22 November 2012 - Thankful for Trailblazers

Look for the white blaze that marks the trail

["Twilight on the Trail" - I prefer the version recorded by Perry Como]

So I am have now moved back to the United States and more blogs will follow on that experience.  But it's Thanksgiving, so I thought I'd take a quick moment to write about one of the many things I am thankful for this year while also covering one of the many things I love about my new state, New Jersey.

This is the first Thanksgiving I've been able to celebrate in four years due to my location in Germany.  I've been traveling so much that I haven't had a chance to really settle down or take more than the four days of vacation I'd eked out before I moved here.  So I decided to take the week off and hunker down in New Jersey and just rest.  Okay, and do some "retail therapy" with a friend who was visiting most of this week.

So in that vein, today I slept in a bit and then headed out to explore a bit of New Jersey.  I bought a book of day hikes for northeast New Jersey, so I randomly chose the hike for Monks Mountain which has some scenic overlooks on the Monksville Reservoir.  This is essentially adjacent to the Long Pond Ironworks Historic Site, which was created by a German immigrant, Peter Hasenclever, in the mid-1700s to take advantage of the power created by the Wanaque River and the availability of iron ore due to numerous mines in the area.  Hasenclever is said to have "imported" 500 European workers to work in the plant and to build the related infrastructure needed.  Apparently the iron works were used during the Civil War to make weapons for the Union army.  Unclear whether it also was used to make weapons or other things for the Revolutionary War as it was founded prior to 1776.

View of the reservoir and dam from the trail

What's more interesting to me, though, is what lies beneath the Monksville Reservoir.  In a word, "Monksville."  While some buildings were moved, the remainder were allowed to be flooded to make the reservoir possible.  I can't seem to find much information about this online, so I assume this isn't the same case of flooding of a town that we studied in law school and which I think took place somewhere in the 1940s or 1950s, but the pictures are kind of burned into my brain (alas, my law books are in storage in Chicago).  There is some mention than that at some point Jacques Cousteau examined the underwater town through the use of a submarine.  Further, in recent years, apparently the water level dropped far enough that some chimneys of the buildings became visible.  (See http://abandonedplaces.livejournal.com/1020767.html )

But back to Thanksgiving (other than being thankful that my hometown was not flooded to make room for a reservoir).  I parked at one of the boat launch parking lots and followed the Monks Mountain trail for a nice circle loop of just under three miles.  It was a good trail - generally narrow, some steep climbs, rocks to keep your eyes out for and mostly buried under a thick carpet of leaves so you couldn't see what was below and may require adjustment on your part - and full of twists and turns.  I was really glad that the trail was well marked with white blazes approximately every 30 feet or so, but also that my hiking guide suggested some additional things to see - like the outcropping where I had my lunch of cold roasted chicken (not quite turkey on Thanksgiving, but close enough for me).

Note white blaze and slight change in course required

And that's when I finally realized the literal meaning of a "trail blazer" - someone who not only has found the way, but has taken the time to mark it so that others can follow, too.  Others come by later to write trail guides to point out minor additional information that is helpful, but they are following in the paths of others.  And every once in a while there are big changes to the trail for conditions that could not be anticipated by either - such as a bunch of trees downed by Superstorm Sandy - that require the person on the path at any one point in time to determine the path s/he will take.

Maybe I'm a little slow, but I'd always thought of trailblazers as those who were just forging ahead alone on the path.  I didn't really consider what they were doing for all who followed.  Both on the trail and in the figurative sense for those who I consider trailblazers personally and professionally.  And it reminds me of my responsibility when following such trailblazers to keep sharing with others the changing conditions of the trails so that they can make the journey as well.

Happy Thanksgiving!

6 August 2012 - Chipmunk in my ear

["Christmas Song" by Alvin and the Chipmunks]

If you've been following this blog since the very beginning, you may recall the Frantic for Fran blog regarding voice mail in Germany.  I ended the blog essentially pining away for one of the Cisco IP phones that I know and love.  Well, I now have a Cisco IP phone in Moscow and I still have telecom issues (through no fault of Cisco, I believe).

Let me preface this posting with a cultural note.  In the US, we like our voice mail.  It's convenient for when we're on another line, away from the phone or (let's be honest here) don't want to talk to whoever's calling or think that the "Unknown" number is a telemarketer.  This leads to very good corporate voicemail systems that, for example:

• Allow you to send a voicemail to a colleague without having to call them directly (for example, if they're busy and you don't want to interrupt them or it's just easier to leave a voice mail than to type something out in an email that might be misinterpreted or, worse yet, forwarded)
• Forward messages received to other colleagues (which admittedly subverts one of the pluses of voicemail above, though there is the "private" option that prevents forwarding)
• Send messages to a group of people at one time (e.g. "Hey, everyone in my team, here's something you should know [and I know you don't read all your emails]")
• Respond back to a voice mail without having to call the person (this saves a lot of time and money, particularly when you're traveling or don't have a piece of paper to write down the person's number etc.)
• Send an e-mail to you when you have voice mail so you know when to dial in
• Allow you to call in from "local" dial-in numbers in multiple countries

This is the kind of goodness I'm used to.  We only had maybe one or two of those features in Germany.    And German voice mail is a rock star compared to Russia.

But the other part of the cultural note is the reality in Russia, which seems to be that you always pick up your phone when someone calls.  It doesn't matter if you're in a meeting, if you're on a different line or (as I have seen in action) are in the bathroom.  No need for voice mail.  Uhhh.....  To me this was shocking.  I've always been taught that if you take a call when you're with or talking to someone else, it signals that the person calling is more important than the one you're talking to (which is to say, it's rude).  You avoid being rude by saying in advance, "I'm expecting an important call from my [client, boss, wife, etc.) and will need to take that" or noting when that person calls that it's X and would you mind if you take the call quickly?  And it is for this very reason that the "Send all calls" button exists - so you can block out interruptions when you're on an important call or in a meeting.

Not so in Russia where there is neither a Send all Calls button or an ability to divert a call to your assistant.  In fact, it turns out that even when I was on a call, the inbound call would not go to voicemail.  Instead, it would be routed to my assistant.  If she didn't pick up, it went to the other administrative assistant.  If she didn't pick it up, it went back to assistant, and on and on until either someone picked up or the caller hung up. It never came back to me nor did it go to voice mail.  When I discovered this, I asked to please have all of my calls go to voice mail if I wasn't available.  I was met with a kind of stunned silence.  My assistant said she'd look into it.  It turns out this required direct intervention from IT to reprogram this for me.  Seriously?  But I now have voice mail, though when it plays the messages, it seems to do so in double-time, so it's kind of like listening to a chipmunk talking. Not so good.

So that pretty much covers the situation for incoming calls.  Outgoing calls is an entirely different matter.  If the number you're calling is a local Moscow landline with a 495 prefix, it's easy - just dial a 0 and enter the numbers after the 495 and you'll be connected.  It gets a bit complicated if it's a mobile phone, a "toll free" number or, heaven forbid, a number in a different country.

