Friday, June 05, 2009

Moscow and the Trans-everything Railway

This post has been sitting stagnant long enough to breed mosquitoes. For whatever reason, probably a chronic case of slackness, it just didn't want to congeal into something coherent. So here for posterity in their malformed glory are some pictures from my trip to Russia.
Russia emerged as one of the biggest and baddest kid on the global block after WWII, so I was interested to peek behind the now rusty iron curtain. Also, given the body-count from 80's Hollywood, I wanted to see if there were any Russians apart from tennis players who were still alive.
Personally I can’t think of another country that so often contrives to shoot itself in its poorly shod feet. First there were the Tsarists who were not backwards about being forward in abusing Russian peasants.
Next up were the Socialists who were of course much more equitable, preferring to abuse everyone all the time. For Russians national self-brutalization has been a long reality evolved to a perverse art form. Its bloodstained soil has seen brilliance in music, art and science entwined with incompetence in war, trade and economics.
In modern times, the Russians argued their military expansion and armament was necessary to protect their economic, political and geographical interests from future hostilities. They felt a need to check the ideology and influence of an increasingly powerful America and to keep Kenny G out of the region.
One of the things I like most about traveling is that going to a country I have read and heard about presents an opportunity to confront my own particular prejudices and to see for myself.
Unfortunately objectivity took a beating even before leaving Korea thanks to the assistance of a Russian I met in the airport. Over a (very, very serious) beer he went to great pains to (impassively) stress how much crime was present in Russia and how much danger I would be in. As best I could gather, as his badly dressed tourism spiel continued, even his father had been robbed while filing a report about the theft of the report of a robbery.
Fortunately, according to this (unsmiling) Muscovite messenger, I was only likely to be robbed rather then robbed and shot. Apparently due to the inflationary effect of the free-market economy the average criminal can't afford bullets.
Strangely enough, this was actually somewhat reassuring. To be honest of the places I have visited so far, Russia made me feel the least welcome and most uneasy about my personal safety. Then again it is a different culture, easy to misunderstand, and of course there is all that mental baggage.
I think many stereotypes contain aspects of truth and I did find several ones about Russians to be broadly reflective. One of the most popular archetypes is the dour and severe unsmiling, Russian demeanor.
"Nyet" is Russian for "no", being remarkably easy to say while simultaneously spitting bitterly on the ground. After mere seconds of practice I too was scowling, nyetting and hosing the ground with vodka tinged phlegm. It was explained to me that Russians believe smiling in public makes you look like an idiot; whereas apparently wearing high-top sneakers, fluro happy pants and a vest with no shirt makes you look cool.

As a result in family pictures, they don't smile. Kids don't muck around in public and nobody walks around the streets cracking jokes or laughing. In their jobs they are just plain po-faced and their is nary a whoopee cushion to be found in the whole country. Honestly, you'd think having elevated professional incompetence and inefficiency to a zen-like level they could crack a cheesy grin once in a while or at least make some happy graffiti.
I should mention in fairness that there are lots of Russian jokes. They’re all about Stalin and gulags, but there are a many of them, and they are of course absolutely uproariously hilarious if you're into jokes about Stalin and gulags.
If you threw some shots of wodka into the mix in private, Russians became welcoming in a melancholy kind of way, and also emotional and passionate. Given their history there was never any shortage of absent or deceased beloved comrades to znas a toast to, or yet another riotous Stalin joke to be entertained by. Still, I had a great time on trains with various random Russians, in the process discovering many Tartar and Buryiat brothers I didn't even know I had and learning an appreciation of genuine vodka.
Another stereotype I found to have a foundation of truth regarded Russian fashion. Actually Russian 'fashion' is not a stereotype. It's a myth. Russian women have a preference for very tight and/or revealing clothing, often sans-bra, that looks like the collateral damage of a multicolored, multitextured wardrobe explosion. Perhaps it's driven by the declining population or shortage of men resulting from war and alcoholism. In general from a male view this kind of dressing would of course be ok - were it not for the fact that grandmothers and granddaughters were sharing in the same daily wardrobe eruption.

