When I think of Russia, I think of dogs in spaceships, Disney’s “Anastasia” and Vladimir Putin.
Although that combination is seemingly funny, it’s also kind of sad.
I hopped on an airplane to St. Petersburg, this week.
Honestly, Russia is this huge mystical underbelly that most Americans don’t know a lot about.
I’m not sure if this is because of a lack of interest or because America and Russia are two entirely separate entities divided by endless seas and entirely different systems of government.
I think it’s a combination of these factors.
Upon arrival at the airport, I realized immigration mistakenly gave me a three-year visa, meaning I can return to Russia whenever I want.
So hey, who knows. Maybe the next time I’m writing a column I’ll be wearing a fur muffler and living with a mustached man who works in the vodka industry.
Now that I’ve been here for a few days, I’ve seen parts of this country that, frankly, I could live without seeing — AKA the public restrooms, but I digress.
Upon arriving, I quickly began to notice the uniform Russian face, fully equipped with a stern glare and a downturned smile that was sometimes accompanied by facial hair and/or a headscarf.
I guess Russia didn’t give me what I expected.
Gold grandeur and pompous palaces do exist here, but they certainly don’t overwhelm the city.
Instead, a harsh wind hypnotizes all of its citizens into a hurried walk or metro ride to their final destination, which is most likely behind the façades that this city so proudly boasts.
The great Russian bear whose sizeable paws threatened our country with the Red Scare and the Cold War resembles a cub in today’s St. Petersburg.
We don’t realize it, but Russians commit themselves to an accepted oppression.
Luckily, I had the chance to spend time with a few Russian students.
They were curious about American politics and explained they associated our way of life with “freedom.”
As curious as that might be, it is true in most respects.
We are — for all intents and purposes — free.
We can choose what we eat, where we go to school, what we do for a living and where we live in our country.
Russians with temporary residency on the other hand are subject to permit stamps in their passports, which allow them to live in a certain place and perform a certain job.
Living isn’t so easy either.
St. Petersburg is home to more than 100,000 communal flats known as “kommunalkas” which appeared after the Russian Revolution in 1917, according to expactica.com.
Essentially, each person or family owns one tiny room in a communal apartment.
The residents share a bathroom and kitchen with each other and are responsible for pooling money when the foundation starts falling apart.
These apartments are definitely not up to standard building code laws.
They’re dingy, dirty rooms that have single light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
Owners have their own color toilet paper, soap and even their own light bulbs to screw in the kitchen/bathroom so they know what belongs to whom.
Stingy, you might think, but this has been happening for almost a century.
The students expressed their desire to travel to America, but sadly it’s a pipe dream.
Many weren’t satisfied with their current government, but the act of rebellion is simply not convenient for them.
They’ll participate in a protest here and there, but the bottom line is that they have no reason to care.
They’re alive and well, and what can a small body of individuals do to stop a giant superpower?
To them, the answer is nothing.
jlkarl@indiana.edu
@jkarl26
