but they spend most of their livetimes trying
Saturday, June 2, 2018
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
a Moscow moment 40 minutes long, 2013
2013
Moscow has changed dramatically since 2003, since 1993, since 1983...in many ways...
New Arbat's Dom Knigi, the well-known House of Books. (the main book store of Moscow and Russia)
a modest three part purchase.
discover later that the two self selected parts were correct; that part by the bookstore staff member -- who genuinely seemed to want to help -- not.
two days later... ok, return for refund or exchange for the 270 ruble (~$10) purchase.
2013. improved, refurbished, upgraded, modernized...Moscow... Dom Knigi...
a pleasant (!), warm, middle-aged "information desk" woman kindly starts the process helpfully filling in the required 2-page form herself...
"passport information, please" ? ("oh no")! (nascent regrets)
"address in Moscow"
then all 'purchase receipt' details filled in by hand...
first form with slight mistake... she rewrites completely.
5 minutes.
second form, slight mistake. rewrites. 10 minutes...
"wait here please"...then disappears towards the original purchase point cashier's desk. 15...20 minutes...
slight error. rewrite third time. still smiling. (meaning, the staff member)
observing the process...now counting...the time...the year...the cost of 270 rubles...
Moscow's main bookstore!!!, 2013!!!... (sms a friend to express astonishment)
finally, all correct. 30 minutes. ~ : )
papers sent to back room. : ( !
...35, 36, 37 minutes....
"please, how much more time?"...adding (finally with open frustration) "it has been 35 minutes... Moscow 2013... simple return... two minutes in the US"...
immediate face/attitude change. "you must not expect here what you have in America; if you are going to visit here you must adjust to life here."
"but its Moscow in 2013, not 2003!...been here '15 years'!"
a stray pen mark noticed in accounting -- "a mistake" -- requires an additional document initialed to certify that the first was not invalidated.
her friendliness gone. closed. (~arrogant American?)
now 40 minutes...escorted to money desk..."please give Mr. USA 270 rubles". huffy, curt, hurt. gone.
thenafter (to repair inter-national/-personal/-cultural relations) return to her: "didn't want to offend you, but expected more in Moscow in 2013 in Dom Knigi. hasn't it changed?"
"nyet, it will never change".
"but the store has improved so much in recent years... 2013, not 2003"
animosity gone..."you know, in fact I agree with you" said with an open smile.
Russian openness...friendliness...
and inefficiency, in the center of Moscow. 2013.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Yesterday there was a special showing of the new HD film "Leonardo
da Vinci: Painter at the Court of Milan" in Moscow.
It was very interesting, and done in a way that one could learn and remember what was presented. And, the hall was completely full, with many in their 20s and 30s, a good sign for Moscow.
One aspect of the film that was perhaps not directly noticed, was how much could be seen and gleaned by closely watching the two British hosts to the program, and the many interviewees. They themselves were living paintings to study.
It was very interesting, and done in a way that one could learn and remember what was presented. And, the hall was completely full, with many in their 20s and 30s, a good sign for Moscow.
One aspect of the film that was perhaps not directly noticed, was how much could be seen and gleaned by closely watching the two British hosts to the program, and the many interviewees. They themselves were living paintings to study.
The Changing "Looks" of Moscow
The young Russian girl in Starbucks Friday looked at me in a way impossible in the Soviet times. It was from her purely personal inner position with a purely personal evaluation.
In the 1980s, when I first came to Soviet Russia, and for the majority beyond its demise and thru until the end of the 1990s, there was still a certain "solidarity" of society and commonality of experience to most people's lives. They may not know, or they may know and hate, each other, but they readily understood each others lives, as most people were "in the same boat". Increasingly during the 2000s and now, that is not often so. There is now very little in common among many, and little can be presupposed in common between strangers. Now there is a great diversity of conditions to life, both inner and outer, with people of many differing conditions, experiences and possibilities.
