A spoonful of sugar...
Russian vacation a sweet tonic for troubled times
"Capitalism is not a substitute for feeding your soul," reads a bit of ballpoint graffiti in the washroom of our St. Petersburg hostel. Nearby, the reply, "All you need is glove." Near this, a tiny drawing of two towers and an airplane with the date 11 09 01. My wife and I have arrived in Russia just as international flights are getting back on track after the U.S. terrorist attacks. The topic is part of every traveler's conversation.
In the breakfast room, an Australian woman reconsiders a tour of Iran. "George Bush is going to nuke the shit out of Afghanistan!" Phil, an American computer programmer, politely humours her. "That administration certainly is hawkish." In the lobby we hire Nick, a lanky psychology student, as our tour guide. Nick takes us past the city's "secondary sights," through mouldering side-streets and along picturesque canals. His perfect British accent displays a stern Russian inflection. Speed-walking across a busy street, he notes, "In St. Petersburg it is good to have eyes in your ass!"
"Your own?" I ask impishly. Impishly Nick ignores me. Butt seriously, there was a time when ass-eyes looked good on a resumé. Just ask the former KGB tenants of a relatively posh downtown apartment complex. Though their spying days are over – wink, wink – SUVs of one-time Soviet snoops sport triple "O" license plates, giving them immunity from traffic tickets.
We pass the apartment where Dostoyevsky lived, kitty-corner to an indoor market. Stalls overflow with produce. One can now buy literally anything in Russia, says Nick – especially things made of sugar. Downing a can of Coke, he purchases for us a large quantity of "forest bee honey" cut from a framed comb. He spoons a dollop into his mouth. "I feel like Winnie the Pooh," he grins. We enter a bliny (crêpe) restaurant for jam-filled lunch. Further proof that Russians value eyes-in-the-ass above teeth-in-the-mouth.
Along the Neva River our guide points out two carved sphinxes pinched from France (pinched from Egypt) upon Russia's defeat of Napoleon's army. Nearby, we find the Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography, home to a portion of Peter the Great's "Kunsthammer" or art chamber (or freak show). Peter considered himself to be a pretty fair amateur dentist. Coincidentally, many of his sugar-fiend friends felt like Pooh. On display alongside formaldehyde deformities are a number of their teeth. "You will observe," says Nick, "that many of the teeth are perfectly healthy. He often pulled the wrong ones." This led to the birth of a motto amongst his associates: Around P the G it is good to have eyes in your ass.
The next day, Phil joins us for a tour of the nearby Kronstadt naval base. Mike, a historian and English teacher, is our guide. During the bus ride he asks about North American perceptions of the September attacks. Russians, not unfamiliar with domestic terrorism, empathize.
Abandoned fortifications line the sunny beach. Cross-legged in the sand, Mike describes the fall of communism as "a happy time." "However," he shrugs, "I lived in Ukraine at the time. We had to listen to shouts of 'Out with the Russian bastards!' I was one of those Russian bastards."
We visit Our Lady of Vladimir Russian Orthodox cathedral, bombed twice by Bolsheviks attempting to destroy it. Explosives merely battered the interior walls. "Religion is experiencing a rebirth with young people," Mike explains. "Strictly speaking, women should cover their heads out of respect here. You may see girls wearing mini skirts with kerchiefs over their heads. The priests, when they see this, are not amused." In Orthodox cathedrals it is good to keep your eyes off the asses.
At a metro station entrance on the edge of St. Petersburg, Mike shares a large, locally made chocolate bar. Against a backdrop of massive social and political upheaval, he takes great satisfaction in his country's very decent chocolate-making abilities.
Downtown, beneath a massive neon Coke sign on Nevsky Prospect, Phil smiles, "The corporations won the Cold War." With, yes, sugar. He's wrestling with the G.W. Bush War on Terror. "I might lose a couple of my Republican friends back home," he says. "I told them (via e-mail) that I think the government's manipulating public opinion on this. They wrote back, 'You've been smoking crazy weed or drinking radioactive water.'" Whatever the catalyst, Russia has opened Phil to sweet objectivity.
Over a meal of battered pike-perch, the accomplished photographer admits to snapping a Russian orange juice box for the benefit of the same pals. We all giggle. Juice, in Cyrillic lettering, is cok (pronounced "soke" vs. "rooster"). You really can get anything here! And it's "100% Real"!
Next time: Good Listener visits Moscow
Good Listener is a monthly column devoted to eavesdropping. |
