Parting shots/thoughts

I'll be on the plane home in a few hours. It has been a very nice summer and, although the tone of my comments might not make Russia sound like a vacation destination, there is something appealing about this place.


I had the strangest sensation when I was flying home from Saint Pete the first time, seventeen years ago. In spite of the harsh conditions, the crummy food, the snow and then the mosquitoes, the unsmiling faces, I missed the city as soon as the plane was in the air.


Every time I've been here, this same cycle has repeated. Right now, sitting in my room, I can't think of anything other than getting home, but tomorrow I'll feel differently, I know.


I don't know exactly what emotion it is that I feel, but after feeling it over and over again, I know where I've seen it before. . . 


Some time ago, I was at the state fair(e) in North Carolina. I let myself be persuaded to go onto that ride -- "The Hammerhead" or something like that. It's the one that has two long, rust-streaked arms, each with a cage for two people on one end and a counterweight on the other end. (I think it's real name is "The Deferred Maintenance")The guy running it is in a grubby white t-shirt and looks like he's got nothing to lose. The arms swing in opposite directions, scissor-like, pausing at the top of their arc and then swooping down. Again and again. The ride is nauseating and you only catch glimpses of the insubstantial base a hundred feet down. You feel nothing but regret at your decision.


Eventually, the arms stop their crazy flailing and your cage is safe on the ground. Two steps away from the ride the regret turns into exhilaration and you seriously consider doing it again.


That is Russia.


Living here is deliberate, it takes effort, and you emerge feeling more alive for having survived.


Let me catch my breath and I have no doubt that I'll be back here again.

Here's your sign.

It wasn't until after I had seen the giant piece of rusted rebar -- about 12 feel long -- curving gracefully up from the ground to about eye-poking-out level . . .

OR

I had almost stepped onto the manhole that was propped open with a piece from someone's car . . .

OR

I saw the high tension line that had come unattached and was trailing free in the canal . . .





















OR

I nearly fell victim to any number of hundreds of hazards on the streets of Saint Pete . . .

. . . that I realized I should collect and post pictures of all those subtle ways the city has of separating the cavalier from the careful.

So, since I only managed to take one picture, I'll have to make that photo essay the goal of a future trip here.

In the meantime, if you come to Russia, please be careful. There's so much to see that it's easy to get distracted. My best advice is to go where everyone else is going. There's probably a reason they're all giving a wide berth to that innocent patch of dirt next to the transformer.

Probably not limited to Russia

This flyer is all around town:

It reads: "Don't repeat this mistake. This man refilled his own printer cartridge."

There's nothing particularly Russian about the flyer. I'm sure there are similar ones in countries around the world, but it always gave me a laugh when I was plying the streets, trying to stay out of the wake of someone's vile Belomorkanal cigarettes and avoiding being hit by lunatic drivers.

Maybe they know something about giant tanks that we don't

I'm only posting this because it fits in with two earlier pictures (of the "milk" and "kvas" tanks).

This one is a tank labeled "water." In fact the water was being used to wash down the street, but I liked the similarity.

The boat not taken

I've had two more incidents recently that reinforce how superficial some of the changes in Russia are.

First, a few days ago, some of the students and I were going to take a water taxi out to the city of Kronshtadt. It's a former military base that has been key in the history of the city.

I should have known something was up when I found two different schedules online for the water taxi. They differed by about 2 hours in the departure time. But we went to the pier anyway and found that the conflicting schedules were posted there as well . . . with no explanation. But there was a boat docked, so that gave us hope.

There was a small group gathered and once the first scheduled time was well past with no evidence of movement on the boat, people gave up and wandered away. We did too; we grabbed some lunch and looked into stores until the second time came around.

Now there was a sizable crowd pressed up against the railing. The boat was still moored there, but there were no signs of life.

Before long another boat pulled up to the first and let a few passengers off (they walked from their boat, onto the first one, and then onto the dock). A few minutes later, the crew started letting people on, ushering them across the deck of the first boat and onto the one that had just arrived.

After about 70 people got on, the crew drew up the gangway and the boat just took off. "Next boat in 2 hours" was the only explanation we got.

The Russians grumbled and milled around for a few minutes before dissipating.

Here is a picture of me with one of the students, Kal, and the boats we didn't ride on.

Instead we went to the museum boat, the "Avrora" which is permanently moored about 30 minutes from where we tried to get the water taxi. I had been on the Avrora before. It's a must-do for tourists. It's the boat that fired the shot at the Winter Palace/Hermitage which is considered by many to be the start of the Russian Revolution.