In those instances, you have to go to a menu on the Cisco phone.  First, you have to indicate whether it is a long distance call or whether it is an internal call to one of our selected offices globally that have VOIP (Voice over IP) calling.  The latter option is actually pretty cool.  You scroll down the list of countries (Germany is #1 - just sayin', though USA is at the very bottom at #23 but which is a jersey number of a certain former Chicago Bulls player, so I'm okay with that) and select the country of interest.  In most cases, you then just type in the last five digits of the phone number and you're put right through and it comes up locally with at least your last name rather than a long, off-putting (and perhaps intriguing) string of numbers beginning with 007 (+7 being the country code for Russia).  If you select the US, though, you then get to scroll through all the cities where we have offices.  Apparently, I am the only person who sees the beauty of this as apparently no one had raised the issue that the alphabetic listing of cities ended somewhere after Boston, thus neglecting such key cities as Chicago and, yeah, New York.  All pretty magical - and has to be much less expensive than dialing directly.  More on cost-of-calling in a moment.

If you're not calling an internal number, though, you must choose from a separate menu of three choices:  Chargeable, non-chargeable and private.  Now, at any given point in time, there are probably 10-12 projects open in my name that I may be working on.  I don't know all of the eight-digit engagement codes by heart, so I usually just choose non-chargeable (and also because, as many of you may know, I really don't like to talk on the phone, but prefer a quick e-mail).  And with very rare exceptions, I don't make personal phone calls from the office, particularly with the time difference to the US and lack of time to make any friends locally.    Even so, though, it is a hassle to just make a phone call.

The import of all of this came to haunt me sometime in April, though, when I got my first electronic phone bill through the firm.  For my land line, it lists every single call I've made and asks me to provide the related internal or client charge code.  Line by line.  Failure to do so results in everything being classified as "Private" and being deducted from my paltry salary.  Good incentive to "encourage" review, I have to admit.  But honestly, I have no idea who I called and many do not match up with appointments on my calendar.  Hmmm....  Difficult.  And very time-consuming.  It reinforced the beauty of using the VOIP options to other options, though, as they're "free" or at least not listed on the chart of my calls.

The same is required of my BlackBerry.  This gets more difficult because you also have to indicate the right code for incoming calls and who knows who has called me from which numbers?  And then there's a blanket charge for the data service and you can't really allocate that to anything in particular.  I know I'm not surfing the internet with the horrible BlackBerry browser, so it's a bunch of emails that could relate to anything on any given day.  But about a month ago, I learned how ridiculously expensive roaming is on my current plan.  In one month I had been in Stockholm, Budapest, Amsterdam, London and the US and my resulting phone bill was about RUB 100,000 or about $3,000.  Yikes!  I think that is more than I had even when I was in China for an entire month!  Half of that was data, but the other part was a bit ambiguous as usual.  I entered the calls that I thought made sense and submitted for reimbursement.  But it wasn't approved.  Not denied, just not approved.  And they took all of it out of my paltry payroll here (recall, I only get per diems here).  Ouch!  Still working on that.  Not at all pleased....

And don't even get me started about not having an instance conference call number to use.  The best we have is to set something up with only a Russian dial-in.  Not a big crowd-please for international calls....

5 August 2012 - The Reality of Relocating to Moscow (Part 3)

The kitchen (Lads sold separately)

You may breathe a sigh of relief -- this is the last of a three-part series on the sometimes boring and laborious details of what is really involved in relocating from Germany to Russia on short notice.

[And let me first note my anger at Blogger for making me re-write this as I already did so, saved and posted but to no avail!]

Prior to moving to Germany, I had three apartments in my lifetime -- my Glen Ellyn ghetto, the Wauwatosa wonder and of course Hazzard County (which was located in Kane County, to be clear).  The great thing about being a renter was that it was so easy.  I found a place, put a deposit down, paid my rent on time, renewed the lease each year, gave the proper notice prior to leaving, ensured the apartment was clean upon departure, and then collected the deposit (usually in total).  You can probably deduce from the mere point that I am noting this that this was not the same in German.  You would be correct in that deduction, Sherlock (or would that be Dr. Watson?).

Now, I had known in advance that three months notice is required prior to leaving and you have to pay for the apartment during that three month period unless the landlord is able to rent it out before the end of that three month period (assuming, of course, you vacate the premises before the end of said three month period).  That seems fair to me.  What I hadn't anticipated was that you couldn't actually do the "hand over" of the apartment when you actually vacated it.  And you have to do the handover in person.  This posed a potential problem as I was leaving German at the end of February (or early March, as it turned out) but the three month notice period ended at the end of April.  Fortunately, the relocation consultant provided by the firm (I'll call her Anike) would be able to do this in my place.  She was also the one handling all of the matters that follow as they required fluency in German.  No idea how I would have been able to do this without her assistance!

A quick note that is relevant to this discussion relates to my landlord.  As you may recall, my apartment was new construction and I think when I first moved in, I was actually paying rent to the developer because the entire property development had not yet been completed.  Sometime in the first year, it was transferred to the real estate arm of Commerzbank which then became the landlord/property manager.  Didn't really seem to matter other than in terms of changing who got the rent each month.  Well, actually, it turns out it does matter because no matter how much Mitt Romney claims that corporations are people, too, they have slightly different needs and demands than does a landlord who is just an individual.

Anyway, one of the complications of this handover thing from a timing perspective is that the landlord insisted that the final cleaning be performed not when I moved out, but just prior to the handover but after the painting and should also include window cleaning.  Ugh.  So I had to hope that my cleaning lady (who is very nice) would be available at some undetermined point near the end of April (or sooner, if the landlord found a new tenant) and would take payment in advance.  Which she did.  So all good.

Wait.  What painting?!  I didn't paint any walls while I was there, so what's there to do?  Oh, yeah....  There's some requirement that the apartment should be painted every 8-10 years or something.  So if you move out before that time, you have to get an estimate of the cost to repaint the entire unit, get that estimate approved by evil corporate landlord,  have the repainting done and pay a portion of the painting fee based on the amount of time I have occupied the apartment.  Ridiculous.  This ended up costing nearly EUR 900.

At some point during my tenancy, I had dropped my iron on the hardwood floor, resulting in a divot in the floor of no more than a centimeter at it's widest point.  Evil corporate landlord also demanded that this be repaired.  So Anike found a floor repair specialist, got a quote, arranged for him to do the repair, and I paid another EUR 135 for the privilege of having lived in the apartment.

As noted in the last moving post, I hadn't had much time to get rid of my power/voltage dependent items and this included my washer and dryer.  Anike noted that we could ask the real estate agent who was listing the apartment to offer this for sale to the new tenant, though of course this wouldn't be a guarantee.  I figured that might be a good idea, though the backup plan was to give the items to my amazing neighbors who were in the process of establishing a second residence in Hamburg and might need an extra set of appliances (though admittedly many Germans don't see the need for a dryer).  I had paid about EUR 900 for both and they had been used all of once or twice a week, so nearly new.

Anike then asked what I wanted to do about the kitchen and closet system.  Um, what do you mean?  She explained that the evil corporate landlord wouldn't buy the kitchen because, essentially, they didn't want to deal with the appliances or something breaking down and being responsible.  So I could either offer these for sale to the new renter or PAY TO HAVE THE KITCHEN DISASSEMBLED AND PUT ON THE STREET AS TRASH (which I'd have to do if the new renters didn't want to buy it)!  Excuse me?!  I paid about EUR 7,000 for this kitchen and it was still perfectly fine.  This just boggled my mind.

The same applied to the rather nice, custom-ordered closet system that was the topic of an early blog in Germany.  I think I paid about EUR 2,500.  Had I known that this would be an issue, I would have had the movers pack it up and move it to the US as I would love to have it as an off-season storage unit for clothes in the basement or garage or something.  Alas, I didn't know about this until the movers were actually gone.  Grrr....

