From Russia With Dave - 8/9/2012

Back after one month y'all, or you guys, or people.  One month.  Maybe a little more.  But less than one year.

Looking out my window now at a deceptively sunny day, deceptive blue sky and sunshine deception.  Yes Petersburg weather I remember yesterday when I looked out and saw the exact same image, decided to go sunbathe on the lawn in front of St. Isaac's, was laying face-up, shirtless, Banana Boat on my body, feeling the warmth and rays of what summer should feel like, not a care in the world, drifting in my happy place... and BOOM spontaneous combustion-like pouring rain pelting me on the face.  Black clouds and sheer misery.  I haphazardly packed my shit up like a ballerina on a pogo stick and swiftly skedaddled on home, drenched.  No sooner had I got home, dried off, cuddled in my bed with massive blanket and pillow action, giving up on any idea of outside activities for the day, when BOOM bright shiny sunshine appeared, virtually cloudless skies, blistering warmth.  As if rain hadn't been seen here since the days of old magic.  I was extremely comfortable in my bed but I didn't want to miss an opportunity to get some more sun on my vitamin D-deprived skin.  Packed up my shit, made some food, lingered a bit longer in my room like a ballerina in a room full of mirrors when BAM torrential rains.  Like a snap of the finger the world became gray and merciless.  People-scattering-like-

roaches RAIN.  As if it was all a joke, or a riddle, or sudoku.  To make a longer story shorter after another 45 minutes or so the sun was back out again smiling away like nothing ever happened, then the sun and rain were out together like bosom buddies (Tom Hanks, Peter Scolari) then everybody and everything just gave up and went to the bar.  

Though gripe as I may, Petersburg, your unpredictability is what keeps me here day after day.

What else has been going on?  I'll tell you what else has been going, a whole lot of karaoke, that's what's been going on.  My Petersburg friends reading this will laugh as I describe the bar that has become such an integral part of our lives - POISON.  Yes in the drunk district of Petersburg there lies a little alcove of rock n' roll karaoke goodness called Poison.  Small, dark, damp, smoky place who's claim to fame is free karaoke, ALL in English, all night long (closes at 7am).  This has become a kind of summer cottage for me, room and board included.  Why do I like to go there?  Well, there's not a lot of things more entertaining in the world than hearing a bunch of drunk Russians sing at the top of their lungs "My Heart Will Go On", "Smells Like Teen Spirit", "Hit the Road Jack", "Barbie Girl", "Thunderstruck", or some damn Nickelback song.  Especially if they get hand and hip movements involved.  Why else do I like to go there?  Because there's also not a lot of things more entertaining than listening to MYSELF singing "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)", "Stuck in the Middle With You", "Dancing With Myself", "Sweet Child O' Mine", "Twist and Shout" or some damn Ronnie James Dio song.  Especially if hand and hip movements are involved (which they inevitably are).  It's really funny when I get really into it (usually around 3am), singing from the depths of my soul, eyes closed, neck veins popping, fists pumping, and microphone twirling.  Poisoned.  And some devilish wise guy put a disgusting 24hr fast food place right next to it.  Oh yes...

Turning now to politics.  Vladimir Putin is once again skipper aboard the cruise liner Mother Russia and the knots of society are being tightened.  Honestly though I have mixed feelings about Uncle Putin.  On the one hand I understand that during his time in power he has done some substantially good things for Russia and Russians to which he should be given credit for, but on the other hand I can see the classic situation of time immemorial of a leader getting drunk with power and thinking that "no one else has the ability to run this country except me."  And actually I wouldn't mind having a beer with him, but then again I wouldn't mind having a beer with practically anybody (except Colin Firth and Ewen MacGregor).  I guess only time can tell what the ultimate results of the Putin Era will be but I have a feeling history's not gonna be too kind to Uncle Vlad if he continues tightening the knots.  In the past few months legislation has been passed restricting homosexual activities (in St. Petersburg and a few other cities so far), certain internet sites, unauthorized rallies, and non-governmental organizations funded from abroad.  I'll just give two kinda ridiculous examples of these laws being put into use.  The St. Petersburg parliament initially gave consent for the cities first authorized gay event to be held way out in the outskirts of the city.  Then about a week later and only two days before the event they turned around and revoked the authorization.  Why?  Well the law in place is against "homosexual propaganda directed at minors".  The parliament argued that the organizers got an authorization to hold a rally "against the discrimination and beatings of homosexuals" but, according to them, the organizers of the rally advertised it as a "gay pride" parade in newspapers that might be seen by minors.  Authorization revoked.  And 8 people were arrested who still showed up.

Another example of these laws in (counter-productive) action.  Recently it was the anniversary of Michael Jackson's death and a small stationary gathering was held outside the US consulate in memory of MJ.  Just a bunch of MJ fans paying their respects.  But it was hastily dispersed by police because it was an "unauthorized rally" and didn't have approval from City Hall.  The officers thought they were being "Bad" and told them to "Beat It", they didn't care if you were "Black or White".  The MJ fans said "Leave Me Alone", we're not "Smooth Criminals", we just wanna "Jam" and try to "Heal the World".  The officers then asked if they "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" and told them to "Remember the Time" when we put your friends in a horrifying jail cell.  The fans responded that it was only "Human Nature" to celebrate MJ's life but the officers cut them off and said hey if you wanna look at the "Man in the Mirror" and see splotchy red blotches on your face then  "Give In To Me".  The fans dispersed like a "Speed Demon".

Last juicy morsel before I leave.  Usually in Russia you have problems with the hot water being shut off for one reason or another.  If any of you remember I had some interesting experiences with cold showers in winter when I first arrived.  So last week I was alone in the flat and thought to myself "self, how 'bout a little body cleansing action?"  So I decided to hop on in the shower for a few minutes of unadulterated refreshment.  BUT on this particular day at this particular hour the COLD water was shut off and I was treated to a burning, scalding hot shower.  I could only put my hand under the water for a moment and splash it on my face.  Scalding.  BUT, and I shit you not, in the middle of this hell-fire torturous refreshment, the COLD water was suddenly switched on and the hot water was suddenly switched OFF.  Hell-fire torment turned into glacial frostbite in a matter of seconds.  I was like a ballerina on speed doing the Macarena trying to adjust to the sudden, drastic change in temperature.  Flesh wiggling about and contorting in such a way previously unknown to mankind.  Later I learned there was a plumber outside tinkering with the water controls.  Haha, good one dude, you got me there...