There was an awesome tour down in the bowels of the ship. And here is me up on the deck. I'm rockin' the sweater vest:

My other disappointment happened today when I tried to go to the Metro Museum. I'm totally fascinated by the super-efficient system here and was excited to find they have a museum. Here's how things went down.

I walked in to find that the museum shares a vestibule with the employees getting off work. One woman in a lot of polyester was leaning on a railing watching her comrades stream past on their way home.

Me: I'd like to visit the museum
Natasha (I don't know if that's really her name, but there's a one in eleven chance it is, so let's go with that): [Doesn't say anything, just looks at me with raw hatred in her eyes]
Me: Is the museum open?
Natasha: [Grunts] You have to call.
Me: Uh, where do I call?
Natasha: 53-54
Me: [increasingly confused, with a few bits of frustration tossed in]: How do I call?
Natasha: [Gestures across the room to where there is an ancient phone -- the kind that Soviet Generals had all over their desks when we lampooned them in movies]

So, I went over to the phone and sure enough there was a sign saying you need to get a pass and you have to call 53-54. I called the number and it rang and rang. Meanwhile I saw that they were on lunch break, with only about 5 minutes left. Then I walked over to the window that actually said "passes" on it, but they had a sign in the window saying that they were at lunch for the next 45 minutes.

I've been through this deal often enough that I know it's a soft 45 minutes depending on who's pouring the vodka. So I logged this experience under "What a country" (said in my best Yakoff Smirnoff voice) and went on with my day.

Counting down

It's just a few days before we leave.

The trip to Moscow was fantastic. We took the night train there (8 hours) and the bullet train back (3.5 hours). At 250 km/hour that was the fastest train I'd ever been on.

Moscow was a whirlwind. We went to Red Square, Tolstoy's house, The Tretyakov museum (both the classical and the contemporary collections), and walked along the artsy Arbat district. We had no fatalities, no medical issues, and no encounters with law enforcement. Translation: I was a successful group leader.

Over the past few days I've been rushing around trying to do some last minute things pre-departure.

So now I have random pictures that I'll be posting before Thursday.

Here for example is one that I took at the supermarket recently (it's such a big supermarket that they call it a 'hypermarket.'

There is one entire aisle -- something like 500 linear feet of shelf space -- dedicated entirely to vodka. There must have been 70 different kinds of vodka (you know "vodka"-- the flavorless spirit).

The side of the aisle facing the vodka was for "other:" whiskey, bourbon, tequila, rum, gin, . . .

Alcoholism is definitely part of what has Russian men dying, on average, at 57.

Bottoms up, boys!

Enjoy

A correction

A few posts ago, I commented that since none of the the original components of the U.S.S.R. (Union, Soviet, Socialist, or Republic) applied to the new Russia, there wasn't much chance of the CCCP really coming back.

Well, this week former Prime Minister, former President, and now current Prime Minister Medvedev announced his plan to unite all of the former Soviet republics under one currency by 2015.

So let's pencil in a check next to "Union."

---
I'm off to Moscow for the weekend. More light-hearted content to come, I promise.

I think it would be easy to interpret my recent pictures of CCCP branding as playful enjoyment of the country's history and an attempt to not be so serious about everything.

And that's a reasonable interpretation. But behind the pictures, there are important changes taking place here that are more disturbing. Let's look at a few new laws that have come into effect just since I've been here.

1. The city of Saint Petersburg adopted a law which criminalizes "propaganda" regarding homosexuality. In Russian, "propaganda" doesn't have the same insidious connotation that it does in English; it basically means "public discussion." The new law makes it illegal to do anything other than condemn homosexuality when you are in the presence of underaged children. In other words, saying that a gay person is equal to a straight person will get you arrested.

The law has been tested already by a person standing in front of a legislative building wearing a sign saying "gay = normal." The police scooped him up and put him in jail. More frightening, just a few days later there was a gathering of a few dozen people (no children around). They were going to release white balloons in protest of Putin and of the new anti-gay law. A bunch of soccer hooligans (that's how they are often described in the press) showed up and started beating people up. The pro-equality supporters scattered quickly so the hooligans descended on a bus which was full of immigrant workers rather than the hated Homosexuals. The youths broke in the windows of the bus and beat the crap out of the immigrants who, of course, didn't have enough Russian to explain the confusion.

