In the spring of 1998, exactly two years after my first trip to Russia, I was able to return to Moscow. This time, I was a student of the Foreign Language Training Center, Europe (FLTCE), a US Army school in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany. There were 23 of us from all over Europe and the US. Unfortunately, I did not keep as good a journal as I did when I made my first trip, but I think I can probably piece the experience together pretty well. My memory is still more or less intact thanks to the fact that I did not drink any vodka at all on this trip, in marked contrast to the first time--I guess I sometimes DO learn from my mistakes!
Upon arriving in Moscow, the first thing that particularly impressed me was the stark contrast between this airport and the one I had landed at on the previous trip. In 1996, we had arrived at Sheremet'evo, but this time we landed at Sheremet'evo-2, which, I think, is on the opposite side of the same set of runways. Sheremet'evo-2 is, by American or European standards, a little primitive and run-down, but it is clean and modern compared with the original Sheremet'evo!
We hopped on a bus bearing the logo of the Sputnik travel company and began our drive into the heart of Moscow. So far, everything looked much as it had back in '96, even down to the enormous Marlboro Man on the side of an apartment building just after crossing the Moskva-Volga Canal. We checked into our hotel, the Rossiya, about 100 yards off of Red Square. My roommate was Travis Tilley, an Army E-5 from my section back at Garmisch--he was a great guy, and we got along very well. Erik wanted to take everybody out to exchange some money so that we could buy a beer or something, so we all agreed to drop off our things in our rooms and meet back down in the lobby. Travis and I went to our room, and we were absolutely flabbergasted by the view--a ninth-floor perfect shot of St. Basil's Cathedral and the Kremlin. As we left, I decided to let the dezhurnaya (floor concierge) know that we liked the room. I had the following brief conversation with her, which I quote verbatim.
| ME: | Nomer khoroshij. | The room is nice. |
| HER: | Vam nravitsya? | You like it? |
| ME: | Da, ochen' nravitsya. | Yes, I like it very much. |
| HER: | Nu, slava bogu. | Well, thank God. |
Erik led us on a long, circuitous path through central Moscow looking for a currency exchange that was still open (it was about 8:00 pm by this time). When we finally found one, we all set about to do the thing that comes naturally to a bunch of GIs in a foreign land: find some alcohol. We split up into about four groups. Some went to find dance clubs, others to find bars. My group ended up on Pushkinskaya Ploshchad' (Pushkin Square), where several beer kiosks were set up. We bought cans of Zolotoj Byk ("Golden Bull") beer, and sat on the edge of a fountain for some fascinating people watching (read: girl watching). The square was packed, and really seemed to be the place to be seen. Unfortunately, the Zolotoj Byk was terrible.
Our first group activity was a metro (subway) ride to the flea market at Izmailovskij Park: This
place was huge! They made us travel in groups, so I was with Travis and an Air Force girl from Offutt named Collette Hornsby.
I cornered the matrëshka (stack doll) market, while Collette bought
two tea sets:
one in the "Catherine the Great" white-and-blue porcelain style and one
in silver and glass. Afterwards, we joined up
with about four other students and ate shashlik (Russian shishkabob) at
one of the outdoor stands. It was excellent, which made a nice change. It was also at this shashlik stand where we had our first bottle of Baltika beer. It's brewed in Saint Petersburg at a brewery built by a German company. Baltika would turn out to be a great friend.
In the evening, some of us attended a performance of "Kholopka" ("The Bondmaid"), considered to be the finest example of a Russian comic operetta. It was pretty good performance overall, and the girl who had the title role had great comic timing. And the fact that she was beautiful did not interfere with my appreciation of her performance. The man who played the wicked baron was especially good, and he stole every scene he was in. One of the dance tunes in the show seemed very familiar to me, but I just couldn't place it. I hummed it constantly for several days before I realized where I'd heard it--it's one of the tunes from the "Tetris" video
game!
After the show, we returned to the hotel, where Travis and I inaugurated something that was to become an evening ritual: we sat at the window in our room, drinking Baltika beer and watching the sun go down over the Kremlin.
