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Letters from Russia (Part 3)
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These letters were written by my friend, Ken Taft (Denver, USA) who arrived to
Russia with the prospect of staying in St. Petersburg for one year as a teacher
of English language. I find them both sincere and precious as they describe so
well how it feels in the beginning as well as provide useful information for
those who have plans to move to Russia for a certain period of time.
If you find the very first letters discouraging I would like to add one simple
fact: after the first year Ken decided to stay here for the second one. His
approach is that choosing between USA and Russia for living in the nearest 5
years, Russia seems much more inspiring...
Sincerely yours,
Tatiana
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Letters from Russia
Letters from Russia (Part 2)
Letters from Russia (Part 3):
Letters from Russia (Part 4)
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Letter 9: Surf City & the most popular girl in town
Good Morning!
It's early Sunday morning... Well early for me, it's 9:30am. I remember the good old days back in
Denver when I'd get up at 6:00am just because. Now 9:30 seems early. People go to bed very late here
and I have fallen into the same habit. When it comes to going out to bars or night clubs, you have
two options. You can start early and finish early so that you can catch the last metro at midnight,
or you can stay out all night long and catch the first metro of the morning at about 5:00am. So far
I've only opted for the former. Most people don't have cars so the public transportation option is
the only one. I've come quite close a couple of times to not catching the last metro. If this happens,
it's either a very long walk home in the arctic cold, or I can try to flag down a private taxi.
Since my negotiating skills in Russian are not fine tuned yet, it would be difficult to do. Plus
most drivers prefer a female passenger or at least a female to negotiate the price.
I've made a new friend recently, or should I say, she's made me her new friend. I think everyone
knows this girl. She is the Queen Social Butterfly. She knows about all the parties, she's on all
the guest lists, rarely pays for a drink, and there's at least three people on hold on her cell
phone at all times. Her name is Larissa. We met at an Irish bar called The Shamrock for a couple
of hours on Friday night after I was finished teaching. This felt like a true English grotto but
on that night I did not hear any English speakers. We sidled up to the bar and pulled up a couple
of stools. Immediately the smartly dressed bartender plopped two drinks in front of us that I
didn't recall ordering. One was pink and bubbly with a heart shaped straw in it. The other looked
like something between wine and beer. Both were in wine glasses. I asked Larissa: "What's this
for?" Her response: "It's Valentine's Day!" Oh yeah, I forgot about that needless little holiday.
I gave her my unknown alcoholic concoction and ordered a pint of Murphy's Irish Stout. Mmmm! Tasty!
The scene was very surreal. Outside there's a fierce arctic wind blowing. Inside it feels like an
English pub, there are those gigantic Irish beer taps running the length of the bar, I'm with a
Russian girl and everyone else is speaking Russian, and I'm watching Australian rules football on
the telly. When it was time to leave, the bartender brought the bill (shot), and I must say I was
a bit surprised. In total we had 2 1/2 pints of beer. The charge was 480 rubles, about $15. For
Russia this is really expensive! In America this is expensive, but I calmly paid the bill and we
left. I doubt I'll be returning there anytime soon. There are other pubs just as nice where a pint
of beer cost about $1-$2.
So last night, at about 8:00pm, I'm preparing to sit down after a long week of teaching to write
some letters. I receive a text message on my cell phone from Larissa that there's a party at the
American Embassy, asking me if I'd like to go. Of course, how could I pass up an opportunity like
this. So we go to the party together. I don't know what to expect or how to dress. After some airport
style security at the front door, we go up to the party on the second floor. As we walk in I notice
that almost all the men (and it's mostly men) have Marine style haircuts. There is only a sprinkling
of women, most of them very good looking. There's a pool table, a football table, a psychedelic light
show on the wall, American dance music playing and one strange little guy that looks like Andy Warhol,
walking around. I sidle up to the bar again and order a couple of drinks from the young Marine working
as the bartender. They had the original Budweiser made in the Czech Republic and even had popcorn on
the bar. I sit down with Larissa and men take their turns coming up and saying Hi to her. As it gets
later, the party transforms from an American style "Sausage Party" (I think you know what I mean) to
a room filled with about 20 men and about 50 women, all dressed very nice and most of them very
attractive. Reminds me of the Jan & Dean song "Surf City". "Goin' to Surf City cuz it's 2 to 1, Yeah
were goin' to Surf City, gonna have some fun..." Anyway, I ask Larissa about the ratio. She says
it's like this at all the nightclubs. Women like to go out more than men do. Maybe men like to stay
at home and drink with their friends. She told me that the ratio is always either 2 to 1 or 3 to 1
when she goes out. She hates it. She told me she knows about how American nightclubs are filled with
men and how they actually have to promote Ladies Night to get the women in. She had this sparkle in
her eyes when she was talking about all the men.
