out that in a large Russian hotel, each floor is a separate hotel, with separate managers, reservations, and prices. If the hotel on the sixth floor doesn’t have what you want, you can try the separate but identical hotel on the seventh. Does everyone know how to say “wasteful overhead.”

The second day, we got a call from Larisa’s friend. Her parents live in a nice apartment (by Russian standards) in the middle of Moscow and they own a Dacha. They were willing to go their Dacha and let us use their apartment for $400 for two weeks. I feel rather strange about this, but we are living in someone else's apartment - using their dishes and towels and telephone. Apparently this is not an uncommon arrangement in Russia.

This apartment is small, but nice even by New York or Chicago standards. It has a washing machine in the bathroom, oak floors, a cable box that doesn’t work, and a telephone that only makes local calls, but it is very nice as the owner has done a lot of work on it.

My wife has been having a great time. After feeling helpless for so long in the states, she is now the organizer, interpreter and leader, and she loves it. She gets our cabs and leads us through metro stations with the confidence of a Moscow native. It is nice to see her feel confident.

I would have a tough time getting a cab here. Many people who have cars pick up people on the side of the road and sell them a ride. It is so common, the Larisa has never taken more than a minute or two to wave someone down. You stand in the street and hold your hand up and in a few seconds, a car will stop, and a stranger will offer you a ride – for a price. The costs are usually cheap. There is some sort of unwritten fare schedule that everyone seems to know. Our most expensive ride was from the old apartment in the suburbs to the new apartment in the center of Moscow. It cost $10 in a real, licensed cab. Still no meter, still a negotiated flat price, but a real cab. Problem for me is that EVERY ride has to be negotiated and my Russian is still pretty much limited to "Ya nee ponymyoo" (I don't understand).

Sadly, the old Moscow is almost gone. There are still thousands of communist era apartment blocks (HUGE, gray and badly built.), but we did our shopping

tonight in a Supermarket a block away (the Russians call it a "Supermarket"). When we stopped for a snack at a kiosk near the metro station we were offered our choice of the traditional Russian snacks - hot dog, chili dog, hamburger, cheeseburger, or pizza - washed down by those traditional Russian delights - Pepsi, Pepsi light, coke, coke light, or Mountain Dew.

The most common legacy of the communist era is in the faces of the people. I have seen a thousand Russians on the street and in the metro and have not seen one smile. Every single one looks like a man who has just been told his dog died.

A part of it is culture, but I suspect that part of it is simple reaction to reality. Today in the Metro, I sat across from a woman who appeared to be in her 70s. I realized that in the years since the 1930s she has seen turmoil, hunger, and war. She probably saw the last part of Stalin's reign, may have been here during the years that the Germans were at the gates of Moscow, and she has seen the years of food shortage in the 40's and again in the 70s. In 1989 she had to worry about freezing when the Russian government said that there was not enough heating oil to keep Moscow warm in worst part of the winter. Then she saw her pension made worthless by inflation and realized that she had been cheated out a lifetime of promises for security. It is no wonder that there was sadness in her wrinkled and worn face.

Perhaps she had a victory this morning in just the fact that she decided to get up one time and go on one more day.

However, the young people can make money - and a lot of it - and they are still just wearing expressions that are just as sad.

Not all Russians are as sour in private. Larisa’s uncle Slav reminds me of my father and uncles. He drinks too much and is a happy inebriate who tells broad jokes, proposes too many toasts and can even make jokes with a man with whom he shares not a word of language,

.

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march 26th

Hey, I made it all the way to the post office/internet station all by myself. Larisa and her mother are at a government office trying to get permission to bring a couple of Larisa's paintings back to the states and I am alone in Moscow.

I can get around alright, but I am going to starve to death. I can’t read a restaurant menu.

I learned the Russian word for “that”, “eto” and have been feeding myself with that one word, and a finger. The most common form of business here is a Kiosk. It is a glass prison on the sidewalk with a small window through which you shout your order to a surly clerk who throws your merchandise back through the same tiny window. I eat by pointing to food and saying “eto”. If I want two of them, I say “eto, eto” Russians have no sense of humor, but most eventually and grudgingly give me what I want.

I don't know what the Russian for "Pedestrian" is, but it must be the same word as "Target". In Russian, cars rule the road, and drivers drive without any attention to whether or not there is a person on the road. This is apparently because during socialism only important people had cars, and they did not care if the poor failed to get out of the way.

Larisa tells me that if a driver hits a pedestrian, they might sue the pedestrian for damage to their car. I thought she was kidding until some jackass actually nudged me with his bumper when I didn't get out of the way fast enough.