The prospect of paying to have the kitchen and closet system disassembled became a real one as, just one week before the handover, there still wasn't a new tenant.  So I had to either get the stuff out and if I didn't, then the evil corporate landlord would arrange to have it done and would bill me for their efforts.  Fortunately, just in the nick of time they found a renter.  The renter agreed to buy the kitchen and the appliances for a total of EUR 1,500 but they didn't want the closet system, so I had to pay EUR 215 to have someone disassemble it, though fortunately I didn't have to pay for the cost of arranging for trash removal because the painter (!) saw it and said he'd like it.  Unbelievable.

Oh, and evil corporate landlord also hit me up for an additional EUR 560 for some Grundsteuer (tax) that I thought they should have brought up a long time ago, but clearly I will never understand real estate transactions in Germany.

Remind me again why I am paying for the "privilege" of paying to move to Russia on short notice and being ripped out of my nice life in Germany?  Let's just hope that some of these costs and losses can be deductible as moving costs!

31 July 2012 - The Reality of Relocation to Moscow (Part 2)

As noted previously, the process of moving to Russia was not exactly a smooth one, though some of the details may be boring, so I've split this into multiple postings.  Here is the second of those postings, focusing on the part of being ripped out of my life in Frankfurt with little or no notice as well as issues of timing.

The original plan was that I should officially be based in Moscow beginning 1 March so I made my moving plans based on that time frame.  This was not easy, since I was already in Moscow, so I couldn't do things you might normally do in a move, like culling through one's belongings so there is less to move.  There also, as far as I can tell, isn't a type of Salvation Army or Goodwill type of organization where you can donate household goods as well as clothing in Germany, which might have been my preferred option.  I had some good things that I didn't want to just throw out if someone could use them, particularly electric items that I wouldn't be able to use in the US.  For example, I gave away my office Nespresso machine to a deserving colleague and my awesome mobile Klimaanlage (mobile air conditioner) to my neighbors.  I didn't have time to deal with selling things on eBay and the shipping elements, so I ended up sending around a listing of items I had (e.g. printer, shredder, lamps, awesome Bosch hand mixer, amazing toaster that I bought from Barney, computer speakers with subwoofer and things like that) to colleagues at quite reduced price and got rid of most of those things that way.  I did end up packing the remaining Nespresso machine and a hair dryer to Russia since it's the same voltage here as in Germany.  Anyway, I scheduled the move for Monday, 27 February, with the idea that I would return Hudson and take care of final apartment details on the 28th, and then fly to Moscow on the 29th. Perfect.

My sea container

Of course, as you know the timing didn't quite work out that way due to the visa issue, but nevertheless the move date had been set for the 27th, so I had to work with that.  The movers were on time and actually loaded everything directly into the shipping container whereas in Chicago they used a moving truck and then loaded things into the container later.  They were very efficient (it's Germany, after all) and fast and perhaps a bit overzealous, packing up some things that were not meant to be packed, which resulted in, for example, me only showing up in Moscow with four pairs of shoes!

Who says moving isn't fun?!

The cats were alternatively freaked out and intrigued by the moving experience.  Banes generally loved the experience because there were a lot of people around to pet him and lots of things to play with -- empty packing tape rolls, plastic banding from the cartons, and boxes to jump into (it's a miracle HE wasn't packed) -- and the movers were very good natured with him.  Oxley, on the other hand, immediately went into hiding once he realized they weren't just there to visit.  All the commotion scared him and I found him huddled in the back of the darkest place he could probably find - inside an armoire.  I hated to break it to him that the armoire would also be packed up.  Eventually, though, he came out and started to supervise the process, by which time Banes was already too exhausted by the overstimulation to do so.

My cell for two nights

With an apartment devoid of any furnishings, I had to move to a hotel.  Because the Lads were still staying there (I had been able to pack a suitcase for them that the mover's didn't pack that contained their sleeping mats and toys), I wanted to stay close by so that I could see them and take care of the final wrap-up of the apartment.  Again, this was originally only going to be for a period of 1-2 days, but it didn't quite work out that way.  I selected a hotel that is just down the street from my place, really, and that my aunt and some other friends had stayed at and that was basic but fine.  Well, they must have been in the luxury rooms as I got what I can only graciously call a cell.  Very narrow room with just a single bed on the wall, tiny bathroom, tiny TV with only basic stations, poor lighting and most assuredly no WiFi.  (Actually,  it kind of reminded me of that place I had to stay in at the airport in Moscow in the dead of winter, except cleaner, warmer and without the door being wide open upon arrival!)  I stayed the first two nights before I had to leave for a business meeting and I didn't move or look back.  I will say, however, that it had a nice breakfast and friendly staff.

Le Meridien became my new home for the week or so after that.  It wasn't entirely convenient because I had to go to my apartment every morning, feed the cats, pick up Hudson and drive to the office, and then reverse the process in the evening.  Made for a long commute.  There is a tram that goes directly from Textorstrasse in front of my apartment (I should note that I was Mayor of that stop on FourSquare until just a few weeks ago) to another stop just about two blocks from the hotel, so that was rather convenient.  As an extra bonus, I could use the iPhone app to buy my tickets that way rather than having to pay at the little tram stop, so quite convenient.

There is a significant limitation in using the app, though, as I discovered on my next to last day in Frankfurt.  The cats had already been picked up and my task for the morning was to [sniff, sniff] return Hudson to the leasing company.  I checked the tram schedule on the app, bought my ticket and walked to the tram station, where there was a sign saying that there was a strike that day.  No tram.  And apparently no refund of what I'd already paid for the ticket.  Not pleased!!  So apparently both the tram and the subway were closed for the strike and I didn't see available taxis, so I ended up having to walk home, which was about a 40 minute walk, to get Hudson.  Fortunately, there was plenty of time to do so.

I had never returned a lease car before, so I was not familiar with the process.  Those of you who know me and have read the blog know that I have a "thing" for Hudson.  I know that it is weird.  I accept that.  But I love that car!  If there was any thing I could have done to have moved him to the US, I would have done so, but the A5 with diesel engine hasn't been approved in the US and thus can't be imported, among other reasons.

Do you feel the sense of violation?

Anyway, I thought it would be a relatively quick and straightforward process like returning a rental car.  They'd check the mileage (kilometerage?) do a walkaround to see if there was significant damage and things of that nature.  Um, no, it was a detailed inspection.  They poked and prodded him and put him up on the lift with his belly exposed.  I felt as violated as he looked.  And I felt really bad when I realized he had a little dent under his front cowling that I hadn't seen before.  What kind of an inattentive car mom am I if I missed that?!  I'm so sorry, Hudson....

After this traumatic experience, I wanted to just rush away to the tram a couple of blocks away to go back home.  Oh wait, what tram?  Curses.  The drop-off point was in the middle of nowhere with NO taxi stand potential and it was definitely not within walking distance to home.  The guys at the shop called a taxi but I ended up having to wait about 40 minutes before it showed up.  Not a great day.

And long as this blog entry is, it's not the end of this series of postings about the relocation experience.  In the third (and, I believe, final) blog in the series, I'll cover the hassles of returning an apartment to the landlord.  

29 July 2012 - Victory Day

Scene outside my apartment one night

["Hymn to Red October" from The Hunt for Red October soundtrack]

In my time here, I've expanded my admittedly limited knowledge of World War II from the Russian perspective.  Growing up during the Cold War era, I had a tendency to forget that the US and Russia were allies in that war.  And I had no idea of the suffering of the Russian people during that war and the deaths of so many civilians not only through bombing and violence but through starvation.  Just horrible.  I didn't, for example, understand just how long the siege on Leningrad lasted, the conditions it created, or the resiliency of the people within and outside the city.  Just amazing and sobering.

