.....ways I will never be Russian

1. Bundling up before going out - whilst still inside -  in the whole kit, boots, coat, scarf, gloves, hat, even just to go outside for two minutes. Not stripping off any of these layers, even on the metro which is like an oven, in order to keep as much of your own body heat in as possible.

2. Remembering to take off one's shoes when visiting someone's flat, and working out when to wear slippers or not.

3. Having a fatalistic response to even the most outrageous behaviour (whether everyday or political) 

4. Having the most amazing sense of humour based on a mixture of self-deprecation, poetry, anarchy and - sometimes - just outright weirdness

5. Being able to live somewhere where there is not even the slightest idea of the importance of health and safety (or sustainability or any of those other generally shared public values )

6. Understanding that the role of the state is not to be there to make people's lives better, but to  defend the security of the state, by whatever means. 

.....ways I have become a little more Russian

1. I am (a little) more direct in my speech, and much more aware of how confusingly vague English people are in their talk

2. I have an increased preference for silence over swarmy and mainly meaningless conversation-filling chatter

3. I say Oy when I bump myself, and cannot remember what noise English people use.

4. I walk more like a Russian in the winter, that is to say, incredibly fast, although I cannot yet manage that stiff legged, no knee bending gait. (I am also a bit confused that Muscovites seem to have a much slower summer strolling speed, would like clarification on this).

5. I have become addicted to compote making, brewing up my own tepid berry juice rather than buying it from the shop in a box.  

6. I like the cold. Especially crisp snow and brilliant blue skies. (Actually this is probably quite un-Russian as all the Muscovites I know complain bitterly about the winter).

7. I want a (old fashioned) dacha, which is truly a proper way to live, especially when you spend the week in a city which is endlessly difficult.
8. I am fed up by how much English people fail to realise just how privileged we are to live under the rule of law, and instead complain endlessly about being hard done by.
9. I have always like vodka, but now I like it a lot.
10. I don't trust the banks anymore.

at the pub

Rounded off that evening in a slightly surreal way by going to watch the European Cup final (Spain 4 Italy 0) in what turned out to be an absolutely authentic English pub, run by a friend of mine and her husband, just near Red Square.  Watched football and drunk English beer. Lovely.

10-of-the-best 5: Bar Strelka

Even in the brief time I have been away, the Moscow art and design scene seems to have blossomed (it being the summer obviously helps). Finally made it to Bar Strelka, for an evening drink on the high-level outside terrace overlooking the river; definitely one of the coolest places to be right now. In fact the whole Red October factory island is buzzing. Read a brilliant piece by the author Gary Shteyngart ("Born in Leningrad, U.S.S.R., in 1972, I have been coming back almost every year since my late twenties to poke fun at my birthplace"). He calls Strelka the centre of 'the Snob universe', Russia's very own glossy for the cultural elite; but also hopes (hopelessly) that places like this can be part of making the country more 'normal' - for "If Russia can become a normal country, then maybe my past can be normalized, too" .




For more cool spots outdoor eating and drink spots, read this from moscow-in-your-pocket.
For more about Bar Strelka, and the Strelka Insitute, see this video.  

Alla dancing

And then on my final, final night in Moscow had the honour of being invited to the most lovely dinner with my neighbours. Well in fact, at this very last moment, they were trying to match-make me with A who was widowed some years ago, whom I have often met in the lift with his dog, and who speaks no English. Turns out he is an artist, trained in the Soviet fashion on repetitive (and suitably heroic) drawings of Lenin, and then copying from Great Works - one of his Fragonards has pride of place on the wall. Also neo-classical frescos on his ceiling, and a mural in the kitchen, topped off with some wonderful pre-revolutionary furniture and an artfully arranged branch and curtain combination which was probably the height of interior fashion for the cultural elite in the 1970s (or 50s).

The meal was the usual leisurely and pleasurable consumption of caviar, salami, cheese, black bread, fruit, compote and (of course, lots of) alcohol. Much toasting, mainly to the future of A and me together, and to good times had in Moscow. And to me coming back and staying with A. Etc. Which was followed by him getting out his guitar and serenading me with gypsy and hooligan* songs. And some dancing. Fabulous.

