Southern Man

After seven hours in the archives, rapidly scrolling through microfilm, my eyes were just shot. Hence, the lacking blog post for yesterday. I did find some rather interesting material though. It seems that a number of southerners, meaning some random people from Louisiana, Georgia, and Alabama took an active interest in the Soviet Union and wrote letters to the Soviet government. A gentleman from Louisiana even composed a song in 1960 entitled "the Great Soviet People." As can be expected, the song praised the freedom and peace loving inhabitants of the Soviet Union. You might ask, what would the music for such a song sound like? Well, our gentleman from Louisiana thought it would be best if it was played to the melody of the Battle Hymn of the Republic! Funny as this might sound, the Soviet government actually took the time to have the song translated and to send a polite reply back to the Louisiana man. When he wanted to know if they had recorded the song and could he get a copy, they were also courteous in their response and regretted to inform him that "they had not, as yet, had time to undertake such an attempt." I'm not exactly sure how this relates to my dissertation, but it was amusing to say the least.

I was also surprised when a middle-aged (mid 50s) Russian woman received a phone call in the microfilm reading room where I was working and her ringtone was "Californication" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Again, this is a place where anything can happen. And in truth, you can hear music with English language lyrics nearly every place you go - cafes, malls, street corners. There was a man in a perexod (underground street crossing) today playing Sweet Home Alabama on an electric guitar.

Speaking of odd experiences, I also went to Burger King. I know, a very typical American thing to do. But my reason for going had nothing to do with hamburgers and everything to do with ice. It has been very hot here and my apartment does not have air-conditioning, so you can imagine how something "ice" cold would be appealing. I should have known better. The Burger King that I stopped at was just outside of a zoo and school has recently let out. Therefore, the place was filled with mothers and their children, which is not always a bad thing. However, here there is an issue with lines in that they do not exist in certain places as we would expect. There is definitely an order to things, but it is most likely not apparent to a foreigner. When I walked into Burger King what I saw, and what the untrained eye would see, was a mass of people in no apparent order. I just picked a space and pushed forward like everyone else did. I then realized this was one of those "who are you behind" deals where you must communicate with the other patrons around you to determine exactly who is next. Luckily for me there was a very aggressive lady to my left who determined I was her personal responsibility. As a southerner, I think I am just too polite for this type of thing.

But, thanks to the kind, if somewhat forceful, assistance of this lady I made it to the counter and ordered my "standartnyi" Coke, meaning regular sized. I could just imagine the ice and the coldness that would slide blissfully down my throat, an especially pleasing thought after standing in this mass-line. The young cashier, the people who work in fast food places in Moscow are young too, handed me my drink and I was so excited about the prospect of ice and coldness. But when my hand clasped the familiar paper cup I could tell something was amiss. "Ice," I asked? And with that flat stare that only a teenager working in a fast food place can master, she responded "ica nyet," (no ice). It seems that the ice machine was broken and no one had come to fix it yet. So twenty minutes in a Burger King outside of a zoo with at least 50 other people and no ice!

While I'm on the subject of the Russian order of things, I would like to describe the Russian State Library, which is a truly beautiful place to work. I registered for a library card a couple of days ago and the experience was very easy and appeared to be extremely efficient - Germans could not do better! But today I experienced a different side to the library, and I have to say that any discomfort that I might have felt was entirely my own fault as I am a foreigner and not wise to the ways of the Russian government. Card in hand I approached the entry of the library and figured out that I would have to run the bar code over the reader so that the security gate would open for me. So far, so good. I saw the attendants at a long counter and realized that I would have to surrender my bag, which again was no problem. Then I had to go through another security gate, at which point an unhappy looking woman took my card, asked me if it was my first time there, and then gave me two small tickets and stamped them with numbers. I continued to the electronic catalogue room and had a great couple of hours reading on-line material and searching the catalogue. And really the room was amazing - very tall ceilings, marble floors, windows at the top of the walls, crystal chandeliers - truly beautiful and peaceful. I successfully (I think) ordered my books and then made my way out. And that's where it became difficult.

I tried to just exit, only to hear "devushka," which means miss or young woman, a word that I am all too accustomed to hearing yelled at me in Russian. I turned around and went back to the exit station that I had just breezed through. Another unhappy looking woman was demanding my tickets. Oh, I thought, those tickets I got on my way in. No problem, I handed them to her. She asked me something so quickly that I had no idea what she said and I politely asked her to repeat herself. I got quite the scowl in response, but she took my tickets and scribbled on them and then handed one back. O.K., I thought, I can go now - she has fulfilled her bureaucratic function. Not so! No sooner than I had taken 3 steps I hear that dreaded word again, "devushka." I stopped and turned around, wondering what else she could possibly want from me. Remarkably, she wanted me to hand the ticket that she had just given back to me to the guard who was sitting approximately one foot from her. Seriously, the guard was sitting right next to her. I could not comprehend why she had to hand me a ticket only to have me hand that same ticket to another person so close to her that she could have just done it. It seemed completely illogical, but that is exactly what I was supposed to do. The guard took my ticket, put it in a stack, and then handed the stack back to the woman! I guess it is one way to keep people employed.....

Tomorrow will be another day at the library and with any luck I will hand all of the appropriate tickets to the appropriate people, in the appropriate order. I leave you with a shot of the church near the apartment and a picture of the Stella Artois that I treated myself with before the library. Cheers and for all of you celebrating the 4th of July, enjoy your barbeque, beer, and fireworks.