Articles by Dan Wollrich
Metro at the Belorusskaya Station
November 06, 2006 by Dan Wollrich
Today I would like to take you on a trip around Moscow. Be sure to bundle up with your sweater, heaviest coat, warm hat, and scarf, lest the sub-zero weather and chilling wind freeze your tush off!
We will first exit the Metro at the Belorusskaya Station. We are welcomed to Moscow by… Tom Jones? It IS unusual! Indeed, his music is blaring from the kiosk vending 100-ruble CDs and DVDs (approximately $4). We quickly realize that no one here resembles Carlton, the Fresh Prince’s cousin, and no one is dancing to Tom Jones—not even here is he that cool.
Glancing around, it becomes evident that the music kiosk is not alone: there are small kiosks along the street selling just about anything, from scarves and umbrellas to beer and cigarettes. During our stroll today, I promise you that you will see at least a few more regulars. One is called “Kroshka Kartoshka” (kartoshka means potatoes). You may correctly assume that you can buy a baked potato with an assortment of toppings, including salmon and other interesting options. This kiosk is a favorite of my dear friend in Russia, Judy. However, Alex recommends “Stardogs.” This is no Hot-Dog-on-a-Stick! You can indulge in the classic Danish hotdog, with fried onions and pickles, or the peculiar French hotdog, with the wiener inserted into a bun with a hole at one end. Elsewhere you can buy bliny, which are similar to crêpes and can be ordered with any filling, from fruit jam to caviar. Kiosks can provide the newspaper, your day’s bread and meat, or anything else your heart desires!
Since we are thoroughly aware of where to buy food and can assuredly proceed without starving, I would like to show you the area. Off to the right you might notice a large glittery sign declaring the presence of “The Golden Palace,” but do not be fooled! This casino has since been shut down, for two reasons (or so the rumor runs): 1) the proprietors were Georgians, and Russia and Georgia have been engaging in fierce political argument—do not fret, the Atlanta Falcons will play on, since this is a regional country, not our fine Southern state—and 2) President Putin has decided that the many, many casinos within Moscow city limits must be removed and, unless the Russian legislature makes a huge deviation in its standard operating procedure, what Putin wants, Putin gets. I suppose he rightly found it uncomfortable for his nation’s capital to hold the third most casinos in the world, behind Las Vegas and Miami (St. Petersburg is sixth).
Oh! Hold on, the militsia, or police, are approaching. You see, in Russia the police thoroughly have the right to approach you at any time and request to see your documents. Walking the streets without your passport or documents could result in an arrest and further frustrations, which we seek to avoid. Notice how he will salute us, state his name and badge number, and then most likely proceed to badger us, perhaps carrying out his duties professionally or perhaps attempting to extort a bribe. The latter is driven significantly by the fact that this poor fellow gets paid virtually nothing for strutting around in this awful cold and carrying out a job that could easily prove dangerous. Fear not! I carry my cell phone at all times with the phone number of the U.S. Embassy, and the rare illegal militsia bribe solicitation would likely dissipate when threatened with a call to the embassy.
Unfortunately, I do not have my passport at the moment, since the government authorities are processing it at the moment, registering me in the city. This can take up to a few weeks. I have, however, a photocopy, along with a spravka, which is a form provided by the university that says we are authorized to be in Moscow. These documents often give the militsia pause. Fortunately, this time there are no problems and he politely ushers us on our way—in Russian, of course, since very few people speak English here. In honor of the document we often carry, we call this police interaction “getting spravka’ed.”
As we head back down into a Metro station, Okhotniy Ryad, we notice the beautiful sounds of talented musicians, whirring up and down the scale on their violins, cellos, and double bass. Such skill! These subway performers could easily whisk away the patrons of a grand theater hall in a flurry of passionate music, light as the wind, yet they play in an underground passageway. To what do we owe this peculiar delight? I cannot say for sure, but we could easily attribute it to the high cost of living and the low wages received by those not working in business management. A true shame for the performers themselves, but a tragic beauty for you and I. You know, it may not be a terrible shame, for they do love their music and the audience listens appreciatively. Maybe this is the musicians’ effort to provide the poorer people with an opportunity to witness a divine spectacle so often reserved for the wealthy. I thank them with a 50-ruble note in the instrument case, a respectable tip.