One of my former colleagues here is a big military enthusiast and participates in re-enactments of Russian battles.  I noted that while there are Civil War re-enactment groups in the US, I hadn't considered re-enactments of WW2 battles.  His response?  "Might be a bit difficult and expensive to recreate Normandy."  Fair point!  He gave me and a colleague a great personal tour through the Museum of the Great Patriotic War that was quite enlightening.

So I became a bit more intrigued as May 9 approached.  This is one of the most important of Russian holidays - perhaps THE most important.  It is Victory Day, marking the defeat of Germany in the Great Patriotic War (World War II).  At least in Moscow, it is celebrated with a huge military parade that goes through Red Square and with lots of fireworks in the evening.  The parade is such a big deal that the military begins practicing in early spring on various military fields.  As the day approaches, though, they do some dry runs here in Moscow in the night.  This involves blocking off a lot of streets.

Fortunately, the firm sent around an e-mail notifying us of the upcoming practice sessions.  Had this not been the case, I might have been a bit alarmed one night when I came home from work to find streets blocked of and what otherwise would have seemed like a military occupation of the street outside of my house.  Recall that I live on Tverskaya, a main drag street that ends at Red Square so this main drag becomes the entry for the parade.   Even knowing this, though, it's still a bit unsettling to not be able to sleep very well at night because there are tanks rumbling down the street outside your window.  I mean, this would've been the stuff of nightmares when I was a kid.

As fate in a global business world would have it, I had to head to Stockholm for a conference on the 9th, so I missed the actual parade and the fireworks.  I was extremely disappointed.  I also realized that there was going to be no way that I could get a taxi to the airport from my apartment because the streets would be blocked off.  But no worries, as the Metro would be running, so I'd just have to deal with hauling my luggage to the station, catch the Metro, and then connect to the Aeroexpress train to the airport at another station.  No big deal, right?

When I woke up that morning, the tanks and other military vehicles were already on Tverskaya, apparently getting into position or whatever.  See gratuitous video taken from my living room window to give you a sense of the scene.

But the real surprise awaited me when I tried to exit our building complex.  As I may have noted in previous posts, while my building is on Tverskaya, the doors to enter in a courtyard in the middle of the block.  This courtyard is accessible via two small pedestrian gates and a large archway through which cars enter the courtyard.  On this morning around 6:30 AM, the archway appeared to be blocked, which made sense as you can't have cars going out into the path of tanks.  But I was a bit surprised and then alarmed that the pedestrian gates were locked tight.  Uhhh....  So I went back to the archway to see if there was a place for pedestrians to exit there.  Nope.  Guarded by soldiers with big guns.  Uh....

Recall that I don't speak Russian, so I wasn't quite sure how to handle this.  Fortunately, though, some of my neighbors appeared to be having the same issue.  I watched as a few were initially had a relatively calm conversation with the soldiers, but it seemed to be escalating.  The soldiers would come and talk with the neighbors, then go out towards the street, perhaps to confer with a superior.  Then they'd come back, there'd be more discussions and the process repeated.  I finally asked a neighbor who looked like a young professional if he spoke English.  He did.  I asked whether the soldiers were saying that we were not allowed to leave for a specific period of time (for example, if there was something potentially dangerous outside that would be over soon) or if they were suggesting we couldn't leave until after the parade (probably 6-8 hours later).  He said it was the latter and, looking at my suitcase, asked if I had a flight.  I said I did and was just trying to get to the Metro, which apparently was the destination of him and the other neighbors.

As I was talking with this guy, I could see the soldiers kind of perking up, I assume at the speaking of English, but pretending not to listen or pay attention to what was going on.  We waited there as a group of angry sheep for a while longer as the conversations with the soldiers continued.  I finally said a bit loudly to the neighbor so the soldiers could hear as well, "I see you have an iPhone.  Would you be willing to look up the number of the US Embassy?  I could then call them and let them know that one of their citizens was being held against her will by the Russian military and perhaps they could help."  Whether coincidence or not, we were allowed to leave about a minute or two later.  I pretty much ran to the Metro to get out of there before they changed their mind.

Still wish I could have seen the parade and the fireworks, though.

11 July 2012 - Foraging for Food

My local grocery store

["Hungry like the wolf" by Duran Duran, of course]

Once I moved into my apartment here, and particularly since there were not many of the basics like spices or cooking oil, it was quite urgent to go out and find food.  How difficult could it be, right?

Well, quite difficult, as a matter of fact.  I live on Tverskaya Street, which has a lot of good, high-end shopping, but that doesn't tend to make storefronts reasonably priced for something like a grocery store that requires a lot of space.  I had seen one place about a block away that had plastic sheets in the window with pictures of fresh fruits and vegetables, so I thought that might be a good place to start.

Well, not really.  It was more like a mini-mart.  There were a few limited things and I did find some cooking oil, but I gave up on finding the things I would need for a real meal and bought a frozen pizza that, thank goodness, was German (Dr. Oetker's) and had preparation instructions in German as well as in Russian, thank goodness.  (The fact that my oven didn't really work as one would expect it to is beyond the scope of this story, but suffice it to say it was not a good pizza experience.)

I had heard that there was a gourmet market in a kind of department store called TSUM (I may be spelling it incorrectly, but you get the idea).  There was, but it was very tiny and ridiculously overpriced.  An expat colleague at the office mentioned that he had paid about $8 for three strips of bacon.  Good bacon, to be sure, but not quite that good.  Not being a bacon eater, I'm not sure how overpriced that is, but it seemed crazy.  That said, if I haven't mentioned it before, everything's crazy expensive here, so why should food be any different?

I finally asked my administrative assistant if she could do a search on the internet or something to see if there was a grocery store somewhere in my neighborhood.  She found one that was apparently in the basement of an underground (so I guess the lowest of all basement floors?) mall next to Red Square.  Okay....  It took me two visits of wandering around the malls to find the place, primarily as there were no directory signs that I could find that would help me figure this out.  The place ended up being nearly outside of the building and in a kind of dark and shady area, but in I went.  It approximated a more normal kind of grocery shopping experience, but again, on a very small scale.  I was able to buy some milk, pasta, spices, etc.

This was where I encountered the fruit and vegetable stand procedures.  Unlike in the US where you just put whatever you want into a bag and may need to somehow weigh and tag things, in Russia there is someone in the produce area assigned to do this for you.  I didn't realize this.  There was some immediate, um, "feedback," when I started picking up fruit.  Finally figured it out.  There are some things that are already pre-packaged into saran-wrapped styrofoam trays if you're in a hurry, but hard to gauge the quality of the items in the packaging.

What was odd at this particular produce area is that I couldn't find any onions.  None.  Hmmm....  This required me attempting to communicate with the produce lady, who already seemed disinclined to help me since I clearly didn't know the applicable produce rules.  But I tried all sorts of things, including acting like I was crying, to try to get through that I needed onions.  Nope.  No deal.  I ended up having to go to TSUM and paying something ridiculous like $5 for two small onions.  Seriously?

About a week after this, the same colleague who had purchased the overpriced bacon mentioned that there was an old school grocery store a few blocks up the street.  Hmmm....  So I checked it out.  That would be the place pictured in the photo above.  It is just gorgeous.  Crazy high ceilings, stained glasswork (like Tiffany rather than like a church) towards the top, gigantic chandeliers, a large oval area in the center for meats and cheeses (like produce, there isn't self-selection here - all custom-cut for your needs) and an odd little nook where they have alcohol and souvenirs, which I guess somehow are supposed to go together?  It's still a bit overpriced compared to the place without onions, but it's better than TSUM, has a pretty good selection, and it's only about a seven minute walk from home.