We spent a lot of time on Russian rail, being the best cost v time way to cover a lot of ground, a massive and relentless electric network covering thousands and thousands of kilometers. I really enjoyed the basic but tasty pastries, pies, fish and cakes cooked and sold by the old babushkas at stations along the way.
My conscience is clear to know that my stomach and my wallet did their fair share to contribute to babushka incomes and the purchase of headscarves. I also liked looking out the window and seeing how almost every house in the country had their own vegetable gardens.I loved the hidden economy and the way conductors or people on the platforms would sell cold beers and vodka when the police weren't around and that the fact that 60 million kinds of vodka meant you could never find the same brand again.
I respected the strong pride and identity they had in being Russian, even after the terrible things that had been done to, and by them, as a people. They might feel resignation against the power of their government but they love their country dearly.
One of my favorite memories is from around a campfire at Lake Baikal in Siberia. Siberia was actually a very nice place (in summer anyway) despite having a bad reputation and being the butt of many of those gulag jokes.
It seemed like a good idea after a late night swim to defrost a bit. We stumbled upon a campfire where people from a dozen or so countries were hanging out with some Russian folk singers. Sure, no global problems were resolved, but none were created either and just like in the UN everyone refrained from bashing the English guy for mistaking it for an Oasis concert and acting like a git.
I've long thought aspects of socialism are commendable but kinda like the g's worn by Russian grannies they tend to get screwed up on application. One of the legacies of Russia's corrupt and communist past is the death of incentives promoting efficacy and innovation. On the bright side it has allowed them to export this expertise to public service bodies around the world. Back in Russia anything involving any kind of official capacity, from embassies to airlines, customs to museums, were bulwarks of inefficiency performed by people mustering all the enthusiasm of someone counting the seconds remaining in the decades before they die. Whilst the people on the streets were reasonably helpful, anybody behind a counter, desk or in a uniform, including the police, were to be avoided where possible.
So where to for Russia? The actions of Putin over past few years involving pipelines, Georgia and ‘rogue’ states, depending on your perspective, amounts to either a much less assertive statement of national interests than undertaken by someone like the US, or a rattling of sabres indicating a return to the dark and aggressive Soviet days.
For Europeans I guess it's a bit like living next door to a bikie gang, you feel pissed but don't want to say too much. Generally I found that Russians were in favor of Putin in a manner more than just fear of voicing a dissident opinion. The same actions most criticized by the west are the things that the Russian people support. Many also believed a heavy hand and many smacked bottoms are the only things that can keep such a huge and ethnically diverse country moving in a forward direction.
Russia has long held massive potential. This and its previously acquisitional nature has long scared the west. It has huge amounts of natural resources, land, a large population (though now propped up by immigration) and a vast, if decayed, military. Somehow though when it comes to Russia, it always seems to be those that gain the most that make the decisions that repeatedly sabotage its development as a country.
On the whole Russians I chatted to seemed divided about the future. My own observation was that there was little of the usual construction of buildings or infrastructure or machinery usually equated with the kind of economic growth Russia was experiencing at that time. Even Moscow airport is a run-down hodgepodge of buildings sneezed out of the nose of a giant where a random collection of service vehicles scurry about in a haphazard manner like clapped-out ants on a rainy day. Planes are scattered around as if the pilots got bored and strolled off halfway through parking them. Parking is no better organized on the water.
A lot of buildings and infrastructure around the country were derelict or run down and frequently seemed deserted. Often it felt like a place that had many things built to once be the equal or better of anything anywhere in the world but then had been severely taxed and not reinvested in.
I saw little of the huge mechanized plots of agricultural installments necessary to support a big nation, but perhaps they were in other areas. A lot of buildings outside of big city centers were cobbled together from tin or wood rather then stone or brick. It is also a fact that military expenditure of the kind seen during the Cold War sucks life out of even the most vibrant economy.
Indeed little Ullan Batar in Mongolia seemed to have more construction happening then any of the places I saw in Russia, yet the Russki economy at that time was one of the fastest growing in the world. It felt like a place, and some Russians agreed, where a lot of that money was being squirreled away and taken out of the country by Russian billionaires and cartels rather than being reinvested into forming a broad-based economy.
I found Russia quite beautiful in parts. It has an immensely fascinating but bloody history filled with regimes and individuals destructive to the pursuit of nation building. It had equal shares of unique and derivative architecture, the beautiful and the vulgar, all combining to make something distinctly Russian.
After Russia the next stop was Mongolia.
We spent just a few days in the ‘Mong. It was really only the smallest taste of that country, so here is just a handful of pictures. Mongolia's preferred claim to fame is the mighty short but mighty powerful Ghengis Inc. and sons, who it seems were not quite the blood thirsty, mindless savages often portrayed. Somehow in the 13th century this sparesely populated nation managed to accumulate a massive empire of conquest.
Yet apart from a brief low-key power struggle for the paternal role between China and Russia and someone realizing you could get wasted on fermented horse milk, not much has happened since.
Of course Mongolian etiquette dictates that when the horse is done fermenting then it's chow time.
It’s fair to say that as a capital Ullan Bator, is well, a capital.
The country's beauty lies outside of the towns in the castle like hills and expansive plains and hills.
It had for my eyes unusual topography, very Lord of the Rings-ish.
Somewhat inconveniently and politically the railway gauge between Mongolia and China is completely different. Rather than unloading the train at the border and changing to a Chinese-sized one, which would just make too much sense, you end up in this big shed where the train is separated so each carriage can be physically lifted (with everyone still locked on board) and reattached to a more Sino-friendly bogey.
With the toilets closed, the aircon-off and customs inspection waiting it's fair to say the novelty of looking out the window at the changeover was good for about 10 seconds.