I digress briefly for a quick word about the Cathedral of Christ the Savior (Khram Khrista Spasitelya). For centuries, this impressive white church, built on a hill just south of the Kremlin, was the principal church of Moscow. During the Stalin era, the church was destroyed, and the hill was razed. In its place, the Communists built a large, circular swimming pool. One of Boris Yeltsin's first promises to the Russian people after the fall of the Soviet Union was that he would rebuild this cathedral as a symbol of the new Russia. After billions of rubles and several years, this vision is now becoming a reality. Interestingly, all the Russians I talked to would rather have the swimming pool back.
Anyway, we also got to see the Novodevichij Convent on this bus trip, which I had not seen before. Very pretty. I got yelled at by a little old babushka for taking a picture of the convent reflected in a pond. Well, what she really objected to is the fact that I had climbed over a chain-link fence to do it. I escaped unharmed after myriad apologies and promises never to do it again. Returning to the tour, we traveled south of the Moskva River to the University. Just as two years ago, there was a decent-sized flea market set up on the bridge. I bought a few more matrëshki, much to the amusement of most of my traveling companions. After the university, we moved on to Park Pobedy (Victory Park). I had not seen this large, pretty park on my previous visit. We spent about an hour and a half walking around there. It was very nice, although it was downright WARM. As we were boarding the bus to leave the park, somebody spotted two girls handing out free samples of a new vodka and lemon soda drink called "Maximus." Always on the prowl for free stuff, I went up to them and deliberately spoke Russian poorly and with a heavy American accent to see whether they would give some to the "Amerikanskie Turisty." They gave us about fifty bottles--what a country!
In the afternoon, we had the first of our daily meetings with university students. I didn't actually have a student; instead, I was paired with the cousin of the teacher that went with us. She is a theatrical historian named Olya; I'd guess she's about 50 years old. Collette was also with us, along with Mr. David Wick, who came to Moscow as the official FLTCE representative. Mr. Wick doesn't speak any Russian, so the teacher had wanted him to stick with me so that I could translate for him. On this first day with Olya, we walked through the section of town where all the musical and theatrical academies are. One of the most interesting things we saw was the Tchaikovsky Conservatory, where we were able to hear some of the students rehearsing. There was quite a bit of activity around the conservatory, as they were preparing for the annual international Tchaikovsky musical competition. Then we walked down the Old Arbat, where Mr. Wick bought a Khard Rok Kafe t-shirt from one of the street vendors.
The entertainment offering for the evening was a night of ballet at the Bol'shoj Theater. (By the way, "bol'shoj" is the Russian word for "big." The Russians have a real knack for naming things.) I elected not to go because a) I don't like ballet and b) I didn't feel like plunking down the requisite $60 to sit through something I don't like in the first place, even if it IS at the "Big" Theater. Fortunately, I was not the only person who felt that way. Rather than take our chances with the cuisine at the Rossiya, Travis and I headed down Tverskaya Ulitsa (ulitsa=street) to see what we could find to eat. We were joined by Katrina "Kat" Jensen, an Army reservist. After wandering around for awhile debating on what type of food to eat, we decided to go for Scottish food: McDonald's. We went to the one on Pushkinskaya Ploshchad', Moscow's very first McDonald's restaurant (I think there are now 21 of them). I had the Obed s Royal-Delyuksom (Quarter Pounder Meal) for 28 rubles. The exchange rate was about RUR6.15 to the dollar, so if you're mathematically inclined--I'm not--you can figure out how much that is in dollars. After dinner, we sat at one of the many beer kiosks on the square and engaged in some people watching as we drank Baltika #9 on tap. Baltika #9 claims to be a porter, but it seems more like a stout to me. It turned out to be one of the most pleasant evenings we spent in Moscow.
The tour ended around lunchtime. The thought of returning to the hotel to eat was offensive to most of us, so we all struck out in smallish groups in search of sustenance. I went in a group of about ten people, and we went to a fast-food restaurant of the chain Russkoe Bistro ("Russian Bistro"). The guide who had taken us around the city had recommended it for good, typical Russian food. On the counter in the restaurant, a small placard told us that the special of the day was pel'meny so smetanoj (dumplings with sour cream). That sounded pretty good, so we all ordered that. Most people also had a pirog (pie) with meat or mushrooms. Now, when an American restaurant offers a special, they usually expect that a lot of people are going to order it. Not so in Russia. By the time the third person in a row ordered the pel'meny, the girl behind the counter was visibly irritated. She started yelling back to the kitchen, "Eshche odnu!" ("Another one!") Fortunately, it turned out to be a very good meal, and pretty cheap.
