A Year in Moscow
I started studying Russian at 6th Form College (equivalent to the last 2 years of Japanese High school) and was fascinated with it from the start. I found the different alphabet intriguing and was excited by the idea that I would be able to visit a country long demonized in the West, and to speak with real Russians in their language. A kind Russian lady recorded herself pronouncing the alphabet for me, which gave me a good start and one of my teachers recognized my enthusiasm and gave me extra lessons. Russian became an obsession that lasted for nearly ten years.
My first visit was about a year and a half after starting to study the language. I went on a 2-week exchange visit, living with a family in Moscow. They were so kind and patient with my limited linguistic ability and also with my mistaken perceptions of what life was like in their country. I had been led to believe that Russians lived in relative hardship and was a little embarrassed when my host father refused to accept the bag of fresh fruit I had dragged over there with me! The wonderful time I spent with that family encouraged me to raise my level in the language and gave me the desire to return to Moscow in the future for a longer stay.
That chance came in the 3rd year of my degree course when I lived in Moscow for 9 months. That was back in ‘93/’94, when Boris Yeltsin had taken over from Mikhail Gorbachev as President. Communists and Nationalists were plotting rebellion to undo the undeniable damage caused by the early economic reforms aimed to create a free-market economy in Russia. Things boiled over about 2 months after our arrival and we woke up one morning to the sounds of nearby gunfire. Young, stupid and over-curious as we all were, we dressed quickly and headed out to see what was going on. We followed the trail of carnage left behind by the ultra-rightists and their Communist friends-in-arms. We reached the American Embassy in time to watch a Marine on an upper balcony keeping an uneasy eye on a large crowd chanting ‘Yankee - Go Home!’.
From there, we headed on down to the Parliament Building, which, funnily, is also known as the White House. Government troops had barricaded themselves inside the building and the Communist-Nationalist group were fighting their way in. Shortly after we arrived, the government troops fled the building and the ‘rebels’ had control. It was some time later that tanks arrived and started shelling, but we were long gone by then.
A curfew was imposed and we made our way back to the student hostel - some reported having to take cover from snipers behind parked cars.
All a far cry from this orderly and stable Japanese society - as much as I love it, I also sometimes miss the passion and chaos of that turbulent year in post-communist Moscow where everything seemed so visceral and real.
Post a Comment