I have always resented those stupid movie scenes where our hero drives at high speed down sidewalks and side roads and through intersections scattering pedestrians left and right. My internal censor keeps saying "You cant do that". Guess what. That is how they drive every day in Moscow.

Lane spacing is also as free form as English spelling was before dictionaries. On the same street you have 2, 3 or 3.5 (half street, half curb) lanes over a few blocks. One of our drivers gestured to the surface of the street and told us that there used to be white lines on the pavement, but everyone was happy when they wore off because they got in the way of good, creative driving.

Our apartment in on a main street near downtown Moscow. Yesterday morning I had to jump back into the doorway, because someone had decided that the sidewalk was wide enough to drive on. Parking is also free form. People park on the left side, right side, or sidewalk. They park parallel or nose in or slanted or, in a few cases, in the middle of the street as the mood dictates.

I decided not to rent a car.

March 27^th 2003

We are in Tver. Leo and Marina came up to Moscow for two days and we returned to Moscow with them yesterday. We are returning to Moscow in a few hours. There is a commuter train from here to Moscow that costs about $1.50 for the two and a half-hour trip - or more accurately - WOULD cost $1.50 if they had not canceled 4 of the 8 scheduled trains. This means that the few trains still running are not at the times we need and will be standing room only. Russians will sell a ticket for train where you have to stand up for 3 hours - no problem. When Larisa asked the “nice woman” behind the counter if the trains were running, she said “I can’t be bothered with all this crap, look at the damned board!” No wonder they are all pissed off all of the time.

In a few hours we will be picked up by the driver that we hired and be taken on the three hour trip for 1000 rubles - about $30.00

Tver is very different from Moscow. Out here people claim that Russia plans to put a Russian Embassy in Moscow so that they will have embassies in all nearby foreign countries.

Prices are about half of Moscow prices, and we are staying in luxurious three room suite for $80 a night. It has a large bedroom, a dining room complete with luxury furniture, and a living room. I would have booked a smaller room, but in Moscow any room under $120 is a pigsty. I thought that we were taking a chance on even booking an 80-dollar hotel.

This is medium sized college town. It has a concert hall, movie theatre, library, and several universities, but it still looks like Tijuana. Leo says that the city is improving at an astonishing rate, but the pavements are still dirty and cracked and up close the buildings are in bad need of paint and plaster. Beautiful buildings but.... Apparently there was no money for maintenance during the last ten or fifteen years of communist rule, and the buildings show it.

The old "who gives a damn" attitude still rules most common Russians. They put a brand new entry door in Leo's apartment a few weeks ago. A few days later someone ripped up the padding on the inside of the door. It’s like a world populated by juvenile delinquents who never pick up after themselves.

Tver has central heat like Moscow. I learned how they regulate the utility usage. If your block uses too much hot water, the central station cuts you off without warning - for a few hours or days or a week. When we got up this morning, we found out why our luxury suite had very nice electric heaters in every room.

On the other hand, I treated Leo and Marina to breakfast in the hotel restaurant. We had several small cheese and ham sandwiches (Russians call it "butter bread"), sausage, Lox, some caviar on toast, tea, coffee, pastries - and a bill for $4.00

Same day – Evening in Moscow

It was worth the money for hotel and cab just for the ride through the countryside.

There are thousands of little houses beside the road. They are old, small and mostly falling down. It seems that Stalin's dream and promise was a house for every man. They built thousands and thousands of houses. Of course, the houses could not be very large (some are about 10 by 20 feet) and not everyone could have luxuries like plumbing and electricity, but after 90 years, many or even most, are still standing. The residents paint them bright green and put gingerbread molding and bright colored shutters on the windows. Going inside is like stepping into a time machine and getting out in 1910. Most of the walls are covered with Victorian wallpaper, there are wood or coal stoves in the middle of the floor, and the one that I was in had a pressed tin ceiling in the living room – last seen in here in 1918 Indiana.

Most have not been maintained for 90 years and are in terrible shape – some are missing parts of the roofs - but at one time the road to Tver must have looked like a Disney movie set.

But Russia changes. Behind the picturesque shacks, modern commuter suburbs are going up. Some homes are as nice as, or nicer than, anything in California. Over the 250 kilometers between Tver and Moscow, I counted at least 20 modern gas stations being built. We stopped for lunch and bathroom at a busy MacDonald’s. It seems that the age of the car is about to come into Russia.

March 28th Wednesday Night

Today I saw the other Moscow - or maybe the other Russia.

After I left the Internet office, I took a stroll down the main drag of downtown. It was like New York - not the New York that we have now - the New York before it turned into a dirty welfare town. Not every young woman wore short skirts. Some wore skirts with slits up to the waist. Some wore belts that doubled as skirts. A few spoilsports even wore slacks. High fashion, Mercedes, and money were everywhere. Stores with English signs and European products. Everywhere the hustle and bustle of money being made and spent. No parking on the sidewalk here - selling yes - parking no. These people are making as much in a day as Larisas's friends are making in a month - and spending it fast.

