Well Into Week 3

It is my third week in this perpetually dark land, and I have to say that I have settled in quite nicely. I have made friends at work, and have become very close friends with Tamara. I like my work (except on days like today when I had to edit an 11-page translation of a Russian bill) and the weather isn't phasing me much. I have fallen into a serious photo withdrawal and hope to bring you new material after this weekend. But enough about boring stuff!

After much discussion (with my parents and Tamara) and much deliberation (with myself) I have been forced to reconsider my all-to-harsh judgment of the people in the metro in my "drunk man and dog" story from last week. If you don't recall (or didn't bother to read : o) I was perturbed by the reactions of my fellow public-transit riders to the drunken man who stumbled by. On counts of naïveté, I must rebuke my statements. The fact is, drunkenness has choked Russian society and suffocated thousands upon thousands of families. According to the abovementioned sources, people are intolerant because all of them have, on some level, been affected by this terrible disease. Everyone knows someone who is beaten by her drunken husband or whose belongings he sold to fulfill his insatiable cravings.

The subway is a place that amazes me on a daily basis. I guess there is nothing, really, to do except stare at people and judge them mercilessly. It's not so much judging as it is drawing deep-seated conclusions about their character based on momentary glimpses into their lives. For instance, the other day there was a girl sitting directly across from me on the train and next to her sat a young man, whose relation to her was entirely unclear. Her head was disproportionately small for her already small body, and it was held upright by a thin neck. I assume her neck was thin, but I don't really know as it was barricaded on all sides by a thick turtle-neck sweater. Looking at her, I realized why it's called a turtle-neck. The mouth was so wide compared to the size of her head that it looked as though she could, if in danger, easily slip away into it. She had long brown hair and an unpleasant, although not particularly unattractive, face. When she sat quietly, she looked like she could be 13, but when she started talking to her 'friend' (and I use the term liberally) the level of I'm-fed-up-with-the-world in her face was enough to fill 30 years of life. Her 'friend' was even more peculiar than she--picture if you will: Russian gangster meets fraternity boy: baggy pants, loosely laced sneakers, an ostentatious, specious gold chain, and blonde hair with dark highlights. The outer edges of his two front teeth slanted inward, so that, naturally, the inner edges protruded forward, and his squinty eyes hid insecurity behind macho-tinted contact lenses. The roar of the metro prevented me from eavesdropping on their conversation as much as I would have liked, but I got the main gist of it: he, who didn't appear to be very bright, annoyed her to the depths of her soul with the mere utterance of a sound. Picking up on her not so subtle, hostile facial expressions, he defended his offended manliness by putting his foot down--on what I am not entirely sure, but his expressions and gesticulations implied that he let her her have it. They were clearly consumed by their unravelling situation, because not once did they notice that I was staring directly at them for a good 10 minutes. I didn't even have to do the awkward darting glance that is required when you are caught staring. No point and no conclusion...just kind of a funny scene.

Yesterday, after work, I was in a particularly dreadful mood. To remedy the situation, I shoved headphones into my ears, turned up my music (Cake to be exact) and roamed the streets of Moscow for a few hours. It was cold and wet. On a small street near my work, where in the dark everything seems to be in black and white, the changing traffic lights reflected in the wetness all around seemed to give the entire scene a red, green or yellow hue, as if someone where experimenting with this picture in Photoshop. Further out, the streets were filled with people rushing home after work. Bright lights flashed everywhere and in combination with my loud music caused a complete sensory overload. The buildings on this street (Tverskaya) are gargantuan, modern and yet exquisitely elegant. I deem Moscow the New York City of Eastern Europe. As I walked along, I was suddenly pleased to be the utter romantic that people always accuse me of being. I turned up my music just loud enough to completely muffle the outside world (which was pretty damn loud), and in doing so felt as though it was the soundtrack of my life...the movie: A girl, heartbroken, walking along the cold yet comforting Moscow streets; passing stores, bars, restaurants and cozy cafes with holiday decorations in the window. Everything around her is a mime, and all she hears is the disconnected from reality music in her head(phones). Somehow, seeing myself in this non-existent chick-flick lifted my spirits. If my life is in fact like a movie, then, like in a movie, there must be a resolution. And I don't mean to my entire life, but to this chapter of it. One day, I will look back upon the pains of today and think on them fondly, remembering how melancholy they seemed at the time. And I'll think back on it and wish that I could relive that moment knowing then what I know now...knowing how the chapter ends.

