Strange Things | Culture Shock

Culture Shock

erratic_prophet | 12 May, 2005 16:47

More background on me, the family and our trip to Russia and a story about how we were attacked by rabid fish can be found here.

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To say things were a bit different in Russia than they were back at home in Jersey would be a gross understatement. Even the city we were in was unlike anything I'd seen back home. It was clean. Even when we were in Moscow, the subways were not only gorgeous-- think marble, gold plating, etc.-- they were spotlessly clean. They looked more like museums than public transport stations.

Even the vending machines in Moscow weren't like what we had. If you wanted a can of soda, you'd go to a kiosk and pay an exorbitant fee for a can. If you went to a vending machine, you paid a man, he rinsed and wiped clean a glass and stuck it under a spout at the vending machine. You'd then have a glass of soda. Yes, ick. But you should've seen the people line up.

There was a huge park in the center of the town I was staying in. The entire city was built like a bullseye. The park was huge and unmapped. I recall finding an amusement park there-- I have a story I'm saving for another time-- a pond, a ski lift-- very rickety, a total nightmare-- taking you up to a restaurant shaped like a man's head with an arm extended out, holding a torch, and a host of other little places. My favorite discovery was a cafe we found. None of the family had ever seen it before.

We'd found it by accident during one of our daily walks-- you walk everywhere there, something I'd be unused to. It looked almost like a church from the outside, all old stone and two story stained glass windows. But the windows depicted folk dancers from the region. I remember the first time I saw the place. I stood there, in awe, for at least five minutes.

The inside looked more like a night club minus the dancefloor. Rich red carpeting, tables scattered throughout, screens giving privacy to other tables on the left, a bar to the right, and music. For the first time since I'd been in Russia, I heard music with words I not only understood, but knew! British music was pumping through the speakers. I'd turned all Rain Man, spouting off information about the songs playing. My cousin, A, looked concerned until my father assure him that this was normal. For me anyway.

I found out that they weren't used to tipping there. The waitress thought that I'd overpaid her and when I told her it was a tip, she looked confused. I explained to her how the process worked and she thought the whole thing ridiculous. I snuck the tip under my saucer and hurriedly left.

When we weren't walking, we hitched rides. This is a normal custom over there. A random car stops, picks you up and takes you, at least part of the way, to your destination. You then give the driver some money for their trouble. People did this because cars were another luxury that many did not have. I don't think I knew of any two car households there. The lack of cars was probably a good thing considering how people drove. Traffic laws weren't followed.

My uncle explained the whole thing to me this way: After the fall of communism, most didn't know what to do. They didn't grasp the concept of democracy. Freedom, to them, meant no laws. All had become anarchy. The police weren't able to contain it and, after a while, stopped trying. Everything they had known was now gone. It was a scary time for them and, even after all that time, they were only just starting to tear down the statues of Lenin around town. The Russian mafia thrived during this time. They were completely ruthless and the only "police" that the people feared.

But back to driving. Lines on the road? Mere suggestion! Lights and stop signs? Ha! Speed limit? You're joking, right? Being in a car was rather like being in a video game. The other cars were asteroids coming directly at you at high speeds. It was a game of chicken unlike any you've ever seen. Throw in pedestrians and it was rather like Frogger. It was only when it was nearly time to leave that I didn't have about fifty heart attacks in a car.

Another disturbing thing was the lack of indoor plumbing in the houses out in the suburbs or rural areas. As a child, I was famous for holding it in rather than peeing anywhere but a normal toilet. This was rather like a nightmare for me. What was worse was the paper they expected one to wipe with. It was actual paper. It was a good thing I'd brought mini packs of tissues to carry along with me everywhere.

On the plus side-- I'm taking a wiiiiiide turnabout here-- was the food. Well, fruits and vegetables, in particular. They were amazing. Very flavorful and unlike anything I'd have before or since. I mainly subsisted on fruits and veg while there. I had stopped eating red meat earlier that year, so I didn't have to eat the rather unappetizing hunk of boiled meat with chunks of fat clinging to it. It was easier to eat the boiled chicken and fried fish. The fish was sometimes served for breakfast, but usually we had bread, butter, and caviar with tea or coffee. Caviar isn't expensive there. At least not the kind we had. It came in a tin like tuna and was cheaper than a can of soda.

Most of the food was bought at a bazaar, bakery, fishmonger, or butcher. Most bakers, fishmongers and butchers liked to be situated near the bazaar in order to sell their goods more quickly. But they also were more expensive than the others that were further away. The bazaar was rather like a massive flea market but with spices, fruits and vegetables for sale. I loved going to them-- and have a story about a trip to one for another time.

Most of my time, though, was spent with family. In particular, my cousin A's two children. We watched quite a lot of Mexican telenovelas and Duck Tales, both dubbed in Russian. I was able to understand the language better than I could speak it. To make myself understood, I spoke French. For some reason, this worked better than my attempts at Russian. The whole thing gave Den a migraine. That was an added bonus. By the end of my stay, I'd memorized the theme song to Duck Tales in Russian. Not that I knew what the hell I was saying, but I was told that my pronunciation was excellent.