There are a lot of underground passages in Moscow. The downtown streets are at least 8 lanes wide and impossible to cross on the surface, so they have tunnels under the streets and between the Metro stations. A lot of tunnels. Every one is lined with mini-stores.

They close in a section of wall less than 5 feet deep and about 10 feet long with aluminum windows and a door with a selling window in it. They sell music, nylons, makeup, cigarettes, office supplies, perfumes, eyeglasses, beer, and clothing - from a space where the proprietor literally has to step outside to turn around. These are the people that are building the new homes on the road to Tver and driving to work in their new cars. I understand now why the rest of Russia feels that Moscow is a foreign place. I wonder how long the two Russias can coexist. There must be tremendous tension building up.

We had one of Larisas' old friends over for dinner tonight. She is a doctor working in a lab, and she makes $200 a month. Her husband is a computer engineer working at the Cosmos Hotel for about $350 a month. She is unhappy that her sister makes $1000 a month as a hairdresser. Even the nurses take tips for "special services" - like having your blood test ordered on time -and make more money that a doctor

We talked for quite a while about why doctors are paid so little and why she did not quit and find a job that makes more money. Comes down to two facts. Old communist jobs are paid nothing. That includes doctors because they are paid by the state. The other factor is that doctors don’t see a choice. One of the major remnants of communism is an attitude that nothing can get better and a firm belief that $200 a month for life is better than $1000 a month for as long as your job lasts. Leo says that there are people working in government paid positions for as little as $35 a month - while their neighbors buy BMWs. This can’t go on forever.

I can't wait to see if prosperity or despair wins the day. Today we are going to see more of Larisa's friends. She loves to see them, cries inconsolably when they part, and needs lots of ice cream to make her smile again. Thankfully, Baskin Robins has also invaded Russia. We have one a block from the apartment. Tonight the Russian Circus. We are leaving in two days and this is the first tourist thing that I will have seen.

..

March 30, 2003

It is our last day in Moscow. Strangely, I will miss this place a little. Only a little.

Yesterday, I saw a fairy tale. A Russian version.

Nakita loves Nadia. Nadia loves Nakita, but will not marry him. Nadia is Leo's interpreter. She is 24 years old and cute. She works as an English Instructor for the college at $35 a month and works for Leo as an interpreter for $2 an hour. She was born, grew up in, and lives in Tver. Nakita is her boyfriend and my new partner in Russian Programming Connection.

Nakita is about 25, blondish, dressed in the latest fashions, sharp as Hell and Leo's best friend over the last two years. He works in Moscow programming Unix shells for Sun Microsystems, and he is a real go getter. I just spent two hours discussing business, religion, and philosophy with him. I can see why Leo likes him. He was born in, grew up in, and fled from Tver.

Nadia will not marry Nakita because her parents don’t think that he is proper man. Nadia's parents are of the old school. They worked for the state, believe in service to the state, expect nothing, got nothing. They are old Russian. They don't like people who want success and money and good jobs. They don’t like Nakita because he is ambitious and hard working. Nakita even has a cell phone. The 10 dollars a month that Nakita spends for the cell phone separates him from Nadias parents. Them in one world, him in the other.

Tomorrow he will ask Nadia to move to Moscow with him. I don’t think he has a prayer, but I hope for him. Nowhere have a seen a clearer example of the difference between old and new Russia. Can you imagine any American parent saying "You cannot marry that man! He wants to make a good living! He even wants to be successful!!!!" It is a Russian fairly tale. I can't wait to see how it ends.

I want to take some pictures of the old apartment buildings here. There is no other way that you will believe what they are like. Bill, my son in law, would love the wiring here. In the older buildings, the fuse boxes have no surface plates. When you open the outer box, the wires are all exposed - and the fuse boxes are at waist height and never locked. Sometimes they have no doors on the fuse boxes or no boxes on the fuse panel - and the wires are still exposed. They have 220 volt 60 cycle current running through wires exposed to the air.

It is nice that there is only one set of mains in each apartment staircase. They are in large cabinets in the hallway just inside the main door. The also have no surface plates, and are NEVER locked. Here we have 440 volt current waiting to entertain the children. Of course we add to that the octopus wiring at every outlet (ok, for a three room apartment "both outlets") and we have one of those old public service advertisements about bad wiring. I suppose that it is an effective Darwinian control mechanism.

It almost makes you nostalgic for government control.