One side of the vodka aisle

There is, however, one really large supermarket.  American-style, I might say.  It's called Karusel (or something like that) and is connected to a rather nice mall called Metropolis.  It has a lot of personal care products that I recognize (although no Elmex toothpaste, I'm sad to say) as well as home cleaning products that I also recognized.  I was reminded that I was still in Moscow, though, when I came across a long aisle that was nothing but vodka on both sides (well, and one small section for energy drinks).  I guess this is perhaps like the equivalent of the Diet Coke aisle of the same length that we'd have in any US supermarket....  

9 July 2012 - At "Home"

Oxley and the beautiful floor

["Home" by Michael Buble - yes, again]

So I had seen selective photos of my new residence on the internet before I selected it (sight otherwise unseen), but photos and reality are, as always, not necessarily the same.  You can be assured that the doors that I featured in the prior post were not included in the photos - don't want to scare off people thinking they need that much padded cell security and all....

The apartment is a one-bedroom apartment and relatively spacious by European standards.  My favorite feature is the beautiful floors as shown in the photo (with modeling by Oxley).  Quite nice.  When I first moved in, there was a long (and quite hideous) runner in the foyer and hallway made out of some synthetic plastic-like fiber.  Not so nice.  But there was a nice, thick rug in the living room and another one in the bedroom.  Added quite a nice, warm touch to the place.

The bed is, unfortunately, not at all comfortable.  It is a platform type of bed, no box springs, and I still wake up most mornings with a sore back/body.  There is a flat sheet on the mattress rather than a fitted sheet, so most mornings I also wake up to the sight of the striped mattress peeking through at the edges where the sheet has pulled away.  There is one not-down-filled duvet available.  It is an oblong shape, so it can either fit across the bed, but not high enough to cover your feet and your shoulders (and I'm short!), or you can place it the other way, but then it wouldn't be wide enough to cover the entire width of the bed.  Not so nice, though I guess it's a good thing I don't have to share the bed with anyone!  Pillows are flat and uncomfortable, naturally.  Topping all of this is a groovy washed out looking crushed satin bedspread. Fabulous.

There is, surprisingly, a relatively large armoire/closet cabinet in the bedroom.  There's also an old-school TV that I haven't been able to figure out how to turn on either directly or through the remote.  And a desk that is small enough to be nearly suitable for a child with a rickety chair that would seem able to bear only the weight of said child.

Note positioning of shower head

The bathroom is a bit fascinating.  When I arrived, I was impressed by the thick comfy rugs on the floor as well as by the fact that the bathtub also included water jets for the Jacuzzi effect.  However, it is situated rather oddly, as I have tried to show in the photo.  It takes up about 75% of the end of the room, which required the use of a shower rod that goes from one end of the room to the other, but then leaves the back of the shower open without a shower curtain.  This wouldn't be an issue if the shower head were located at the front of the tub as one would expect.  Instead, the shower head is perched about 1/3 of the way down the tub and is on the back wall.   So you can either stand directly in front of the shower, giving you all of one foot or so of space and the shower curtain touching you on the back side (I HATE that!) or stand in the tiny 1/3 corner (also with shower curtain likely touching you) or stand in the 2/3 section with water spraying out the open end of the tub.  Classy.

One of the surprising things I discovered on my first morning is that, while this is a serviced apartment and can be rented by the day or by the month, there was only a bar of soap.  No shower gel, no shampoo, nothing.  I hadn't thought to bring anything from Frankfurt as I had assumed that the basis would be here.  So this required several forays out into shops in the area, in a not-so-clean/tidy state, to try and find some shower gel and shampoo (finally found something at Yves Rocher, where I had a chance of reading the French labels as there was no way I could figure out the Russian labels!).

The bathroom also hosts the washing machine.  As many who have lived in Europe will recognize, it also has a drying feature, though it really just kind of leaves clothes in a steaming pile rather than truly drying them.  So I've learned to use the drying rack I found in a closet and build in time for drying into my laundry routine.  But I have no idea what I would've done if there wasn't a washer in the unit, so I am pleased to have it.

The kitchen is relatively pleasant.  It is full of fine German appliances (Bosch and Miele) which immediately made me feel better.  Obviously, the addition of the Nespresso machine that I moved with me from Germany added immediate comfort and charm to the room.  Several deficiencies remain, however.  Recall that I would be living here for months on end and I do need to eat and I also like to cook.  A brief sampling of the issues:

• Knives that are more dull than I can begin to tell you.  I couldn't cut bread, let alone dice vegetables like tomatoes.  I couldn't figure out where to buy a knife sharpener for several weeks, which was problematic.  Smashed tomatoes, anyone?  (Hand shredding of tomatoes doesn't work well, either.)  I eventually found an affordable sharpener that gets you up to the level of sawing at vegetables.  Delightful.
• No spices or cooking oil.  I need to do a separate entry on foraging for food, but suffice to say that it is difficult to read spices in Russian and they generally don't have pictures on the packaging, so not as comparatively easy as many other food items.
• No measuring cups or spoons.
• No wooden spoon.
• No vegetable peeler.
• Just forget about there being a pizza cutter.

The other thing that I realized within a short time after arriving (again, this was in the middle of winter when it was ridiculously cold outside, even to a proud and properly winterized Midwestern farm grill) was that it was really hot in the apartment.  There was no central thermostat and there were no adjustable valves on the radiators that would allow me to staunch the flow of the wasted heat.  The only thing I could figure out to regulate the heat was to open the winters, which of course could only last for a few minutes before it was like being in the arctic.  And don't think I didn't ponder seeing whether the air conditioning units outside would function in the cold weather, being the creature-comfort-seeking American that I am.  It turns out that the window method is the method used.  The heat, going back to the good ol' days of the Soviet Union, are on for the entire building/area for a specified period of months.  No variation.  You will have much heat and you will enjoy it.  I guess better than the alternative of having no heat but it made for many nights of tossing and turning trying to figure out how to get a relatively stable temperature that was suitable to allow one to sleep for multiple hours.

After I had moved in, there were a few minor changes.  First, after the second day of servicing of the apartment, the rugs in the foyer, living room and bathroom were suddenly gone.  I found them rolled up in various closets and corners.  Hmmm....  Did the Lads do something while I was gone?  Not clear.  But the rug under the bed remained until sometime in May when, suddenly, it, too, was rolled up.  Very odd.

Additionally, while I never really use the phone, a couple of months into the experience, it was suddenly replaced with a newer looking phone.  Okay.  There was one point in time, though, when I had need of this phone (namely, that I had become separated from my BlackBerry for reasons we needn't go into here) as I needed to dial into a conference call.  No problem - there was a local dial-in number.  Except I couldn't dial in on this new phone because it is a PULSE DIALING PHONE!  Not joking.  I could dial the number, but then couldn't enter the pass code.  Seriously?!  Do they even make these anymore?  I kept looking around the base of the phone and the handset looking for a small switch that would move it from pulse to touch tone dialing, but no luck.  So instead I had to use Skype on my iPhone (there is WiFi in the apartment, I should note, but it doesn't really work in the kitchen) to dial into this call.  Not pleased....

