Russia: Days 4 through 6

Slowing it Down a Bit

I’ve had to slow it down a bit these last few days. For some inexplicable reason, I am needing more rest than I once did. I don’t know what that is all about. But I actually did injure my feet by making poor footwear choices at the beginning. And it has affected my progress accordingly. Even so, on a day when it seemed that I had spent most of my time on the subway, my phone showed that I had also walked/limped 7.9 miles. The wife reminded me that I am 70, not 17, which may be true, but we don’t need to dwell on it. In talking with my son, I reflected on our mountain-climbing in the Caucasus only 6 years ago. What an adventure that was, but I realize all too well, that yes, time is taking its toll on me, and perhaps those vigorous pursuits are behind me. And so, I have marked many things off my itinerary. I have a 3-year visa; I can return easily now.

A priest friend of mine suggested that I visit Sretensky Church and Monastery, which is actually not too far from where I am staying in the city. The new church is simply breath-taking. I purchased 10 candles and went around and venerated most of the icons. I was interested to see the ones they had in place. St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco was there. We usually consider him an “American” saint. Others included St. Alexander Nevsky, St. John of Kronstadt, the Royal New Martyrs, St. Elizabeth the New Martyr, St. Seraphim of Sarov, St. Tikhon, St. Xenia of Petersburg, and St. Matrona. I noticed that St. Matrona is always depicted in bare feet, wearing a green floral dress, with her eyes closed, in recognition of her physical blindness. I had intended to visit the church with her relics, but satisfied myself with her icon here and at Donskoy. Finally, the amazing thing here is the iconographic depiction of the Russian saints in the dome. I became dizzy just trying to take it all in.

On the flight from Istanbul to Moscow, I made friends with a Russian-American woman, returning home for a visit. She gave me a lot of good advice about Moscow. Galina is my age, and gets around with a cane. She called during the week, and we met for a real Russian meal (no English subtitles here) while she was in the city. She said I looked like Vladimir Lenin and in showing a picture of my wife and family, said she looked like the wife on “Midsomer Murders.” haha But I learned a lot about her education and career that began back in the Soviet days. She graduated from university with a degree in Food Technology. In other words, she was trained to set-up factories that produced food and to be able to analyze costs. She was both an engineer and an accountant. It all sounded very Soviet to me. But she and her husband moved to the U.S. in 1991 where she had a 26-year career in a bank. She also gave me her extra Troika card, which made traveling the next two days much easier. I was stymied originally in being able to obtain a card from the subway teller, due to severe language difficulties. BUT, once I had a card, I was able to put more money on it without any problem.

I have referenced the metro stations before, but they are absolutely incredible. Each has their own particular style, but all are works of art: marble floors and chandeliers are the norm. The Metro, like the rest of Moscow, is spotless. I found it extremely easy to maneuver the system, transferring to this line or that; they are all defined by numbers and colors. I believe there are 8 or 9 lines altogether. And finally, they are DEEP; I doubt if the Iranian nuclear facility was any deeper.

Using the Red Line out to the Park Pobedy Station, I was able to visit the Victory Museum, dedicated to the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945. We have a certain view of World War II, the Russians have another. Theirs is the one more rooted in the historical reality; and that is certainly the way I have taught it in class–that is that the heavy-lifting of the War in Europe was in the East, making possible our D-Day Invasion and all that followed.

We have a view of the war that emphasizes the decisive American involvement, and with Hollywood’s aid, has become part of our national myth. I do not discount that. My mother had a brother who fought in the Pacific, my dad had three brothers who saw active duty, my father-in-law served, and countless kinsmen of my wife saw combat. But our victory in the West was made possible by the Russians pulverizing the Germans in the East. It was a great victory to us, but to the Russians it was existential. We think that the October Revolution of 1917 defined Russia. It did not, as it did not ultimately “take,” and died the death of all imposed ideologies. But the Great Patriotic War does define modern Russia. Their struggle to protect the Motherland is perhaps one of the most important components that define their national identity.

Our President can be clever, and he can, at times, have good instincts. But in the realm of History, I am afraid that he is Invincibly Ignorant. His recent comments on this matter are not only unhelpful, they are actually insulting to Russians. Use any metric you want, the Russians far exceeded any of the other Allies.

You hear absurd comments coming from all the Chicken Littles, whether they be the head of NATO, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, the Chancellor of Germany, or your run-of-the-mill Facebook commentator that “Putin is Coming After Europe.” He is not, and there is not a shred of evidence that he is. What he is doing is defending Russia’s western border against the threat of NATO, which is not a defensive alliance at all, but one that has always been directed at Russia. They understand this. We promised them in 1989 that its boundaries would not be extended further east by one inch; a promise we quickly broke. (This has been the subject of many previous posts on this site.) If you understand Russia’s view of the Great Patriotic War, then you will understand how our actions have been seen, as well as Russia’s response.

There is a war poster in the museum that depicts a proud Russian soldier, standing before a ruined Berlin, with a Nazi helmet on a spike. Three flags are draped to his right: first, the Russian; then the American; and finally the British. THAT should have been our common narrative going forward, but it was quickly discarded by Churchill and Truman.

Outside the museum, there is a towering monument, with a statue of St. George and the Dragon at its base. But St. George not only kills the dragon, but decapitates it. And this dragon wears a collar, emblazoned with swastikas.

As referenced before, my last couple of days in Moscow were low-key; resting and recuperating. But the Metro also allowed me to visit Novodevichy Cemetery. Many of the Russian elite of the 20th-century are buried here. I was looking for the graves of Sergey Prokofiev and Mikhail Nestorov. I found neither, but enjoyed strolling around the forested statuary garden (for Americans, Russian cemeteries are hard to describe, other than being invariably beautiful). I did see the bizarre grave of Boris Yeltsin at the front of the cemetery. It is a bit of an eyesore, doubly-so considering the great beauty around it. When on Red Square, I made no effort to visit Lenin’s tomb, or Stalin’s grave, even though I was just a few steps away.

The Metro also allowed me to visit the Flea Market, far out from the city center, which was great fun. Here, I noticed for the first time, a Burger King. And as night follows day, I notice overflowing trash cans filled with fast-food rubbish. This was the first I had seen of this. But, if I had been 10 minutes later, I would not have seen it, for the city workers were right behind me, cleaning up the unsightliness. Moscow is relentlessly clean and tidy–a grand megalopolis. I kept looking for the decrepit Khruschev apartments blocks that blighted Sofia and Tbilisi. There were none, in my sight.

Tomorrow: St. Petersburg.