That girl's representative look at me was mostly critically evaluative, but in a purely personal way. There was nothing assumed to be in common between us. And if there was a kind of "unconscious field" between people before, now encounters are often just from person to person, which is much smaller. The young girl only had her own self -- not some greater social ideology and system -- to view me from within.
In the Soviet time such a girl would -- in fact did -- look at me with very different eyes. And -- one more aspect of the many that most just blithely ignore in all the changes here -- she perhaps would and could not have done so even 10 years ago. That "look" was new in Russia.
In the 1980s, when I first came to Soviet Russia, and for the majority beyond its demise and thru until the end of the 1990s, there was still a certain "solidarity" of society and commonality of experience to most people's lives. They may not know, or they may know and hate, each other, but they readily understood each others lives, as most people were "in the same boat". Increasingly during the 2000s and now, that is not often so. There is now very little in common among many, and little can be presupposed in common between strangers. Now there is a great diversity of conditions to life, both inner and outer, with people of many differing conditions, experiences and possibilities.
That girl's representative look at me was mostly critically evaluative, but in a purely personal way. There was nothing assumed to be in common between us. And if there was a kind of "unconscious field" between people before, now encounters are often just from person to person, which is much smaller. The young girl only had her own self -- not some greater social ideology and system -- to view me from within.
In the Soviet time such a girl would -- in fact did -- look at me with very different eyes. And -- one more aspect of the many that most just blithely ignore in all the changes here -- she perhaps would and could not have done so even 10 years ago. That "look" was new in Russia.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Of a piece
The young woman (~25) teaching a younger woman (~18) beside me in a Starbucks yesterday were both interesting and annoying, though they should not have been annoying, for they were just facts of life, like weather or mosquitoes.
What I noticed was how the teacher spoke with a perfectly predictable pronunciation, with a tone of voice, and with an intonation of what she was saying, that was one "standard pattern" I have come to note living here. (How many such patterns are there here? 15-20 patterns of speech? From those of teen girls of varied social circles to those retired women who dye their hair the same unconvincing colors?).
There was nothing in a single word she said, not a single emotion in her voice or words, nor in the intonation pattern (which is under recognized in language I think) of her explaining math, that I have not heard precisely the same way many times in Moscow.
When her young student, apparently at successfully responding to some test correctly, gesticulated with her arms and hands in a way that one could observe in a thousand thousand cases, like a cliche of gestures (probably from TV), I had additional confirmation of their standardized, group-personalities.
And when they got up to leave -- after sitting for 1/2 hour having bought nothing -- their clothing and faces conformed to these other facts.
After they had gone I reviewed in my mind a conclusion I had reached long ago: Though they were of course individual persons, they were carried by their social patterns, rather than carrying themselves.
What I noticed was how the teacher spoke with a perfectly predictable pronunciation, with a tone of voice, and with an intonation of what she was saying, that was one "standard pattern" I have come to note living here. (How many such patterns are there here? 15-20 patterns of speech? From those of teen girls of varied social circles to those retired women who dye their hair the same unconvincing colors?).
There was nothing in a single word she said, not a single emotion in her voice or words, nor in the intonation pattern (which is under recognized in language I think) of her explaining math, that I have not heard precisely the same way many times in Moscow.
When her young student, apparently at successfully responding to some test correctly, gesticulated with her arms and hands in a way that one could observe in a thousand thousand cases, like a cliche of gestures (probably from TV), I had additional confirmation of their standardized, group-personalities.
And when they got up to leave -- after sitting for 1/2 hour having bought nothing -- their clothing and faces conformed to these other facts.
After they had gone I reviewed in my mind a conclusion I had reached long ago: Though they were of course individual persons, they were carried by their social patterns, rather than carrying themselves.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Maybe $681 to Finish the Bolshoi Theater?
RIA Novisti reported last fall:
"The Russian government spent 21 billion rubles ($681
million) on the restoration [of the Bolshoi Theatre], which involved more than
3,600 designers, builders and engineers."
Cost too much? Took too long? Perhaps.
But anyone who takes a casual look at it can see that they
skimped on the painters or the paint for perhaps the most visible parts of the
Theater: the columns.