Oh.  And the apartment came with one pair of slippers and a shoe care kit.  But, several months later, the slippers have yet to be replaced.  Lucky for me, I tend to visit hotels and have brought back some backups.

8 July 2012 - Approaching "Home"

["Home" by Michael Buble]

There did eventually come a time when, much to my chagrin, I had to move out of the Swissotel and start living on my own without all the careful tending and nurturing of their wonderful Executive Lounge staff.  The firm had arranged for a furnished, serviced apartment for the remainder of my stay here.   They provided links to three places on the Internet from which I could choose.  Two of them had dingy kitchens with a tiny eat-in mini-table whereas the third had something that looked like a real kitchen and a table that might seat four.  The third one also was a tad shorter in terms of commute to the office.  None were available for viewing as people were inhabiting them at the time, so I selected the third place, sight unseen.

The day that I truly moved to Moscow started off not very well.  I was flying on Aeroflot, not Lufthansa, so that will give you a taste of my feelings and discomfort.  And Aeroflot is out of Terminal 2, which I think I had only experienced once in my entire time living in Germany.  It's where, well, the "lesser" airlines travel.  You know, like Delta.  :-)

Anyway, I discovered that it is relatively quick to get through passport control etc. and I was ensconced in the rather odd lounge that was accessible with my Priority Plus card - a lounge that appeared to be primarily for Korean Air (but honestly I would have expected something more posh from them) and anyone else who had the misfortunate of flying out of Terminal 2.  (Which is to say, there wasn't even cheap sparkling wine available and pre-packaged types of food - though admittedly this was before I had experienced the truly ghetto lounge experience of the Amber Lounge at Sheremetyevo Airport (SVO for those trying to avoid that airport.))   Oddly, though, while you clear passport control, you don't clear security until you're at a set of gates.  But as I walked to the lounge, the lines seemed pretty short, so no big deal.

Around 10 minutes prior to boarding, I made my way back to the security line for my gate area.  The line, while not long, took FOREVER.  First, they were letting people go ahead of us who were late for a British Airways flight.  Then, in the midst of that, they closed one of the security lanes because it was apparently break time.  Nice....  More people into our line.  I was actually cutting it quite short on time when I finally made it through and headed to the gate.  The monitor in the lounge had said that I'd be flight out of gate 21 and there weren't overhead monitors directly overhead when departing security, so I was peering into the gate 21 area, but not seeing many people.  As I turned to walk out, I was stopped by a security team which said they needed to block off my gate area for security purposes and that I would not be allowed to leave.  "Um, but my flight isn't leaving out of this gate it seems and I need to find it."  Sorry.

I was NOT pleased.  Nor was I at a place where I could figure out which gate my flight was actually leaving from and how far away it might be, but it clearly wouldn't be from gate 21.  As we were sitting there and departure time was getting closer, I had to admit I was getting a bit frantic.  I called my assistant, Sanja, to see if she could check and see if there was information online about the departure gate.  Nope.  And it occurred to me that, since the flight had been booked by our Russian firm, that I had NO IDEA who I should call to rebook if I missed the flight and how this would all work out, particularly since this was a holiday in Russia.  As I was starting to freak out (a bit more) about not being able to leave on my final departure date (ironic, no?), I saw out on the tarmac an aircraft with the Aeroflot colors and people boarding it.  Ruh roh!  And behold there was more freaking out.

Then security came around and asked us to all please move behind the wall on the other side "for our own safety."  I'm thinking, "What, you actually found a bomb and it might go off?!"  But of course you can't voice such concerns in an airport these days.  But we dutifully went around the corner and into theoretical safety.  About 10 minutes later they FINALLY let us go.  I rushed out and it turns out that the gate for Aeroflot was next door, separated only by an impermeable glass wall.  Doh!  So I ran in, thinking it was already gone.  "Frau Priser?"  Yep.  Miraculously, there was another bus, which left with two of us on it who had been stuck in the secured area.  Suffice it to say, though, this was not what I had in mind for a nice, leisurely, controlled move to Russia.  Then again, "nice, leisurely and controlled" are not words that I suppose one frequently associates with Russia - okay, perhaps "controlled" in a different manner, but you know what I mean....

The rest of the trip was quite uneventful.  All of my six bags arrived, I was able to fit them on one luggage cart and (shocking to me) the piled-high cart did not cause the customs guys to pull me over as I had assumed was a no-brainer with that much stuff.  So I cruised through, the driver was waiting, all my bags fit into his small-seeming car and we were off.

The driver had the address and seemed to know where we were going.  Since I hadn't seen the place other than in pictures, I had no idea of what it looked like on the outside, only that it was about two blocks from Red Square.   We pulled up into some kind of courtyard and the driver spoke with some kind of security person who finally let us into a sort of courtyard which, well - how do I put this nicely - seemed very ghetto as we searched for the entrance/door to my apartment. See photo at left.

Home?  Seriously?

I kept thinking, "This is a corporate apartment.  Surely this isn't right...."  But the driver insisted it was.  The person from the corporate apartment company was supposed to meet us at the building, but there was no one in sight, which made me keep believing that something was horribly wrong and we were not in the right place.  I begged the driver to please stay with me, rather than leaving me and my six suitcases in the middle of this ghetto.  He did, thank goodness.  And the woman from the corporate apartment company showed up.  And opened the door pictured to the right.  And yes, that IS real simulated woodgrain vinyl.  

I didn't cry at this point in time.  That urge hit me as we entered the building and I was assaulted by the scent of what I can charitably describe as that of the subway.  You know what I mean....  Quite unpleasant.    Repeat, "This is a corporate apartment.  Surely this isn't right...."

What I learned later is that when the soviet times ended, people ended up owning their own apartments, but no one owned the common areas.  So no one cared. This tradition appears to continue.  I really don't understand it.  I mean, when your guests come, do you want them to smell subway in your building?  Seriously?  Do you want them to see the grimy stairs, the afghan that serves as a rug at the bottom of the entry well, the graffiti in the elevator that is only large enough for may be two people (assuming you are not freaked out enough by it to decline to enter, that is)?

So we schlepped my bags into the rickety elevator and onto my floor.  And any way you go, you will have to transport yourself and your stuff either up or down one flight of stairs to get from the elevator to the entrance of your fine dwelling.  The door to my unit turned out to be, well, padded with vinyl.  Brown vinyl on the outside, off-white (or dirty white?) on the interior.  With two sets of locks, a strange knob in the middle of the door.  It was unclear whether I was being committed with the padded aspect and the very, um, secure feel of it all.  But nevertheless, there I was.  In my new "home" at last.....

22 April 2012 - It wasn't meant to be a pilgrimage

Security check at the cathedral

There is a booklet in my apartment called, "Moscow Far and Wide:  Guide of 50 To Tours of Capital."  It showed up a little over a week ago and I assume was deposited by the people who clean/service the apartment (which, yes, I really do need to do a separate post about).  Anyway, it appears to be meant for travel organizers who want some ideas of where they can take people, rather than a detailed guide, but it nevertheless has some maps and how long they are, so I have started to just go out and follow them and see what I come across.  What I stumbled across today, though, was most assuredly not covered in the guide.  Well, not exactly.

I set out this morning to do the Kremlin Outskirts route that was estimated at 4.5 kilometers with an estimated walk/tour time of 3.5 hours.  Based on my previous tours with the book, the time is usually longer than what is needed, which I suppose assumes that the tour guides themselves would be adding commentary along the way that would take up more time than me just walking the path.  It was scheduled (for those who know Moscow) to start at the Smolenskaya Metro station and end at the Park Kultury station.  Now, the booklet is just a hair too large to fit into my small purse and I don't like looking like a total tourist carrying around a tour guide, so my solution is to take photos of the pages in the book (one half of the page is in Russian, the other is in English, so it's not that much content) with my iPhone, and then follow the map and read the related descriptions on my iPhone as I wander along, while also taking additional pictures of what I'm seeing with said iPhone.

