I had heard rumors about Russian trains before when I mentioned to my Russian friend my interest in a trans-Siberian adventure. She wouldn’t go into details, but just wore a smirk on her face. I found out today what that smirk was all about.
We had our first adventure outside of Moscow today to the monastery Sergeyev Possad. It’s about 60 km (I guess) outside of Moscow, which necessitated travel by train. I was really surprised at how cheap the tickets were: 60 rubles (2 dollars) one-way. But, that price began to make sense when I entered the train.
Even before you step off of the platform some major disparities between Russian rail and Western European rail are identified: there is a foot-wide gap between the entrance to the train and the platform. It looked to me like a broken hip ready to happen, especially considering the number of elderly folk riding.
Entering the carriage, the doors were spring loaded so that you would have to fight to keep them open. Finding a seat is not difficult as long as you don’t mind sharing with a stranger (which I don’t). However, sitting in the seat for an extended period of time is a bit uncomfortable unless you are used to sitting against walls; the seats are not designed for long-distance travel or comfort. No big deal though, I am young.
The most interesting thing about the train is the constant flow of pan-handlers and small time salespeople who cycle through the carriages at steady intervals. One of them will stand up at the front of the car and start his sales-pitch, or appeal, or song, and then slowly move down the length of the car ready to make a sale or take in a spare ruble. As soon as one person is done, the next one come in and starts her spiel, and the whole ordeal continues the entire duration of the trip.
There would be one woman selling a toy remote controlled car, then another selling what looked like napkin holders? There was a legless man who walked on his knees down the aisle, and several people on crutches. It’s difficult, because you want to help but you can’t give money to everyone, and who knows where it’s going? The Russians have told me that a lot of these people work for someone, and have to give the money back to higher brass. I guess it’s maybe like in the movie Slumdog Millionaire, where the kids go and beg for the profit of some man in the background. Terrible.
One kid was really impressive. This boy must have been about 12 years old, he was dark skinned, maybe looked like an Afghan or Georgian or something like that. He played the accordion really well and sang a song in Russian. I found myself closing my book to watch him perform. I slipped him a few rubles as he walked by, who knows if he’ll get any of it, but I hope he does.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Русский Язык
The Russian language has a vibrant history full of political intrigue, brilliant artistry, and a whole host of other attributes that I will avoid listing so as not to sound hackneyed. From what I have read, Russians have a special attachment to their language, a kind of linguistic nationalism that we English speakers do not share with our mother tongue. Speaking for myself, English is just a means by which to communicate, not an expression or representation of my culture. However, for Russians, the Russian language is inextricably linked with the history and mindset of the country; it is the good old Sapir-Whorf hypothesis.
So, language being such a cherished natural treasure, it is surprising how inundated Moscow is with the English language. Most advertisements on billboards, television, and in stores are in English. Today when I went to get my haircut, none of the employees spoke a word of English, which made explaining the style that I wanted rather difficult. But, inside the shop, every product that they were using, all of the hair-care advertisements, and even the songs on the radio were in English.
Our language is everywhere. Even the most tucked away restaurants have full menus in English. In all of the tourist areas, signs are in Russian and English. The popular music is from America (mainly) and America movies gross almost twice as much as their Russian-made counterparts.
Last week I went to an English-speaking club, which is basically a bar where people come to speak English. Native English speakers get in free; Russians have to pay a cover charge. Apparently native English speakers are more of a draw than attractive women! Of course, most everyone there is Russian, but there were several British and American expatriates as well.
I was wandering around Moscow trying to find Old Arbat Street, which, by the way, is an entirely different road than New Arbat Street. I asked someone: “ Вы не знаете, где Старая Арват улица?” The response: “right over there.”
My Russian friends say that Americans stick out like a Jewish lesbian at the Republican National Convention (well, that’s not exactly how they put it). I am beginning to notice the difference too. On the metro, I can usually pick out a Brit or an American just by her facial expressions.
I feel myself beginning to assimilate. I am smiling less often when I am in public, and slowly getting used to the aggressive behavior in grocery store lines or on the escalator in the metro. Yesterday I was riding the bus and I stood up from my seat to talk with my friend across from me. I was still holding onto the rail that was attached to my seat, but when I turned around someone had snuck right past me and sat down. That’s just how it is. Still, with my new Eastern-European haircut, maybe people will start to think I’m Russian.