Though gripe as I may, Petersburg, your unpredictability is what keeps me here day after day.

Until next time

From Russia With Dave - 6/28/2012

Hello all,

Blimey it’s been a year since my last letter to you.  12 months.  More than 365 days.  375. Well anyway here we go with the 2012 version of the Russian fright fest.  And as usual this letter was begun many months ago so it’s a little mix of the old and new.  Mostly old.  Like the vegetable caviar in my fridge.  Which I think is actually growing vegetables again with the help of some unidentified greenish black furry stuff.  Not for petting. 

So since the last time we talked the leaves turned golden and fell everywhere in sight.  Which means that the girls replaced their photos of them laying by an anonymous swimming pool with them holding a bushel of leaves by their face in some artsy pose.  Which in turn was followed by photos of them buried in snow with nothing but the cotton ball on top of their furry hats showing.  Which has now turned back again into the anonymous swimming pool bathing suit shot.  Seasons dictate behavior here. 

But I’m here in my warm office at my warm desk flanked by trinkets of all imaginable types.  Me and the guy who sits next to me, who happens to be named Egor (which is hilarious) have amassed a very nice decorative collection of knick-knacks amongst ourselves.  We’ve got a potted plant between our desks, some sort of palm, which we have decorated with seashells of all types, hanging skeletons, hanging surfboards, a ship in a bottle, a black elephant from Thailand, a golden camel from Dubai, a little red car, and another dismembered skeleton.  Next to the plant between our desks there is a small cactus, another standing skeleton, two beer candles, a metal figure depicting a dead corpse on an autopsy table (Egor is the mortuary equipment salesman), a small bust of Napoleon, and a wooden flute from Bali.  Next to all this shit is a large old-style globe, you know the kind where you can open it and store booze.  It’s a kinda funny story about this globe.  It was a gift from our regional Siberian manager to our director.  I’m sure he was very proud to present it to our director for his birthday.  Probably a lot of time, effort and money went into acquiring this very nice globe.  He probably had visions of it sitting proudly in the conference room for all guests to see and for it to be stored with only the highest quality cognac and vodka.  Well, hate to say it buddy but when this globe arrived at our office, the director let me put it near my desk and then me and Egor proceeded to adorn it with a bright flower lei from the Canary Islands and large pink and yellow bunny ears from an animal-themed party we had in the office (more on that later).  And also, sorry my Siberian friend but hiqh-quality booze is not what we chose to fill your beloved globe with.  High-quality hardwood floor cleaner would be a more accurate description.  Hey, gotta get those hardwood floors glossy.  So that’s kind of a general description of what I’m looking at right now.

This just in.  I just received an email from a doctor which contained this paragraph I’d like to share with you.  See if you can guess the sentence which makes me laugh:  “Now, thank you for your informations and the programme of the Seminar. I will do my very best, and I am satisfied that there will be no time limitations for my three presentations. Nevertheless, I will be able to shorten the presentations, especially the long lecture on "Non-rhabdomyosarcomatous malignant soft tissue tumors ..." if absolutely necessary.”  Um, yes doctor, for heaven’s sake please shorten that lecture.   And I hope that “…” at the end didn’t mean there was more to that lecture’s title.  Such as “Non-rhabdomyosarcomatous malignant soft tissue tumors and the Rights of Man” or “Non-rhabdomyosarcomatous malignant soft tissue tumors and their expression in 20^th century Animation.”  Geez.  If I ever have a malignant soft tissue tumor, I really hope that it’s non-rhabdomyosarcomatous.  That would just be the pits.  But I kid about serious things.  I think all tumors were created equally and should have equal protection under the law, rhabdomyosarcomatous and non-rhabdomyosarcomatous alike.  I don’t want to live in a world where the non-rhabdomyosarcomatous have to drink at different water fountains.

Well ok now that we got that taken care of what else has been happening?  Work at the distribution company is going good.  I’ve been having to work a lot with people from Cyprus lately (the Greek part of the island) and I think now I can understand why the Greek world is in such a financial apocalypse.  They simply don’t work.  I’ve never ever experienced a company such as this Cyprus one take so many holidays and leave the office so early.  There’s about an hour window where you’ll be lucky to catch them on the phone, otherwise there out on multi-hour lunches, or left the office early, or just bluntly took the day off.  And every single time I get them on the phone, no matter which person I’m speaking to, they always (always) start with a question about the weather then giggle at whatever answer I give.  Can you trust people that are constantly asking about the weather?  I’ve also begun teaching a few classes again so it’s back to working two jobs again.  I’ve become an expert at making the initial “How was your weekend” question last for half an hour.  But still coming up against heavy resistance when trying to explain the word “assertive”.  Try it for yourself.  How do you explain that to a bespectacled Russian IT analyst named Vladislav?  Or how about when they ask you what “get it on” means?  I also have a student who’s obsessed with the word “capture.”  He basically uses it as a substitute for the word “get.”  For example he’ll say, “Yes today I try to capture new client for the bank”, or “I watch my daughter learning to swim and I capture new feelings inside me”, or “I captured my first hot dog yesterday”, or “I will try to capture iphone when I go to Finland.”  Hey surfer-boy capture me iphone.  If Marvin Gaye’s hit song ever retrospectively becomes a hit in Russia it should be titled “Let’s Capture It On.”  And that reminds me I’m tired of capturing the flag, now I just want to get it.  Get the flag.  Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

I’ve got in with the local translation crowd here in Petersburg.  You know you’re working at the wrong company when you visit the offices of a Russian-English translation company and the first thing you encounter is a large, handmade bar prominently displayed with every type of alcohol imaginable.  So every Tuesday evening this company has little get-togethers which they cleverly call “Tranny Tuesdays”.  And their bar even has a name – the Zanooda bar.  “Zanooda” in Russian roughly translates to something like “anal-retentive geek”.  What a name for a bar that would be:  The Anal-Retentive Geek Bar.

