September 24, 2005

After a long day of learning Russian conventions, Russian culture, and Russian itself, I jumped on the metro with a crowd of Americans (we’re at the farthest possible Metro stop to the south of the city on the purple line) to meet Evgeny at red square again. One thing first: I learned today that, in addition to this peculiar Russian obsession with size, Russians tend to place more faith in the individual than in the group than Americans do, despite our claims to rugged individualism and their claims to communism, etc. When the iron curtain fell, it fell hard, and the professor who gave one of our historical/cultural lectures today compared now to the golden age of the soviet union paraphrased a quote from Gone with the Wind: yes, we were slaves, but our masters fed us.

Anyway, what’s been left in the wake of the 90’s? In the wake of a proto-fascist presidency? Neon signs everywhere. Despite its Las Vegas pretensions and seamy, grosny nihilism and carelessness, Moscow is gorgeous this time of year. It’s light jacket weather all of a sudden.

Had conversation with Eugene about sincerity, honesty, etc—being true to one’s self, and the importance of this in conversation, and the importance of conversation in this. The night before he made the point that Russians are frank but not sincere. The difference is direction: sincerity is glasnost with others, frankness is demanding that others are sincere with themselves. Eugene is frank kanyeshna—he insisted that’s what he was—but I hope i’m being sincere with him and me. We traded first love stories, talked briefly of other love (we didn’t really talk of Kolya)

Found a 50 ruble bill on the siiiidvjxvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Look it happened again!

Found 50 rubles in an underground passage, not far from a young woman who was lying on the stairs with her собака who we had passed earlier (on the way to Moo-Moo, a good cafeteria-style place we list in Let’s Go). I wanted to give her the money, but Eugene said no, we’re capitalists now. He was joking sort of, but this was Russia. Most needy people don’t ask for money, they demand it with persistence equal to that of centuries of workers, peasants, reformers, and Soviet planners. Some minutes later these three teenage girls approached us, ponytails and neon, and asked (in Russian) if we wanted to play a game. Nyet, we have to go, he said kindly. They insisted: the game was just, do you have five rubles. The exchange rate now is roughly 30 rubles to the dollar. Large beers cost 20 rubles, metro rides 10. They were so cute, and though I had some worries that they were being pimped out like the kid (probably) who harassed us the night before, I reached into my pocket as Evgeny was fishing around for change and pulled out my 50 rbl. bill. Malchik did they squeal in joy. Some one else probably needed it more, but it’s really hard to say that in a country so impoverished.