The police stand by during all of this. They have no problem arresting gays and lesbians, but when it comes to the hooligans, they say, "we aren't going to put ourselves in harm's way." They say that they'll arrest the aggressors, but somehow they always slip away. It's widely accepted that this is the government's tacit way of condoning/encouraging the attacks.

Although the anti gay law is only in effect in Petersburg, it's expected to go nationwide. Oh, and there are plans to arrest Madonna in August if she makes any pro-equality statements during her concert. There is also a plan to arrest President Obama if he comes here because he has taken a pro-equality stance. Good luck with that.

2. A few weeks ago, a nearby city put into effect a measure forbidding foreigners from living in dormitories near children's schools. Russia has a long history of xenophobia and the new law is surprising only in that it codifies what many Russians already feel. The measure specifically targets Africans because, as the article confirms, they can't help themselves from raping and dealing drugs.

It think it's so interesting that, as with the anti-equality law, this one relies on ginning up fear of underage children being harmed. Perish the thought that children should see happy families or the effects of black people on children.

I'm guessing The Help wasn't a box office smash here.

3. In Moscow, the legislature has passed a measure outlawing gay pride events for the next 100 years.

That's a lot of foresight for a country that's just now 20 years old (and whose predecessor barely made it to 70). In any event, given the country's negative population growth, there isn't likely to be much more than a few splashes from the current gene pool around for Pride 2112.

4. Finally, something that the whole country can enjoy. Putin just signed a law drastically limiting the rights of citizens to assemble without a permit from the government. Now, any group of any size that the government deems "assembly" can be arrested and fined $10,000 each (slightly less if you're only a participant in the assembly).

Any assembly has to receive government permission beforehand. Last week there was a permitted anit-Putin parade on the same day as Russia Day. The parade was going fine until the police stopped the event 100 meters before the finish and arrested the leaders for going 10 minutes over the permitted time.   "Leaders" and "participants" are defined by the police at the time of arrest, regardless of what the official permit says.

In theory the new law applies to churchgoers and sports fans just as it applies to anti-Putin and equal rights gatherings, but Putin the Terrible isn't about to start fining his base, so only his political enemies are being subjected to the new law.

Still, I am optimistic about Russia's future. Unlike the Soviet Union, information moves fairly freely here and citizens can travel abroad. People I've talked to here are well connected to alternative (non-government) press and are as disturbed about what Putin is doing as many in the West are. No one is expecting another revolution, but they also aren't expecting Putin to make it past his current term as president.

It will be interesting to see over the next few years how things change. As we say in Russian вскрытие покажет (the autopsy will tell us what we want to know).

CCCP or Russia: It all depends on where you stand

The trajectory I sketched from Russia of 1995 to Russia of 2012 might (assuming the Mayans were wrong) suggest that this country is on a course to become a peer to the U.S. in 10 or 15 years, but there are lots of clues that Russia might instead be collapsing back into another Soviet Union. I truly don't know what will happen, but here's what I see when walking around the city.

In addition to the Victory Parade participant carrying Stalin'sportrait, there are lots of apparently fond memories of the Soviet Union (CCCP).

You've got a Soviet Cafe:

And a bar named after the city's Soviet name, Bar Leningrad:

Just around the corner from the Chajka is the CCCP Bar and Cafe:

And grocery store shelves are lined with kitschy Soviet ice cream. I didn't buy any, so I can't say if they followed the old procedure of substituting pig fat for milk to ensure extra creaminess.

One of the more popular channels on TV is dedicated to reminiscing about the Soviet period. On "Nostalgia" they interview singers, writers, and other entertainers from back in the day, and replay old TV shows and show Soviet movies.

Here is their clever banner:

And here is the timeline from their website. I like how The Beatles figure prominently.

It's not as though the positive attitude toward the Soviet Union is attached to just one generation. The older generation, who were already adults when the Wall came down really suffered during the Yeltsin years. They just didn't have the skills or youth to succeed in all the chaos of a young Russia. So they yearn for the stability and equality of the Soviet period when no one had anything.

The younger generation, on the other hand, has no personal memory of the Soviet Union, but have lived their entire lives in a country with a military in shambles, watching their parents struggle in the new economy, and daily being told how weak Russia is compared to the civilized West. This generation has (with the help of Putin) conjured up the Soviet Union as a powerful country, feared by all, and capable of anything. They want that again.

This nostalgia would have been unthinkable under Yeltsin. His rule was all about mobsters running the economy. But Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, the old KGB officer, has much more organized plans.

Somehow everyone skips over the oppression and want of the Soviet regime; Stalin's killing of 80 million of his own people through war, purges, and concentration camps; the numbing doldrums of Brezhnev . . . 