So how about some political stuff.  Right now is a very interesting time in Russian politics.  In December they had parliament elections which many considered to be fraudulent and mass protests erupted.  I saw one video from a polling station where eraseable pens were used.  Haha.  People would mark in their votes then afterwards someone would erase it and mark something else.  Haha.  Cracks me up.  I think eraseable pens are probably my favorite invention ever.  I remember when I first used an eraseable pen in 4^th grade and it was like a mystical revelation.  A pen that you can erase?  Where were u on that one Albert Einstein?  E=MC2.  And that E stands for Eraseable pen.  In Planet of the Apes, Charlton Heston used a talking doll as evidence of human ingenuity.  The Apes weren’t impressed.  Well duh, how can you be impressed by a talking doll, or a talking Ape for that matter, when erasable pens exist?  Yeah Marty McFly cruised around on a hover board in the future, but did he have an eraseable pen in the back pocket of his white-washed jeans with no belt?  That’s what I want to know. 

So back to the protests.  Yes they happened and yes they served as a sort of novelty entertainment venue for me and many others, including Vladimir Putin.  The symbol of the protests was a white ribbon, and on national TV Putin said at first he thought the protests were centered on AIDS awareness and that the white ribbons were actually condoms.  Haha.  Oh Putin.  One day I even went protest hunting, but sadly all I found were a couple tiny babushkas trying to give me discount coupons to the nearest sushi bar (which I gladly accepted).  But for many people they are serious and they are shaking things up a little here.  There’s a constant “wait and see” atmosphere of what effect the protests will have on future policy and most importantly the presidential elections in early March.  As I’m sure you all heard Vladimir Putin will most likely be returning to the presidency this year.  Three months ago I would’ve said that Putin was merely canceling presidential elections this year and appointing himself.  After these protests though it’s not such a simple story.  Definitely he’ll probably win, but it won’t be such a walk in the park for him.  He’s had to distance himself from his party which were accused of election violations (United Russia) and instead is running under his other creation, the All-Russia People’s Front.  Debates are still out of the question, but if they did happen I’m sure they’d be as vitriolic and smeary as American debates.  As for Putin returning to the presidency after his little ipad-dorky sidekick kept the seat warm for him these last 4 years most Russians I know are dismayed about this but none of them are surprised.  But there was a glimmer of dissent a while ago when the unthinkable happened.  Vladimir Putin was booed by the crowd at an MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) fight when he went in the ring to congratulate Russia’s Fedor something-or-other for his victory over America’s Jeff Monson.  It was probably the single biggest PR debacle Putin has ever had inside Russia.  Hilarious.  I just love how Putin was inside the ring at an MMA fight.  I’m surprised (and a little disappointed) that he had a shirt on.

Going back to the elections it’s just funny to compare the campaign processes of America and Russia.  In Russia it’s more of a funeral march, in America it’s more of a soap opera circus.  In Russia there’s virtually no campaign coverage of any sorts and many people would be hard-pressed to tell you any of the opposition candidates.  In America I think the campaign trail starts almost two years before any votes are cast and the candidates are in the headlines daily with the latest dirty laundry.  In Russia it could be well known that a candidate keeps a personal harem of mistresses and the populace wouldn’t bat an eye, in America if a candidate pinched a girl’s bottom 10 years ago they might as well go live in a leper commune.  In America people say “Yes We Can”, in Russia people say “Can We Drink”.  Haha, nice one Dave, just slip that in there.  Perpetuate the stereotypes, atta boy!

Democracy still has a ways to go to be firmly entrenched in Russian politics (if ever) but basically as long as people aren’t hassled on the streets and are free to travel as they like, buy what they like, and do business as they like (mostly), they prefer to stay out of politics. There’s not a really good history of people going against the system here.  I imagine many people think to themselves “hey, at least it’s not Stalin”, which actually is a good point.   It seems to me the Russian government’s point of view of democracy is:  “why should there be the possibility of having a gridlocked and disunited governing body in this huge sprawling country where a lot of people still go to work with a hammer and sickle (not really).  And how are those same semi-Asiatic, pseudo-peasants supposed to choose a proper candidate?  No, better to have government for the government by the government.”  For better or worse this is how Russia has been run since the very beginnings of the Muscovite state about 600 years ago and it’s gonna take more than 20 years of democratic growing pains to bring in this new, alien system of democracy.  Russians don’t really like big changes.  Usually when change happens here it’s forced on the population from the top down.  Whether it was feudalism, Orthodoxy, empire, westernization, communism, totalitarianism, industrialization, computerization, capitalism, or democracy.  All these things have for the most part been unwillingly forced on the people and it was never a clean or full transition.  Modern day Russia has traces of all those elements in a big melting pot of confusion and identity crisis. A gold mine for social observers.   Does Russia want to be part of the West, part of the East, or something in between?  That is the question Russia has been asking itself without an answer for hundreds and hundreds of years.  Russia understands that it needs the West but it resents that need at the same time.  Massive self-consciousness with tinges of an inferiority complex coupled with massive over-compensation.  A deep, suffering soul wearing Armani clothes and gold Rolexes.  Simultaneously unbelievably hospitable and unbelievably suspicious. 

So with all of that said democracy never was a grassroots national movement and because of that it doesn’t have a strong foothold in the Russian political mentality.  A good metaphor would be giving a child his older brothers football gear.  It’s too big for him and he doesn’t know how to use it.  He needs to grow into it and learn the rules of the game.  And that’s where we’re at now in Russia.  The democratic child is growing and learning, albeit slowly.  But the faintest breeze of change is in the air and it’s very exciting to be living here right now.  I can’t think of another country in the world which so beautifully and mysteriously encompasses the word ‘contradiction’.  And I can’t think of a more interesting place to live for the inquisitive, culturally-curious foreigner.   

Thanks everyone you’ve been a great audience.  Mind you, this information is dated, I’ll be coming back shortly with part 2 of this letter with all the glorious updates.  And yes I did just use the phrase “mind you”.  That’s what happens after visiting too many British pubs.  Kinda like the first word I used in this seemingly unending letter.  Ok bye.

From Russia With Dave - 7/17/2011

Ok I'm back with part two of the 2011 Russian bonanza - the summer edition.  And by the way right now I'm listening to "Smooth Operator" by Sade.  Great song. Which reminds me I was at a free Sting concert last night in Palace Square.  I think the whole city showed up.  Russians are crazy about Sting.  They don't know a thing about The Police, but they love their Sting.  Funny drunk Russian male mullett dancing galore. 

