Russians

They know how to live. Not just survive, but thrive. They may not know how to keep a Party going, but they know how to throw one. Neglect of “social good” aside, they know how to dance and tell a story and a joke and make great food and make anyone feel at home, they know how to eat and drink and enjoy virtually any thing, afterwards they’ll wash it down with a lively sing-a-long. Once a Russian lets you into the circle, they’ll do everything for you, anything. You’d be hard pressed to find a better friend. If you’re in a bus, train, metro car, queue of any kind, you’ll also be hard pressed, but this time against the window—by the inscrutable stares and the crowd and their inevitably large and bulky bags full of a life’s worth of possessions, food and small children. Though sympathy for strangers in public is as uncommon and concern for the general public good, Russians take great care of their own possessions (just as with their own friends) and seem to take a lot with them when they travel on trains or buses; also, out of necessity and by turn culture, they don’t dispose of very much, except perhaps beer bottles: this includes soviet architecture, soviet cars, clothing and food. Between my own soft spot for 70s Soviet kitsch and my tendency to hold onto things way past their typical American lifetime (certainly passed down from the previous generation), I’ve no doubt in my Eastern European heritage. Russians have a propensity to exaggerate things, especially size. Certainly there is a premium placed on size in America (Wal Mart, penis enlargement, Big Mac, Big Car) but here it is a deeply-rooted point of pride (buildings, factories, dams, Lenin heads, prefixed and suffixed words, but also lakes, skies, mountains, landmasses, bears) and quite ironic. If open spaces are enormous (Red Square, Moscow, Russia), apartments are tiny as a rule. Getting close to Russians in their homes is so easy because there’s really no choice.

The Russian home is one of the most comfortable places you’ll find on earth, at least because it’s not the hallway or the street or the bus or the airplane you took to get there. Because no one’s ever been in control of what’s going on outside their own homes—except perhaps in the good old (pre-) revolutionary days—everything inside the heavily bolted door tends to be beautiful, clean, cherished. Plants especially are omnipresent, and better taken of than anywhere else. Everything outside is the opposite.

Openness is valued, and Russians, more than any people I’ve met, have a talent for recognizing the truth about others. But as Eugene pointed out, this frankness doesn’t also imply sincerity—Russians may be slow to acknowledge the truth about themselves. They’re also hesitant to yield much information, a relic of its scarcity and very absurdity under the USSR. Today, information and plans may be thorough and detailed, but often won’t be formulated until the last minute; and even if they are, no one knows them anyway. For instance, we had no idea we were hiking to Lake Baikal until some days before, only that we were “going” to the lake. And once on the trail, we never spoke in detail of what lay ahead—the rocky parts, the bridges, the absence of bears (!); we just went. As an enthusiast of open-endedness (lousy planner), I really appreciate this approach. As an incorrigible communicator—and a volunteer eager to help—I also can’t appreciate it. Still, for the tourist in me, this mystification means the many surprises of Russia are doubled and doubled.

Other useful generalities: Russians like to eat and drink; they like sex, they like to travel, they like cool ringtones, they like sports and cool clothes and heat and television and shopping and pop music and western movies. Also though: they respect their president for his strong-arming of the economy and Chechnya, and his work on the economy; what little they say about America is warm with a tinge of skepticism about the culture; the theater is far from dead, but they say the literature is dying; I hear the art scene is getting hotter along with the fashion world; the rich are getting richer, the poor are growing poorer, and the middle class is growing a little bigger. One thing that cuts across all classes is the coat check. Taking off your jacket is pretty much compulsory in Russia, as is removing your shoes in exchange for some slippers. And when, entering one’s home, it is also customary to bring a gift, such as chocolate, wine, vodka, chocolate with rum, chocolate flavored vodka, or wine.