Petersburgian Case File #8: Way Down in the Hole

Hailing from New York City (or as we cool natives call it NYC)* I was quite familiar with the concept of a subway system before I got here.

And people think it is difficult to use!

The metro system (see how sophisticated and European I sound now?) here, however,  is a good deal different from the one back home. First and foremost it is a lot smaller.

A tad simpler.

It is also significantly more beautiful than the NYC subway system and by significantly more beautiful I mean the stations are actually beautiful and not that they are simply beautiful compared to the NYC stations as that statement might simply imply that the stations are not filled with rats and graffiti.

First of all: not beautiful. Second of all I know this station and somebody has clearly retouched this photograph more than one would a model in a magazine

Holy fucking shit is that a subway station or some Persian prince's palace?!?

Can you tell which one is which? I'll give you a hint the New York one doesn't have massive intricately designed columns and chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Also the New York one has big English letters in the upper right hand corner so come on that was pretty much a freebie. The Petersburg system is also a lot more efficient than the one in New York - you never have to wait for a train more than 2 minutes. The only real downside of the Petersburg system is that the trains all seem to be conveniently located in the bowls of hell. Entering a train station is really only half the battle as you then have to get to the train itself often times located one, or two, or even three absurdly long escalators down. And, maybe I just haven't traveled during peak rush hours but what is really fascinating is that 99 out of every 100 people seem perfectly content to stand on these 3-5 minute escalators without ever thinking maybe I have somewhere to go and could start slowly walking so as to reach my destination within the next year or so.

I had immense difficulty finding any picture that gave a true approximation of the length of one of these.
Suffice to say it is damn long.

The deepest station is located a mere 105 meters underground. To give an approximation of that stand up at street level and if you are pretty tall (say about 6 feet) imagine the height of your body underground. Now imagine that multiplied over 57 times. And, of course, one has to repeat the escalator debacle going back out of the station. So a three minute train ride miraculously becomes a 15 minute one before your eyes. Its like magic!

...horrible, horrible magic

But at least I can call somebody to complain - cursing everyone around me in my secret language: English. Strangely/wonderfully enough, even though we are so deep underground, cell phones seem to work in the subways - which is a lot more than can be said of the NYC ones. Hell my TMobile service seems to break down pretty much anywhere with walls let alone underground. My theory is that the subways are located so deep underground that they are almost at the surface, on the other side of the world. Most of my friends with any knowledge of science seem to strongly argue against that hypothesis citing some b.s. about magma and the earth's core that I am sure is in the same realm of big wig mumbo-jumbo they use to try and confuse people into thinking we "descended" from monkeys. So I ask you dear reader to please keep your ears open and on the ready at all times. Next time I am in the subway, to test out my little hypothesis, I will try to yell as loudly as I can. You might not be able to see Russia from your house, but maybe you'll be able to hear it.

Clearly it is the other way around I mean for the love of god have you turned on MTV in the last decade?!?

* "The City", "The Big Apple", "The City That Never Sleeps" and, of course, "I don't give a shit what any official government document says if you are from Staten Island you are not from New York!"

Petersburgian Case File #7: The Context Of This Post Is Currently Unavailable Pending Bureacratic Oversight. The Page You Have Requested Will Be Approved/Denied Permanent Internet Status Within 3-30 Business Days After All Appropriate Paperwork And Bloodwork Have Been Submitted. We In Absolutely No Way Thank You For Your Patience In This Matter.

Ah bureaucracy. I think it was Humphrey Bogart who first called bureaucracy the stuff dreams are desecrated of but they changed it in the final script because it didn't sound all too catchy.

Cause that's what the kids crave in these hip, fresh blogs they read - really shitty jokes on quotes from films of the early 1940s..."Fuck yeah! You tell 'em!" I can already hear teenagers all around the globe screaming.

Bureaucracy in every country is a pain in the ass. In Russia it is likewise a pain in the ass if said pain was preceded by two colonoscopies in a row.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD ALL HE WANTED TO DO WAS BUY SOME STAMPS!

One would imagine after the ridiculous ordeal getting here* everything would be a little smoother once they were finally in Russia. One would imagine incorrectly. One has to carry a copy of their passport and visas with them at all times. Almost any task that carries with it even the whiff of something slightly official, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, requires your original passport. Which in some cases is perfectly understandable - fraud and things of that nature are fairly common here so it makes sense that rules are strict for our own protection (I'm not here to scream about how everything should be completely libertarian). In other cases, however...not so much.

No Paul I'm not going to revert to the gold standard!*
*I'll just invest all of my earnings purely in gold and once all monetary systems collapse I'll be rich! Rich I tell you!