About 10:30, guess who walks into the party? Oily Beau Hunk! Remember him from the last letter?
Of course he's flanked on both sides by young Russian girls. I wouldn't have expected anything less.
I need to get a photo of this guy for all of you to see. I watched him make the rounds talking to
various women. It was endless entertainment. I will definitely try to make it to more of these
American Embassy parties. They occur every two weeks.
It's a strange feeling now that I've become an ex-pat (the term given to people living outside the
U.S. - ex-patriot). It's a twilight zone feeling of being somewhere between here and there. I've
never felt more American than I do right now. It's become a bigger part of my identity. I'm in a new
culture, but I'll never actually become a part of it. It's a hazy line I walk staying true to my
American-ness and trying to be flexible and accepting of different ways of doing things. I've stopped
talking about politics with people. It's an exercise in futility. I'm up against the misinformation
fed to the people through the Russian media. Even though the media here is supposedly a free press,
I think they still feel pressure to be very biased to Russia and anti-American government.
I must get ready to leave the house to meet another friend of mine.
Over and out,
Ken
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Letter 10: Leningrad cowboys
Long time, no write,
It seems like forever since I last wrote a letter. My computer had a nice viral infection which
I had to get rid of. So everything's fine now except for all the things I want to write about.
There's too much for one letter.
Where to start... Last weekend, on Saturday, I went to a modern art exhibit with Tatiana. As with
most modern art, most of it lacks any artistic ingenuity, but there were a few artists that scored
very high marks. I even tried to buy a print, but the brooding, chain smoking artist behind the
table was out of what I wanted. There was a group of beatnik musicians playing some cool jazz,
and it reminded me of some of the overly-hip little art galleries in Boulder.
On Saturday night I went out for a couple of beers with two of my students, Olga and Veronika.
They wanted to go to the JHBC (Jimi Hendrix Blues Club). I wonder if Jimi would mind if they were
using his name. Instead we ended up going to "Liverpool". It's a Beatles theme bar. When you walk
in, you see Beatles memorabilia everywhere and hear only Beatles music on the sound system. I wonder
if the people who work there eventually go crazy? It looks like a classic English underground pub,
lots of brick and low ceilings. There was a good little rock band in the other room playing songs
by The Kinks, Hollies and Rolling Stones. It seems this bar is the place that famous rock groups
visit when they are in town. The table we were seated at was "The Scorpions" table. Whenever they
are in St. Petersburg, The Scorps' sit at this table. The night before our table was occupied by
a group that was popular in the late 60's called Slade. The manager of "Liverpool" was talking to me
for awhile about them. I related the story of how my Father had driven them in a limousine many,
many years ago. He then went into the back room and came out with a photo from the night before of
him and the band. The girls and I had a couple of beers, talked, danced a little and finally left.
(Syntax note: Some people are offended by the term "girls" when referring to females over 18.
In Russia it is used for all single women. I rarely hear "woman". When I do, it's usually for
someone in their 30's and up. Political correctness hasn't infected Russia yet.)
