Trip into the past

From Memories of Stas Ionov

by Stas Ionov

(translated from Russian originally posted on lebed.com Полет в прошлое)

I was pleasantly surprised by the interest in my trip to Russia after more than 11-year absence. These are my incomplete and superficial impressions of it. This will probably not answer all the questions, so if any still remain I will be happy to answer them.

Contents 1 First impressions 2 Official matters 3 Life is better, life is merrier... 4 As long as one has the money...

First impressions

My friends picked me up at the airport and we started looking for a hotel for foreign tourist to put a citizen registration stamp into my American passport. (This is just one of the bureaucrat throwbacks into our glorious past.) We had to run around a little in the city center and spend an hour in a cafe with a glass of beer while kabbalistic marks were put onto my visa.

Quite naturally I was asked about my first impressions. To my surprise Moscow felt very familiar. Same familiar buildings on Manejnaya square and Gorkiy street (now once again called Tverskaya street), same familiar neon signs and street cafes that one sees in American and European tourist centers, same familiar traffic jams. Rationally I understood that except for the buildings none of it existed in the Moscow that I left more than eleven years ago.

New impressions were waiting for me in the lobby of the multi-apartment building where we owned an apartment on the outskirts of Moscow. To my great surprise the lobby was sealed from the outside world by a horrible steel door that was painted by some abstractionist artists into colors previously unknown to the world. Behind the wall a security station was erected and manned by an aging grandpa, who, apparently, was mobilized by the glorious Colonel for defense against Caucus terrorists, if such will dare to invade the sacred property that belonged to Ionov’s family. The lobby itself turned out to be dirty beyond recognition – broken light bulbs, urine in the elevator, urban el fresco paintings that are all too familiar from the soviet public restrooms. It now all became clear: apparently the steel door was not intended to thwart an enemy invasion form the outside, rather it was there to save the rest of the mankind from spread of this hell foothold on earth.

What was once a new condo building turned into a Haunted House.

Official matters

Going to Russia I was very concerned about being asked to present my passport to a representative of the law and order. I do not really know why. Perhaps, it was in part because of all the advice I got about not drawing attention to myself and my American origins. It was very much recommended that I hide my blue passport really well and carry the red internal "passport" (not really a passport, but an extensive multi-page soviet-style ID, editorial) instead that hasn’t yet expired.

I tried very hard to dress to blend in and was very proud of my achievement. I even asked my friends what they thought about it. The following exchange ensued: -Stas, you look like a born Moscowite if not for the hat. –What's wrong with the hat? (a wool hat, nothing special) –You either need to have no hat at all, or have a Russian style cap. Wearing this one, I am sorry to say, you look like you just got here from the Riazan province... I was happy with the answer and kept the hat.

A horror of horrors! It turned out that my Russian "passport" was no longer valid. Apparently it was missing a big blue seal of some kind. There was no choice but to carry my American one. With wobbly knees I was waiting for the time a policemen was going to ask me to present my ID. Just imagine: a person speaking Russian without an accent and looking like he was just kicked out of Riazan train for not having a ticket and ta-da, he pulls an American passport out of his pocket! Scary, isn't it?

I did not have to wait too long before I was asked to show it. It turned out to be not that scary after all. A sergeant was asking me questions about life in America for a while. Is it worth going or better to wait sorta-thing. I answered honestly by evasively that America is big and different people live differently. Some of them have a good life, while others do not. In the end we parted as friends.

It turned out that I swam into a shark’s mouth on my own accord. It happened on the outskirts of Moscow in Troitsk. I had to call my relatives in Murmansk and my friend that accommodated me for the night did not have a long distance connection. I had to go to a phone center, where people without citizen registration usually go to. They check everybody's documents there, since the pickings are rich.

I had to show my passport later several more times and always without a problem.

Life is better, life is merrier...

Life in Russia became simpler and more comfortable, as long as there is money. In the Moscow city center, and even outside of the center there are ATMs, so at any moment I can get cash from my bank account in California. Even in the godforsaken Murmansk I found an ATM that took my bankcard. (I recommend this method of getting local cash in Russia and other countries to everybody. This is done using the wholesale currency exchange rates with minimal fees and there is nothing to bring through the customs.)

Different stores popped up everywhere and many of them even take credit cards. I wasn't interested in clothes, and among groceries I really liked the Seventh Continent. They have almost everything – from Russian black caviar and lax to French cheeses and wine and good Italian coffee. There are many cafe and restaurants everywhere and all the waiters and store staff became polite all of a sudden, nothing like it used to be.

The evening life is something that is really worth going to Moscow for. There is everything from respectable classic theaters to avant-garde cafes. There is something for every taste. My friends took me to a concert of Kochetkov in Besedka and jazz club Forte. By the way Kochetkov is going to USA with large series of concerts – I recommend taking this opportunity to see him. In Forte we saw a rather colorful jazz band of Petrovich – a virtuoso of harmonica. In addition to the big and hairy Ptrovich himself there were two leading guests – saxophone player from US and blues musician from Canada. The saxophone player was not quite Charlie Parker, the Bird, but still was rather good, and the Canadian was not bad either. It's a little embarrassing that I cannot remember their names, but I have an excuse. It would have been all great if not for the copious amount of cigarette smoke in Forte.

These are all superficial unsurprising changes. After staying there a little longer deeper changes become noticeable. For instance, Russia has a quality food industry now. Domestic food and beer are relatively inexpensive and have world-class quality.

I was pleased to see that despite the bureaucratic hurdles some business-minded people were able to improve lives of their fellow countrymen. Naturally not without a profit for themselves. For instance, we went to a really nice Russian sauna that was inside an ordinary apartment building and occupied the space of a former pro-communist club. This used to be a place of speeches and pledges of allegiance to the glorious communist leaders, now grownup young pioneers of yester years enjoy hot steam, cold beer and other pleasures only limited by the extent of their moral corruption. This is an undeniable progress in my book.

As long as one has the money...

I had the impression that Russian life is slowly (more precisely too slowly), but surely is turning for the better. I am sure that many people will not agree with me, but it is very much a question of a definition what is "better". I think that a successful country is one that consists of successful people, rather than a country with a genius government that is obsessed with another great idea. Respectively, trumpeting the virtues of this great idea by the bloated government bureaucracy does not constitute an improvement, instead it is improving well-being of its citizens, gradually, one citizen at a time. And I think this is happening.

All my friends and acquaintances, whom I had a chance to see, were well off. Majority of them earn on par with western salaries and many travel to France and Austria to ski. Even those that complain about financial difficulties own apartments (of almost European level) and new cars. None of this existed before.

Many of them had to change occupations. One very talented surgeon is now a medical equipment salesman, and his wife who used to be a physician is now a head manager of a large store. Or a good seaport crane operator (the kind that make $120,000 in Port of Los Angeles while working 4 hours a day) now fixes foreign-made cars. What can you do – market forces at work. I am sure that if I staid in Russia I would have had to change profession.