be well.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

In The 'Burgs

Well I said I never do it and I did. I'm not talking about a taxation return or a deportment class but rather flying Aeroflot. A hefty cash incentive and improved safety record saw me calculate the dollar value of my life and board on old Tupelov plane from Moscow to St Petersburg. On the bright side, in terms of age we were peers. Hard to say which was falling apart worse.

The Tupelov looked all engine from the outside, like a drag racing plane. Whilst I had the novel experience of sitting eye level with a jet engine and though it looked like an aeronautical hotrod - it took a while to get off the ground. Whether to save fuel or in a wrestle with gravity I do not nor want to know.

I have to note, following the no show for a couple of hours of the airport shuttle and an unsuccessful last ditch $80, 15 minute cab ride (the most expensive of my life thus far), that Aeroflot were very good in providing me with a free replacement flight when they could have legitimately not done so.
Due to the latitude and the season (white nights) I was able to take the above photo at around 1130pm, without flash. I didn't get any pictures of the interior but it was so kitsch and the music so cheesy that I wanted to take it all home, minus the unsmiling hostesses of course. There were some other minor dramas that night that nearly resulted in me sleeping in a stairwell but a few hours after landing I was able fall gratefully and safely into a bed.

One of the things that struck me most about St Petersburg was how dramatic and simply brooding and moody the sky was. This view from my hostel could have been rendered in oil .

Having not been to Europe, I would have blissfully believed that the Russians were solely responsible for the beautiful city that St Petersburg is.
Fortuitously for my ignorance I met an American architect who explained between beers that the architectural and sculptural work were the labors of predominately Italian and French artists hired by the Tsar to create buildings echoing the styles in Europe. Given the huge class divide of the times he clearly had an abundance of money but a dearth of conscience.

Like a heavily iced cake, at times it could all be a little too sweet and I understand how the locals could wander around in seeming ignorance of their surroundings

Horses. More reliable and better smelling than a Lada.

The more Soviet style monoliths I had expected were really only visible in the outer parts of the city, they had a knack of seeming to loom over you even though they probably didn't really angle forward. There were however still some impressively sternly, yet ornately styled buildings in the historical centre, proving conclusively that Russians have always been cranky. If Boris had ever met his hangover World War III was on.

In addition to the beautiful buildings there were also some remarkable statues, so finely sculptured as to project a regal, almost human defiance of the elements.

Or at least a willingness to robustly debate such matters with you.

This is the very stark image of Alexanders column looking down at the scrums that eventuate on a busy day at the Hermitage. Everybody has elbows. Old ladies have 9.
The Hermitage is an amazing collection of human brilliance and creativity housed inside a former palace and is the city's major attraction.
Part Louvre, part Better Homes and Garden.

The opulence of the interior rooms makes for a unique museum experience but the maze of rooms makes navigation and finding a bathroom difficult. Turn left at the Van Gogh, go straight past the Gauguin and hang a sharp impressionist right at the Cezanne...try not to pee in the 1000 year old vase, even if it smells like someone else already did.

I think if I was a political prisoner during the Stalin years I would happily do time in the gulag rather than be the housekeeper for the Hermitage.

In fact this is what they did to their last housekeeper after he missed a spot.

Stunning interiors were not just confined to the hermitage. This video will serve the dual purpose of showing the decorative interior of a cathedral (which I'll name when I can remember the 8 consecutive consonants forming its name) and causing motion sickness.



Fresco paintings and metalwork were all the rage as well.

The following may look like some bizarre anti-commercial music video on high rotation on PhlegmTV but the audio is worth a listen. I wasn't allowed to take pictures but I recorded the audio and some poor saps butt. With no amplification except as provided by the design of the church and natural voices it made the hairs on my neck stand up. The singing that is.




be well.