So... winter came and went and now its pretty uncomfortably hot.  This Russian weather can never get it right.  Either too cold or too hot.  Too wet or too dry.  Land of extremes.   And I love it.  But now that it's hot you play the game of "spot the old Russian man dressed in head to toe bright white - including hat and moccasins."  By the way I've temporarily forgotten if periods go inside or outside of "quotation marks.".  So it's hot.  I walk to and from work every day (about a 40 min. walk) and many times I'm forced to remove the shirt from my body.  Well, no I'm not forced.  Actually it's not uncomfortable at all to wear the shirt.  But sunny days feel like a gift from God and I want as much as my vitamin D-deprived skin to get in on the action.  And Russians don't really wear summer clothes well.  Winter clothes they got down pat.  Nobody can mess with a Russian’s sense of winter fashion.  But summer clothes?  Eh, they just look a little out of place.  They like these very colorful, outlandish, oversized shorts and shirts.  It’s as if they are over-compensating for their lack of good weather by filling all of their summer desires into one day and one outfit.  Tommy Bahama eat ur heart out.  Well actually when its sunny everyone becomes kind of a gushy goopy tourist here because its such a rare and joyful occasion.  The hills are alive with the sound of balalaika and accordion.  

I've still been doing my double time as a teacher and foreign relations/PR manager at BioVitrum.  But now in the summer im just going full time BioVitrum.  Thank heavens.  Honestly I'm a little sick of teaching.  The people I meet in my classes are always a treat but if I have to give another lesson on the present perfect or try to explain what the words "conscientious" or “assertive” mean I'm gonna hurl.  But things have been going very nice for me at BioVitrum.  I’m getting schooled on international finance, taxation, and laws right quick.  Not to mention the constant marketing and PR activity I do.  Got me a couple nice suits also.  By the way the Russian word for "business suit" is "costume."  Literally it's pronounced "costume."  So when I wear a suit and people say "ooh, nice costume," I have to remember that I'm not on the set of a gala presentation of Phantom of the Opera.  

Our company had a shashlik (BBQ) party the other week which is funny because you get to see all of your colleagues get trashed.  Just one instance I'd like to share.  The head of our IT department.  He's a very quiet, serious, IT sort of guy who looks strikingly similar to Oliver Platt.  He rarely socializes with anybody and just stays stuck to his computer all day.  Anyway, I got to this shashlik party and the first thing I see is this IT guy groveling in the grass like a fish on dry land and I think he was drooling on himself.  Next he was literally crawling around the party trying to catch girls.  Again making very strange noises.  Then his subordinates, I repeat subordinates, lifted him up by hands and legs and basically played a kind of demented jumprope with him, using him as the rope.  Classic.  And now my favorte part.  Does anybody remember that scene in Police Academy where the uptight head police officer was sunbathing and the great Steve Guttenberg wrote the word "Dork" on him with suntan lotion?  Well towards the end of the party our IT guy was shirtless and again groveling in the grass and making strange giggly noises in an attempt to sunbathe and his subordinates wrote the word "Xui" on him with lotion.  "Xui" is one of the worst curse words in Russian.  I would translate it as a stronger version of "foolish asshead".  So yeah it was pretty funny.  Priceless photos going around the office.  Most of the time I was teaching people how to play baseball which I think is more difficult than trying to teach the entire English languange in a day.  Baseball just doesn't translate into a Russian's mind.  Chopping wood, yes.  Baseball, no.  The most important rule I told them was to "never let go of the bat."  I think I said that about 50 times that day.  Then of course I got into a hardcore conversation with our CFO about Stalin and WWII.  Fun times.

One more funny sunny story I want to tell.  In Russia there is a great and old tradition of the banya.  It's basically a sauna/steamroom on steroids.  It's Russian physical therapy.  Everybody has told me I must experience the banya to get a proper Russian experience.  In my more than 2 years here I'd managed to avoid the banya but not anymore.  Olga's father invited me to his dacha (country house) specifically to join in on the banya.  How could I refuse?  So we got there, I was wearing fairly decent clothes, and expecting just to go in the banya, whatever that meant.  But no, this was to be a truly Russian day.  First thing I was made to do was strap on some huge Frankenstein boots and help the father and his son-in-law with the yardwork.  Hardcore yardwork.  Like shovels and drills and saws and the whole works.  I was not prepared for this.  Not to mention that these guys spoke almost no English so they had to grunt and mime their instructions to me.  Tilling the soil in the hot sun with some old time Russians.  Lord almighty.  All we needed were some oxen and the picture would be complete.  But I can't say that it was all bad because in true Russian fashion they were supplying me with my fair share of alcohol.  

So after the work it was banya time.  The banya was a seperate shack-like thing with two rooms, the steam room and the sitting (drinking) room.  First thing we had to do, to my utter horror, was strip completely butt naked.  This was not up for discussion.  Drop your pants or get back to chopping wood.  So there I was naked with Olga's father and his son-in-law, who I barely knew and who was a HUGE bear of a man.  We got the steam going by pouring water on scalding hot big charcoal looking things.  It was hot and drenching in there.  We stayed in there for about 8 minutes soaking up the steam and sweat, then poured extremely cold water on ourselves and went back into the other room for some beer.  At this time we were all a little drunk and the Russian conversation was flowing like pools of sweat from our naked bodies.  Then we went back in the steam room and the real fun began.  What makes a banya a banya is the tradition for all the participants to whack each other with "veniki" or branches from a birch tree.  I was first up to lay down flat on my stomach on the banya table.  I had no idea what to expect.  The other guys were getting their veniki wet and ready to pound my unprepared naked body.  So then it began.  The huge son-in-law literally let out a "ROAR!" and began whacking me up and down with these branches.  Literally "ROAR!!".  The veniki felt like extremely hot pin needles all over your body.  At first it was quite shockingly uncomfortable but after I got used to it the burning hot birch branches felt rather nice.  Then it was time to turn over on my back.  Wait a minute guys.  They mimed me to cover up my stuff and began again.  "ROAR!!"  And while the huge son-in-law was whacking me, the father was whacking hime.  It was this savage chain of naked guys whacking each other like the dickens.  I don't think this would fly in southern California.  We rotated turns whacking each other (I'd be lying if I didn't let out a sort of Roar when I was doing the whacking).  In between turns we'd always pour cold water all over us, which felt great and is a necessary part of the banya therapy, then we'd go drink and bullshit with each other.  It was quite a unique experience.  The banya baby.  In winter they mix it up a bit by substituting cold water for jumping and rolling around in the snow naked.  Not kidding.

