I have been interested in the Soviet Union and
Russia since my English teacher gave me a Penguin edition of Das Capital when I
had read all the books in the form room library. Reading it was a struggle and
I was not sold on most of Karl’s ideas. My college library took a magazine, Soviet
Weekly (or monthly, I can’t remember) and it painted a picture of ideal life.
And this from a country that was “the enemy”, the nation that threatened to
wipe us out, surpass us economically, technically and ideologically.
Our history
lessons, up to O level, ignored Russia apart from mentioning in passing that
there had been a revolution in 1917, they had helped a bit in World War
II. We were not told about the Russian
suffering. I do not put this down to bias, we studied British history. Yet this
country, lagging behind the West managed to launch the first satellite, put the
first man, and woman, in space and won lots of medals at the Olympics.
As a young
adult I read books by Alexander Solsenytsin and Boris Pasternak. The
“invasions” of Hungary and Czechoslovakia, the building of the Berlin Wall were
disturbing the Cuban Missile crisis frightening. But still I wanted to visit the USSR. Married with children and a mortgage took
most of my money so a trip to the “Evil Empire” seemed out of the question
until the Education Authority said if you could persuade some sixth formers
(years 12 and 13 in Newspeak) to sign up for a trip you could go along. As a
sixth form tutor I managed to persuade several and so, sometime near Easter one year 150 students and 15 staff
flew into Moscow from Stanstead Airport. Not exactly Miami Beach
and certainly not BOAC but about 10 am we landed at Sheremetova Airport, once
the main international air terminal for the city.
The airport
was built on land that, before the revolution belonged to the Sheremeteva
family, possibly one of the richest
families in the world. At one time they “owned” 2 million serfs and lands
throughout Russia.
We were not
greeted by loyal family retainers however, but bussed to the terminal building
where we stood in line to go through immigration, having first filled in a form
stating how much money, we had and in what currency. We were told to keep the
form until we left the country so that we could fill in the other side telling
how much we were taking out. And under no circumstances were we to take roubles
out of the USSR, or icons.
Next we had
to stand in line before a row of glass booths and move forward beyond the red
line when called. Our passports were checked by unsmiling officials who
compared us with what appeared to be a rather large collection of
undesirables.We all passed and went outside to be shepherded onto a small fleet
of coaches to be taken to our hotel.
The hotel
had been built to accommodate visitors to the Moscow Olympics, (1980) and was
in need of a little refurbishment. I can’t remember its name although it began
with M. (Not the Molotov, it didn’t have a cocktail bar.) One night it didn’t
even have any beer. There are few sadder sights than half a dozen male teachers
sitting in a bar drinking lemonade. We dutifully handed in our passports so we
couldn’t escape and were promised they would be returned when we left. And then
we were taken to our rooms which were in
need of decoration but were comfortable enough.
Once
installed we had to return to the hotel reception area. There were a number of
young ladies, heavily made up, hanging
around the elevators, perhaps they were waiting for a lift.
The
hotel also had a “bereoska”, a shop for westerners which sold items not
generally available to the Russian public. It also had a bureau de change which
was useful, we were advised not to change money on the street. It was illegal
and we could well be cheated with monopoly money.
Back on the
coach we were introduced to our guide, a
young man who spoke good English. It was his job to point out the sights of the
city, answer all our questions and make sure we had a good time.
Naturally we
headed straight for the Kremlin a place we would visit the next day, and after
driving round the city seeing such things as the statue dedicated to the
glorious USSR space exploration we finished up outside Moscow University, one
of Stalin’s wedding cakes. From nearby
it was possible to look over the city and see the Lenin Stadium where the
Olympics had been held. It was late in the evening, we returned to the hotel
and had dinner and went to bed.
Next day we
were taken back to the Kremlin.It really is a magnificent place, a complex of
old palaces and medieval cathedrals with
one large modern building, the Palace of Congress, thrown in. I think there are
four cathedrals, quite different from western European ones in that they are
smaller. And for those of us living in Protestant countries and used to
relatively plain interiors the walls covered with icons look strange. Outside the Kremlin, which means a citadel
within a town and not castle, is the huge Red Square with the famous Lenin
Mausoleum on the Kremlin side and the equally famous GUM store on the other,
with Saint Basil’s Cathedral at one end and a museum of Russian history at the
other.
St. Basil's Cathedral (Cathedral of the Intercession), begun in 1555.
The statue commemorates Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky who drove a Polish and Lithuanian army out of Moscow in the early 17th century.
The statue commemorates Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky who drove a Polish and Lithuanian army out of Moscow in the early 17th century.
We watched
the soldiers march up and down before the mausoleum and then, with precision
worthy of the Grenadiers they changed the guard before Lenin’s resting place.
Along with several hundred others we joined the queue to see the mortal remains
of the great man. We were informed to put anything decadent like a Walkman or
camera back on the bus before we were allowed in. We were not to step off the
carpet or laugh as we shuffled past the waxy looking body which was protected
by a glass case and some pretty tough looking soldiers.
Once back
outside we were given some free time. With the teacher I was sharing a room
with we wandered behind the Mausoleum to look at the busts and name plates of
the heroes of the revolution whose ashes were placed inside the Kremlin walls.
Interestingly the only bust adorned with flowers was that of Joseph Stalin.
There was a name plate to a British revolutionary I think he was a “Mac” but
would probably be able to find him on Google.
