By Colin Mccullough
Arizona Daily Wildcat
March 11, 1998

Culture Shock 101: Moscow in Winter

"Contract killings seem to be the way some Russians arrange a smooth business deal. In 1995, out of 560 such killings, 48 percent were business motivated." - Lonely Planet Guide to Russia, 1997.

MOSCOW - It was with these words on my mind that I boarded my flight, eventually destined for Moscow, my home for the next six months while I studied abroad. One could read the above quote and assume the worst, which I did at one point. But while in Russia, one must learn to look at the bright side of things. I often comfort myself by saying, "So long as I don't get involved in business, there's only a 52 percent chance that someone will hire a hitman on my behalf."

I didn't know much about Russia before my boots clomped through Red Square and I don't claim to know much more after only 30 days in one city. I do feel confident in saying that there is more to this country, this life and this culture than the stereotypes that are batted about regarding "the women, the weather and the fear." To maintain these beliefs would be as valid as a Russian believing that all people in America are wealthy, troubled teens with sideburns - as seen on "Beverly Hills, 90210." Which has, by the way, been dubbed in to Russian and somehow continues to be a hit even over here.

I've been shocked by the Russian marketplace. There seems to be a clash between two worlds with several major companies flourishing and several street corners being cluttered with the elderly trying to make enough money for one meal a day by hawking packs of cigarettes. The subway halls are lined with small booths and tables where one can find the most random collection of small items. It is not unheard of to see on display a bra, a Tamagochi, a Snickers bar, a 3-month-old issue of Cosmopolitan and a bootlegged version of a Willie Nelson CD all on the same 4 foot by 6 foot table. But, for those of you who think that Moscow is nothing but a collection of bread lines, take comfort in the fact that you can warm your tummies with a Big Mac or platter from T.G.I. Friday's and reward yourself for tolerating that day's weather.

This is the coldest place I've ever lived. Moscow recently won the title of "Coldest Metropolis in the World." But, I must give the Muscovites a lot of credit. They've taught me how to deal with it. Just as heat doesn't stop Arizona dead in its tracks and rain doesn't cause Seattle to cease activity, life goes on in Moscow. Every morning, you just layer up and, as you enter or exit a room, you shed accordingly. Simple enough. The tough part is, the layers of clothing, in conjunction with hats and scarves, make it impossible to recognize anyone or, for that matter, guess their gender.

When it comes to meeting people of the opposite sex, I can say this: Prostitutes are never in short supply over here and somehow or other they know where all ex-pats spend their time. I've caught myself in a dilemma talking to a woman at a club, being somewhat flattered by the fact that she seems interested in me, only to have my ego shattered like the Iron Curtain when she wants to tell me what her rates are.

The powers that be here don't have time to worry about small-time crimes like prostitution. The police force here has their own problems to deal with, mainly, putting food on their family's table, as salaries for officers are small if not nonexistent. I had hoped that stories I had heard regarding police arresting foreigners on trumped-up charges were false. And, while I've talked with some Russian police officers here and found they're no better or worse than any U.S. crime-fighter, there does seem to be an unspoken rule that cops can arrest foreigners and force them to pay a "fine" which will mostly likely line their wallets as soon as you're released. I learned this one night after witnessing a small theft. When being questioned by the police about what I saw, I noticed the questions, after I opened my mouth and revealed my harsh American accent, turned from what I saw to what I was doing here and whether or not I had my passport with me. I did my best David Copperfield impression (except without the scantily-clad women) and disappeared into a crowd. So, in that sense, it's hard to know who you can trust here. Apparently, the only dependable organization is the mafia.

I've had a few encounters with the mafia and must get one thing straight. One should not flatter themselves to think that the Russian mafia has time to deal with you, unless you are a diplomat or banker charging outrageous interest rates. One night I found myself being offered a bottle of vodka simply because I sat at a table that gave another table some napkins after they spilled a beer. I decided I had best accept when I heard them say again in English that they were in the mafia and were important people. So, the vision of Russian mafioso dusting off tourists near the Kremlin like ducks in a shooting gallery is nothing but a mirage.

Coincidentally, that's what my account balance will soon be. You see, computer access here must be paid for by the minute. So, for now, I must sign off. But, stay tuned for more observations.

And if you don't hear from me in two weeks, send someone for me. It probably means I've been kidnapped by the mafia.

Colin McCullough is a junior majoring in economics and Russian. He reminds you that your lose 80 percent of your body heat through your head.