Impressions of an American for the first time to visit Russia Bashny.Net

Jack Millstone - American writer, who for the first time in his life came to Russia with his Russian wife and son to meet new families and their rodinoy.Sayt published a letter that Jack sent home a friend of his adventures in the country of herring, serious men and difficult transport situation ...





Dear D!

Greetings from Russia, where the soup - it is a complete meal, and mullet - still quite fashionable haircut, and where no one will laugh at you or to explain how useless your university degree in literature.

It is difficult to put into words how special and strange it seems this is the place. five weeks - an incredibly short time in order to experience for yourself and describe in a letter of 12 centuries of Russian history. Nevertheless, I will try to explain that I had a chance to see and hear about people I've ever met (and smiled at them! - But more on that later ...) and tasty (and quite inedible) things that I tried. < br />

First Impressions h2> I knew in advance that Moscow does not believe in tears. Now I can add that Moscow, no doubt, also does not believe in a laugh or a smile. If you are a fan of shrill laugh or something else to publicly express their joy - better go somewhere in Latin America. There are people with each other on the street is not a joke. Want to catch a withering look at yourself? Just go down the street, speak in English, and then set your laughing loudly. It seems to me that the only way to earn a glare in Moscow - to say it in German, and then a loud fart. Or just speak German. Perhaps that will be enough.





People are walking around with very decisive, focused and a stern expression on his face. It's not that it's very different from other big cities such as New York, but in particular can be traced Muscovites apparent reluctance to notice other people around you. Maybe that's why people clean the streets, dressed in fluorescent orange vests. By the way, in Moscow streets clean constantly. And two hours passes without passing not drive sweeper, pouring water and road sweeping away numerous cigarette butts and spitting.

Yes, people are smoking. At bus stops, park benches and even when riding a bicycle. If you wonder how the tobacco companies still manage to make money when smoking in some states, is considered no less a sin than infanticide, come to Russia - you'll understand immediately as soon as you see the first beautiful 40-year-old women who actually would age 25.

Spitting on the street seems to be the national interests of certain categories of men. It looks almost like a baseball, with a few exceptions - they did not throw the ball, not discourage bats and do not catch it and do not run across the field. It seems that only the Tajiks, who play the role of Russia Mexicans, do not spit on the pavement. "Of course, they also have to clean up all this", - says the wife.

During his visit, several times I experienced the same sensations. As soon as I began to feel that I am surrounded by terrible, rude and did not reckon with the people around, immediately someone suddenly doing something very good and caring for our families - for example, adheres to the door. And I immediately felt uncomfortable for your thoughts.

In one of the first days in Moscow, we - my wife, son, his grandmother, and I - went for a walk. Along the canal, past runners, generously sprinkled with cologne, and old men reading the newspaper on the bench. "Oh, look, someone is awash! Over there, right under the sign "No swimming!»

older man, dressed in a very inappropriate melting thong, dissected butterfly dirty water channel, recognized by the Russian authorities unsuitable for swimming. Even shocked duck blurred in different directions. At that moment I remembered the Russian teenagers, takes on tall buildings without any apparent reason - a nation of fans undue risk. I looked at his son in a wheelchair. He had already removed one sock and slept peacefully amidst all this wildlife, and can not read the signs of elderly people, exposing bare foot on Russian air inexplicably delicious.

We climbed the iron footbridge to see how the gateway. A group of young guys brutal appearance, dressed in the best traditions of the gang from "West Side Story", smoked and looked at me. I, as expected, did not smile and his whole appearance was trying to understand what happened to me is best avoided, as it is possible, when pushed a stroller.

One of the bullies began to move in my direction, and I imagined how I would fight them one by three. A guy with a rat tail in my address muttered something in Russian, not smiling. I'm not smiling, painted in response to frightening face. "What did he say?" - I whispered to his wife. It accurately read the growing fury in my view, quickly asked for. "He wanted to warn you that our son lost his sock" - was the answer. I looked down at his already compressed and ready to fight fists, and I felt ashamed.

Outskirts h2> «Please stop smile at strangers! This is not America, where everything is fake nice to each other "- said my wife on the first day of our trip, when we were walking somewhere in a residential area of ​​Moscow. Up to this point I habitually greeted everyone he met smile and nod of the head, as befits anyone brought up the boy, who grew up in one of the southern states, where not to do so would be to behave in an extremely rude and uncivilized.