After a while you can even almost get nostalgic for lawyers. Leo went to the bathroom at the circus a few months ago. As he entered the dark stall, his foot went into a foot deep hole with a pipe sticking up from the bottom. He was hurt rather badly. The lawyer, when he could find one, said something like "Well, you should watch where you are going - even in the dark." The hole in the floor is still there, still in the dark, and presumably still hurting people. No one can get rich by spilling McDonalds coffee on himself in this country. O.k. so you really can’t get nostalgic about lawyers, but almost.

I am looking forward to getting home. I want my car back, English speaking TV, my cable box, and real salad. They don’t eat lettuce in Russia. What they call a salad is anything like fish or beets or beans mixed with lots of mayonnaise. A salad bar is 14 kinds of unrecognizable stuff in mayonnaise.

Back Home.

Even though I am home now and can call on the phone, I wanted to get down on paper (at least electronic paper) my last thoughts on Moscow before I forget them.

It is a place much more cosmopolitan in some ways than it is here. Here in Lake Elsinore, there is no 24 hour drug store- the nearest one is in Temecula. Vons and Albertsons are back to closing at midnight - after that, you only have a few circle K's open. The most common sign I saw in Moscow was "24 YACA" - Meaning "24 hours". Many drug stores, all supermarkets, a small store on about every block, the casinos, and even a few Kiosks run 24 hours a day. Did I mention Casinos? Lots of them. Only slot machines, but a lot of them. In shops on the street corners, down town, in the train stations, lots of Slot Shops. No one seems to know that gambling is "morally reprehensible, breeds crime, and is a blight on society". So it isn’t.

On the other hand, you can’t buy packing tape or get a key made unless you know where to go. The supermarkets are better than they used to be, but the stores are very specialized. When we needed packing tape for a painting that Larisa bought, I could not find it anywhere. We finally borrowed a few feet of tape from our landlord, but I have no idea where he got it- by the way, plastic tape of all sorts is called "Scotch" in Russia - talk about the power of American Advertising.

I got a chance to chat with the driver who took us back to the airport. He was a man of about 30. I had been noticing that about a quarter of the billboards and other advertising were in the Latin alphabet - and many of them were in English. I asked him if most people could now read the Latin alphabet. He said, "Da" and read a few of the signs hat we passed. He said that many Russians are worried about the "Americanization of Russia." They think of all foreign products - even Sony and Pokemon - as "American". This has caused the usual division between old and young people. Old people still detest the western influence. Young people want to be western. You hear more American music than Russian and even rap is popular with the young. They buy magazines about American movie stars, American music, and Harleys. every news stand has copies of "Cosmopolitan" and "Playboy" and "BAM" dozens of other American magazines with the cover in English and the text inside in Russian.

It reminds of the Rock and Roll controversies when I was young. I was too tactful to mention that that was how we won the cold war. One of the most popular shows on Russian TV is about 3 Russian policeman stationed in Las Vegas and catching bad Russians doing nasty things there.

Maybe that is why the fanciest casino downtown is called "Super Slots" (ok, they spell it "Cynep Clotc" - but you pronounce it "Super Slots")

Russian TV is pretty good - if you speak Russian. 7 channels in Moscow without cable. Unfortunately not a single caption or any programming in English. What the Russians do is up to American standards of TV production, but about 1/3 or all programming is from the US - mostly our old cop shows. The Russian idea of dubbing is to turn down the sound on the original tape (but leave the sound there) and a couple of Russian speakers speak over the English during the show. I even saw one program where one Russian speaker spoke all of the parts. Larisa believes that sooner or later everyone will understand English from subliminal learning - because so much of their TV is simultaneous English/Russian and you can almost make out the English in the background.

I did see one news program that I think I understood in spite of no translations. A news program showed a gasoline pipeline that ran through an large open field or park that we had passed a few days before. With good old Russian engineering principles, they had not buried the pipe. It was suspended on rusted supports about 3 feet off of the ground. The segment began with a pan of the pipe and then focused on a leaking joint. The picture then panned back to show two Russian women with jars, pails, and buckets collecting the leaking gasoline. Then it panned back further to show that the women had set up a very professional gas price sign next to the road.

They interviewed several people who were walking past or purchasing gas. I could not understand the Russian, but it was obvious that they were asking people if it was wrong to sell or buy stolen gas, and the people were all shrugging their shoulders and looking confused. The last segment was an interview that I could not understand with an official at the police department. He looked both confused and concerned, but I will never know what happened to the nice old resourceful ladies

Good old rugged capitalism and communist "ethics" seem to work well together in Russia. Still good to be home. I actually drove to the store today surrounded by drivers who drove only on the road, avoided the sidewalks, and drove mostly between these wonderful white lines that they have on American roads.