An American In The Soviet Union — 1982.
In 1982 I traveled to the Soviet Union. I carried a notebook, and kept a diary of my experience. What follows are excerpts from these…
In 1982 I traveled to the Soviet Union. I carried a notebook, and kept a diary of my experience. What follows are excerpts from these notes, and photographs I too on the trip.
January 4th 1982
We landed Moscow — the plane door opens to a stark soviet airport. Black floors, black pillars, ceilings covered evenly placed 12 in rings of brass. The light is dim, spotty and very pale. It is not a happy feeling.
Next, Customs. I smile at the agent. Perhaps that was my first mistake or maybe the hat or the jacket. Whatever. I put my suitcase on the X-ray machine he shakes his head and motions me toward a long table to be searched. I’m the only one from my school group to be pulled out of the line.
Behind the long table is a blond man, maybe 32. Without a uniform. He is wearing a Lenin lapel pin, a tweed coat and a colorful shirt. He begins to take my bags apart. First the Walkman tapes, records, and buttons. He’s excited now and he calls over his boss. All his movements are slow and deliberate. He is taking his time he doesn’t speak English so I didn’t know what he understands or doesn’t.
They go through all my bags and in doing so find my records one of the guards says in broken English “I must listen to these” and leaves with the records. I’m lead into a back room. A very official man sits behind an empty desk in an empty office. His ruler scrapes back and forth across the desk like a windshield wiper. The office is empty. The office looks bored. Here I am searched. Pockets clothes socks my sweater with the Bulge where the sleeves meet the shoulders is carefully checked my old Price Chopper receipt because left the night and by accident in my jacket pocket is looked at with suspicion. yet do I fear what might period yet do I fear what I might bring in or more use this as an excuse to explore American goods. finally I am let go and was never really scared at any time I repacked my things and leave the records. I repacked my things the records are still in the hands of an official listener. Beyond customs with the group again I am again approached by an official come with me he says yet it does not seem threatening I follow the listener has returned my records other incidents return.
We arrive at the hotel.
People seem alternately warm and officious. Officials seems to enjoy using what power they have. Even the floor lady at the hotel seems to love keys. In her turf locks are everywhere. On every desk on every closet. Fluorescent lights abound, as do neon signs. It seems almost like a parody of a motel in the States. It looks like a housing project in its workmanship. The design is relatively modern yet, the molding does it meet at the corners and phone wires are stapled on the wall.
Friday January 7th 1982
My trip includes the study of journalism in Russia, so I’m visiting a number of publications. On Thursday we spent the morning in the offices of the Soviet Woman Magazine. The meeting took place in a room that looked more like a set. As I walked in, special photo lights popped on and all four corners the room. The walls were paneled and room well laid out. This was clearly An approved meeting, well-orchestrated. The answers to our questions were interesting nonetheless. I posed a question on censorship the publisher, the only man present and clearly in charge. He responded candidly “there are laws there are things we don’t write about, I am a censor in the sense that I do not publish what is not allowed.” To me that made sense. His tone was one of obviousness, clearly we are all we all have limitations. Also, a woman who was in the room and who had been to the United State felt that Russian women were more liberated than the States.
Late on Friday night after return trip to the Metro we went to see the tourist bar called “Moscow Metro.” It seems like a disco bar that played songs by bands including Human League and some other big Euro disco hits. Very odd to see the French and others dancing. I felt like I was in a bar scene out of Star Wars.
I’ve always thought that jet lag was a farce yet I’m clearly suffering from it. It was it is now 3 a.m. Saturday morning and I woke up at 2 a.m. after going to sleep at 7:30 p.m. Because in the US it was 4 hours I had I feel like my body clock is still on USA time. So why are the Soviets so concerned about our perception of them? And furthermore, why are our country’s leaders so concerned with labeling the Soviets as “unacceptable?”
Everyone we have spoken to seems to want peace. Our guide at the Morning Gallery said “this painting depicts World War II” and then added under her breath “God forbid we have World War 3.” It was touching and sincere. The editor of the Soviet Woman magazine closed our visit with the same thoughts.
A soviet journalist and I talked I said to him “why censorship?” He responded “we print truth.” I said that there was no “truth” and he smiled agreed and rephrased it “Soviet truth.” So I posted it to him this way “if a Soviet citizen is present with the ‘Soviet truth’ and a lie would they be able to pick the truth? “Yes they would” he said. “Then why censorship” I asked. “I agree with you” he said under his breath.
We returned to the Palace of Congress’s inside the Kremlin for an evening performance of the Bolshoi ballet. We agreed to meet our Soviet friends at 9 p.m. after the performance. Outside after our friend was supposed to meet us in what was a ‘no stopping zone’ with his car. We waited for half an hour before he arrived driving around the block twice and getting pulled over by militiamen twice as well we waited.
He arrived, and we went to the hotel Sevastopol for me to get records and then to his friend’s apartment. The apartment struck me immediately as full of illegal things. Scantily clad women calendars were on a few walls and the living room was covered in posters of The Beatles, Deep Purple, Barry Manilow and he had tapes cassettes of ACDC, The Beatles, and disco. We when we arrived we were told his mother had fixed food. The living room was very small — with an incredible spread of breads meat and wine — 2 bottles — plus vodka. We spent the evening talking, drinking and having a great time. Great. These people were so nice so friendly. By 3 a.m. I was dancing with them and then outside as we waiting for taxi skipping down the street.
Questions: Does a Communist State really threaten our future safety see anything other than what they are trained to see will any students on this trip learn anything about the Soviet Union. the Russians Soviets know War they’ve lived through it they have rebuilt again rebuilt. They feel the threat of war in a way we don’t. Reagan isn’t joking they see us as a threat each day we see more incredible art more fantastic history and more people who plead with us no war.
