Doom, Gloom and Booze

“Well that’s an awfully dark title, Patr-” Well maybe you should grab that bottle you didn’t finish from the last post and gather around dear reader. We’re going to make good on the promise to talk about some of the issues in this country, and it can get a little dark. We’re going to hit the dark stuff hard and fast, and get to the funny bits after so you leave with a smile hopefully. So, on the off chance that you want to kick your week off with sunshine, rainbows and vegan hot dogs, I’ll bring you to the void some other time. You have been warned.

Alcoholism: strongly associated with Russians. I’ve known a couple people who drink like fish, but dear reader, I’ve met Russians who drink like whales. It’s a problem in this country, and one that’s never good to see firsthand. Most Russian leaders have tried to stem the problem, a few preferred to profit from it. Medvedev doubled prices of vodka; Gorbachev implemented some rougher policies for people drunk in public, and Joseph Stalin monopolized the industry to give the state some extra rubles. But that’s on the periphery. Better to say it like this. Today, one U.S. dollar will fetch you around 65 rubles. At the grocery store down the street from me, the cheapest half liter of vodka goes for 190 rubles. I’ll leave the math to Davis Lenz, but you get the idea—easy access.

Crime and punishment: Not only a famous Dostoevsky tale, but also a subject worth mentioning while we’re strolling about in the bleak midwinter. I don’t like cops here. Professors don’t like cops here. No one, and I mean it when I say it, no one that I’ve met likes cops here. State monopoly on violence doesn’t mean much in your poli-sci textbook, but hearing a couple stories from Russians about the cops will show you more than Merriam Webster could. Corruption, extortion, theft—it’s all there. It’s not overt or anything, just something spoken about behind closed doors, and now blog posts. And more importantly, it offers me a great segue.

This, reader in whom I confide, is trouble. The other side of the law. St. Petersburg is home to many a neighborhood, and one of them, as shown above, is Doomskaya. Yeah—seriously. Nothing like a little doom to cap off your Saturday with the boys. Expensive drinks, people trying to hustle you, the odd, heavily-tattooed, conglomerate of gangsters—all good things. Clubs, pubs, and NC-17 backrubs are all over the place. I have yet to plunge into the depths of this area, but as sure as there’s a hole in the ghost I’ll tell you more about it when I can.

But apart from the doom and gloom and booze there is the metro. And reader, between you and me, she is a beautiful thing. Every station is well maintained and usually has a specific historical theme. Decorations, sculptures, art, and of course delightful, old, Russian women who won’t look at you or acknowledge you when you give up your seat for them. “Well Pat where are the pictu—“ No no—illegal here. For some reason you can’t legally photograph metro stations here. And in accordance with our earlier discussion about the Russian police, I have not taken any photographs. But reader, bolder men than me have taken pictures, and Google will undoubtedly have some if I’ve piqued your curiosity. The picture below is from an art museum in St. Petersburg. 

Later this week I’ll be meeting the family that I’m to stay with for the rest of my time here. Very excited to get an inside perspective on life here, as kind as the international dorm has been to me. Also, amidst the politics in the U.S., taking a peek at a funny Russian Pizza Hut commercial featuring former President Gorbachev might be worth a minute or two of your time. The link is below. Until next time, keep your porches pristine and your refrigerators well stocked!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgm14D1jHUw

Russian Phrase of the Post: Не ходите на Думской улице (Nee Ha-deet-ye Na Doom-skoy Ulitsey) 

"Don't go on Doomskaya Street"