For a sample, on balalaikas, with a quartet in full evening dress go here.

the art of parking 4: the complete tuck

One of the things about having been in Moscow for over two years is that - mostly - I no longer notice the anarchistic creativity of the parking compared to other European cities. However, was impressed by this full right-angle tuck and its complete blocking of the pavement (and by the evidence from the broken manhole of previous car-parking activities.)

cold feet

Around minus 20 degrees, and this old guy is still coming out to feed the pigeons the very last of his bread crumbs. Another nice example of the generality that Russians (especially the older generation) will never throw anything away. But also a bit worrying, as I am pretty certain that he seems to be out and about in just his socks.

even the dogs

Even the dogs (well the domestic ones) have their own outfits. This suit courtesy of U and O, to whom many thanks for a lovely dinner.

the summing up begins

Of course the trouble with leaving anywhere is the urgent need to sum up experiences, to finish all things still undone, and to run around attempting to see many places as yet unvisited. This is going to have (a not necessarily wonderful) impact on the remaining pages of this blog.*

Throughout my stay, I have been refusing the lazy stereotypes of Russians in general and Muscovites in particular - that is, that they are gloomy, beaten down by a history of Suffering and yet also an Enigma ('a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a ... etc., etc'): and that, given time, underneath they are completely wonderful ('when you get to know them'). Russians themselves, of course, also partake in these bland definitions of national identity, both seriously and with a considerable amount of rich, melancholic humour: just as the English resort to images of polite eccentricity, and the French to superiority and chicness.

But, because of recent history, people from outside this country seem to persist in caricaturing Russians, blurring the normal diversity of most ordinary people with either their government or with only tiny sub-cultures - the oligarchs, siloviki ('heavies') and mafia. Meanwhile, plenty of other sub-cultures, like the hipsters or gopniki, don't even get noticed elsewhere.

That doesn't mean there aren't real differences, but these, to me, are most interesting in how they play out in the everyday - in our various body languages and habits, and in attitudes and assumptions about how to survive and make sense of the world(s) we live in. That is what I have been trying - and failing - to unravel.

 But if I had to make one lazy stereotype about Russians, it would not be about glumness or stoicness, but rather what I can only call a kind of unconstrained mischievousness... encompassing melodramatic yet self-deprecating humour,  story-telling, unselfconscious silliness and  a certain contrariousness.** Unlike the rest of western Europe and America, though, which does not differentiate between public and private identities, this is mainly kept for family and friends (except perhaps by contemporary artists). Think Norwegian or Icelander, mixed with some Irish. Or am I talking nonsense?***


* I am also aiming to add more to as many of my 'mini-series' as possible, including 10-of-the-best, the art of parking and city bingo.  So, busy busy busy....
** There is also something mischievous embedded deep into politics, which there becomes both surreal and manipulative. See 'Putin Pranking himself'
*** Although the blog Mission to Moscow no longer functions, atethepaint's 50 facts about Russians is still there (as are the many comments). One 'fact' is about the Russian proverb Наглость - второе счастье; one translation is 'impudence - the second happiness' - which is something like what I am suggesting.  There is also a fab YouTube video from the We love Russia series, - you can see the complete set here  - for  some great brilliant, hilarious examples of exactly this crazy mischievousness. 

time to go...

Spent some time idly watching this woman attempting - with much difficulty - to climb the steep embankment of the railway, on her way across the tracks. This is a common shortcut, which can even get quite crowded, and a regular 'desire line' forms. However on this day the usual path had been momentarily obliterated by a light snow fall and this woman cast of sideways, getting stuck in an awkward patch and continually losing her foothold. After several minutes she took off her gloves in an attempt to use her hands, and some time after that she made the sign of the cross. And then, finally, she got to the top.

I don't understand quite why people take this route; it is not near a train station, so I don't think it is about avoiding fares. So where are they going? Can someone tell me? Meantime, it seems quintessentially Russian - to deliberately take another even more difficult path rather than just follow the proscribed, err, legal one (that is, under the railway bridge and along the road).

And - somehow - it sums up many things about being here, now that I am about to leave. New job starting in London in three weeks time. So, sad to go and so happy to be going home. 

city bingo 6: adverts for kredit

These are also ubiquitous - stickers on fences, on aforesaid posters, on metro carriage windows; offering credit, repairs and various necessary certificates. 

fish-n-chips (almost)

What is it about living abroad that makes me culturally regress around my eating habits? I often crave fish and chips here (not a dish I eat that often in London - although there is a terrific one near where I live). So got very excited when I found a Nordsee on Pokrovka on my lunchtime walk today, one of an international german-originated chain which "ist die größte europäische auf Fisch und Meeresfrüchte spezialisierte Restaurantkette („Quick Service“ und „Casual Dining“) mit eigenen Restaurants" according to their website.


More like IKEA than an english fish-n-chips shop but still who cares? Fish! And Chips!

back to Moscow...