So that's about all.  The last little morsel I will leave you with is that in Russia they have an exact replica of the cleaning product Mr. Clean, bald guy with arms folded and all.  Except he's not called Mr. Clean, he's called....Mr. Proper!  Sounds like an evil yet seductive James Bond villainous henchman.  If it can't be clean it might as well be proper.  So it goes in Russia.

The saga continues...

Until next time

From Russia With Dave - 3/10/2011

Bleen.  It's been a very long time.  Rest assured I am alive and well and doing well for myself here in the land of plenty.  By the way there's a huge billboard on the river embankment here which reads (in Russian):  Russia:  Land of Opportunity.  Catchy slogan huh?

So here's the scoop about this last winter:

First I'll start with New Years.  Seems as good a place as any considering its...New Years.  First lets review my two previous New Years here.  1st year:  on Palace Square with a thousand drunk and merry Russians singing the national anthem while a blue-robed Grandfather Frost danced on stage with a scantily clad damsel he referred to as his "granddaughter" and Dmitri Medvedev on the jumbo screen with sweet slicked-back hair saying this would finally be the year Russia modernized its economy and stamped out corruption.  2nd year:  in the girlfriends abnormally small apartment in the outskirts with her family, drinking whiskey, exchanging gifts, speaking to old ex-Soviet army guys in English as if they can understand me perfectly, and smoking unfiltered Israeli cigarettes and pretending I was thankful for doing so. 

So now my third New Years here.  Spent it in my apartment with my roommates Sergey and Rimma and Rimmas parents.  Her parents are from Belarus which at first was slightly intimidating considering Belarus is sometimes referred to as "Europe's last dictatorship".  Basically I was expecting her father to be a mixture of Joseph Stalin, Alan Greenspan, Darth Maul, Zorro, and the bad guy from Casino Royale.  And her mother in my mind was gonna be a mixture between Margaret Thatcher, Bonnie Raitt, the villain old woman from the Austin Powers movies, and Joan of Arc.  But I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were indeed regular old friendly parents who wouldn't be out of place in the state of Iowa or Wyoming.  As is the custom, everybody got dressed up to the tilt even though we were just staying in our flat.  Yeah I wore a tie.  Rimma's mother wore some full length Neil Diamond sparkly outfit. So we drank champagne, ate the traditional Olivier salad and to my hearts surprise....big giant ribs.  First ribs I've had in Russia.  Mean tasty.  Papa Rimma will cook you up some mean ribs.  By the way "papa rimma" is exactly how you say "the Pope" in Russian.  That information might get you out of a jam some day.  Also in case you're interested the word for "humpback" in Russian is "garboon".  So now you all can say "the Pope" and "humpback" in Russian and I guarantee if you say those two words together to a Russian you will have a life-long to-the-death take-a-bullet-for-you friend.  So back to New Years, we watched the presidents speech and then afterwards there's this traditional New Years program which is a surreal cartoon-like parody of world political figures acting plain goofy.  Kind of like a weird Celebrity Deathmatch but instead of Brad and Angelina it was the grotesquly caricatured presidents of Georgia and Belarus.  Around 4am we walked to Palace Square thinking we would meet a crowded square of merry makers but instead we found a giant trash heap with assorted drunken zombie loners wearing bunny ears.  By the way, does anyone know of any tradition to wear bunny ears at New Years?  Have I missed that?  Cause in Russia it's huge.  New Years?  Get your bunny ears.  Forget about the shovel or portable fan.  Get your bunny ears.

Now I'll include some monologues I wrote a while back which gives an idea about the Russian winter.  Here we go.  Where I’m at there are occurrences of people getting killed by tsunami icicles and out of control snow plows.  You turn the corner and without notice theres just a huge mammoth monster snow plow noisily plowing away without any regard for innocent bystanders.  And the sidewalks are pure slippery ice.  Nothing else.  Just slippery ice.  Unbelievably slippery.  And watching the old babushkas trying to navigate them with the help of a cane never fails to bring a smile to my face.  Actually I wouldn’t call it a smile.  I’d call it full blown sympathy and camaraderie.  We are all in this together folks.  Then you gotta watch out for the guys on the roof indiscriminately breaking icicles with a hammer.  In Europe they usually use lasers to get rid of icicles.  In Russia they usually use immigrants from Tajikistan.  By the way its popular for kids to suck on icicles.  Which makes sense because in Russian the word for icicle and popsicle is the same.  That’s what happens when your country isn’t so materialistic.  Icicles become your popsicles.  I’ve never seen such icicles.  Some of them gotta be 10 feet long.  Death from above.  Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And there’s been a bunch of wind here so some of the icicles have a very stylish curve to them.  Like those Arabian swords.  In Russia even the icicles have style.  Put a fur coat on one of them and you’ve got the next Project Runway sensation - Arabian sword style.

Speaking of fur you should see all the fur people wear here.  Full body fur outfits as far as the eye can see.  I’m talking real fur baby.  Like the kind that used to be on a living breathing animal with hopes and desires of its own.  You should see the sparkle in a Russian woman’s eye when she talks about her fur.  You can insult her house, you can insult her family, you can insult her country, but don’t you dare insult her fur.  Hell hath no fury like a Russian woman whose fur has been insulted.  And some of these ladies are just absolutely covered in fur from head to toe.  Fur coats down to their ankles, fur gloves, fur scarves, and usually a huge fur hat.  Like Abraham Lincoln’s hat, but fur.  Shiny, silky, delicious-looking fur.  And if I said that I wasn’t a little jealous when I see these fur-clad female warriors then I’d be lying.  Fur looks so comfy and inviting.  Like an old friend who is always willing to stick up for you when the elements attack.  Like a warm fire in a wooden house.  I want some fur.  I want some fur right now.  I want to live in a fur house and never have another care in the world.  No matter what happens, the fur will take care of it.