Well, perhaps I should have taken a closer look at the quality of my pictures before I set out today.  Because what became apparently near the end was that the end of the path kind of bled into the margin and I hadn't opened the book far enough to get the whole thing when I took the picture.  So while I see to have seen all the items on the tour (except a chameleon in front of a modern office/apartment complex -- which I'm pretty I sure I saw except this feature -- that changes color with the temperature, maybe like those cool little weather owls we had back in the 70s)  it wasn't abundantly clear how I was supposed to get to the Metro to get home.  Hmmm....  But around this time, I saw the Peter the Great statue in the middle of the river that I had been meaning to check out, so I started walking along the building side of the embankment to try to get closer.  

On the other side of the road were metal barriers with police or military spaced regularly behind them.  It seemed like pedestrians were allowed behind the barriers, but I couldn't figure out how/where I could cross the street and get through the barriers.  So I just kept walking.  After my wandering, I was a bit tired and not walking all that quickly and I noticed that many of the people passing me were women with scarves covering their heads and dressed in their best.  Something about it made me think maybe there was some kind of religious thing going on, but I didn't think much more about it, until I saw a priest walk by.  And the others started speeding up.  Then I saw on the bridge across the river a whole bunch of people carrying flags or something moving across the bridge to an area that appeared to be ahead of us.  Hmmm....  I quickened my pace to see what was going on.

Priestly types and banners/symbols out on the street

Well, it turns out that Christ the Savior Cathedral (yes, the same one I mentioned last week regarding the big Easter celebration) was directly ahead and clearly everyone was headed there.  As I got closer (we were approaching from the back side of the cathedral it seemed), there were several magnetometers and lots of police.   It wasn't clear to me whether just anyone could go in or if you had to be part of an official procession or something going in, and I figured I would be turned away if I started asking in English what was going on, not to mention that all I had to put over my head was a black pashmina.  And honestly, I didn't want to attend a service of some sort of service that clearly was special to the Russian church members and be an intrusion.  So I hung out near the entrance and started watching people coming up.

It was fascinating.  There were a lot of people showing up with all sorts of beautiful banners that looked like they would be used in the services of churches.  But it was strange to see people getting out of cars with these.  Other people were carrying religious paintings and symbols.  And there were a whole bunch of priests in full priestly garments walking up the street to the entrance.  So I snapped a few pictures which you'll see here.  Overall, just fascinating.

When I got home, I tried to figure out what was happening.  It seems that this was not related to Easter, but was a kind of gathering to defend the religion and the artifacts of the religion that have been stolen and vandalized in recent months.   Regardless of one's religious persuasions, it saddens me to think of people harming things that are so special to others that are likely quite old and certainly aren't hurting anyone else.

I'm including a video link below that tells a bit more about the service, which apparently was HUGE when you look at all the crowds.   Accompanying text and photos also can be found at http://rt.com/news/russians-church-defense-service-668/

I also learned that Pussy Riot (a group of female musicians that have been staging impromptu and unauthorized concerts, generally related to politics) had done one of these things IN the cathedral back in February.  I have to admit, I'm not a fan of them doing it in that particular venue, though I do appreciate what they did in Red Square, which I suppose may be just as special to others.  While I like the energy of the girls, I admit that I am a bit offended that they would do such a stunt in such a sacred place.  Though I guess that Red Square is perhaps somewhat "sacred" in a political sense and I have no issues with them staging a concert there to protest the political regime.  I will nevertheless continue to follow what they are doing.

22 April 2012 - Springtime freshening up

Painted railing. Note drips on the bottom and overspray.

In the last week or so as it seems that winter has ended and spring finally arrived, I've noticed two interesting things that seem to be part of springtime freshening up around the city.

The first is painting.  Over the last week, I have noticed a strange (and unpleasant) scent that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  Then I nearly almost literally put my finger on it.  All over the city, metal and some concrete are being repainted.  I noticed this around my apartment/block when the big gates into the inner courtyard were nearly dripping with a fresh coat of black paint.  Some of the lines on the driveway were also repainted, though apparently immediately driven over.  The playground area metal was also repainted, in addition to the lower 5-7 feet of the buildings that are concrete but have a brown kind of stripe.   I noticed this near the office, too, where the railing next to the canal was rather wet-looking one day.

Freshly painted curbs & metalwork near home

I find this interesting for a few reasons.  First, there doesn't seem to be a problem with the old paint, other than that it is covered with a layer of filth.  Second, this results in a loss of clarity of (particularly in some metalwork) in the details and ornamentation with each subsequent slathering of paint.  And third, the manner in which the paint is applied is generally rather sloppy, in terms of making sure the paint isn't spilled onto concrete or surrounding rocks or other materials.

Powerwashing in action.  And what a difference!

The second area is powerwashing.  I saw this near my apartment starting last week and thought that it was just to clean off a sidewalk.  But I think it's more than that, as I have now seen a lot of water in the gutters and on the sidewalks and streets due apparently to powerwashing.  This includes not only cleaning of sidewalks, but also of the pastel-colored buildings and the difference is really quite striking.

Overall interesting and thought I'd share.

22 April 2012 - The Cloakroom

I haven't generally given much thought to closets at work for, well, perhaps ever.  In the offices that I have worked in in the US, we generally had coat hooks or a small closet in the cubes or behind the doors of offices, so I didn't have to think about it.  I also had a coat hook in my office in Frankfurt.  Of course, when you were visiting someplace in any of these locations, there was always a coat room by reception, so that was nothing new.  But the situation is slightly different both in our office here in Moscow as well as in Kiev.  This may or may not be driven by necessity due to our use of open workspaces for most employees.

Now, having a coat closet or cloakroom is in and of itself nothing incredibly interesting, I will admit.  But what is kept in this space and how the space is used is perhaps a different matter.

The coatroom during the day

Our office area is designed with the offices arranged around the outside and then in the center section there is a swath of enclosed spaces, including two small conferences rooms, the room with the copier, a long galley kitchen area (yes, where the fruit man delivers the busy season fruit!), and the strange cloakroom/bathroom area.  Picture a narrow corridor accessible from the hallways on both ends with coatracks on one side and doors to the restrooms on the other side.  It is rather dimly lit, tends to be a bit stuffy and doesn't always smell very pleasant.  It is also very narrow - two adults cannot pass by without turning to their sides to scoot by.  Not a place that I suspect claustrophobic individuals would fancy.  Normally this shouldn't be an issue as it's not as if there should be a huge bathroom rush and coat rush at the same time.  But there are two other considerations in our office.

First, because the majority of our people work in open spaces, there aren't many places to make a private call.  There are notes posted that personal calls should be taken in the huddle rooms, but those are always full.  So you find people making calls in stairwells and, yes, in this dimly light narrow corridor.  I can imagine few worse places to make a call due to (recap) not-so-pleasant smelling, sounds of bathrooms in the distance, in the midst of traffic when someone else enters this area and it's dimness.

The coatroom at night

Second, we must address the issue of snow and shoes.  I have said a few times, while watching Russian women teetering on ridiculously high heels but nevertheless moving forward rapidly, that I could not cut it as a Russian woman - I just don't have the high heel gene.  Or, perhaps the case is that I don't have a gene that would ensure that I do not cause permanent damage to my ankles when one of those stilts gets caught between the cobblestones and I take a massive tumble.