The one that really got my goat was the process for getting a library card for our university. Seems simple enough doesn't it? You are a student in a school so you go to the school's library, show your normal school identification and are given a card for the library (while, preferably, being complimented on how studious you are and given a cute little spiel about how kids are not hard workers anymore like they used to be). If only. Instead you have to fill out and sign two separate slips of paper, go to a specific bank about 3/4ths of a kilometer from the university, give them said slips of paper (along with a strangely specific nominal fee of 54 rubles - about a $1.70), be told that you have to provide your passport and visa along with the pieces of papers, take out copies of your passport and visa, be told that they can only be the originals and you have to come back the next day, and leave the bank with the exciting prospect of getting to do all of that again tomorrow. Can anyone explain to me why my passport is needed to get a library card? What possible grand schemes of fraud might I commit after impersonating someone so as to pay $1.70 to get their university-specific library card? This is why people plagiarize. These are the sorts of things illiteracy is born from. (I have to do what to get a library card? Just pour me another drink and teach my how to hold a hat while you play a tambourine on the streets - I just don't give a shit anymore.) 

This show is nothing but a crazed, delusional utopia!

But, alas, I am studious, I have a resolve, I'll, begrudgingly, go back to the bank in the near future and try again but, honestly, if there is another problem I'll just go ahead and stick to wikipedia.


*Having to get an invitation from a university, having to fill out a visa form then ship it off with said invitation and your passport, as well as your blood work to show you are HIV negative. Paying an exuberant fee to get said visa (about $220 to get it within 12 business days and $330 to expedite it to 4 business days). Getting only a single entry visa and then having to have it switched to a multi-entry visa once you entry the country. Having to once again provide HIV-negative blood work this time to the university you are studying at. You though there was going to be something funny here didn't you? You though Oh Ian always leaving a cute little tidbit for us at the end of the post so just when we think it is done there is one more piece of delightful humor awaiting us. What a swell fellow he is! And then this is what you get. You know why? Because there is nothing funny about bureaucracy. It takes up time, it takes up money, it takes up my will to live and a pox on all who are directly or indirectly involved with it! THERE SHALL BE NO MORE HUMOR UNTIL I DON'T HAVE TO CANCEL ALL MY PLANS FOR THE DAY IF I WANT TO GO TO THE DMV - YOU HEAR THAT WORLD LEADERS?!? NO MORE!**

**Oh I could never stay mad at you, my dear, meek, loyal, trusted reader. The leaders knew that, that's why they called my bluff and oh, much to my chagrin, I folded immediately. I apologize for my behavior (and simultaneously attempt to placate you) with the following picture.

That is so ridiculously adorable. I don't even remember what I was talking about anymore but who the hell could care cause I mean come on look at it. It is a cat covered in red ribbon! What more could you want?

Petersburgian Case File #6: Ian: 1

I had my first run in with a seedier side of St. Pete* today....and I totally kicked its ass!

If I eventually end up seriously injured or murdered here this is going to look very sardonically hilarious. I'm fairly certain in any work by Pushkin or Gogol I'd probably be dead before this was even published.

So I was walking to university this morning (I always want to write to school - it just seems to be easier to write "to school" than "to university." "To university" just sounds too clunky or too British, though there is certainly nothing wrong with the latter) at a decently quick pace, listening to my iPod and such, when a man approached me. Apparently this man was incredibly happy to see me as he proceeded to put one hand on my shoulder and another somewhere near my torso and then ask me for directions to the nearest subway. I told him I wasn't from around here, moved slightly away from him and picked up my pace. Now, maybe I just have a cynical view of humanity, but it seems to me that when you come up to the one person, on a busy street, with headphones on and ask them for directions (in the process put your hands on his/her body - if there is one things the Russians are not particularly known for it is being touchy feel-y with strangers), there may be an ulterior motive at play.

Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe he was just hitting on me, in which case how do you say "Straight but absolutely flattered" in Russian?

I turn the corner and check my pockets. Empty?!? Oh no wait they were empty to begin with, never mind. See I got up that morning too lazy to spend another day dragging myself around the city in jeans. So I put on my sweatpants and, feeling the pockets were too easy to pick, put all of my electronics and wallet into my book bag. So while he may have still gotten into my pocket, he was probably immensely disappointed to find nothing there but a Nantucket Home pack of tissues.

Which, granted, are quite adorable and convenient so I thank him for not taking them as a conciliation prize.

Had I been wearing jeans my wallet would have certainly been in them and chances are pretty good that in the 10 seconds or so it took me to realize what was happening, he (and by extension my wallet) would have been long gone. So I suppose, once again, the day is saved by me having a complete and utter disregard for the most basic of fashion sense and caring for my own personal comfort above all else. Clearly, its people like me that caused this great republic to collapse.