I’ve been sporting a Green Bay Packers beanie recently.  Just a loud yellow and green beanie in a sea of black.  I had been resisting wearing a beanie for the longest time because it makes my hair look incredibly not cool but soon I just had to give in.  Now my hair has a permanent Jim Carrey from Dumb and Dumber look.  All I need is a hideous mullet and I’ll fit right in with many other Russian men.  And with my ear muffs I basically look like a silly cartoon character compared to these stoic black clad natives.  One Russian told me that wearing the green and yellow color combination was something to the effect of the worst thing that a person could possibly do.  Gotta keep my melon warm though.  But actually I am a little worried that the Packers might get me noticed by an inquisitive policeman who probably thinks the Packers symbol is something like Al-Qaeda.   I wonder what would happen if I wore a full Packers uniform here.  I wonder what would happen if I wore a full Packers uniform including pads and helmet here.  At least it might protect against the icicles.  And the drunk Russian beggars who are constantly singing songs outside the nearest McDonalds.  Which reminds me, whenever I think the winter is getting too tough and I can’t go on, I always remember one thing….McDonalds double cheeseburgers.

Someone I barely knew asked me today if I was wearing two pants.  I said of course not do I like the kind of person who would wear two pants?  That just doesn’t sound comfortable at all.  What if they were jeans?  Can you imagine wearing two pairs of jeans?  Sounds like the worst thing in the world.  Anyways, when I told him that I’m indeed not wearing two pants he looked at me like I was a terrorist.  After a bunch of miscommunication and trying to explain what he meant I gathered that he was referring to Long Johns.  By the way listening to a Russian try to explain in detail what Long Johns are is hilarious.  I asked if they were really necessary.  He looked at me with all the seriousness of heaven and earth and said “your little friends will freeze.”  I was waiting for the laughter to go along with it but he just stood there and stared at me with those stone cold eyes.  “Your little friends will freeze.”  These are the last words I hear now before I go to sleep and the first words I hear when I wake up.  This guy was either an angel in disguise or a horrible devil.  So be thankful for where you are right now.  Drink some vodka and eat some anchovies for me.  I wish I could be there with you but that would mean getting up and spending 45 minutes putting layer upon layer on and that just ain’t happenin.  And by the way anchovies are an excellent vodka snack.  

Alright that's enough for now.  The spring/summer version will be next.  I'll just say right now that it's HOT outside and portable fans have replaced the ruble as the chosen currency for any transaction.  Ok bye.

From Russia With Dave - 10/24/2010

Hi everybody, I’m back with or without a vengeance.

So the first day of snow was officially on Oct. 15.  Temperatures are hovering around freezing and this winter is supposedly supposed to be colder than last winter!  Remember how hellish last winter was?  Well I do.  Hopefully the stores will have more shovels this time and the incidents of shovel-related store scuffles (beatings) will decrease.  But I doubt it.

So whats happened since last time we talked, whenever that was.  My kidney stones are much better as long as I have a steady diet of water and more water.  My diet has had to thoroughly be adjusted to face this new challenge and probably it’s for the better.  And also now I can join the elite ranks of men complaining about debilitating physical ailments and using those ailments as excuses not to do things.  “Oh, sorry man, I’d love to help you pass out flyers advertising pirated copies of Eat Pray Love to pedestrians but you know these damn kidneys…”

Remember the new job I talked about on my last email.  I don’t either really so I’ll tell you again.  For the last month and a half I’ve been working as Foreign Relations Manager at a medical distribution company called BioVitrum.  So far the job has consisted of developing relationships with our international suppliers, Americans, Europeans, Asians you name it.  Not too many Africans though.  Not too many suppliers of advanced in-vitro diagnostic medical equipment coming out of Angola (or Chad for that matter).   So I take part in the meetings, take part in the wining and dining of potential suppliers and use my unabashed likeableness to make the foreigners feel a little more comfortable about bringing their products to Russia aka The Black Hole.  That’s actually a term we use to describe the information concerning the Russian market for advanced medical equipment, The Black Hole.  What I’ve learned so far about doing business in Russia is that success is about 95% based on getting in with the right people.  Also there are necessities of getting anything done in Russia which everybody knows about, everybody knows is wrong, everybody knows won’t change, and nobody talks about and on we go.  Also a big part of the job has been creating all the content for our new international website and brochures.  Basically making the company sound cool to foreign ears.  Cause Russians aren’t exactly suave and comforting advertisers in the western sense.  “Here is our company.  It is big company.  We have big turnover.  Now go back to sunny tropical paradise where you come from.”  My roommate Sergey works in the same office and he refers to me sometimes as the “Hallelujah” manager.  A lot of people speak English at the company but many don’t which is always hilarious.  By necessity my Russian has dramatically improved in the last couple months.  And water cooler gossip is the same in Russia as it is in America as it is probably everywhere in the world (except Africa).  International English should be replaced by International Water Cooler Gossip.  Maybe I can teach a class on that.  Effective Water Cooler Gossip.  Speaking of teaching yeah I’m still doing that but it’s not interesting.  So I’m busy now, workin two jobs which means nights and weekends I just CRASH and crash hard.

As many, some or none of you know Arnold Schwarzeneggar, yes our governor, was in Moscow a week ago scouting out hi-tech investment opportunities with some Silicon Valley bigwigs.  His exact words were that Russia was a “gold mine” for investors.  Russians just roll their eyes when they hear that.  As one of my students told me ‘they’re trying to invest in nanotechnology but they haven’t yet invested and built suitable roads.”  The roads here really are hell.  Ah, that reminds me of the funniest joke I’ve ever heard come out of Russia.  Maybe the funniest joke I’ve ever heard period.  So a Russian tells me “most people in the world can stare at two things without getting bored:  fire and water.  But in Russia we can stare at 3 things without getting bored:  fire, water, and other people working.”  Hahahhahahahhahahhah.   Any crew of street workers here will prove that point.

