People
3/20/09 - 3/20/09
15 °F
This morning, I heard someone thunder into the bathroom, rip a throaty fart, then slam every door possible. These weren’t the clipped morning sounds that the other hostel resident, a Japanese student, usually made. When I heard an energetic diatribe about Barack Obama five minutes later, I knew that an Obnoxious American had entered the premises.
American: “You know what, I didn’t vote for Obama. You know why? Because I’m from Chicago, see, and Obama didn’t change anything there. No, I didn’t vote for Obama, because I knew…” Etc. etc.
Diminutive British gap year student (also a new resident): “Huh. Oh. I see.”
American: “Where are you traveling to?”
Brit: “Well, I’m trying to catch the Trans-Siberian Express to China, then visit Peking—“
American: “The Trans-Siberian thing, huh? That’s great.” (Pause) (Grunt) “But you see, the Obama thing, I just knew…”
I picked a good day to depart. I’d rather sleep on a museum floor than listen to the retired, overweight know-it-all’s rants about his own intelligence, and smell his shampoo-and-fart essence, for one more day.
Later, on the plane, I would encounter the Pride of Germany, a group of wobble-bellied 30-something men who giggled like girls, smelled like beer, and made bird sounds in the security line.
More about the airport later. Back to the morning, when the hostel manager informed me that it was “very cold today.” Not something you want to hear from a Russian. I walked out to a bitter bluebird day with fantastic views of sunlit buildings and the expansive Neva River.
After a titillating photo circuit, I found myself waiting at a crosswalk for cars to pass. Here in the city, drivers often run red lights, drive on sidewalks, and ignore pedestrians. The police bribes for such violations are quite low (running a red only sets you back about $20). So a green crosswalk light means you still might get hit.
As I waited for the cars to pass, a babushka in a striped fur coat waddled up behind me and tapped my shoulder. She wanted me to cross the road. The crossing light was green, after all. A car was roaring our way, so I shook my head. She stepped into the road—right in front of the car. I made universal warning noises, hoping she wouldn’t continue into its path.
Instead, she stared down the driver, pointed at the green crosswalk indicator, and kept walking. I followed her. Amazing!
After that, I had a delicious meal of salmon blinys (crepes), apricot and cognac spiced tea, and a lovely salad made from shredded beets, smoked fish, egg, and shredded potato.
And before I could blink, it was airport time. The driver broke what would have been 10 US laws getting me there, but hereabouts, you can do what you want if you know the bribe system. Corruption is so systemized that the bribes have set amounts:
Speeding (20km over limit): $10 USD
Speeding (40 km over limit): $50
Running a red light: $20
Driving drunk: $5,000 bribe, or get your driver’s license suspended for two years.
If you have money, you can basically make your own rules.
It gets better. Within the police force, there is a secret police force whose job it is to jail corrupt cops. A police for the police, if you will. These secret policemen have to fulfill a quota—eg. they are required to throw one corrupt policeman in jail every year.
If you’re a regular cop, it costs $50-$100K to bribe your way out of being indicted by a secret policeman.
So the incentives continue to cycle. Cops have incentive to increase their bribes so they can potentially pay off the secret cops. People bribe the cops to avoid headache. “They need a reason to work,” the driver said.
When he saw me off, he proclaimed: “Don’t forget about Russia!”
I won’t.
Posted by -andrea- 2/23/09 9:45 AM Archived in Russia Comments (0)