Back to language: Moscow is easy enough to navigate for English speakers, especially in the busy tourist areas. Still, Russian is definitely the national language and is still very much a part of life here, especially outside of the cities (I assume, I have not yet been outside of the city). I am excited to improve my speaking skills and to learn the language.
So, language being such a cherished natural treasure, it is surprising how inundated Moscow is with the English language. Most advertisements on billboards, television, and in stores are in English. Today when I went to get my haircut, none of the employees spoke a word of English, which made explaining the style that I wanted rather difficult. But, inside the shop, every product that they were using, all of the hair-care advertisements, and even the songs on the radio were in English.
Our language is everywhere. Even the most tucked away restaurants have full menus in English. In all of the tourist areas, signs are in Russian and English. The popular music is from America (mainly) and America movies gross almost twice as much as their Russian-made counterparts.
Last week I went to an English-speaking club, which is basically a bar where people come to speak English. Native English speakers get in free; Russians have to pay a cover charge. Apparently native English speakers are more of a draw than attractive women! Of course, most everyone there is Russian, but there were several British and American expatriates as well.
I was wandering around Moscow trying to find Old Arbat Street, which, by the way, is an entirely different road than New Arbat Street. I asked someone: “ Вы не знаете, где Старая Арват улица?” The response: “right over there.”
My Russian friends say that Americans stick out like a Jewish lesbian at the Republican National Convention (well, that’s not exactly how they put it). I am beginning to notice the difference too. On the metro, I can usually pick out a Brit or an American just by her facial expressions.
I feel myself beginning to assimilate. I am smiling less often when I am in public, and slowly getting used to the aggressive behavior in grocery store lines or on the escalator in the metro. Yesterday I was riding the bus and I stood up from my seat to talk with my friend across from me. I was still holding onto the rail that was attached to my seat, but when I turned around someone had snuck right past me and sat down. That’s just how it is. Still, with my new Eastern-European haircut, maybe people will start to think I’m Russian.
Back to language: Moscow is easy enough to navigate for English speakers, especially in the busy tourist areas. Still, Russian is definitely the national language and is still very much a part of life here, especially outside of the cities (I assume, I have not yet been outside of the city). I am excited to improve my speaking skills and to learn the language.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Communists
When I think of communists, I picture a 16-year-old kid who just read the Communist Manifesto and who thinks it might be cool to label himself a Marxist because it has shock value. Of course, Marxism is a relatively easy stance to take and to debate because its main tenets are derived from emotionally gratifying concepts like equality and brotherhood of mankind. Also, the “us and them,” proletariat-and-bourgeoisie, mentality of exclusivity gives the whole thing bandwagon appeal. I can understand how kids can go in and out of communist and other radical phases: it’s one of those teenage angst moves that does not actually reflect the individual’s beliefs, tastes or knowledge.
So, that being my mental image of a communist, it is interesting to see so many communists marching around here in Russia who do not fit into this mold. The members of the Communist Party here are almost all over 65. Yes, these champions of the working class, these Tom Joads, these cradle-to-grave Marxist-Leninists, are all retired. Really, the communists here are very similar to the AARP in America. In the U.S. of A, the Association for Retired Persons uses its tremendous political pull to channel federal funds towards pensioners. In Russia, the remaining communists are essentially trying to do the same thing by re-establishing the CCCP and getting their benefits back. The Russian counterpart to the AARP is the Communist Party!
This begs the question: are these individuals who march around Red Square with their Soviet Union flags and icons of Lenin really communists? I think not. I believe they are a combination of two things: (1.) angry because their pensions were cut or lost when the CCCP cracked, and (2.) nostalgic about the good old days.
The former, I can really sympathize with. Many people lost everything they ever had and were cast into great instability for years while Russia was recovering from the political and economic shakeup of the collapse. I would be upset too.
The latter though is an illogical and emotional condition found everywhere that seems to be innate in our species. People are always pessimistic about the present and the future, but remember their past as one eternal spring frolicking naked through a field of sunflowers in an opiate-like euphoria. Yes, most humans have a “grass-is-greener” complex in their rear-view. Returning to the Soviet Union would not make Russia any better, especially now, twenty years out. But, sorry about your pension.