I've talked to some Russians about this renaissance of the Soviet period and the concensus seems to be a philosophical you-take-the-good;you-take-the-bad / facts-of-life attitude. Even though the Soviet period wasn't perfect, they are trying to reclaim the positive parts of the U.S.S.R. Since none of those original words -- Union, Soviet, Socialist, or Republic -- seem to be on their way back, maybe it's best that they are starting with the ice cream. 

Are we post-modern already?

Even with the amazing changes that have happened here over the years, you still get the impression that Russia has not changed in a lot of fundamental ways; or at least that it's teetering on the edge, trying to figure itself out.

The daily newspaper is filled with pieces complaining about how Russians still see themselves as the ugly stepsister to more civilized European countries. They've been working for two decades to fix what is wrong with their country, but there is the sense that something fundamental has to change. Russians are frustrated, but don't know where to do with that frustration.

They have built fancy buildings and people are buying nice cars, but they are conflicted. They are proud of their peasant roots, but don't want to look like a bunch of hayseeds; they want their individual lives to be better, but they don't want to expend the energy to fix the system.

When it comes to success, they are all about "Me" and nothing about "Us."

As the saying goes: "God is high and the czar is far." In other words, the powerful people are a long way from you, so get away with what you can, while you can.

Let's look at some pictures.

Remember our tanker truck serving kvas? Well, you can now get kvas in proper, landfill-clogging plastic bottles.

But there's something about that kvas truck that Russians can't shake. As the lettering on the side says, here is an unrefrigerated milk truck I saw last week, parked in a nice sunny spot, serving milk straight out of a spigot on the back.

And if you think about that shiny, modern block of apartments that went up on the site of the dump, we only have to pull the camera back a little way to see that parts of the dump still remain. It's as though the Russians have succeeded in getting the nice apartment, but are missing the point that the nice apartment needs to be in a nice setting.

As another old Russian saying goes: "If you have a spoonful of honey in a barrel of poo, you have a barrel of poo. And if you have a spoonful of poo in a barrel of honey, you still have a barrel of poo."

I'm really not sure what to make of all that I'm seeing. Is there real change here? Is this just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic/Chernobyl?

Or maybe Russia is just extremely advanced. It has skipped along all the phases of modernization and is already on the decline:

Kin abroad

What a lovely weekend. On Friday I organized an excursion to the local banya (bathhouse) for the guys in the group. It's an experience that's hard to have in the States, but the banya is very popular here.


The key elements to the banya are that you first get super duper clean and then you go into the steam room where you sweat for as long as you can take it. The room is heated to 110 degrees celsius (around 225 Fahrenheit) and it's nearly impossible to stay in there for more than 10 minutes. They even have special felt hats you wear to stop your hair from frying and your brains from cooking.


When you can't take it anymore, you run out and take the coldest shower you can, or you jump into an ice-cold pool. A lot of people build banyas in their dachas (summer houses) and will roll around in the snow after getting out of the steam room. 


You repeat this process three or more times. And while you're in the steam room, you beat yourself or others with bundles of birch leaves. It feels great and the smell is lovely. 


In all it's typical to spend 3 or 4 hours at the banya, taking time to use the steam room, relax, drink plenty of fluids, and hang out with your friends. The banya I set up for us was a private one, so we had the run of the place, but there are plenty of public banyas in the city where you just go by yourself, but the people are always very nice and happy to beat you with the birch leaves. It's a you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours environment. In addition to being social, for a lot of people the banya may be the only bath they take during the week, so they get nice and clean.


Then on Sunday I got together with some family from California. My cousin (actually second cousin, twice removed) Jan and her husband Herb were on a cruise of the Baltics and Scandinavian countries. They were in StP for just over 24 hours and Jan and I managed to walk about the city a bit while Herb took a tour of the czar's summer residence, Peterhof, just outside of StP. Here is a picture of Jan and me in the Summer Gardens.

It's not easy being righteous

I've been doing my best to stay vegetarian while I've been here, but when the question is between getting enough calories to stay healthy and being veg, I'm afraid things don't look so good for our hooved and beaked friends.

