It is 3:30 am Moscow, Russia, Thursday, July 17th, 2010 and I am on my way to the airport to go home. I roll down the window and start watching.
I love looking out the window, specially from a moving car. My parents took us on lots of trips in our (very) small blue French made car. Three girls in the back, car loaded with stuff, and lots of it. We had to leave at 4 am, if not earlier – no exception! They wanted to escape the heat. But, the heat I wanted to escape was coming from their “getting out the door” drama. Constantly arguing and bickering, back and forth like two children, over everything: stuff not being ready, servants not moving fast enough, tea’s color being too light, too dark, mom packing way too much, and whatever came their way. All of these going on and I was busy quietly packing my road trip essentials: books, notebooks, pencils, pens, puzzles, pumpkin seeds, candy, etc. without attracting any attention to me (I still do thatJ.) I moved mostly under the radar. That was the name of the game: not to get anyone’s attention. We’d get in the car (yes, they are still arguing) and I quietly claim the seat behind the driver (dad) and settle down. We take off and here is where the magic happens: their mood changes!! They are happy. They talk about the buying some fun food for the road, where to stop first, etc. May be that’s why I like traveling so much. This may sound sad to you, but don’t cry for me Argentina. I remember happy childhood. Although I didn’t like the drama, it was part of our normal life. You just had to ride it. Frankly, I was somehow scared when I went to my friends’ house and their parents were quiet. It felt like something was going to blow up any moment now. We get out of town. I smile, party time! I roll down the window and start observing and absorbing life and singing the billboard signs aloud. Stop it! They all scream! But they kinda give up after a while.
***
I close my eyes, stick my nose out and take in the Russian air: Uh.. I can smell the history! God I am lucky. I have arrived! I watch the trees go by. They look tired, as if they are waiting for the tourists to go home so they can dust off, take a clean shower and stand tall again. Beautiful buildings almost all 4 or 5 stories tall, different and distinct architecture from different times, some forgotten, yet they belong. They seem to live next to each other with respect. I see the bill boards: Nike, Pepsi, McDonalds, etc., reminding Muscovites of what everyone else owns and does and they should want and need. I am not sure if it is a good thing or a bad thing. Does it put pressure on people to buy what they can’t afford and therefore work harder to maintain that life style? Or, it is economy 101?: you work, buy Nike, you feel better, everyone makes money and then we all feel good. Isn’t it our responsibility to stay away from spending beyond our means, or it is less stressful if we don’t even know that we don’t know? I don’t care. I love the town with the buildings, billboards, cars, etc.
I spent 4 days in St. Petersburg. It is pretty, but not beautiful. It is like a Paris gone commercial. St. Petersburg looks like a giant museum. Like an abundant Hollywood set where they shot Parisian movies.
But, Moscow is amazing. Looks like a beautiful, sexy, wise, seventy years old woman sitting on the old and worn mustard color couch with couple of lacy pink cushions wearing the old silky red robe just like the one in the picture on the wall. She is sipping her tea gazing at her picture and talking about her fond memories. You are holding your cup, sitting on the edge of the slightly stained, but matching mustard color chair with white doilies, acting calm, but really anxious to hear everything. You know there is more to be said. You are waiting for her to open up so you can finally hear the truth; about her many lovers, many enemies, painful tales and secrets! You keep on thinking: please don’t stop!
I don’t know why but Moscow reminds me of Tehran, although, there are no similarities in architecture, politics, language, none. But, yet, I feel like I know Moscow like I know my own town. May be it is the trace of struggle, wrinkles of survival, or maybe it is the tired face. Tired of being painted over and over with another picture promising yet again, a perfect future!
Iran’s Islamic Republic (for public, seriously?) government didn’t even bother with a promise of a better life: but a great after life; they are smart. They can’t be accountable until after you die. Kill yourself and others for God (us) and 70 virgins are waiting for you in heaven, which is a good deal considering not getting any in this life! You don’t have anything to eat, nowhere to sleep, and you can’t even picture a good future because you haven’t seen one in the neighborhood, so dying and going to heaven to be married is beginning to sound really sweet, not to mention being a martyr in this way, is a fast food of heroism. As for this life? Keep your women tied up so they have no say and then do whatever you want. Other countries and religions have gone through the same thing, but eventually they got with the program when they found out it is not working! This people keep the public busy with the issues like women’s hair, nail polish color (basically below the belt issues,) long lines to buy food, etc. so they have no time and energy left to do anything else let alone fight them back.