Today I met a communist while I was riding the bus. He began talking to Shelli upon his realization that she was an American. She entertained his speech with big approving smiles- a Southern thing, you know- as he went off in Russian about how dramatically superior Marxism is to Democracapitalism. Our Russian friends were translating for us of course. The old man also went off about how black people destroyed America. A racist-communist. I thought those were supposed to be mutually exclusive? This maybe supports my theory of old communists not really being communists- just angry and dispossessed retirees.
As I have mentioned before, old people command a certain amount of respect in Russia. Young people immediately stand up on the metro when old ladies walk on; old women frequently chastise youngsters when they do something wrong (as I discovered firsthand*); young people avoid political debates with the old people even if they are spewing out blatant untruths that were fed to them by the political propagandists of yesteryear. In general, Russians my age are mostly apolitical. They care very little about today’s politics, and even less about the politics of the Soviet Union. I think that within a few years the last of the staunch communists will die off and that period of Russian history along with that political philosophy will be completely relegate to the history books.
So, that being my mental image of a communist, it is interesting to see so many communists marching around here in Russia who do not fit into this mold. The members of the Communist Party here are almost all over 65. Yes, these champions of the working class, these Tom Joads, these cradle-to-grave Marxist-Leninists, are all retired. Really, the communists here are very similar to the AARP in America. In the U.S. of A, the Association for Retired Persons uses its tremendous political pull to channel federal funds towards pensioners. In Russia, the remaining communists are essentially trying to do the same thing by re-establishing the CCCP and getting their benefits back. The Russian counterpart to the AARP is the Communist Party!
This begs the question: are these individuals who march around Red Square with their Soviet Union flags and icons of Lenin really communists? I think not. I believe they are a combination of two things: (1.) angry because their pensions were cut or lost when the CCCP cracked, and (2.) nostalgic about the good old days.
The former, I can really sympathize with. Many people lost everything they ever had and were cast into great instability for years while Russia was recovering from the political and economic shakeup of the collapse. I would be upset too.
The latter though is an illogical and emotional condition found everywhere that seems to be innate in our species. People are always pessimistic about the present and the future, but remember their past as one eternal spring frolicking naked through a field of sunflowers in an opiate-like euphoria. Yes, most humans have a “grass-is-greener” complex in their rear-view. Returning to the Soviet Union would not make Russia any better, especially now, twenty years out. But, sorry about your pension.
Today I met a communist while I was riding the bus. He began talking to Shelli upon his realization that she was an American. She entertained his speech with big approving smiles- a Southern thing, you know- as he went off in Russian about how dramatically superior Marxism is to Democracapitalism. Our Russian friends were translating for us of course. The old man also went off about how black people destroyed America. A racist-communist. I thought those were supposed to be mutually exclusive? This maybe supports my theory of old communists not really being communists- just angry and dispossessed retirees.
As I have mentioned before, old people command a certain amount of respect in Russia. Young people immediately stand up on the metro when old ladies walk on; old women frequently chastise youngsters when they do something wrong (as I discovered firsthand*); young people avoid political debates with the old people even if they are spewing out blatant untruths that were fed to them by the political propagandists of yesteryear. In general, Russians my age are mostly apolitical. They care very little about today’s politics, and even less about the politics of the Soviet Union. I think that within a few years the last of the staunch communists will die off and that period of Russian history along with that political philosophy will be completely relegate to the history books.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Police
I’ve heard a great deal about the police in Russia and their tendency to scope out “offenders” who are likely to be the biggest cash cows. The police have an incentive to do this because fines can be paid directly to the officer, so all it takes is a little forgetful paperwork and that money disappears as far as the law is concerned. In addition to this legal structure, which facilitates the padding of pockets, bribery is a common practice and few Russians express ideological reservations to feeding this corruption.
A few nights ago we went out for some wholesome entertainment at the billiards hall, and then to the bistro afterwards for a quick dinner. We left the restaurant, which is in sight of our hostel, and began to walk back. One of our comrades had an open beer that he had been drinking at the bistro and was going to finish it on the way home. Having an open container is a finable offense, and as we were crossing the street, a police van tore out of nowhere and an excited looking female officer jumped out demanding our documents.
Passports were presented and to no one’s surprise a violation was spotted. Shelli did not have her immigration card on her. The police demanded to see the sheet of paper, so Shelli’s roommate Nadya had to walk back to the hostel to find it in the room. She returned with the wrong sheet of paper, but by that time the cops had gotten bored with the foreigners and allowed us to go without checking anyone else’s documents.