I had a long discussion with one of my students about life in the Soviet Union which was very eye opening.  Here are the highlights.  In the Soviet Union:  most people made many of their own clothes – knitting classes were mandatory in school as were household fix-it classes cause there just weren’t these services available; everybody used the same Bulgarian shampoo which only required you to wash your hair once a week; restaurants & cafes were only used for extremely special occasions; mandarin Oranges were considered a hardcore delicacy which were only eaten at New Years holiday; all food stores (they weren’t exactly “supermarkets”) all had the same food products to buy which consisted of one or two varieties to choose from, so in other words there wasn’t an entire 3-shelf row dedicated solely to cereals;  to make a longer story short everyone at the same food, drank the same beverages, wore the same clothes, traveled to the same holiday spots, used the same soap and shampoo, wore the same shoes, listened to the same music, had the same hairstyle, and watched the same TV programs – all cartoons had a moral theme to them by the way.  It is a little unimaginable but it was real, and there are people here who are nostalgic for that life of stifling conformity yet reassuring stability.  And when the Iron Curtain came down and the Russian market became flooded with western goods I guess it was a matter of months before all the old products completely disappeared from the shelves.  Sorry guys no more once a week Bulgarian shampoo, now we wash our hair everyday with this stuff called “Head & Shoulders”.  Head & Shoulders?  But you don’t have dandruff.  Exactly.

And last story.  I recently visited a Russian Zen monastery.  I’ll let that sink in before I explain.  Ok.  Now I’ll explain.  A student of mine who just got interested in the ways of Zen was going to a Zen lecture given by a visiting French Zen master and asked me to come along.  I thought why the heck not, I used to be interested in Zen and it’d be interesting to see the Russian style of this extremely non-Russian philosophy.  So I got there, it was a medium sized room in the Oriental style (I’m still not sure if Oriental is an acceptable word anymore), and the first thing I noticed was that everybody had exotic sitting pillows.  Everybody except me.  My student worked a pillow out for me and I was set.  For some reason my student wanted to sit in the very first row so there I was in the first row of this class of about 30 Russian Zen enthusiasts.  Everybody was sitting quietly doing something that looked like meditation waiting for this Zen master to arrive.  I was kinda just sitting there looking around trying hard not to laugh.  Then the Zen master came in, this little French woman who had a striking resemblance to James Coburn.  So to make another longer story short I sat there for just over 3 hours listening to a treatise of Zen practice in French, translated into Russian by a bald woman in a black kimono.  And then there was about 20 minutes of silent zen meditation which absolutely terrified me cause I was sure I would break out in uncontrollable laughter at any minute.  Everybody got into the lotus position, which was hilarious, and did the whole zen thing like you’re picturing.  So I tried to follow suit, which was hilarious, but the closest I got to the lotus position was straight up cross-legged Indian style.  Then I had to put my fingers into those weird positions and sit perfectly still and straight and “concentrate on my breathing”.   I say I “had to” cause this little French James Coburn-incarnated-into-female-flesh Zen master was going around to everybody and correcting and critiquing their position.  Don’t tread on me James Coburn.  But in reality the only thing I was concentrating on was the Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger I was gonna reward myself with for sitting thru this 3 hour Franco-Russo Zen Torture Chamber.

And now after that here's some more things Russians go crazy over:  all things Sherlock Holmes, House (TV show), How I Met Your Mother, The Big Bang Theory, all things David Duchovny, sour cream,
Ok that’s all for now. 

Until next time.

From Russia With Dave - 8/24/2010

Hello all,

Once again its been too long, once again maybe its been too long, and once again I'll try to make up for it by giving you three or four minutes of hilarity connected with Old Mother Russia.  My roommates are gone for a week and my new landlord just called me to ask for the rent.  I live in a new flat if I haven't already told you, not the one with the collapsing ceiling, this place is actually pretty nice.  It has a playground in the courtyard with an extremely obese man who wears suspenders and drinks milk a gallon at a time on watch at all hours.  So, a hilarious broken conversation ensued between said landlord and me.  God knows what I said to her, or what she said to me.  But the conversation ended with this old lady saying "Super" about 8 times, seriously after everything I said to her she just said "Super".  I was waiting for her to go a bit farther and gimme a "Super-Duper" which I would've then followed up by going right into the Mary Poppins song "superkalifredgalisticexpialidoshish", and then a whole musical would've enfolded, complete with penguin walks and top hat tricks.  By the way everybody in Russia knows Mary Poppins.  Don't ask me how or why but Mary Poppins is big here.  Almost as big is Mickey Rourke, or the song "Runaway" by Del Shannon.  You know the one that goes, "And I wonder, I wo-wo-wo-wo-wonder..."  That song might have 65% market share on Russian cell phone ringtones.  Speaking of Mickey Rourke, Ozzy Ozzbourne will be here next month, Sept. 11 to be exact.  Coincidence?

For the life of me I can't remember where I left off from our last email.  So, summer came and went.  Remember in the winter I told you how it was the worst winter in a century?  With record levels of snowfall and whatnot?  Well this summer was the worst summer in recent history, with record high temperatures here in St. Pete.  Upper 90's throughout July.  It was brutal.  I've just been lucky (I guess) to experience the worst that Russians have seen on opposite ends of the weather spectrum.  Leave it to Russia to get through 8 months of unbearable winter only to be greeted by unbearable heat throughout summer.  There's just no winning here.  And remember in winter there was a shovel shortage and people were fighting in the stores for the last shovel so that they could walk from their door to the street?  Well, same situation in summer except with portable fans.  Because there certainly aren't any air conditioning units in most residences and businesses.  People were just pouring water over themselves all throughout the city.  In one corporate office somebody told me their boss would go into the bathroom every hour, take off his dress shirt, run it in the sink til it was soaked, then put it back on and go about his day.  At its peak I was seriously taken about a dozen cold showers a day.  And then the MOSQUITOES!!  My God.  St. Pete was built on a swamp (thanks Peter the Great) so in the summer the mosquitoes are out and they're looking for blood.  It's not too bad in the center but go to the outskirts or the woods and its hunting season.  Every man for himself, in 3D.  I've seen some people come back from the Dacha and their legs look dry Italian Salami aged 10 years.  But its all worth it because they come back with buckets full of freshly picked mushrooms.  Mushroom picking is the national pastime here.  It's almost like a religion.  Maybe when the communists did away with Orthodoxy they replaced it with mushroom picking.  Whenever you mention mushroom picking to an old babushka their face suddenly lights up with a youthful joy and vigor.  I went on one mushroom picking expedition this summer and shit it was boring.  We went into the woods with our buckets and just walked around picking mushrooms.  After about 20 minutes I'd had enough, but these babushkas can pick mushrooms all day without losing a beat.  It's a pleasure watching them work.  Just stone-face, gritty, no-nonsense mushroom pickers.  Go babushka go!  Some people have told me that the mushroom picking craze goes back to the Stalinist times when picking mushrooms was necessary for SURVIVAL.  You wanna eat?  Then get your ass out there and pick mushrooms.  Berries too.  In most houses in the summer every meal will have some sort of freshly picked mushroom or berry dish.  But I have to admit the mushrooms they pick are damn tasty.  My roommates found that out firsthand when they made this delicious mushroom and potato concoction and woke up in the morning to find it all gone with a trail of mushrooms leading back to my room.