Work Friends

These are pictures from Tuesday evening at work. There was a banquet where we said goodbye to Rian (the woman above in the yello jacket), who started AFEW and was the Executive Director, but who is now leaving her post to start a new office in China; and welcome our new director Joost van der Meer (same photo). The other pictures are of me and the friends I have made so far. (Top): Me and Nazee...we work parallel as I am the English editor and she the Russian. (Third): Me with Katya (my boss) and Sasha, who also works in out department. (Bottom): Nazee, Katya, Kseniya and Olessya...the girls I hang out with at work.

Buying Russia

Everything in Russia has a price tag: grades, driver's liscenses, police officers, and government officials. Most people I have talked to believe that it is this kind of "open market" that is holding Russia hostage from real progress and change.

For instance, in talking with Tamara, who teaches physics at a local university, I learned that teachers and professors make less than the yard man. "How can this be?" my naevity beseeched. She explained that governmental officials factor bribes in, by default, which would make teachers' net salary plenty liveable. An "A" costs significantly more than a "B", which, in the end, means that a teacher's marketing strategy determines his wealth. And for students it is not their brain or efforts, but the thickness of their wallet that will determine their success on the university level. Last year, I even had someone tell me that in going to speak with her professor about a grade, she wore a short skirt. He, in turn, showed his appreciation by placing his hand, ever so gently, on her knee. My American roots pratically burst out of my head in moments like these: "What did you do?" I asked, infuriated. "What do I care," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders "As long as he gives me a good grade." Shocked and bewildered, I thought to myself what I would have done if a professor were to be so affectionate with me--certainly not shrug my shoulders and pat myself on the back for a grade well earned.

The streets are another place where the "For Sale" sign puts trepidation into the hearts of drivers and pedestrians everywhere. If famous television personalities can come out on TV and say "Yes, I bought my driver's liscence" and then admit openly, and with a tinge of pride that he does not know, and does not need to know, the meaning of street signs, then we're all in big trouble. And it gets worse. After you have purchased your car and your driver's liscence (but not insurance), if you are stopped for, oh I don't know, driving against traffic, you can get out of it, but for a hefty price. So if you like to drive while inebriated, run over pedestrians, and play chicken on the road, Russia is the place for you. In reality, the government is trying to crack down on corruption, so paying off policemen these days is even more expensive. So just stay where you are and drive on the right side of the road.

One more thing. A few days ago, while returning home after a late night at the office, I encountered a comic, yet tragic episode in the subway. It was about 11p.m. so the trains were running on a much slower schedule. There was a medium sized, black dog laying down in the metro next to a bench. An old babul'ka and and a young girl were feeding and petting the dog. Than, along came a drunkard. He wabbled from side to side as if each step could be his last. As soon as the dog saw him, it jumped from its comfortable surroundings and emmitted a sanguinary bark. I thought the dog was going to tear the poor man to pieces, but it just followed close behind him barking more and more ferociously. The man didn't seem to notice, much like a mouse that didn't notice the elephant standing on its tail. The people waiting for the train watched closely, with intrigued half-smiles waiting to see what would happen next. The drunkard leaned over to pick up an empty bottle to add to his collection--the dog stayed close behind. A police officer emerged importantly from the shadows. As he strutted toward the situation, I was glad that he would finally remove the dog from the metro so that it would stop harrassing that poor man. But instead, and much to my amazement, the officer walked up to the drunken man, grabbed him by the shoulder and led him away. My fellow onlookers smiled with content, as if justice had been done, and looked for validation in the faces of others. I was astounded. What did that man do to the dog? To the people? To the police officer? Since when is drunkeness a crime, especially in Russia? I suppose the police officer had to do something, and the man was less threatening than the dog. I stood there wondering what the officer did with the man: Did he kill him? Did he graciously arrange for him to be placed in a rehabilitation facility? Or did he simply throw him outside? As I pondered the drunkard's fate, the officer returned to deal with the unruly pup. The combination of bravado and fear that played on the officer's face, as he tried to catch the 'wild' beast, was priceless. NowI was smilling. After a few minutes of cat and mouse, the officer finally chased the dog out of the metro. Or maybe he killed it for making a mockery of him in front of people. Or maybe he turned it in to the humane society. It's probably outside with that drunkard right now, united against a common enemy.