The po’ were not so lenient with our beer-drinking Russian friend. First, he had to pay a fine for carrying an open container. Reasonable. But, the police then told him that he had to pay if he wanted them to keep his offense secret from the dean, so he paid them more. By the time we were leaving, he was climbing into the police van presumably to work out another deal with these corrupt police.
From what I’ve gathered, this is a typical interaction with the Russian police. I was shocked to watch a police officer accepting a bribe as if it were protocol, like asking for identification during a traffic stop. It makes you wonder how many crimes go unreported because the police are paid to forget. What is a police force that does not uphold the law? It is nothing more than a state-endorsed gang, and the police are nothing more than gangsters. I make this statement based not only on my single experience, but also from the experience of my Russian friends, as they tell me.
For example, my friend’s father died five years ago. He was found dead in his friend’s apartment, with bruises on his body. The official cause of death was cirrhosis of the liver. However, according to my friend, the police stopped investigating because the family did not have the financial means to bribe the police to do its job. Maybe there was foul play, maybe there wasn’t, but my friend will never have the consolation of knowing exactly what happened to her father because of the crooked police force.
There are many other incidents of police misconduct. Another friend was telling me about the unprovoked attacks on “black” (Central-Asian, East Asian, and African) people perpetrated by Russian nationalist groups. Videos have been uploaded to the Internet in recent years of skinhead gangs severely beating and sometimes killing innocent “blacks.” I have read that the police often look the other way and fail to adequately investigate these cold-blooded crimes, and my Russian friend confirmed this. Random attacks against minorities have subsided in the last year, but other politically motivated attacks have recently made headlines. On Nov. 7th a reporter named Oleg Kashin was nearly beaten to death by two unknown and unprovoked assailants. His jaw was shattered, leg was broken, and he suffered a head injury. Two days later, another journalist was beaten up, though not as severely. Both had been reporting on a road construction project through some of the last woodlands on the outskirts of Moscow. None of the assailants have been brought to justice.
The Russian police force is rife with corruption, and every Russian knows it, but few do anything about it. The police levy a heavy tax on Russian society when they extort money from the innocent, and ignore heinous crimes. This must change if the country ever hopes to emerge into liberalism and modernity.
A few nights ago we went out for some wholesome entertainment at the billiards hall, and then to the bistro afterwards for a quick dinner. We left the restaurant, which is in sight of our hostel, and began to walk back. One of our comrades had an open beer that he had been drinking at the bistro and was going to finish it on the way home. Having an open container is a finable offense, and as we were crossing the street, a police van tore out of nowhere and an excited looking female officer jumped out demanding our documents.
Passports were presented and to no one’s surprise a violation was spotted. Shelli did not have her immigration card on her. The police demanded to see the sheet of paper, so Shelli’s roommate Nadya had to walk back to the hostel to find it in the room. She returned with the wrong sheet of paper, but by that time the cops had gotten bored with the foreigners and allowed us to go without checking anyone else’s documents.
The po’ were not so lenient with our beer-drinking Russian friend. First, he had to pay a fine for carrying an open container. Reasonable. But, the police then told him that he had to pay if he wanted them to keep his offense secret from the dean, so he paid them more. By the time we were leaving, he was climbing into the police van presumably to work out another deal with these corrupt police.
From what I’ve gathered, this is a typical interaction with the Russian police. I was shocked to watch a police officer accepting a bribe as if it were protocol, like asking for identification during a traffic stop. It makes you wonder how many crimes go unreported because the police are paid to forget. What is a police force that does not uphold the law? It is nothing more than a state-endorsed gang, and the police are nothing more than gangsters. I make this statement based not only on my single experience, but also from the experience of my Russian friends, as they tell me.
For example, my friend’s father died five years ago. He was found dead in his friend’s apartment, with bruises on his body. The official cause of death was cirrhosis of the liver. However, according to my friend, the police stopped investigating because the family did not have the financial means to bribe the police to do its job. Maybe there was foul play, maybe there wasn’t, but my friend will never have the consolation of knowing exactly what happened to her father because of the crooked police force.