Sunday evening was a great night. I was invited to go to a club called "Arizona". Those in
attendance were Larissa and two of her girlfriends and Tatiana and her husband Sergey. When we
walked in, I thought I had been transported to some little Honky Tonk in Abilene Texas. It was
all Western themed, Russians dressed like cowboys, and even a gun-toting sheriff in a long black
leather trench coat keeping the peace. I moseyed up to the bar, ordered a couple of Bochkarev
(Russian beer) and took in this surreal sight. There was a band playing that would give most
country bands in Texas a run for their money. They were excellent. They played three sets. The
first set was all American country music. Also, they were dressed as cowboys. During the break
they went into the back room and changed into traditional Russian costume. Since, of course,
Larissa knows everybody, she took me backstage and I did a shot of this salty, garlicky vodka
with the band. When we walked into the dressing room, the entire band, men and women, were all
in different states of undress. Some people were naked, some people weren't. Of course my American
puritanism kicked in at the sight of all this comfortable nudity.
The second set was all traditional Russian music. I didn't know how to dance to this music, but
the dance floor was packed. For the third set they changed costumes again into a Mexican Mariachi
band. They played all Mexican music and of course "Tequila".
I can't wait for the next night like this. They only do this once a month.
Adios Amigos,
Ken
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Letter 11: Soviet films
Hello Comrades,
I think it's been a couple of weeks since I have written. I feel like I've really settled into my
life here and the things that were once strange and unfamiliar are now common and comfortable.
I'm quite removed from the perpetual war coverage in the media in America. Here I really need to
search for war coverage. Many people have cable or satellite hookups in their flats for watching TV.
I do not, so I don't get to see BBC Television or Euro News in English. My main source of info has
been CNN.com and USATODAY.com. I haven't talked about the war with anyone here because I just don't
think it's a good idea. Iraq, Chechnya, Afghanistan (in the 80's and today) and France are topics I
avoid. The French and Russians are good buddies. When talking to me, people want to vent their
frustration at the American government through me and I just don't want to hear it. I'm here to make
friends and heated discussions about politics is not conducive to that.
I'm sure you're curious about how the Russians feel about the war. It seems that only a small
minority support it. Many resent the bully tactics of unilateral aggression. There were some minor
demonstrations in front of the American Embassy, but it was mostly typical young, jobless,
radical liberals with nothing better to do than throw eggs at the American Embassy. In America I
think we call them Hippies.
On to other more cheery topics... I have a roommate now. His name is Mike, he's from the 51st State,
Canada. He's 24 and is also here teaching English and living the Russian lifestyle. He speaks decent
Russian and I'd like to get to the level he's at. I've started taking private Russian lessons with
a Russian English teacher named Sasha. She's teaching me no charge, which is quite generous. She just
wants to practice teaching Russian. This language is not so difficult at first but when you reach a
certain level, it becomes very difficult. Grammar rules become riddled with exceptions and logic goes
out the window... Kind of like English. So if I can get to that level, I'll be satisfied and will be
able to communicate and generally get my point across in Russian. People tell me my pronunciation is
excellent, but I have trouble remembering grammar and structure.
On consecutive Sundays I've been invited to watch Soviet films from the 70's at friends' apartments.
My friend Tatiana translated both movies to me as we watched them so I would understand the dialog.
Both movies were excellent. One, which I forget the name of (my Russian recipients can remind me if
you'd like), is about a man who is getting married on New Year's Eve. Before the wedding he goes to
the sauna with his buddies, they get drunk on vodka, and then he is accidentally put on a plane from
Moscow to Leningrad (St. Petersburg). He arrives in Leningrad still drunk and asks the taxi driver
to take him to the address of his home. In Soviet times there was a great deal of construction of
what are called sleeping districts, large suburbs of row after row of tall concrete apartment
buildings that all looked the same and had similar addresses. You could be dropped in the middle of
one of these and not know what city you were in. Even all the street names were the same in every
city. There's probably about 100 Leninskaya Blvd.'s in Russia. So the hero of our story stumbles up
to what he thinks is his apartment (same street, same address, same number) and enters (even the key
works). Even the interior of the apartment looks the same, including the furniture. The owner of the
flat comes home, she finds him sleeping, wakes him, and the rest of the story is how they start off
hating each other and eventually fall in love through the night. Very charming, good music and
excellent dialog. No car chases, explosions, special effects or villains. Just good movie making.
