Alcohol
There are only two alcoholic drinks worth drinking in
Russia, champagne and vodka. By the way
did you know that vodka translates as “little water”? Champagne was available with 5 different
sugar contents. I liked the one in the
middle and missed having it available when I came back to the states where Brut
is the most popular. Russians delight in
popping champagne corks and if you look at any low hanging ceilings in
restaurants to can see the damage corks have affected over the years. Champagne is usually the drink of choice for
the women leaving vodka to men to test their manhood.
A liter of vodka cost between 7 and 10 Rubles making it
affordable but not cheap. A liter bottle
had no screw top or cork, just an aluminum tab, so when a bottle was opened, it
pretty much had to be completely consumed.
There was no way to cap it again without danger of spillage. A number of drunks could always be found on
the ground, passed out even in the dead of winter or see men weaving and
reeling down the street needing to prop themselves up every few yards. I was not used to seeing drunks so completely
out of it.
I had read that Russians men don’t really trust another man,
unless they can drink vodka with them shot for shot. Indeed, I had more than one chance to prove they
could trust me and I discovered a previous unknown talent I had; being able to
outdrink most Russians. It was
considered good manners to always propose a toast and while my toasts were
never inspiring or particularly eloquent, I learned how to flatter my drinking
company or relate my yearning that we all be comrades in search of truth and
understanding.
At work I was always presented with papers to sign which
were mostly designed to protect the Russians rear ends. I suppose in a system where good work goes
unrewarded and mistakes are punished, this was to be expected. The people I dealt with on a daily basis were
good communists in the sense that they were able to talk the ideology and were
promoted because of it, but they were not the brightest bulb. Once in a while, a technical person would be
brought into a meeting and I found them to be very competent.
The average Russians knowledge about what was going on in
the outside world was very limited which I expected but they were also ignorant
about their own government actions and their not too distant history including
anything about Stalin. Government
officials lived in style while the average citizen had to scurry and scrounge
or just learn to live without.
I found I sympathized with them and identified with their
desire for a better life. Basically, I
saw Soviet citizens as good people except for their willingness to spy on their
fellow citizen. When I went to a club
where there was a large dance floor, as soon as the music started to play they
were up and dancing, none of the hanging back at first. And invariably towards midnight the music
became more gypsy in feel, the Russian men would get out on the floor and dance
by themselves, I would join in also letting my body respond to the music.
Toilet Paper
One of the things I wish had known about before my first
arrival was the quality of toilet paper available or lack thereof. The surface of some was similar to wax paper,
others were very rough and sometimes full of wood chips. I actually started a collection. I am not exactly why it did so; perhaps it
was to astound folks back home. I am
sure I showed it once or twice, but it’s not really a topic that comes up
frequently in polite company.
One can never be assured that a toilet has any toilet paper
at all, so everyone travels around with their pockets or purses stuffed with
some sort of tissue just in case. A
supply of which surely qualifies as emergency rations.
As I have travelled to more places in the world by now, I
have come to an epiphany that I want to share with the world. Here it is, “the
degree of civilization of a country is directly proportional to the quality of
its toilet paper. You can call Herd’s
law if you wish.
The Good Things
Ice cream tasted just like back home. I liked their black
bread especially when butter and caviar were added. In Moscow, the subway system is a thing of
marvel, clean, cheap and efficient. One
day I spent the entire day riding the Metro, getting off each station and
enjoying each station’s unique style and beauty.
And speaking of art, the museums, ballet theaters, and novels
are things deeply ingrained in the Russian psyche. Artists can be seen on the street selling
their wares and much of it quite good.
The sweep and scope of Moscow, especially all of Red Square took my
breathe away. Lenin’s tomb, St Basil’s
church, the Kremlin walls, and the spot-lighted hammer and cycle Red Flag
waving within a Kremlin spire were all there.
The Gum department store rests to the side with the Rossiya Hotel
looming in the near background. The flag is constantly waving with support of a small
fan. This is something America should
consider for the Capitol Building and White House. Who wants to see a limp flag?
The streets are very wide so traffic moves well and
underground tunnels are provided for pedestrians to cross the street. The streets and tunnels were always kept
clean by a bevy of old women with their stiff bristled brooms and the tunnels
were free of graffiti.
I owe this to a sort of a collective thought process by the
citizens. They feel it is their duty to come up to you and tell you that it is
cold enough to be wearing a hat should you be hatless. Throwing something on the sidewalk or street
might result in you being chastised and applying graffiti would surely get you
arrested, something to really, really avoid as you might disappear forever.
I always felt safe on the streets late at night. Once I rode in an unofficial taxi driven by a
man who had 3 sons. He was an Engineer,
but was out offering rides to supplement his income. We compared our lives and our daily living,
possible because he spoke good English if somewhat limited. When I
reminiscence, about Russia I always remember this moment and it is strangely one
of my warmest moments.
On the outside of the wide street a lane is reserved for government
cars the Chaika and the Zil. We were
always driven around in a Chaika and the Zil was for persons high up in the
government. Should an ordinary citizen
wander is this lane of privilege and slow down one of these cars, they would be
blasted with a loud horn and cursed at.
Okay, I know this is not really a good thing, except if you are riding
in a Chaika on the way to Sheremetyevo.
All in all, I could not help but to like almost all the
Russians I met, some of whom I shared some personal moments. My experiences there colored by the times
which have changed. I fear not all the
changes have been for the better. The culture of corruption has grown and the
street may not be as safe but I am sure the spirit of the Russian people
remains strong.
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