There are many other incidents of police misconduct. Another friend was telling me about the unprovoked attacks on “black” (Central-Asian, East Asian, and African) people perpetrated by Russian nationalist groups. Videos have been uploaded to the Internet in recent years of skinhead gangs severely beating and sometimes killing innocent “blacks.” I have read that the police often look the other way and fail to adequately investigate these cold-blooded crimes, and my Russian friend confirmed this. Random attacks against minorities have subsided in the last year, but other politically motivated attacks have recently made headlines. On Nov. 7th a reporter named Oleg Kashin was nearly beaten to death by two unknown and unprovoked assailants. His jaw was shattered, leg was broken, and he suffered a head injury. Two days later, another journalist was beaten up, though not as severely. Both had been reporting on a road construction project through some of the last woodlands on the outskirts of Moscow. None of the assailants have been brought to justice.
The Russian police force is rife with corruption, and every Russian knows it, but few do anything about it. The police levy a heavy tax on Russian society when they extort money from the innocent, and ignore heinous crimes. This must change if the country ever hopes to emerge into liberalism and modernity.
Monday, February 7, 2011
W.W.L.D. What Would Lenin Do
I’ll touch on a topic here that has probably been worn out by every observer to have ever stepped foot in the Russian Federation with even the tiniest bit of culture-consciousness. And that is: the contrast between contemporary Russia and Soviet Russia.
Moscow is the largest city in Europe, and as one would expect to find in any Western metropolis, there is a lot of flashy consumption. All over Moscow we see luxury automobiles driven by fur-clad young women sporting the newest model of iPhone. Similar to New York, most of the younger crowd seems to be very fashion-conscious with many of the Russian girls paying for professional photo shoots. Interestingly, everything American seems to be popular: we went to McDonalds last night (Sunday night at 8:30 or so) and it was packed with teenaged folk. Surely they don’t like hamburgers that much; it seemed like MickeyDees was just the place to be.
Really, I would say Moscow is a bit ritzier than New York, in some ways at least. The last time I was in New York I was with a pal of mine, Vasily, who normally lives in Moscow. We passed a really nice Bentley parked on the side of the road and English and I stopped to gawk at it: it’s rare that I see a $200,000+ car. But, Vasily just looked and chuckled, “oh yes, we have a lot of those in Moscow.” Sure enough, I’ve seen several here. Of course, that’s anecdotal.
I’m certainly not complaining about any of this, I welcome the rise of Russia. Hooray capitalism! But, to get back to my point, all of this contrasts sharply with the lingering Soviet tint.
Most of the central Moscow metro stations are ostentatiously adorned with bronze statues, stone inlays, magnificent mosaics, and elegant chandeliers, all built for the glory of the proletarian everyman! Many of the mosaics and statues depict scenes with strong communist undertones. The hammer-and-sickle icon is ubiquitous. I have seen several large portraits of Lenin in the stations as well.
What irony that the revolutionary infrastructure is being used by today’s generation to skirt back-and-forth between its bourgeois proceedings!
Last night I was riding on a particularly busy train and sitting across from me was an old babushka. The old women in Russia are funny: they all wear drab colors, no jewelry, no makeup, and most of them cover their heads with hijab-type scarves. I assume that this modest dress stems from an upbringing where preoccupation with appearance and other such dainties were considered counter-revolutionary. Why spend time getting pretty when you could be studying political literature. I can’t say I disagree with that logic, honestly.
Anyway, I couldn’t help but wonder what this old woman was thinking as she watched us young folk going hither and thither without a second thought as to the ideological implications of our actions! It must be disconcerting for the old people to live under what was considered “the bad guy system” when they were growing up. Just imagine if it had been American capitalism that had fallen to the communists instead of the other way around: my grandmother’s generation would be beside themselves, I think. Of course, if they took a short lesson in economics then maybe they could appreciate the shift…maybe too late.
One of my Russian friends told me a story about their friend’s grandmother. She said that every time they visited her they would bring sausages. At the next visit, several months later, grandma would pull out these same sausages and put them on the table for everyone to eat. Turns out, she is still in the habit of hoarding in case society collapses or nuclear war breaks out or something. Apparently there is just no breaking the old people of these habits.
I’ve heard that many of the old people still have great reverence for Comrade Stalin. I guess Khrushchev’s de-Stalinization efforts were no match for the cult of personality. Lenin is, of course, popular also.
From what I’ve gathered, most Russians of my generation could care less about Stalin, Marx, Lenin, or the USSR. It is no more interesting to them than the politics of 20th century politics are to the average American 20 year old. “But guys, this was one of the most notable political undertakings in the history of civilization!”