The other movie I watched is called "Office Romance". A story of two people who are the least likely
to fall in love. Unlike the American hero who is rich, smart, successful, handsome, and the only piece
of the puzzle missing is some fair maiden to love him and accompany him (see any recent popular
American film), the hero of the Soviet film is common, not rich, not handsome and maybe socially
inept. But he has strength of character and swims against the current. Popular Russian films of today
are a lot of guns and fighting (American style), but some of the Soviet films of the past are quite
good.
I still haven't bought a camera, consequently I haven't been too inspired to write lately. I was
going to have a camera shipped here from the States by FedEx, but the Russian Customs Agency want
to tax me a 40% tax on the price of the camera. Yeah right! So I'm back to shopping here. I've
considered taking a weekend trip to Helsinki to buy a camera there, then bring it back. Funny how
if the camera is already in my possession, they don't tax me to bring it into the country. But if
I ship it here, then I get taxed... More Russian logic for you.
Bye for now,
Ken
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Letter 12: Russian Easter
Hello Family and Friends,
It's been a long time since I've typed out a nice long letter on my laptop. I could blame it on
other things, but honestly I think it's due to the fact that I have settled in here and things
don't seem so unusual anymore.
So... In the Russian Orthodox calendar Easter falls a week later than in the Catholic calendar.
It is probably the most important religious holiday also, more important than Christmas. They color
eggs just like the rest of us, but they take theirs to church to be blessed by the priest. The mass
last for about three hours and starts at midnight. At 11:30 people begin assembling outside the
church and will walk around it a few times while praying. The first hour of the mass the church is
filled to capacity, but after the first hour most of the fair-weathered believers go home and get
some sleep. The truly faithful stay the full three hours. The main priest and his multitude of
sidekicks chant and sing in a form of Russian that I think most Russians can't even understand.
They are answered by a choir that is situated high above and out of sight of everyone.
Last night I went with my friends Tatiana and Sergey on a kind of cultural religious tour. We visited
three cathedrals over three hours to get a sample of different kinds of churches and ceremonies.
The first was St. Nicholas Cathedral. It was actually two churches in one, one upstairs, one
downstairs. In the orthodox church there are no nice comfortable wooden pews to sit in and no soft
rails to kneel on. Everyone is standing the whole time, except for a few very old babushky who must
sit down. Women must cover their heads with a scarf upon entering the church. With all the tall
people in this country, it's hard to get a good sight line to what's going on up front. I tried to be
stealth with my camera, but a few times I had to raise it above my head, of course drawing attention.
Tatiana said it was Ok to take pictures as long as I didn't use flash. If anyone protested, she would
tell them I was an American journalist preparing to write a story about all the wonderful things about
the Russian Orthodox church. Everyone loves good advertising. Luckily I got through the night without
ever getting scolded.
After St. Nicholas we went to the Kazan Cathedral on Nevsky prospect, the famous main street in
St. Petersburg. Here a television crew was doing a live broadcast of the mass for all of those who
wanted to watch it from the comfort of their sofa. I felt more comfortable with my camera here for
obvious reasons. The lights they used to illuminate the interior of the church were spectacular,
spooky and annoying all at the same time. I felt like I was witnessing something very special and
divine, yet still a bit commercialized. The floor plan of the church is in the typical "cross" shape.
The massive solid granite columns in this church were awe inspiring. How did they lift them? I was
shocked that it was one of the churches that was slated to be torn by Stalin's orders before the war.
It's a real shame the number of churches he did destroy that will never be seen again.
After Kazan we went to a very small church (Blagoveshenskaya church) closer to the suburbs. Here it
felt like people were actually worshipping and not just viewing the spectacle like in the Kazan
Cathedral. For the giving of the Eucharist the priest and his cohorts change clothes again into
crimson red. All who want, including young children, are given bread and wine symbolizing the body
and blood of Christ. The wine is spoon fed to the patrons while two priests whole a red towel under
your chin to catch any spills. When approaching the altar, people cross their arms over their chests
and wait for the priest to come out from the back.
Bye for now...
Ken
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Your opinion regarding this article will be much appreciated at the
forum.
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