At home in the Chajka, it's easy to eat what I want. I can get pasta and fruits and veggies all over the place. A few weeks ago, I tried to make soup from dried beans. The soup was great, but the process was totally not worth it. First you have to soak the beans, then drain them and cook them for an hour or so in fresh water. But since we think of the water here as poison (with heavy metals and giardia), I had to soak the beans in my precious bottled water. That meant I didn't want to throw out the soaking water and as we know, the soaking water is where beans' bad reputation starts. No problem there. Russia is a spacious country and I'm sure no one minds me having a little extra wind in my sails. So, since, dried beans are hard to work with, I eat a lot of canned beans. Plus, I make fantastic borshcht (n.b. don't wear white while making or eating borshcht.)

I've located two restaurants that are exclusively veggie (not a fantastic ratio for a city of 4.5 million). I've also found a second tier of restaurant (1) that is going for "organic," which I take to mean that if I eat the meat there, I probably won't get sick. Finally, there are some places that have vegetable-heavy options. These are exclusively asian restaurants where I can get noodles and some veggies -- "woks" are all the rage here and the Russians are acting like it's a new technology, recently arrived from Mars.

I don't feel food deprived and in fact I really enjoy eating in, but I do try to get out for lunch every day so that I am sure to encounter Russia -- after all, I can eat beans and pasta at home in San Francisco.) 

My earnestness to keep my standards up was reinforced a few days ago when I got food poisoning in Novgorod. All of our meals were provided and aside from the occasional cucumber and tomato garnish, nothing was free of meat. I think it may have been the "salad" made from canned peas and chopped ham suspended in sun-ripened mayonnaise that did me in. Shudder.

The picture below captures a typical scene in my kitchen. I drink about one of these 5 liter bottles of water a day. And since our kitchens are free from any sort of storage containers, I chop the top off of an empty water bottle and use it for leftovers. I've said it before -- Russia is camping + paperwork.

This was my lunch recently at the organic restaurant. Pumpkin soup (great presentation, but weak on spices) along with some Hedgehogs (meatballs with just the lightest dusting of sour cream)

So, how do I actually spend my time here. Let's look at my day.

I'd say it starts at 1am when I go to bed after making my bed check rounds to make sure everyone is home and sober.

8am: up for breakfast and working on my SF job.

2pm: Get out of my room so that the maid can come clean it (i.e. wipe down the poorly-laid linoleum floor with a much-used rag).

2pm – 6pm: Find lunch someplace. Maybe go to a museum or see a movie.

6-7pm: Stop off at the store to figure out what I want to eat for dinner. If I bought food for more than one meal, it might overwhelm my poor dorm fridge.

7-11: Dinner and back to my SF work.

11pm – 1am: Booze and Body rounds and then to bed to start it all over again.

The only exception to this is Thursdays when I teach Russian for 3 hours to one of the groups of students from 9 to noon. I like the classroom time and the variety in the schedule.

By far the most exciting (no, seriously) part of my day (aside from dodging traffic) is the shopping and cooking part.

I love going to the stores and seeing what's there. Museums are fun, but I feel like places that The People go are more authentic.

Just think about the U.S. If you want to get an idea of who Joe Six-Pack is and what's important to him, do you go to The Guggenheim or Safeway/Kroger's? The same is true for Ivan Stolichnaya.

So, here are a few snapshots of things I've encountered in the stores. More to follow, I'm sure. 

Apple-flavored toilet paper. This would not have made it past the focus group at home.

They LOVE canned meat. And what's not to love? It's got a long shelf life and you can use the empty can to store your heart meds. Note that the can has a helpful picture of the meat claimed to be inside.

Considering the significantly lower life expectancy here, this is a much more realistic way to attract the shopper who is approaching middle age.

Novgorod

We spent last weekend in the city of Novgorod, about 4 hours from St. Pete. It's one of the oldest cities in Russia, founded in 860-something. And a lot of the city is still standing (despite Hitler's troops).


Our first day we toured the city kremlin, "fortress," which looks a lot like the one in Moscow. It was drizzly rainy the whole day, but by evening cleared up and was lovely. The next day we toured a 12th century monastery and the spent a few hours at a folk festival. 


The festival was easily my favorite part. Russians dressed up in traditional clothes, performing songs and dances for each other, not for the tourists. There were exhibits of traditional peasant houses and crafts (like making shoes from tree bark).

This is the saddest dog in the world. In the driving rain, the best place for him to lay down was the middle of a muddy patch.

It's Troy at the monastery. I'm rockin' the sweater vest.

Me in front of the statue commemorating the 1000th anniversary of Novgorod (the statue was erected in the 1800s)

And here are some of the folk singers performing.

River cruise

We are nearing the half-way point for the semester, and you can feel the tension among the students. A lot of them have traveled abroad and some have even studied abroad, but as you might guess, living in Russia comes with its own special flavor.