Who can choose?

back to London...

protesting (2)

In fact one of the strongest and most public ongoing campaigns in Moscow has been against the (elite) privilege of being able to beat the always terrible traffic, avoid speed limits and generally drive like shit - by having special removable, flashing blue lights on your car roof (migalki). Made worse by the fact that many more than the allocated number are being used, because such lights can of course be bought illegally.

The Blue Bucket movement has seen people put blue buckets on their cars, in ridiculous mimicry of the lights, and then when that was banned, putting them on their heads. The protests have been vocal enough to bring on what appeared to be a recent police clampdown - with migalki drivers being stopped and checked. But as usual here, the response has been mixed; some say it is just for show, others that it is just legal migalki owners trying to stop illegal abuse 'watering down' their privilege. Nobody ever really thinks anything is going to change, even when they do go out on the streets in frustration and anger (and with humour).

watching Down Terrace

Went To Ben Wheatley's film Down Terrace last night, which is being show as part of the New British Films Festival here. Offered as a crime thriller, it is actually very very funny, with the action mainly set in claustrophobic close-up in a Brighton crime family's seedy terraced house. Besides some odd questions - (Why have you filmed in such a shabby house? Why are no policemen shown? Why doesn't the plot make sense? Are all British families like this?) which Wheatley answered with droll good humour - the film's disfunctional characters, chaotic family relationships and miscellaneous murders seemed to resonate just as happily with a Russian audience as they did with me. 

thoughts from blighty

Been in London for a few days with my Russian colleagues V and L, and stupidly blurted out at some point that I found London much more civilised than Moscow. Then spent a lot of time back-tracking (and trying to clarify what I was getting at). That I didn't mean that the people are uncivilised, or even the mindless rules combined with chaos - muscovites notice lots of random rules in London and cannot believe that we follow them - only that the public urban space of the city is so much more comfortable, much more for the 'public'.

Although we also nicknamed London ToyTown, both because of the tiny houses all lined up, and because compared to Moscow, public transport is designed for midgets.

idyllic, with kebabs

Can't decide if this scene is also Parisian. There were a set of working boats, for trawling out leaves and rubbish from the water, and - I guess - mending things from. These three guys were standing next to a low and fiercely smoking charcoal grill, layered with fat meat kebabs. And they also had a standard domestic bathroom sink rigged up next to it, on the pontoon. Have lived here long enough to find that completely normal (or maybe odd).  

doing up the dvor

The courtyards/dvors/двопа of Russian housing blocks come into their own at this time of year; as people sit out with a book, or their dogs, or their children, or their friends, and/or their cans of lager and snacks, and/or just staring into space - and bask in the last moments of autumn warmth.

There is something uniquely Russian about these spaces; both because of the block layouts (which seem weirdly random), and the endless ubiquity of green-painted low metal fencing, yellow-green striped kerb-stones, primary coloured play equipment, tarmac paths and tightly packed trees. And their slightly hidden quality - offering brilliant (but difficult to negotiate) green and pleasant short-cuts across the city.

Came across a fascinating investigation of this micro-rayon living by partizan publik, which explored two such dvors, one in Tblisi, Georgia and one on the outskirts of Moscow. On the surface these are almost identical - given that blocks like this were built right across the Soviet Union. But the group provide what they call "an inventory of user strategies' to show differences as well as similarities in how people occupy these spaces, and their various responses to a post-soviet world where such public spaces are really beginning to show neglect.

oww!

Managed to bash into something sharp sticking out of the wall, swerving to avoid a drunken woman asleep on my flat stairs, minor injury but oww! As my friends know I am pretty clumsy anyway so have bumped and grazed myself across many of the world's greatest cities.  But Moscow is definitely hazardous - I have also torn my skirt twice, on a broken metal gutter and a  badly finished window sill.

Which has got me back to a subject we have talked about a lot  recently;  that nobody here thinks it is the job of governments or other organisations - public or private - to make life easier for people.  Unlike that linking of welfare and state (at least historically) in England, the state here is only about keeping order, not often a particularly caring business. So whether in the design of processes, objects, or places, little or no thought is applied to enabling the comfort or ease of ordinary people.

And I have been wondering if this explains something about the (to me)  passive attitude towards those who act without consideration in public - for example, pushing in front of an elderly person on the metro, or driving their cars dangerously fast. Nobody seems to get angry. It is as if, just as with the state, there is no expectation that people should behave considerately to others ( although of course lots of people behave very well, with generosity and kindness of spirit).