What would Lenin do if he were growing up today? Well, if he were one of today’s youth, I doubt he would have ever fallen into radicalism. His brother would have never been executed, he would have never been exiled, and he probably could have never convinced Muscovites to stop eating at such exploitative establishments as МакДоналдс and Бургер Кинг.
Some relevant pictures
Moscow is the largest city in Europe, and as one would expect to find in any Western metropolis, there is a lot of flashy consumption. All over Moscow we see luxury automobiles driven by fur-clad young women sporting the newest model of iPhone. Similar to New York, most of the younger crowd seems to be very fashion-conscious with many of the Russian girls paying for professional photo shoots. Interestingly, everything American seems to be popular: we went to McDonalds last night (Sunday night at 8:30 or so) and it was packed with teenaged folk. Surely they don’t like hamburgers that much; it seemed like MickeyDees was just the place to be.
Really, I would say Moscow is a bit ritzier than New York, in some ways at least. The last time I was in New York I was with a pal of mine, Vasily, who normally lives in Moscow. We passed a really nice Bentley parked on the side of the road and English and I stopped to gawk at it: it’s rare that I see a $200,000+ car. But, Vasily just looked and chuckled, “oh yes, we have a lot of those in Moscow.” Sure enough, I’ve seen several here. Of course, that’s anecdotal.
I’m certainly not complaining about any of this, I welcome the rise of Russia. Hooray capitalism! But, to get back to my point, all of this contrasts sharply with the lingering Soviet tint.
Most of the central Moscow metro stations are ostentatiously adorned with bronze statues, stone inlays, magnificent mosaics, and elegant chandeliers, all built for the glory of the proletarian everyman! Many of the mosaics and statues depict scenes with strong communist undertones. The hammer-and-sickle icon is ubiquitous. I have seen several large portraits of Lenin in the stations as well.
What irony that the revolutionary infrastructure is being used by today’s generation to skirt back-and-forth between its bourgeois proceedings!
Last night I was riding on a particularly busy train and sitting across from me was an old babushka. The old women in Russia are funny: they all wear drab colors, no jewelry, no makeup, and most of them cover their heads with hijab-type scarves. I assume that this modest dress stems from an upbringing where preoccupation with appearance and other such dainties were considered counter-revolutionary. Why spend time getting pretty when you could be studying political literature. I can’t say I disagree with that logic, honestly.
Anyway, I couldn’t help but wonder what this old woman was thinking as she watched us young folk going hither and thither without a second thought as to the ideological implications of our actions! It must be disconcerting for the old people to live under what was considered “the bad guy system” when they were growing up. Just imagine if it had been American capitalism that had fallen to the communists instead of the other way around: my grandmother’s generation would be beside themselves, I think. Of course, if they took a short lesson in economics then maybe they could appreciate the shift…maybe too late.
One of my Russian friends told me a story about their friend’s grandmother. She said that every time they visited her they would bring sausages. At the next visit, several months later, grandma would pull out these same sausages and put them on the table for everyone to eat. Turns out, she is still in the habit of hoarding in case society collapses or nuclear war breaks out or something. Apparently there is just no breaking the old people of these habits.
I’ve heard that many of the old people still have great reverence for Comrade Stalin. I guess Khrushchev’s de-Stalinization efforts were no match for the cult of personality. Lenin is, of course, popular also.
From what I’ve gathered, most Russians of my generation could care less about Stalin, Marx, Lenin, or the USSR. It is no more interesting to them than the politics of 20th century politics are to the average American 20 year old. “But guys, this was one of the most notable political undertakings in the history of civilization!”
What would Lenin do if he were growing up today? Well, if he were one of today’s youth, I doubt he would have ever fallen into radicalism. His brother would have never been executed, he would have never been exiled, and he probably could have never convinced Muscovites to stop eating at such exploitative establishments as МакДоналдс and Бургер Кинг.
Some relevant pictures
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Clubbing
I know that at this age I am supposed to genuinely enjoy excessive alcohol intake, sleep deprivation, and the like. But, I must admit, I prefer visiting historical sites over dancing at a club all night. As much as I enjoy social interaction, sitting in a loud, smoky room and paying $8 for a beer is somehow less appealing than visiting the shriveled corpse of a long-dead communist leader. If I had my druthers, I’d be to bed by nightfall most nights and up with the sunrise. Of course, that would make me completely out of tune with my peers. So, I don’t do that.