Now, at week 4, the students have an established routine. On the bus to school at 8:30. Class till 1 or 2. Then they are free to wander the city, go to musuems, or come home to do homework. Either with their roommates or on their own, they forage for meals/cook for themselves. Then it's bedchecks at midnight and the cycle starts again the next day.

At this point, a lot of students are overwhelmed by Russian. English is only occasionally encountered here and for a language student, every interaction with the target culture only seems to reinforce how little progress you've made. As a result, a lot of students end up retreating from the language, hiding out in their room, reading Facebook, listening to their iPods, eating pasta for dinner every night. This is a very familiar and predictable dynamic.

We take them on weekly excursions to museums around the city, but even this becomes part of the routine. However, June spices things up a little (not by getting them to use Russian more, but at least by getting them out of their rooms). Tomorrow we leave for the ancient city of Novgorod for the weekend. Then in a few weeks, we'll go to Moscow. This should improve attitudes

And last night, we took a boat cruise on the Neva – the main river through the city. These boat cruises are a big event here. In the spring and summer, when the Neva is free of ice, large ship traffic travels from upriver along the Neva and out to the Baltic and on to the Atlantic. There are hundreds of bridges along the city's rivers and the ones that connect inland areas with the ocean are too low to pass under, so those ones are drawbridges.

On a schedule, starting around 1am, the bridges along that traffic route start going up. Thousands of people gather on the embankment to drink, hang out with friends, and watch the bridges go up. There are also dozens of boats, like the one we rented last night, which go from bridge to bridge and watch them go up. It's very dramatic. At this time of year, the sky is truly dark for about an hour. Dusk quickly turns back to dawn. And everything along the embankment and on the bridges is brilliantly lit.

I made a short video here. It starts with a view of the Hermitage Museum, the former Winter Palace which was the beginning of the Russian Revolution. Then you see Palace Bridge followed by other islands in the cityscape. It's such a beautiful view.

This sort of perspective reminds me of what one of Dostoevsky's characters says, "I love humanity, it's the people I can't stand."

"Modern" Russia (let's leave it in quotes for now)

When I was preparing for my trip to Russia this year, I was working from a few well-learned lessons after years of travel here:

-Always carry a supply of toilet paper as you won't find any in public bathrooms

-The only public bathrooms are squat toilets

-Only children are allowed to wear shorts

-Make sure you have a bag with yourself at all times – you never know when you'll find That Great Purchase

-Don't talk on the metro – Russians cherish grumpy silence; plus it's rude of you to display your full set of healthy, white teeth

What I found when I arrived was that all of these maxims needed to be either refined or abandoned altogether (except for the part about the teeth).

In my absence, Russia has undergone an enormous Westernization (i.e. people have become more civilized and are living higher up on Maslow's hierarchy) and Americanization (i.e. a lot more big butts from the explosion of fastfood restaurants; so much that about a third of Petersburgers are said to be diabetic now).

Petersburg and Russia have changed.

I noticed the change when I (successfully) used my ATM card to withdraw money at the bank. The machine gave me a bill too large to use at any store so I went to a clerk to have it changed. In the clean lobby of the bank there was a scrolling sign that read "the customer is always right." People took numbers and waited their turn. No more scrabbling like chickens to get the last few kernels of corn. And I got my money changed without a frown, a groan, or a loathing look.

I noticed the change when I went to the grocery store at the end of my street. While booze and cookies still take up a substantial portion of the store, there are all sorts of fresh fruits and veggies, spices, soups, a deli and a butcher counter. There are even some vegetarian options. Most surprisingly, when I went to check out, the clerk said hello, offered me a bag(!) for free (!!), asked if I had a frequent-buyer card, and even put my change directly in my hand (in the past money always had to be put in a plastic tray on neutral territory – you never gave or received it directly into someone's hand). Now, some things about the clerks haven't changed. They still insist that you produce some portion of your payment in coins, just to make it easier for them to make change. And they still rip a notch in the top of your receipt even though the utility of this gesture has long passed.

I noticed the change in the astonishing number of cafes and restaurants (Chinese, Georgian, European, Russian. . . ). The chain кофе хаус (Coffee House) is as common as Starbucks and there is rarely a street that doesn't boast a sushi bar. The fad with sushi bars is puzzling, but the Russians seem to see it as the essential indicator of a cosmopolitan life. Interestingly, owing to undependable refrigeration and long waiting times on loading docks, Russian-style sushi could be the answer to the nation's weight problem. Locals take it as given that an evening of sushi is always followed by several days of gastrointestinal distress.