Olya met Collette, Mr. Wick, and me at the hotel lobby after lunch. She suggested that we go to the cemetery at the Novodevichij Convent. Ordinarily, I don't like cemeteries, but this was very interesting. We saw the graves of such notable outsiders as Nikita Khrushchev, Andrej Gromyko, Nikolaj Gogol, Allelueva (Stalin's wife), and lots of other Soviets who were not quite in favor enough to be buried in the Kremlin wall. The monuments and gravestones were very impressive (I took a picture of Khrushchev's), but the most interesting thing of all was how we actually got to and from the cemetery. We had usually been taking the metro everywhere, but the station nearest to the convent was closed for repairs. So we rode to the next closest one, and Olya thumbed a ride in a passing car. It's a carry-over from Soviet times when people with cars were required to give rides to people who needed them. It's very natural for Russians, but it made me feel kinda funny. We hopped another car back to the hotel once we were done at the cemetery.
Our evening entertainment offering was the world-famous Moscow Circus. Travis went, but I was not interested. So Collette and I walked down Tverskaya Ulitsa in search of something to eat. I'm ashamed to say that we wound up at McDonald's. Again. I don't think I've ever eaten at McDonald's two days in a row in my entire life. Afterwards, we walked around for about an hour before returning back to the Rossiya. Travis and the rest of the circus-goers were out pretty late, so I sat at the window in my room and upheld the evening Baltika-drinking, sunset-over-the-Kremlin-watching tradition. It was nice. As I was sitting there, I had left the door open to try to get some air circulation through the room. Kat and her roommate, Sylvia Selitto, appeared at my door and hollered for me to come with them. They took me through a maze of corridors and up the elevator to an open window where we could get out onto the roof. It was really neat. We took a few pictures, and then the girls went out to find something to eat (I think they wound up at McDonalds too!), and I returned to my chair at the window.
The afternoon marked our third and final session with the Russian students. I had asked Olya to take us to the Pushkin Museum so that we could see the Trojan Gold exhibit. It turns out that the Trojan exhibit is really kind of a bust, but the rest of the museum was great! They had an impressive collection of paintings, including works by Rembrandt, van Gogh, Picasso, Monet, and Renoir. Unfortunately, we really had to rush through the place, so I wasn't able to spend nearly enough time looking at the artwork. I'd like to go back and spent four or five hours there sometime. I also had a run-in with one of the security babushkas in the museum. Before going into the museum, I had made a point of asking at the ticket counter whether photography was allowed. I was told that it was, but only without a flash. I had taken several pictures througout the museum without incident. I had just taken a picture of an ancient icon and was beginning to put my camera away, when a babushka appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my camera. As we played tug-of-war, our conversation went something like this:
| HER: | Nel'zya fotografirovat'! Nel'zya fotografirovat'! | Pictures not allowed! Pictures not allowed! |
| ME: | O, izvenite, no mne skazali, chto mozhno fotografirovat' bezo vspyshki. | Oh, I'm sorry, but they told me I could take pictures without a flash. |
| HER: | Ukh, vsegda govoryat, chto ne budut ispol'zovat' vspyshku, a potom ispol'zuyut ee! | Ooh, they always say they won't use a flash, and then they use it anyway! |
| ME: | No ya fotografiruyu bezo vspyshki. | But I'm not using a flash. |
There were no structured activities in the evening, so Collette, Mr. Wick, and I decided to go out to dinner at a restaurant that Olya had recommended. The place was called Ëlki-Palki (roughly "fiddlesticks"), and it's a real locals' hangout. For an appetizer, we had the best borshch I have ever tasted. Collette and Mr. Wick both had pel'meny as their main course, but I had the shvedskij stol (smorgasbord), which was a essentially a salad bar, but with lots of pickled herring and other fish dishes. It was a nice evening out. Meanwhile, Travis and a few others had gone to a party at the home of some of the students. He stumbled in around 3 a.m. All in all, a great last night in Moscow for everyone.
During the bus ride to the airport, Erik Zorin passed out some joke identification documents to some of the students. The best of these was the "Seks-Bomba" (sex-bomb) ID that he gave to an extremely embarrassed Sylvia. Needless to say, this nickname stuck like glue for the remainder of our stay at FLTCE.
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