Jack White of the White Stripes talked about moving to Nashville? He wanted to live in the city, happened to him in the street a heart attack passers-by immediately rushed to his aid. So, the same heart attack clearly would have death on the streets of Moscow. Each of my timid unauthorized smile was met with at least highly suspect (except those intended cute girls), as well as a maximum - a direct threat to the look. I quickly realized that Russian men smile at strangers - the shortest way to get in the face.

Later I learned that this is not an original unopened rigidity or coarseness, as a preventive measure preserving precious sincerity, which is within each of us. For Russian kindness and sympathy - too valuable qualities which they do not want to spend any suspicious strangers. They are impossible to distribute the value of the right and left, everyone you meet.

"We are strangers - it's someone else's. Friends - are friends, "- explained the wife. As soon as you move into the category of "friends", you suddenly surrounded by some of the warmest people I have ever met in my entire life.

The outskirts of Moscow in general is not much different from other cities. On the streets with a surprisingly wide sidewalks shops and cafes there, trams travel, family walk with prams, elderly people sitting on benches, and, as usual, arguing about their older things.

Striking for me here was the number of parks and benches. You can not pass, and 100 meters, did not come across to some shady little square with a fountain and a playground. And benches - benches! - Before that I've never been in a place where so love to just sit around, take a look around and think about life.

Perhaps there is some kind of mathematical formula relating the number of benches in a single city with the number of vacation days workers living in it. By the way, in America, one can hardly find at least one bench and almost no one ever goes on vacation. In addition, the Americans for some completely unexplained reasons, is very proud of it. And all because our country founded by Puritans who believed that after death they will not go to heaven, if the life they will not work in excess of the norm. Fortunately, the idea is proud to sell their lives for a salary almost did not survive in any other country in the world (Japan, hello!).

In Russia, where life expectancy is almost 10 years less than in the United States, the arithmetic in my head is in favor of sitting on benches and savoring life. Even if it is accompanied by savoring drinking alcohol and smoking more cigarettes a row.

Remember, there was such an old joke: Communism - is when people pretend that they work, and the state pretends that it pays them. So, it seems, in our time, fewer and fewer people at least try to pretend.

Hut h2> After my first failure in the field of cooperation with the Moscow public, it was decided that the start of the trip would be better to spend a quiet and peaceful atmosphere of our family garden.





When you finally chooses from Moscow - and it's not as easy as it might seem at first glance, considering the traffic and abnormal drivers - the road runs along the newly built highway, almost empty, where everyone goes in the "Mad Max". Speed ​​limit signs are not observed at all, so we joined the general "madness." None of the payment terminals have not even installed, therefore, approaching the area payment, you just need to slow down and squeeze between the concrete parapets. The taxi driver who drove us to the airport, joked that by the time they put payment terminals, the road will be broken down to the point that in fact will pay not for that.

And then for miles and miles around stretch birch thickets. Even just approaching the town, you immediately notice it. Every major city in America - Los Angeles, Chicago, New York or Washington - surrounded by numerous residential areas with houses, playgrounds, plazas and supermarkets. Flying up to Moscow, you see the thick forest surrounding the city.

The beauty of wildlife in such proximity to the city is difficult to overestimate. It looks like this as the hilly plains of West Virginia, and the smell is still twice as sweet. Wild flowers along the road, a bright blue sky, and the only sounds around - it's birds and barking dogs.

The first night I spent in the country, getting drunk with her mother-in homemade vodka infusions, seizing their pickled tomatoes, passing awkwardly using his terrible Russian in an attempt to talk to my new gracious and hospitable relatives.

Days of the country were slowly and lazily. Against the background of apple trees and raspberry bushes, daisies and trees I collected grass clippings, sawed wood chainsaw and read about rituals Zapotec, while my son slept peacefully in the shade. Only one night there was a severe thunderstorm with a terrible thunder and dozens of lightning illuminating the sky. It is an impressive sight.

If somewhere there is a heaven, giving very like him. The only paradise is likely to dinner given something other than soup. Russian is extremely serious about the soup at lunch. During our trip, I had dinner almost all the possible options of soup - borscht soup with olives and sausages, hash, mushroom soup, barley soup and pickles ... Tell all! Every day I went to dinner, knowing that would be soup. By this, sooner or later I had to get used to.