I noticed the change in the malls that have sprouted up. These aren't the 1990s style shops that have taken up residence inside of former Soviet-era buildings, but actual new construction. Vast interior spaces with sunglass huts and watch kiosks as well as nearly any shop you can imagine: L'Occitane, Rive Gauche, Tiffany's, The Gap, a "certified" Apple Store, Swarovski, The Body Shop, Desigual, H&M, Zara, Adidas, even a dreadful Tommy Hilfiger.

But the real surprise about the mall for me came when I got to the food court on the top floor (next to the movie theater playing "Men in Black III"). Let's explore the dining options in pictures:

I love the marketing of this place. It's a meat-only restaurant. The name sounds like Mesopotamia, but they've changed the first syllable to "myaso" (meat).

"Only Spoons," a soup restaurant, will be opening in this space soon. Sounds gimmicky to me. Maybe it will turn out to the be Russian equivalent of the U.S. cupcake craze.

Our cute like bliny kiosk has turned into a mall store.

And finally I noticed the change in the area around the Chajka. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the squalid dump had turned into a thicket of twenty-story apartment buildings and shops, all looking out onto the new passenger terminal in the Gulf of Finland where cruise ships dock.

Now my window at the Chajka looks out on this.

This gives a little more perspective. The Chajka is a sad, little Soviet building next to its posh neighbors.

And here are some of the signs of modernity around the Chajka

Weird Italian restaurant blow-up guy

Confirmed

And here is yet another picture of me, with one of the students in the group. We're not overexposed, this is just the effect of the White Nights.

He's a real person

I know I've been talking about the city a lot and I wanted to allay any fears that I'd vanished, so here is a picture of me, in the flesh, at an indoor farmer's market.

Checking in around 2002

On our way to the present, I thought it might do to stop in around 2002 and see how things were then.

With Putin in power now, the absolute lawlessness of the Yeltsin years had been elminated. Now instead of mob thugs in vinyl warm up suits, the criminals wore expensive Italian suits and held office in Moscow as part of Putin's close circle.

The infrastructure in Saint Pete was failing at an alarming rate. I missed by just a few minutes perhaps being killed when one of the 1950s-era metro stations in the center of the city suffered a collapse, burying dozens of people under concrete. And the aging fleet of city buses which could no longer support the load of passengers was replaced by private marshrutki. These were small 10 passenger vans that traveled a set course through the city and could be flagged down for a pickup or dropoff anywhere along the route. The price was higher, but they were more dependable.

Small restaurants and cafes were popping up around town. Most of these were parts of Western chains (Pizza Hut, MacDonald's, Subway, a weird Scandinavian chain called "Carrollan's) that managed to wedge their way into the big city. There was also a growing number of kiosk-style restaurants. In a box not much bigger than a phone booth, the one-person cook  took your order, made it, and handed it to you through a tiny window. For example, here's a group of my friends enjoying bliny in front of Teremok, the bliny kiosk.

The stores were certainly improving. The "fish" and "milk" store had been gutted and turned into mini-marts with a little produce section, a meat counter, a HUGE dairy counter, and some other food, most of which was either cookies or alcohol.

In the early 2000s, it was so much easier to keep in touch with people back home. There were internet cafes every 10 feet in the city center. Of course, that meant a 40 minute trip from dear old Chajka. Internet access wasn't too expensive, but overall my dollar didn't go as far as it had in the past.

In 1995, the exchange rate had been 5,000 rubles to the dollar. In the early 2000s, it was around 30 rubles to the dollar. That revaluing of the ruble, which came out of the 1998 Asian economic crisis was devastating for Russians. Overnight, they government just declared the old money invalid and people had to begin using the new money. I know of people who could have bought a car one day, but the next day could barely afford to buy a new coat. The result of this was that people were crazy about converting their money to a stable currency. The euro was good, but the dollar was accepted just about everywhere (not, legally of course).

My impression from talking to Russians was that their opinion about their place in the world had changed significantly. In 1995, there was a sense that they had been through a terrible jolt and that they were working hard to improve their situation. In the early 2000s there was an edge of bitterness and anger now. The sentiment was, "We are an industrialized nation. Why are we tolerating a country that's falling apart and corrupt? Are we really worse than people in the West?"

It was also at this time that Russian women's style really seemed to turn tawdry. Regardless of the weather, they wore the highest heels and tiniest, tightest skirts they could find (along with the most garish makeup). If you asked me to graph out the trajectory of their fashion evolution, I would have said that somewhere around 2015 they would be naked except for stilleto heels, a wide belt, and a gash of red lipstick.