As any of my friends and family can attest to, I am not nocturnal. Come 11:00 pm I’m usually ready to be tucked in. My mind simply does not function very well when it has not had adequate rest. I begin to wander, to become semi-delusional, to have strange ideas. Last night I could not stop thinking about how human-relationships are simultaneously the best and worst example of a perfectly competitive market. On the one hand, every individual has roughly 3,500,000,000 who he or she could theoretically engage in a romantic relationship with (not accounting for homosexuals): if that’s not choice, then I don’t know what is! With the Internet, social networking, and cheap international transportation networks, more people are connected than ever before. In liberal countries at least, a divorce can be obtained easily if the consumer finds a superior relationship. Assuming the individuals took the necessary legal precautions, alimony can be avoided, so the cost of changing spouses is low. And since we’re discounting emotional ties, let’s just say that the children can be placed into any number of state programs that will assuredly provide them with a fine upbringing. It’s perfect!
But, with anything human, it’s not so rational. The market collapses because of emotion! Why do people stay with abusive spouses? Why do people tend to marry within their racial, economic, and cultural group? The answers are obvious, but not wholly rational. In spite of our unlimited options, we disobey fundamental economic logic.
Anyways, I’m awfully tired today.
As any of my friends and family can attest to, I am not nocturnal. Come 11:00 pm I’m usually ready to be tucked in. My mind simply does not function very well when it has not had adequate rest. I begin to wander, to become semi-delusional, to have strange ideas. Last night I could not stop thinking about how human-relationships are simultaneously the best and worst example of a perfectly competitive market. On the one hand, every individual has roughly 3,500,000,000 who he or she could theoretically engage in a romantic relationship with (not accounting for homosexuals): if that’s not choice, then I don’t know what is! With the Internet, social networking, and cheap international transportation networks, more people are connected than ever before. In liberal countries at least, a divorce can be obtained easily if the consumer finds a superior relationship. Assuming the individuals took the necessary legal precautions, alimony can be avoided, so the cost of changing spouses is low. And since we’re discounting emotional ties, let’s just say that the children can be placed into any number of state programs that will assuredly provide them with a fine upbringing. It’s perfect!
But, with anything human, it’s not so rational. The market collapses because of emotion! Why do people stay with abusive spouses? Why do people tend to marry within their racial, economic, and cultural group? The answers are obvious, but not wholly rational. In spite of our unlimited options, we disobey fundamental economic logic.
Anyways, I’m awfully tired today.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
http://www.economist.com/blogs/gulliver
Maybe it’s because I am currently an international traveler, but I have been enjoying the Economist’s travel blog, Gulliver, tremendously. This post in particular made me chuckle because of the reader’s reply (at the bottom). I recommend clicking through this blog and reading the posts, they are very clever.
http://www.economist.com/blogs/gulliver/2011/02/children_planes
http://www.economist.com/blogs/gulliver/2011/02/children_planes
Ice Skating
We went ice-skating the other night at an indoor rink. There is a Russian skating game that we played where everyone and his partner holds their hands together to make an arm canopy. One person skates underneath and grabs hold of one person so that they form a new pair. The now partnerless person then skates underneath and the whole process repeats itself until everyone gets tired of playing and quits.
Anyway, I don't know if that was a clear synopsis.
Here's some pictures
Anyway, I don't know if that was a clear synopsis.
Here's some pictures
Thursday, February 3, 2011
In the words of General McAuLiffe: "Nuts."
This Black History Month, I would like to dedicate my post to Mr. George Washington Carver, without whose ceaseless toil in the innumerable uses of the peanut, I would go hungry between classes. I must admit, in the past I thought that the only reason I was taught about Mr. Carver was because of racial penance. Truly, is there more mundane a science than peanuts? But, now I understand the wisdom of teaching kids about this scientist over other, ostensibly more important men of science like Watson, Crick and John Von Neumann. For, without our peanut butter, what would we do?
One of the more irksome things about Russia is that they do not sell peanut butter here. How they could go without such a staple is beyond me. With so many Americans in Moscow, you would think that peanut butter would have been introduced to the population and would have spread by natural selection because of its superior tastiness. They eat plenty of bread and jam here, why don’t they see the missing link!
One last point of interest: a tasty treat! Last night we were having tea and one of my Russian friends brought some homemade blackberry preserves to put in our drinks. It was tasty and I suggest that everyone back home try fruit preserves in their tea.