I don’t know which is worse: going through yet another reform dealing with more unpleasant changes, loose all you’ve got, hope for the best, or trying to make a living under a brutal regime where your father can kill you, with honor that is, if you don’t want to marry the 80 year old man next door! And it is happening as we speak in many countries regardless of their belief system. Is it better to have limited freedom in exchange for staying alive and having something to eat, or sleeping under the bridge in the cold night, hungry to die, but free to vote? And, who am I to judge? I have been so lucky that I never had to decide, but knowing what I know about me, I take freedom, especially from religion, any day. But then again, we’ll see when the time comes and I hope it never does. It is always easier from outside the court.
****
As we drive towards the airport, I focus back on the streets. I always enjoyed seeing people moving about in the streets at early and dark hours in the morning. I wonder what their story is. Do they know they are in Moscow and they are Russians (to us?) and I am watching and wondering about them from a private cab? Or are they too busy to care? I saw the sign for the Metro station. Speaking of Moscow’s metro stations, seeing them was one of the highlights of my trip, thanks to my friend who lives in Moscow periodically. It deserves a book all to itself. But in short, each one is designed differently and beautifully, with carvings, statues, chandeliers, marbles and more. Like some kind of underground castle. Furthermore, it is amazingly clean and efficient. In fact, someone told me that recently PBS has had a show on Moscow’s metro. Of course, there are many more beautiful buildings and sites in Moscow.
All these built by Peter the great, Catherine the great and more “the great” people in Russia. Makes you wonder about the definition of great! Did Peter the Great do all these for his love of Russia, or did he drive Russia to bankruptcy for love of himself? Did he mortgage Russia to build St. Petersburg to look good? Not to be less than? Did he kill his son because he was afraid he wouldn’t be a great Tsar for Russia¸ or for he was afraid of being murdered by him first? What kind of “anyone” the great spends lavishly when their country is bankrupt or kills own son, wife, husband, and whomever disagrees with them? The answer according to history: most of kings, emperors, etc. Wait, we went to depression here in USA by spending beyond our means, right? And, the war, thank you. The question is: were they good for Russia? Is building many Versailles the answer? We’d never know. Where they diligent leaders who just didn’t know better or some corrupted individuals in charge? And, does it matter now?
As I am leaving, I can’t help but wonder what’s next. I also wonder if we are going to start wondering about the future of all countries. Isn’t it time to wonder together? Isn’t it insulting to our intelligent that there are still bullies disguised as leaders amongst us and we can’t do anything about it because it always comes down to: it’s complicated?? Isn’t it time that United Nation becomes a nation united, for real? Isn’t it time that we don’t allow anyone to bully no one, in any form, color, or shape? Don’t we have Facebook? Isn’t it better to use it to unite people than to post what you had for snack just 10 minutes ago? Be whatever “ism” you want to be, but let people be. Allow them to live or leave if they don’t agree with you or follow you. Here is the news flash, if you are good, they’d follow. I sometimes wonder (if you haven’t noticed by now) if everyone who wanted to leave their country and go live in some other place could, how many countries would be vacant? If United Nation’s power is only as good as its representative and can’t tell any government not to torture and kill its people, then we need a united something that can!
We need to make the connection with everyone in the world. Ironically, Sadee’s (The Persian Poet) famous poem is posted on the entrance to the Hall of Nations in New York with this call for breaking all barriers:
Of one Essence is the human race,
Thusly has Creation put the Base;
One Limb impacted is sufficient,
For all Others to feel the Mace.
Bottom line: human beings are like the parts of one body and if any part hurts, the pain impacts your whole being.
We are getting close to the airport (yes, I can read the sign in Russian, although the picture of little airplane was helpfulJ) and I have such a mix and strange feelings: The joy of being able to visit Russia, another part of my world, the sadness of the visit almost feeling like a trade: money for good times, that’s it! I am hoping to stay true to my life and don’t fall into my busy-ness trap. I am excited anticipating their future, for better. We need more stones turned. I guess I am in love! But then again, I fall in love easily.
“Here!” says the cab driver. I pick up my stuff, look at people who are honking impatiently at me so I get out of the way (just like in Tehran) and say quietly: Good bye Russia and good luck.
For Emily White