The women really were alarming. All tarted up and hungry for dollars, they would accost nearly any man on the streets in the city center and mewl at him, "Khello, please. You vant to buy me some ice kream pleeze!?," batting their impossibly-long fake eyelashes all the while.

The only thing that hadn't changed was our dear old Chajka. The same can't be said for the dump out front, however. From dawn to dusk (a long time during the White Nights) semi-drunk construction workers were pounding in the pilings which were to become the foundation for a new apartment complex. Compare this picture to the one from 1995.

Where in the world is Troy?

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My little kvartira

Several people have asked me to describe where I live. And the timing of the question couldn't be any better since I just covered the way things were back in 1995. Except for the removal of the wall-mounted "radio" that you couldn't turn off and which probably was a microphone into your room, the hotel/dormitory I'm in hasn't changed at all since 1995 and, probably not even since the early 1980s when this building was the new beauty on the lane.

The "Chajka," a twelve-story brick affair that is now dwarfed by its neighbors doesn't know if it's a hotel or a dorm. The sign on the outside says "hotel," but since the early 90's they've been converting it into a dormitory. I don't know exactly what that means in terms of the layout of the rooms, but the profile of the inhabitants is mostly college-aged people from all around the world. 

The rooms themselves are just fine and are exactly identical except for the number of bedrooms. Everything branches off of the entryway where you put your shoes, jacket, and such. I also use it to store my bottled water. Off that entryway you have the toilet behind one door and the sink/tub behind another. I have no idea why it's set up that way. Tradition, I guess. Perhaps the Russians are as puzzled by the fact that we poop in the same room where we shower as we are at the fact that you have to change rooms in order to wash your hands after using the toilet.

So, let's wash our hands and head for the kitchen which is also off the entryway. There's a range which, I think I've observed elsewhere, only has one live burner and takes around 20 minutes to boil a cup of water. I've also got a dorm-sized fridge, which is standard in a lot of Russian houses. The windows in my kitchen (as in my bedroom) are a piece of Mondrian art. There are three separate windows in the frame: a big one, a small narrow one, and an even smaller square-shaped one. This small one is called the fortochka and it's almost always cracked open a little bit. It keeps air flowing and in the winter helps regulate temperature (it may also help against the Evil Eye by keeping spirits stirred up, but don't quote me on that).  The windows are all double-something. I don't know what it's called, but when you open the first window, there's another window right behind it. It's like double paned but with a HUGE cushion of air – probably to keep the sub-freezing winters at bay.

The kitchen table is simple, and is the center of domestic life. Lots of beer, vodka, and tea get drunk here. However, since I'm in a semi-leadership position on this trip I don't hang out with the students and don't have hordes of Russian friends to spend my evenings with, so I mostly use my table for holding my groceries.

The only other room in my apartment is the bedroom. It's just two narrow beds and a TV that gets four channels in Russian, plus one fuzzy channel that always plays the Larry King show.

The flooring here looks like wood, but when you enter the apartment on a sunny day, you see the swales in the poorly-laid linoleum. I don't think it's even glued down – it's like old contact paper.

Over the weekend, it was laundry day. There are no laundry facilities here and no such thing as a laundromat, so I do my things by hand in the bathroom sink. Then I drip them dry in the tub, before transferring them to the curved hot water pipe for their final drying. When you're living in a multi-person room here the bathroom is always full of laundry in different stages of cleaning.

As I say, nothing at all has changed in the Chajka since at least 1995.

Here are some snapshots for your entertainment.

This is the Chajka. I'm in the fourth rickey balcony up

Entryway full of warm-weather wear that I haven't needed since it's been in the 80s since I got here.

The weirdly separated bathroom

Forgot to make my bed or fold my clothes. No one told me it was class picture day.

Kitchen window. Please note the fortochka.

My fridge, the Smolensk 3M, cutting edge technology for its time. 

The dish drying cupboard. In the old days, there didn't used to be a solid bottom to the cupboard, just a wire mesh so your dishes dripped dry right into the sink -- and onto your head if you weren't careful. 

My modest kitchen table. Chairs for two, but I use the second one for a footrest.

I told you it was laundry day.

BONUS PICTURE:

This is the neighborhood nuclear plant. Just a couple of miles from the Chajka. If it goes up, don't even bother looking for me, just inhale deeply and commune with my vaporized form.