As we descend into the depths of the Metro—they are depths indeed, since the Moscow Metro system was designed to be a bomb shelter and an underground world in the event of war above ground—we observe an underground aspect to Russian culture, namely, how rich the culture is. Over the loudspeaker, the operator is making some announcements, though amongst them she quotes the famous Russian poet/author/genius, Alexander Pushkin. How many times have you noticed BART quoting Walt Whitman or the Tube in London quoting Shakespeare? The Russian culture must be rich indeed for the people to understand this, since I think most Americans and many other nationalities would fall short on literary references. Yet once on the Metro train, it becomes clearer: every fourth person, standing or seated, has a book tucked under his or her nose, filling the brain with both contemporary writing and the brilliant works of geniuses from yesteryears. I have joined this enlightening trend and carry around Nikolay Gogol’s Myortvye Dushy, or Dead Souls. I cannot recommend Gogol enough!
Now our saunter about Moscow comes to an end and I thank you for your patience. I will let you ride the Metro home, but when you exit the train to the left, do not forget your things! “Sleduyushchaya Stantsia: Krasnopresnenskaya.”
Russia
October 9, 2006 by Dan Wollrich
Russia: once the largest republic in the Soviet Union, this country continues to struggle to find its place in the world as I struggle to find my place in Moscow city life. In my series of articles, I intend to provide my thoughts and impressions that have grown in my mind during my stay in this very, very warm city.
There are many peculiar policies and ways of life in Moscow, and the condition that makes the city “warm” is a perfect example. Thanks to the hard work of EAP and our host university, Mezhdunarodny (International) Universitet, I have the good fortune of living with a host, or “khozyaika,” who kindly rents out a room in her apartment to me. To enter this apartment, one must pass through two doors, one of which is padded, and open up to four locks. This represents the looming criminal danger that lingers from the 1990s. But the peculiar policy of which I speak is the heating system management. Apartments have central heating, and by that I do not mean that there are vents within the apartments from which hot air is blown. No, I refer to hot-water coil heaters that cannot be controlled from your home, but rather are turned on by the city of Moscow at some designated time. You can neither turn them on earlier nor turn them off later. Your home’s temperature is dictated by the city and your only personal control is the windows. Interesting, hmm?
The style of Muscovites must be discussed, for it may be the most bizarre aspect of life in Russia. The men are very fond of mullets, as if the 1980s must be preserved at all costs! The stylish clothing is either tight-fitting club wear or snazzy business suits. The club wear is more predominant among the women, as they dress scantily and provocatively. They appear ready to dance at any given moment, if it wasn’t for the smug looks of confident indifference perpetually displayed. This style, however, is worn by the small upper class and the seemingly smaller middle class, which attempts to dress the part of the high rollers. The clothing stores are such: you may either shop in a high-end fashionable store that makes Banana Republic look like a discount outlet or you may endure the poor man’s clothing store, in which you can dress yourself as a classic Soviet comrade!
One of the most important parts of daily Russian life is transportation. The metro and walking are most important for a poor student such as myself. The stations of the Metropolitan of Lenin—he remains a hero in Russia, as demonstrated by the numerous statues, monuments, paintings, and the title of the capital’s main form of transportation—are each unique, with some rather plain and others extraordinarily beautiful. The trains come often and are extraordinarily efficient, a fact that stands out in this country, where waiters seem unaware of the mere concept of “service.” Walking, however, can become enormously dangerous when crossing roads. Essentially, drivers in Moscow have no idea what “safety” means and I believe that all double-O agents are trained on Moscow streets. Furthermore, since red lights are more suggestions than law, pedestrians must be very wary, lest they become splatter upon the fender of a black BMW or Mercedes, which the elite tend to drive.
But do not fret! Despite Moscow’s dangers, there are hidden bits of joy and wonder. The large woman I passed at the bus stop with a scowl was none other than my most kind-hearted teacher, teaching me that the tough posturing on the streets does not truly reflect the friendliness that may reside underneath. Furthermore, there are many beautiful albeit imposing sites to witness, such as the numerous monasteries in the city’s outskirts and the towering might of the Seven Sisters, goliaths constructed under Communism that make Moscow feel like the true Gotham City. In addition, there are hidden restaurants that create festive delights for your taste buds—if your lucky, at a reasonable price!—and numerous cafes in which you can get your coffee fix, along with a wide selection of some of the most delicious pastries in this eight-planet solar system!
The capital of Eastern Europe’s most powerful state is a collage of East and West, success and failure, yesterday and tomorrow. But as I look out my window at Park Pobedy (Victory Park), an impressive memorial to the millions of fallen Russian soldiers in World War II with fountains glowing a brilliant red, I am reminded that, in Russian, “red” also means “beautiful.” I believe it.
