embassy day
monica and ivan had their first
interview appointments at the US embassy today. russia, it seems, may not be
going down the toilet, but it's certainly circling the bowl.
Our day began early; around 7:20
a.m., with Sam begging for us to find his shooter gun and insisting it was time
to get up because the sun was up (he pulled back the thin curtains in our room
to prove it). He also had the presence of mind to shake Ingrid's crib until she
woke.
Our main job of the day was to get to the US embassy by 10:00 a.m. Seemed like we'd have no trouble, being up so early and having plenty of time to eat, shower, and dress. But we didn't get out of the apartment until 9:30 a.m. (half an hour later than we'd hoped, since to walk from our Tverskaya apartment should have taken 20 minutes or so). We decided to save time by taking the Metro.
Not a mistake, but it would have helped if (a) we'd taken the route before, and (b) we'd had a map that could direct us to the embassy after we arrived at our station (Barrikadnaya). As it was we arrived at Barrikadnaya just before 10:00 a.m. and it took us another 20 minutes to reach the embassy.
It's a huge complex and we met our host, who escorted us through a labyrinth of security measures (essentially, Ivan had to leave everything but his pants and shirt behind at the security station) until we reached the cafeteria, where mom watched Sam (fed him juice and cookies) while we interviewed our state department host and his colleague about Russia and Chechnya.
Neither of us had seen much in Russia to encourage us about its prospects either for political reform or economic development. Income disparity is extreme and widening (Moscow holds over 80% of the entire country's wealth), and politics seems stagnant. Our state department contacts had nothing to say that changed this dismal view. Essentially, Russia is a failing state in possession of thermonuclear weapons, and a vibrant radical Islamic movement on its southern flank.
On the subject of Chechnya news was not any better. Monica is interested in the prospects for an end to this civil war. But there is simply no interest on the Russian side in ending it (its formal military isn't involved, and its Interior Ministry troops are little better than cannon fodder; though rapacious cannon fodder at that). On the Chechen side, there were nationalists with no love for extreme Islam up until about a year ago. But between the Russian barbarism and the Islamic extremist terrorists, most have either been killed off or fled. There is therefore no one in Chechnya with an interest in ending the civil war either. So it will continue, perhaps attracting more and more innovative terrorists, which may someday soon launch an attack worse than Beslan upon the Russian Federation. Very depressing.
After checking contacts with other experts in Moscow (military experts, human rights organizations, and so on), we said our goodbyes and made our way out to the street. From there we had a bit of a challenge finding the right way back home, but eventually got pointed in the right direction and ended up back at Barrikadnaya Metro station. We bought two loaves of hot, fantastic bread (10 roubles each), and devoured them as we re-entered the Metro station. We took the Metro one stop back to Pushkinskaya, and then walked down Tverskaya toward our apartment, stopping on the way to pick up more beer (including Russian beer, which is much cheaper than German and about as tasty).
Pushkinskaya is named for famed Russian poet Pushkin (of course), and the square features a nice statue of him (right), and facing the square, the old offices of a Soviet bedrock institution, Izvestia newspaper (center: now shrouded with capitalist ads). Sam fell asleep and since Mom had already eaten at the embassy cafeteria with Sam, we had the idea that we could put him down for a nap (Mom watching him) while Monica and Ivan took Ingrid to a recommended restaurant around the corner).
We wanted to sit outside, because it was beautiful out and because Russians still smoke in their eateries (yuck). But no tables were available for 20 minutes. We decided to wait, and I took Ingrid up the walk for a cruise while Monica read a newspaper on a shady spot near a statue of Chekov. I found a cool bookstore that sold educational books, dictionaries, Western pulp fiction, and so on; but made my way back to the restaurant (Akademia: named after the "All-Russian Academy of Painters, Sculptors, and Architects" which is adjacent, as is MKhat, the theater where Stanislavsky pioneered modern acting in the 1930s).
After a minute more we were seated. Monica sensibly ordered from the business lunch menu (280 rubles: about ten bucks); whereas Ivan (as usual) ordered a much more expensive "soup-to-nuts" meal, including pasta, beer, strudel a la mode and a latte (600 rubles, about twenty-five bucks). But I have to say the meal was worth it. It was the best food we'd eaten since room service at the Marriott Aurora. Ingrid loved the ice cream too.
After the restaurant we stopped back at the bookstore. I was looking for Lermontov's Hero of Our Time and Orwell's 1984 in Russian and I found the latter. We were also looking for a better map of the city, and Monica found a perfect one (we should have bought two or three).
From there we followed the alley on to the Bolshoi Theater ticket office, to see if it was still possible to buy tickets to the Orchestra performance of Wagner's Ring cycle (it was), and Eugene Onegin (it wasn't). The "Kassa" is worn and dingy, but standing there amid the weathered wood and worn dirty tiles, one thinks of the grandeur and age of the Bolshoi itself.
After the ticket office we made our way home, where it turned out Sam had never gone back to sleep. Monica made dinner and after showers the kids fell asleep like crashing logs.