And dessert after meals. At the end of each meal, not having yet fully cope with what was on my plate, I immediately got a piece of cake or cookies, or both at once, accompanied by a constant cup of hot black tea.

"Neighbors are invited you to a traditional tea with samovar" - I heard one day.

I do not really like the company of strangers. I prefer to remain in their nutshell. As there said Bukowski? "I do not hate people, I just do better when they are not close." So I can be explained not happy this news means that I'll have the whole evening to represent the American Fool among people I did not know and which had not only the common language, but also the newly acquired kinship.

This only proves how stupid I am sometimes. Needless to say that tea with samovar was one of the most memorable days in a long time, and neighbors in the country - nice people, whom I have just met in Russia.

While melt samovar, I was invited into the house and began to show the stove, putting a ridiculous traditional Russian accessories and pictures. Feeling a bit of a clown, I nevertheless decided to enjoy a rare moment of universal Russian fun, thinking is being done is something like a ritual dance, causing rain in the Sahara desert. Handshake and pat on the back. Oh, yes!
Then I was taken to the bath, saying that I can come sit in the hot room and slap yourself leaves, when I want. Oke-ee-s.



When the tea was ready, we sat down, and then suddenly it turned out that under the code name "Tea Party" in Russia held an event "watered American poluvmenyaemogo to state before the sun." Could I expect better ...

A little tea, the intricate toast, vodka - vodka is different! - Another toast, a slice of cheese here, salami there before tea, vodka is still, even toast ... Oh, chocolates! Already a little drunk, I reached for the bowl and pulled out one at random.

"No, no ... Here, try this!" - Said one of the hospitable hosts and handed me another piece of candy, a sly smile at the same time different. My side of the table - the one on which sat a man - fell silent. I opened the wrapper, sent a candy in his mouth and saw through it. Language I immediately enveloped some alcoholic chocolate extravaganza. Men smiled. "And inside - vodka!" - He said one of them burst out laughing.

Chocolates filled with vodka - I'm not kidding! And you know what? Delicious thing! It's like after World War II Russian decided to fuck up the Germans still dearly beloved them a delicacy, filling it with vodka and do even better. I'm not lying, I could eat a box of candy right now.

While the sun was setting and the cooled tea in a samovar, we told stories of their families and discussed my thoughts on Russia. At that moment I thought that Russia - is still a paradise on earth. With or without soup.

Road h2> To learn how to drive in Russia, I could only guess, looking at videos on YouTube, in the reality of the situation in which it was sometimes hard to believe, and listening to comments from a series of my wife: "This is the cork? You've never seen traffic jams! "Looking ahead, I will say that we miraculously managed to avoid minor accidents, are constantly occurring here on the roads.





The vicissitudes of traffic for us smoothed very comfortable movement on the new car, which our son slept peacefully almost all of Moscow's traffic jams (which is, you know, a very important indicator for young parents who dream about at least one superfluous hour of silence a day). However, the silence I brightened my music from the iPod, which I was able to directly connect to a stereo system - it's easier to ignore the surrounding road obscurantism.

Traffic in Moscow is terrible. Bumper to bumper, diesel stinking, smoking cigarettes agonizing traffic. Here the six lanes merged into two, there's a guy on "Harley" is trying to squeeze between the rows, a traffic light, which does not switch, probably about 30 minutes, going to stand a kilometer long traffic jam. Homeless people begging on street corners, women with pictures of dying children, veterans without legs. I immediately think of the Baltimore ...

As everywhere in Moscow, on the road there are all the extremes of the spectrum of material security. Mirror "Mercedes" pushed to the district along with the crumbling "frets", which seems to go on low-octane blend of permafrost and human turds.

Shopping h2> We were heading back to Moscow apartment, and I had to buy food for the week. Therefore, we find ourselves in a place that I personally think the most horrible place in Russia, and quite possibly the worst in my life.

He parked and went in, and immediately I was among the unfortunate masses and not noticing anything around people pushing carts past, and sometimes each other. However, they do not look into each other's eyes without saying a word, and all seemed to play some sort of passive-aggressive game to see how soon will happen the first murder. I was in "Auchan».





Women 70 years of commercials pushed me with his truck to go to the counter with the fish closer. No you "sorry." Yes, actually nothing. Why is that?