Take a look. The
columns look in part like old, blotched, white skin. Probably an extra $681
would have covered the painting and cheap labor costs. Does the management have
poor eyesight?
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
American ahistoria in Moscow
The "Five Rings of Moscow" is a road bicycle racing stage race which was to start nearby just minutes from when this was written. The announcer spoke in Russian, then in English. I went to correct him when he said that racers should come and put their "sign" at registration.
The first entry from the USA was in this race, and as it is May 2, on the speaker system the race host asked the young contestant if he knew the meaning of yesterday May 1, International Worker's Day. No. Told that it started in the USA, the host asked if he knew when it started. The young American's answer: April.
Preventing Poetic Suicides
I met with a well-known poet yesterday here in Moscow.
Sometimes you meet a person you like instinctively. It may not occur as often as we -- or certainly I -- wish -- and certainly less than those who imagine all their meetings are part of some cozy, convenient divine, providential plan unfolding just for them specially...
Interestingly in this case, in my lifetime I have developed a sincere disinterest in, even a very low tolerance for, poetry. (Though I can politely smile when need be.)
After four hours, mostly listening to good stories in his kitchen, as we were walking out to glance at the nearby birthplace of the philosopher Vladimir Soloviev, I inquired why two unexpected nets (actually adapted chain link fencing) were placed in the open stairwell areas on the 4th and 2nd floors of the old, ~6-story building famous for its pre-Bolshevik Silver Age and later poets and writers.
Helps prevent successful suicides.
Sometimes you meet a person you like instinctively. It may not occur as often as we -- or certainly I -- wish -- and certainly less than those who imagine all their meetings are part of some cozy, convenient divine, providential plan unfolding just for them specially...
Interestingly in this case, in my lifetime I have developed a sincere disinterest in, even a very low tolerance for, poetry. (Though I can politely smile when need be.)
After four hours, mostly listening to good stories in his kitchen, as we were walking out to glance at the nearby birthplace of the philosopher Vladimir Soloviev, I inquired why two unexpected nets (actually adapted chain link fencing) were placed in the open stairwell areas on the 4th and 2nd floors of the old, ~6-story building famous for its pre-Bolshevik Silver Age and later poets and writers.
Helps prevent successful suicides.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Page from a Psyche Guide to Moscow?
It was a really lovely spring yesteraft and -eve in Moscow...the government typically making it one of three working Saturdays so as to constitute a coming disorder of May holidays... The women were, as usual, seasonally dressed to attract and distract; the men, also, indifferently. The crowded Arbat...where Russians and tourists stroll looking for little more than passing time, or a partner. The Alexander Garden, near the historic and powerful Kremlin, with its predictable thousands of the unhistoric and powerless lounging on the greens, walking by with their uncertain faces...
Thousands I watched walk by. Happily, I was little observed observing. Someone should write a psychic guide to Moscow. (And not only for Moscow, but it could not be "politically correct".)
Thousands. How, why, can so many be so boring and predictable? The most interesting and entertaining person was a quiet, polite quite drunk man, as he tried, without falling, to get over a mere string surrounding a memorial area to which he had gone -- uselessly -- to try to read a plaque. Charley Chaplin could have done it. (He finally went under. A TV quality performance.)
Goethe in his last decade, if I recall correctly, was asked if he would like to go again to Rome or to Paris. He said he would rather go where there are not only larvae and pupae.
Thousands I watched walk by. Happily, I was little observed observing. Someone should write a psychic guide to Moscow. (And not only for Moscow, but it could not be "politically correct".)
Thousands. How, why, can so many be so boring and predictable? The most interesting and entertaining person was a quiet, polite quite drunk man, as he tried, without falling, to get over a mere string surrounding a memorial area to which he had gone -- uselessly -- to try to read a plaque. Charley Chaplin could have done it. (He finally went under. A TV quality performance.)
Goethe in his last decade, if I recall correctly, was asked if he would like to go again to Rome or to Paris. He said he would rather go where there are not only larvae and pupae.
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