And across
the square to GUM. It was like a British market hall but three floors high and
each stall sold something different and I would have to say, poor quality. The
most interesting stall was the one with closed blinds, our guide informed us it
was for the use of comrades higher up the social scale. There’s equality for
you. I watched a lady with a huge box of ball point pens. She tested each one,
if it worked, on the stall, if not, in the bin. Quality control at point of
purchase. Well the check out girls at Sainsbury’s always look at your eggs.
My daughte, who had been on a similar trip a year earlier, and had had been studying Russian as one of her A levels taught me the sort of phrases that are useful to a man abroad like "Two beers please: I have lost my suitcase: How do I get to Red Square and How Much?" the last been spoken in a Yorkshire accent and with much incredulity.
She had also acquired a Russian pen friend and had made up a smallparcel of gifts for him, which I was to post. Recognising a почта or post office I entered with my well rehearsed phrase. The lady behind the counter was screaming at somebody down the phone. Finished she slammed the instrument down, turned to me shouted something and my well rehearsed phrases vanished. I gave her the parcel and offered money in silence. She took it, stamped the parcel and I left with a muttered thanks.
My daughte, who had been on a similar trip a year earlier, and had had been studying Russian as one of her A levels taught me the sort of phrases that are useful to a man abroad like "Two beers please: I have lost my suitcase: How do I get to Red Square and How Much?" the last been spoken in a Yorkshire accent and with much incredulity.
She had also acquired a Russian pen friend and had made up a smallparcel of gifts for him, which I was to post. Recognising a почта or post office I entered with my well rehearsed phrase. The lady behind the counter was screaming at somebody down the phone. Finished she slammed the instrument down, turned to me shouted something and my well rehearsed phrases vanished. I gave her the parcel and offered money in silence. She took it, stamped the parcel and I left with a muttered thanks.
On the following morning we were back on the culture trail and visited the Puchkin Museum of Fine Arts with its great selection of European treasures and the Tretykov Gallery. Given a little free time I visited the ДОМ Книги , or "House of Books". Well stocked though it was I must say that it did not compare favourably with the Waterstone's in Newcastle or Foyle's in London. I spotted a book about the city in English and took it to the counter, offering it with a mutter to the girl. She gave took the book, gave me a slip of paper and pointed to the cash desk across the room. I walked over and handed in my slip and money. I was given a receipt which I then took back to the counter and exchanged it for my book. This is where ARGOS got their ideas!
A subset of our group of students were the Northumberland Guitar group and in the afternoon we visited a school of arts. Our guitarists gave a short recital and in return the school's balalaika players gave a short but wonderful concert.
We had been advised to take gifts on the trip, mainly blank tape cassettes, ball point pens, coloured pencils and the like. They were gratefully received and in return we were given badges, usually with the standard USSR symbols on them.
We also visited the cruiser Aurora, moored in the river Neva and reputed to be the vessel that fired the opening shot of the revolution.
On another day we visited a school for the arts and were given another concert in exchange for our remaining badges and cassettes. As in Moscow the musical quality was high, the students friendly and curious.
Leningrad is an industrial city and the school we visited was in a residential area.
When Peter the Great founded his city he first built, not unnaturally a fortress, the Peter Paul fortress across the river from what is now the main part of the city.
SS Peter and Paul Cathedral in the original fort.
The fort was started in 1703 to protect Russia from the Swedes, how things have changed. The last Tsar and his family were laid to rest in the cathedral a few years ago.
Another magnificent monument in the city is The Bronze Horseman erected in 1782 on the order of Catherine II. Unusually, I think, it is inscribed in Latin and Russian.
Monument to Peter the Great, the man who worked in Chatham Docks, came home and built a navy.
The unusual cathedral in the city is The Cathedral of the Resurrection (Our Saviour of the Spilled Blood), built on the spot where Tsar Alexander II was mortally wounded by a terrorist bomb in 1881. More like the traditional Moscow cathedrals than the rest of the classic buildings in Leningrad.
The Cathedral of the Resurrection
Eventually are short stay came to an end and trouble for one student started. The boy who had had his passport stolen was permitted to travel as far as the airport but no further. Although we had a full list of passengers and passport numbers he was not allowed to leave the country but forced to have a few days extra holiday, with a member of staff. They returned to Moscow and stayed at the British Embassy until a replacement document arrived.
For the rest of us it was goodbye to the USSR after an amazing week.
As far as I was concerned it was a revelation and I have returned several times since. At the time the political system was beginning to crack. Products of the decadent west were much in demand but in extremely short supply.
One of the noticeable things was clothes. We were stared at more for our clothes than our good looks and on reflection it was not surprising. Most people wore clothes that were poorly made and drab looking.
I visited one mens clothing stores to see what bwas on offer and an assistant told me, in good English, that I could have any item in the shop in exchange for the anorak I was wearing. I declined.
Another thing we noticed was the cleanliness of the streets, there was nothing to throw away. The food shops were not overstocked like Sainsbury's and there certainly wasn't the choice.
On the plus side there was no advertising! Posters extolling the system but apart from пепси* on the sides of the buses there was nothing. The same on the TV station I tried to understand.
However the people were wonderful and friendly, curious to know about life in Britain, did we have a car, how much did we earn and so on. I am aware of how things have changed, the city has reverted to its original name too but it remains a fantastic place.
* Pepsi!
Watch out for CHOBA B РОССИЯ coming to a blog near you.
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