*

Not to be confused with the risqué religious-themed Harlequin romance novel The Seedier Side of Saint Sebastian which I am writing for Pendant. (In bookstores everywhere Fall 2013)

Petersburgian Case File #5: The Dapper Era of the Draper Has Never Left St. Pete

The Russians may not be in love with Americans as a people but they sure love our language.* As such transliterations are a huge thing here. All over the place you will see various English words written out using Cyrillic letters. Essentially it is the same word just with a faux Russian accent added onto it. And one might think that just saying the word in English (that is, saying the word properly) would suffice but 3 times out of 5 they'll just stare at you with a blank expression.

I don't have a particularly witty caption for this I just really wanted to share this picture.

The result of these transliterations are more often than not pretty hilarious - there is just something really funny about having to pronounce the word muffin "maf-fyen". My favorite one, however, is the city's biggest chain of coffee shops - their version of Starbucks: Coffee House!

Behold how primitive and not green and white it's logo is!

So the first word is, simply enough, кофе (phonetically: kofe) - they sound similar, and Russians use the same word as English speakers so that is perfectly fine. It is part 2 of 2 where problems start to arise. The Russian word for house is дом (phonetically: dom). Keenly observant followers of this blog may notice that the letters following кофе in the picture above look dissimilar to the letters in the word дом. хауз phonetically sounds like hauz or basically an accented, slightly stupid pronunciation of the English word house. In and of itself that is fairly amusing but the reason it really gets me is that whenever I see хауз and pronounce it in Russian I can't help but think of Peggy, from Mad Men, screaming PIZZA HAUZ! And so that delightful image floods into my mind whenever I pass by one of these. Soon enough the sheen will wear off and Elizabeth Moss will become the bane of my existence - haunting my every dream with her barbaric scream of pizza hauz. [God knows Fred Armisen is already one of the banes of my existence...She was married to him, isn't that so weird?...Ugh Portlandia is a television show...*glares angrily while muttering under my breath* Fred Armisen]

Ugh just look at him, damn it! ARMISEEEEEN!!!

Until that day comes I will be utterly delighted by every кофе хауз I pass by, smiling uncontrollably at what I imagine Russians assume is the spirit of capitalism and the comforting 21st century knowledge that a semi-decently prepared cup of coffee could be mine with only a step through the door. Personally I think the real reason is a bit more profound but we can just keep that between you and me.

*Our language being American because in America you speak American, damn it or the terrorists have won!

Petersburgian Case File #4: The War to End All Wars

There are a lot of street vendors in St. Petersburg. You have your typical sort of marketplaces with all the standard tourist stuff- a matryoshka with a picture of Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood here, a furry hat with a communist emblem there (I guess when the cold war ended everything went from menacing to kitsch).

Okay so I haven't seen this exact hat yet but my eyes are on the lookout

My favorite street vendors, however, are the old grandmothers who sell produce. You'll see these women in their 60s (their 70s) standing for hours at a time on certain sideways and corners with a shopping bag full of apples or squash or potatoes or who knows what else trying to sell their meager collection of fruits and vegetables. This raises many questions such as where they get the produce (one would imagine they don't buy it at a store and then end up standing outside selling it at a mark up, I mean who would buy it then so do they grow it themselves? Do they just pretend to be elderly while secretly being highly athletic thieves of the night, breaking into stores - headscarves and all - to steal their precious vegetables?) or really what kind of money they can make doing this (especially when there are so, so many grocery stores throughout Petersburg). I suppose it isn't a comical thing to note "haha look at the elderly Russian women who, though probably working most of their life, have not been able to acquire enough money to properly retire and so have to stand every day outside with a bag of apples hoping to make enough money to live" though I grant Russian humor can be quite bleak so I suppose if that in and of itself made you laugh, you're welcome.

See? Inherently hilarious!

But while it may look it, the world of Russian Old Lady Street Vendors is, in fact, not all fun and games. Standing on the sidewalk, a few days ago, I was privy to quite a heated exchange in this dog-eat-dog world of fruit vendors. As one grandmother (probably in her late 70s) - bag of apples in front of her - stood on the street another woman (this one significantly younger - late 50s or so) - bag of dried fruits in her hands - ambled up to her and politely began:

"You old hag, why don't you just give me your apples and your corner and go home. Your time is through. Why are you still here. I'm younger, I have people to support. I'll stand here, I'll make the money, and you can go home. You must be tired, after all, being so very old."

As one could probably expect this was not met with the most overwhelmingly positive of responses:

"You can have my corner and my wares when I drop dead."

Satisfied with that answer, the younger one started unloading her dried fruits about half a foot away from the older one and so they stood - arch enemies for life, with apples and raisins for the masses in hand.