One of the more irksome things about Russia is that they do not sell peanut butter here. How they could go without such a staple is beyond me. With so many Americans in Moscow, you would think that peanut butter would have been introduced to the population and would have spread by natural selection because of its superior tastiness. They eat plenty of bread and jam here, why don’t they see the missing link!
One last point of interest: a tasty treat! Last night we were having tea and one of my Russian friends brought some homemade blackberry preserves to put in our drinks. It was tasty and I suggest that everyone back home try fruit preserves in their tea.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Shawarma
Little stands selling produce, cigarettes, beer, and sausage are abundant in our part of Moscow. It strikes me as a bit inefficient to have to trudge between the outdoor stalls through the brown ice-water to buy oranges one place and meats another. If only all of these goods could be purchased in one consolidated market! Perish the thought.
It is quaint- or perhaps that is not a fitting word to describe anything in this bustling
city. It is a fun anachronism to purchase from the stalls: quick Vladya, to the cheese vendor!
Of course, no one manning the place speaks a work of English, but that is easily overstepped with descriptive hand motions and charades.
The Russian palate is completely un-adapted to any sort of spiciness whatsoever. The only convenient place to find anything with a kick is at the little shawarma stands. Shawarma is a bit like a gyro or falafel: some mystery meat (looks like lamb?) with lettuce and tomato and yogurt sauce. Although, I’m not sure whether they are putting yogurt sauce or mayonnaise (Russians have a weird thing for mayonnaise) on it. Nonetheless, these treats from the Middle East are a tasty feast and at last some repast to break my spiceless fast!
Even still, most shawarma from these stands is still relatively bland compared to the stuff we have in the States. My Russians friend Maksim told me of one especially “spicy” stand to try, so I went there today. Two Syrians manned this stand: I know so because one of them brought it up when I told them I was American. I asked them in my broken Russian what they thought about Egypt and Tunisia at the moment and they responded positively. We talked a little about Israel and America and things like that. I guess it was a weird encounter.
I have been enjoying the shawarma so far, but some Russian spoiled my fun today when they told me that they wouldn’t eat there because they were unsure about the meat. “Poor doggies,” says my friend Alisa. I don’t know if that’s just a bit of prejudice or a legitimate concern. Besides that, someone else told me that they read a report a few years back that claimed that the shawarma stands don’t have clean vegetables. Apparently, the Moscow Times did some investigation and found that 70% or so of the stands used vegetables with significant traces of fecal matter on them…
Hmmm… Come to think of it, my stomach churns a little funny when there’s shawarma on it and my bowels have…nevermind.
Eat a little shit before you die, as I always say!
It is quaint- or perhaps that is not a fitting word to describe anything in this bustling
city. It is a fun anachronism to purchase from the stalls: quick Vladya, to the cheese vendor!
Of course, no one manning the place speaks a work of English, but that is easily overstepped with descriptive hand motions and charades.
The Russian palate is completely un-adapted to any sort of spiciness whatsoever. The only convenient place to find anything with a kick is at the little shawarma stands. Shawarma is a bit like a gyro or falafel: some mystery meat (looks like lamb?) with lettuce and tomato and yogurt sauce. Although, I’m not sure whether they are putting yogurt sauce or mayonnaise (Russians have a weird thing for mayonnaise) on it. Nonetheless, these treats from the Middle East are a tasty feast and at last some repast to break my spiceless fast!
Even still, most shawarma from these stands is still relatively bland compared to the stuff we have in the States. My Russians friend Maksim told me of one especially “spicy” stand to try, so I went there today. Two Syrians manned this stand: I know so because one of them brought it up when I told them I was American. I asked them in my broken Russian what they thought about Egypt and Tunisia at the moment and they responded positively. We talked a little about Israel and America and things like that. I guess it was a weird encounter.
I have been enjoying the shawarma so far, but some Russian spoiled my fun today when they told me that they wouldn’t eat there because they were unsure about the meat. “Poor doggies,” says my friend Alisa. I don’t know if that’s just a bit of prejudice or a legitimate concern. Besides that, someone else told me that they read a report a few years back that claimed that the shawarma stands don’t have clean vegetables. Apparently, the Moscow Times did some investigation and found that 70% or so of the stands used vegetables with significant traces of fecal matter on them…
Hmmm… Come to think of it, my stomach churns a little funny when there’s shawarma on it and my bowels have…nevermind.
Eat a little shit before you die, as I always say!
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