Yeah, so summer is dwindling away and Autumn can be felt approaching.  Overcast skies and rain are becoming more frequent and the women are already starting to bug their men about a new fall wardrobe (this I also know about firsthand) because its just impossible for women here to wear the same shoes or have the same handbag for summer AND fall.  Are you crazy?  So what else.  I was in America for the month of June, experienced some good old American pride at 4th of July, came back here, went to Rome with the girlfriend, listened to her complain about how St. Peters is too opulent, then came back to Russia and in late July I was greeted by the oncoming of.....kidney stones.  Yes that's right I got kidney stones in Russia.  It was unbeleivable and unbearable pain.  I went to the American clinic here and they fixed me right up.  My doctors name was Egor, which was terrifying in and of itself.  In my mind anybody named Egor should have a giant hump on his back, have one eye be noticeably larger than the other, not so much speak but drool out his words, and constantly be sweeping something or stirring something in a giant cauldron.  But now I can look at Egor's in a whole new way.  Did an operation and everything in a day.  I now have a self-dissolving tube inside of me.  Dont ask where they had to insert it through.  Egor now knows me very intimiately.  I'm fine now but for a couple of weeks I was out of commission and dreading each time I felt the urge to pee.  Too much information?  Dehydration was the probable cause of my stones.  Due to the horrendous heat, my affinity for walking at least 4 hours a day, and not drinking enough water.  Live and learn.  Russia makes a tough son-of-gun out of you.

We had Navy Day here where all the men dress up in ridiculous navy outfits (kinda like what Donald Duck and/or Popeye wears), drink all day, and watch 50-yr old warships and submarines parade down the river.  I was hunting for the Red October in my backyard.  I don't know if there's anything cooler than an old giant submarine with USSR (CCCP) insignias on it.  Also there was something called Paratrooper Day, which is the day to celebrate....paratroopers.  Those guys who jump out of planes into warzones.  Yes, there is a day to celebrate them here, and its one of the most hardcore days of the year.  This is the real man's man day.  Where everybody acts tough and shows their military pride (drunk of course).  Numerous fights and acts of vandalism happen.  People have actually told me to try not to speak English near big groups of these belligerents.  Most people prefer to just stay home on this day.  And its a funny story, the mayor of Moscow, who's name is Yuri, is a well-known homophobic who had banned gay pride parades in Moscow.  After numerous demonstrations against this policy Yuri finally relented and said there could be gay pride parades but on one condition.  They could only be held on one day of the year....PARATROOPER DAY.  hahahhahahahha.  Sorry I can't help it but that's just funny.  Needless to say there are still no gay pride parades in the city of Moscow.

Well getting up to date here I was just at my girlfriends sister's 25th birthday.  In Russia all birthdays ending in a 5 or 0 are very important.  And at this birthday, one of the many toasts, was by her boyfriend, so I was listening, not understanding a word of what he said, when all of a sudden every woman in the room simultaneously burst into tears, and I had just witnessed a marriage proposal and acceptance.  Everybody was jumping around, hugging, congratulating, making impromptu toasts, and I was just sitting there having absolutely no idea what I should do.  The word for congratulations in Russian might be the hardest word ever to pronounce - Pozdravlyayu - and I didn't even want to attempt it.  And of course in a drunken moment of inspiration I invited everyone at the table to California.  I hope they just forget about that.  And in another drunken moment of inspiration Olga's (my girlfriend) father invited me to come to his dacha (country house) the next morning to help him fix the roof.  Apparently most of the roof had just blown off from some heavy wind.  This isn't the Hollywood Hills here.  Roofs blow off in wind.  Of course I said yes with enthusiasm, thinking it would be forgotten like most things during this drunken evening.  But I'll be damned if I didn't get a call the next morning from Olgas sisters (Inna) new fiance telling me its time to go work on the dacha.  So we left for the dacha in a big van full of family members (not Olga though, I was alone on this journey) and headed out into the country.  Everybody was hungover and I was at first unpleasantly but then pleasantly surprised when the first thing all the passengers did when we were in the van was break out a beer and chug it.  That set the tone for the rest of the day.  When we arrived at the dacha we unloaded the van then everybody....took a shot of vodka (this is around 11am).  So we started working, prying off metal sheets from the roof of a nearby shed, to be later put on the roof of the house.  After about 20 minutes everybody stopped and....took another shot of vodka.  Back to work prying off metal sheets and getting them ready to be shackled up on the roof.  20 minutes later when all the sheets were off the shed we....took another shot of vodka.  By this time lunch was ready and you know what that means....more vodka.  There weren't enough chairs for us all so we put a long wooden plank across a few tree stumps.  A homemade bench!  To make a long story short (if its still possible) lunch never really stopped.  Lunch turned into dinner and lasted the rest of the day and on into the night, with vodka shot after vodka shot being soaked up by smoked fish (skin and head still intact), pickles, mushrooms, and borsch.  The roof became a distant memory as the table became merrier and merrier.  This is how Russians do yardwork and I can get used to it.  One of the guys even told me that working without drinking is for women.  hahahahahha.  Again sorry but I can't help it.  Now I understand why Russians don't always make the highest quality products and how such a big and resource rich country can be so inneficient and materialistically poor (relatively speaking).  I also understand how the Chernobyl accident probably happened.  Well, when you live in a country with weather like this, with government like this, with institutions like this, with infrastructure like this, merry-making becomes more important than doing a good job or even getting the job done.  Unpleasant surprises are around every corner in Russia.  Eat, drink, and be merry while you can.  So that's what we did.  As an aside one of my students gave me a description of the Russian soul which I think sums it all up:  the Russian is a cross between a poor, drunk writer and a bear who's just been awakened from a deep slumber.  Have a good day everyone.

Until next time.