Nevertheless, women are wearing high heeled shoes and boots even in the snow as well as some Uggs and other footwear designed for the extreme cold, snow or both.  So when the ladies get to the office, they exchange the boots for their office shoes.  The cloakroom is where this change takes place and this tends to take a bit more space than hanging up coats, so it can get a bit congested.  The wet boots also no doubt lend to the, um, scent of the room.  This also leads to the interesting contrast of the cloakroom during the day and at night.  During the day, it is just packed with boots and big coats.  During the night it is empty except for all the office shoes waiting to be claimed the next morning.  I find it all fascinating.

One other interesting thing in the cloakroom and in society in general is the sheer number of fur coats and fur trim.   My perspective on this is colored, as always, by my experience in the US.  Chicago knows cold weather for a couple days, but I always laughed at women on the commuter rail who showed up with their big mink coats as soon as the hint of chill hit.  Totally a status symbol - "Look at me, I've got a fur coat and I'm wearing it just to go to the office, from which you should assume that I have even better ones for evening wear."  I wanted to just say, "Oh, and P.S., you know that it adds more weight than the camera and it looks really ridiculous with your running shoes that you're wearing to the office, right?" (A friend of mine has a habit of making animal sounds when women walk by in fur coats, which I have to admit I find funny in a juvenile way.)  Aside from these ladies, though, I mostly saw furs worn to evening events where the mink went really well with black tie formality.

What seems different here is that nearly everyone seems to have a fur, not just those at the executive levels.  And there are so many different types of furs, both in style and in the actual fur.  Many of the furs are light or medium brown, reddish or gray.  Very few minks.  There are also some furs that have some type of pattern burned into them in some way, which was also a first for me.  And add to this that most of the fur trim on other coats is real fur rather than the faux fur I'm used to seeing in the US.  All in all, it has changed my perspective on fur as it really makes sense here with the extreme cold and isn't such a big "haves v. have nots" thing.  I'm still not planning on buying one of them as I am usually too hot even in my cashmere coat and especially in the big down coat I got for here.  I admit, though, that I have given serious consideration to a fur hat I've seen some women wearing that basically covers the head in what appear to be white or gray fur with some longer, darker fur sticking out that is just fascinating - hard to tell whether it's someone with crazy highlights or something else.  Maybe they will be on sale now that winter seems to be over....

19 April 2012 - Snow Removal

Now that it has been over a week since we have received snow, I fear (yes, fear) that winter may be behind us and spring on the way.  So there’s no time like the present to discuss snow removal in Russia (or at least parts of Moscow) before I forget it entirely.

What should be stated at the outset is that Moscow knows snow and is prepared to address its arrival and removal at a moment’s notice.  I contrast this with Chicago where we had a fair amount of experience with snow, yet there always seems to be a lag between when it starts to snow and when the snowplows are out and when sidewalks are shoveled.  My experience at home and here at the office are that the snow removal crews actually seem to be out before I have even realized it has started to snow.  Quite amazing.  

Let me start first with home.  In the rather ghetto courtyard in the middle of our block that leads to my apartment, there are a variety of haphazardly parked vehicles but a general one-way thoroughfare.  When snowflakes begin to fall, this area seems to be immediately swarmed by a group of people armed in brightly colored vests (like the vests you must wear in Germany when your car is disabled (clearly not an Audi, which would not be so humbled) so you’re visible and not popped by passing motorists) with brooms and, sometimes, shovels.  The snow is removed before it has a chance to be trod upon and become slick.  There also appear to be chemicals or other compounds applied to the ground so that even after a large snow, the sidewalks appear dry.  Given the harsh weather that I have experienced, I don’t think this is simply the application of salt as it would be too cold for that, not to mention that there is no salty white residue left behind.  

These same types of bright vest-wearing crews are also out on the public sidewalks, albeit in slightly less density of numbers as compared to my home ghetto, which I guess means it’s not a ghetto after all (I have been meaning to do a posting on my neighborhood for a while and it will come out soon, promise!).  Generally, the public sidewalks are still in quite good condition.  However, due to the use of snow sweepers (more on that later) on the sidewalks, sometimes there is a thin film of residual snow which at times freezes over night and becomes ridiculously slippery.  The surface ends up having roughly the surface of, say, crepe soles on those hideous shoes from the late 70s/early 80s (yes, dating myself here, and I do realize crepe soles are still used in limited instances, but which also generally involve ugly shoes).  You might think that would then provide some sort of traction, but you’d unfortunately be wrong – it instead creates a type of slick surface that, when one falls, creates the most unusual bruising pattern.  Not that I’m speaking from experience, of course…. 

Snow removal at the office is a bit more complicated and fascinating.  Our offices are part of a complex of four buildings around a courtyard parking area.  The surface is, like much of Europe, covered in small paving stones that are hell on your heels (though if you’re sporting crepe soles, I’m sure it’s fine…).  This could also create some issues when the blade of a snowplow is involved since, of course, the stones aren’t all the same height.  So the plow would either have to be set high enough that it wouldn’t grab all the snow, or low enough that it would pluck up some of the stones.  Hmmm….  The answer (and likely for other reasons as well that are not unknown to a Midwestern girl who’s only used to seeing sub-zero (Fahrenheit!) temperatures a few days a year) is to use snow sweepers.

There is a little CAT type of vehicle that apparently has interchangeable heads, or perhaps there are multiple vehicles, though that wouldn’t seem likely given the cost involved and space available.  But in phase one of the snow removal, the CAT with a snow brush attached goes up and down each aisle in the parking area, creating a little line of snow down the middle of the aisle.  In phase two, the CAT returns with a bucket loader attached and scoops up this line of snow.  (Yes, I understand the potential double meaning of “line of snow,” but that’s the best way I can describe it and I can assure you this is an entirely different type of snow, otherwise Russia would have a quite different basis for its economic growth!)  

The scooped up snow is then loaded into the back of a truck/wagon and carted off.  I understand, but have not seen this for myself, that there are various snow-melting facilities throughout the city.  I wonder if perhaps this is similar to the machine I once saw at O’Hare International Airport during some heavy snows.  In that instance, viewed from the Admiral’s Club above the point where the H and K gates of Terminal 3 converge (Chicagoans know what I’m talking about here), a large vehicle about the length of a tractor and trailer pulled down into the area directly beneath me.  Next to it was a gigantic pile of snow, which I assume had been cleared from the gate areas and couldn’t be pushed out into the runway areas, so it was kind of stuck there, with baggage carts and other ground crew and vehicles cruising around it.  The vehicle was carefully positioned and I could see through the open top of it that there appeared to be some kinds of metal spikes or poles sticking up in the bed of the vehicle.  Odd.  Then a certain CAT type of vehicle approached with bucket loader attached and started transferring the snow from the pile into this open bed.  I assume that the spikes/poles were heating elements of some sort because as soon as the snow was dumped in a huge cloud of steam rose out of it that the entire area in front of me was just whited out.  It cleared a bit after enough snow had been dumped in, and I could see that water was gushing out of the bottom of the truck directly into a drainage grate over which the truck had been positioned.  Fascinating.  So I’m think there’s some industrial version of this type of melting machine located at various points in Moscow to keep all the snow under control.

Anyway, the snow removal efforts here by the office have provided many moments of entertainment during long conference calls and the like.  I will miss it!