No word from Dmitry today about our email getting fixed; and now Monica is having trouble making long-distance calls. But my little transformer recharged my camera battery, so that's something.
Our main job of the day was to get to the US embassy by 10:00 a.m. Seemed like we'd have no trouble, being up so early and having plenty of time to eat, shower, and dress. But we didn't get out of the apartment until 9:30 a.m. (half an hour later than we'd hoped, since to walk from our Tverskaya apartment should have taken 20 minutes or so). We decided to save time by taking the Metro.
Not a mistake, but it would have helped if (a) we'd taken the route before, and (b) we'd had a map that could direct us to the embassy after we arrived at our station (Barrikadnaya). As it was we arrived at Barrikadnaya just before 10:00 a.m. and it took us another 20 minutes to reach the embassy.
It's a huge complex and we met our host, who escorted us through a labyrinth of security measures (essentially, Ivan had to leave everything but his pants and shirt behind at the security station) until we reached the cafeteria, where mom watched Sam (fed him juice and cookies) while we interviewed our state department host and his colleague about Russia and Chechnya.
Neither of us had seen much in Russia to encourage us about its prospects either for political reform or economic development. Income disparity is extreme and widening (Moscow holds over 80% of the entire country's wealth), and politics seems stagnant. Our state department contacts had nothing to say that changed this dismal view. Essentially, Russia is a failing state in possession of thermonuclear weapons, and a vibrant radical Islamic movement on its southern flank.
On the subject of Chechnya news was not any better. Monica is interested in the prospects for an end to this civil war. But there is simply no interest on the Russian side in ending it (its formal military isn't involved, and its Interior Ministry troops are little better than cannon fodder; though rapacious cannon fodder at that). On the Chechen side, there were nationalists with no love for extreme Islam up until about a year ago. But between the Russian barbarism and the Islamic extremist terrorists, most have either been killed off or fled. There is therefore no one in Chechnya with an interest in ending the civil war either. So it will continue, perhaps attracting more and more innovative terrorists, which may someday soon launch an attack worse than Beslan upon the Russian Federation. Very depressing.
After checking contacts with other experts in Moscow (military experts, human rights organizations, and so on), we said our goodbyes and made our way out to the street. From there we had a bit of a challenge finding the right way back home, but eventually got pointed in the right direction and ended up back at Barrikadnaya Metro station. We bought two loaves of hot, fantastic bread (10 roubles each), and devoured them as we re-entered the Metro station. We took the Metro one stop back to Pushkinskaya, and then walked down Tverskaya toward our apartment, stopping on the way to pick up more beer (including Russian beer, which is much cheaper than German and about as tasty).
Pushkinskaya is named for famed Russian poet Pushkin (of course), and the square features a nice statue of him (right), and facing the square, the old offices of a Soviet bedrock institution, Izvestia newspaper (center: now shrouded with capitalist ads). Sam fell asleep and since Mom had already eaten at the embassy cafeteria with Sam, we had the idea that we could put him down for a nap (Mom watching him) while Monica and Ivan took Ingrid to a recommended restaurant around the corner).
We wanted to sit outside, because it was beautiful out and because Russians still smoke in their eateries (yuck). But no tables were available for 20 minutes. We decided to wait, and I took Ingrid up the walk for a cruise while Monica read a newspaper on a shady spot near a statue of Chekov. I found a cool bookstore that sold educational books, dictionaries, Western pulp fiction, and so on; but made my way back to the restaurant (Akademia: named after the "All-Russian Academy of Painters, Sculptors, and Architects" which is adjacent, as is MKhat, the theater where Stanislavsky pioneered modern acting in the 1930s).
After a minute more we were seated. Monica sensibly ordered from the business lunch menu (280 rubles: about ten bucks); whereas Ivan (as usual) ordered a much more expensive "soup-to-nuts" meal, including pasta, beer, strudel a la mode and a latte (600 rubles, about twenty-five bucks). But I have to say the meal was worth it. It was the best food we'd eaten since room service at the Marriott Aurora. Ingrid loved the ice cream too.
After the restaurant we stopped back at the bookstore. I was looking for Lermontov's Hero of Our Time and Orwell's 1984 in Russian and I found the latter. We were also looking for a better map of the city, and Monica found a perfect one (we should have bought two or three).
From there we followed the alley on to the Bolshoi Theater ticket office, to see if it was still possible to buy tickets to the Orchestra performance of Wagner's Ring cycle (it was), and Eugene Onegin (it wasn't). The "Kassa" is worn and dingy, but standing there amid the weathered wood and worn dirty tiles, one thinks of the grandeur and age of the Bolshoi itself.
After the ticket office we made our way home, where it turned out Sam had never gone back to sleep. Monica made dinner and after showers the kids fell asleep like crashing logs.
No word from Dmitry today about our email getting fixed; and now Monica is having trouble making long-distance calls. But my little transformer recharged my camera battery, so that's something.
Posted: Tue - June 7, 2005 at 11:00 PM
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Published On: Jun 07, 2005 11:18 PM
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Published On: Jun 07, 2005 11:18 PM