2nd Week of Work + Pictures

So I'm into my second week at work, and although I like it, I am already coming to realize just how much bureaucracy can stifle progress. I am making some friends here, which is nice! Anyway, I don't have much to report but I did take a few pictures that I thought I'd pass along:

An old man with a Communist flag stands outside the entrance to the Red Square. He is part of a group of elderly Communists that have gathered there (as they do every Sunday) to protest the removal of Lenin's body from the museum.

This little old lady is a fervent communist and part of the same ordeal. She talked to me for about 20 minutes and in the end, I had no clue what she had said. Her disjointed logic and explanations of how things were and how they ought to be, reflected the general feeling of Russia today. People remember what they had, they don't know what they want, but they know that Russia still has a long way to go. After inviting me to next week's protest and promising me that she'd have a Communist flag and pin ready for me, she asked me to say hello to my parents and grandparents, as if they were part of a bigger alliance. It's sad to see what comes of people--people who fought in the war and have lived such long lives--people who have nothing to stand for now, except the decaying body of a leader that harks back to a "better" time.

Red Square on Russia's first day of snow this year. By this time of the year, the city is usually completely covered, but this year, I guess I brought the Miami heat with me.

As the first snow covers the ground, the last bits of color and life try, relentlessly, to ward off the coming winter.

Just outside the arch that leads to the Red Square, three young guys were making money by charging people to take pictures with monkeys and eagles. The monkeys were dressed in children's attire and judging by their lack of movement and their glossy eyes, I came to teh conclusion that they were definitely sedated. These budding entrepenuers threw the animals around like innanimate objects. The real tragedy is that people find this enjoyable, cute, amusing. They laugh, take pictures with the cell phones and teach their children that these animals exist only for our pleasure. Just what I needed to ruin a beautiful day in Moscow. I asked the guys if they thought that exploiting animals wasn't a crime, to which they retorted with a mocking laugh: "Where did you come here from? A Russian would never say something like that."

Even more tragic, perhaps, than the drugged monkeys, was the massive winged creature tied to a perch with a thick blue rope. It reminded me of the Roman myth in which Tantalus, who in punishment for stealing something from the Gods, was condemned to eternal thirst in hell. He stands in a pool of water, but everytime he tries to drink, the water receded out of reach. The eagle is much the same: He is surrounded by the sky which is his home...he can see it, and yet when he tries to fly he is jerked back into his eternal hell. I witnessed one such attempt, and when the winged beast fell to the ground, the crowd around him laughed and pointed, much like children on a playground, when one of their classmates falls of the monkeybars. As I stood there, trying to lull the tears that were gathering inside of me, I wondered what crime they had commited that has earned them this life sentence in hell.

A park.

Still Jetlagged

Hi Everyone!

So here's a quick updated on what's going on with me:


I got in fine and, to my surprise, I had no problems with the huge amount of luggage I brought with me. It's not quite as cold as I expected although it is no Miami. It's always very gray and it is completely dark by 5p.m. I have been working since Monday at AFEW (AIDS Foundation East-West). I was much awaited there, as there is a ton of work already. I have been editing and translating since I got here, and I really like it. The organization is pretty big with a lot of young people on staff. There is an entire floor of offices and everyone is very into what they are doing...for a non-profit in Russia it's pretty impressive.


The apartment is nice and is in a nice area. The woman who I am renting with (Tamara) is nice too, and we are quickly becoming good friends. The apartment and the office are about a 5-7 min walk from the metro, but even so it takes me 45 minutes each way. That's fine though, because its all part of the experience. Being on the packed metro definetly explains why Russians have NO concept of personal space!


Anyway, I'm having a good time, except for the fact that I am STILL jetlagged! I hope this email finds you all in good spirits and health, and I hope to hear from you soon!

Liza

Arrived Safely

Hello Everyone!
I just wanted to let you know that I got in safe. I am all moved in and everything. Its cold here but not too bad yet. My room is pretty big and the apartment is nice. The woman whom I will be renting from and living with is Tamara, and today she is going to show me the grocery store and how to get to the metro and stuff like that. I start working tomorrow, which I am really looking forward to.

I hope you are all doing well and I'll talk to you soon!

Liza