Lex Libertas

Unfortunately, I still have problems with my comments. If you have anything to add, please post in the comments section of my livejournal page. It’s the exact same entry, but I would love to hear any feedback or differing opinions.

There was an explosion, presumably a bomb, at a downtown McDonald’s in St. Petersburg. It’s on the South end of the main street, Nevsky Prospect, and about 300 yards from the hotel where I’m currently staying. It’s an extremely popular location, and I’ve been there numerous times over my 2.5 years in this city. So far the reports state that six people were injured, and nobody killed. While there is certainly damage to the interior, it’s doesn’t seem like a very big explosion. As such, I don’t think it was Chechens. They use much more sophisticated explosives. It was probably planted by some of the xenophobic skinheads who unfortunately populate the city.

One of the darker secrets of St. Petersburg is that about one foreigner is killed a month. Not rich Westerners, but usually Africans or Asians. They know this, and don’t usually go out alone, especially after nightfall. In addition to one being killed, several are usually beat up pretty badly per month. I met an African student once had a scar on his face from being beaten in broad daylight on Nevsky, right in the center of the most popular part of town. I’ve written about similar experiences before.

Though the skinheads don’t just limit themselves to beating dark-skinned foreigners. A little over a year ago they killed a young anti-fascist activist, again, right in the center of town. I don’t really know what to call them, because skinhead presumes that they all have shaved heads, which they don’t. Moreover, many young Russians have that haircut who are not extremists. I’d call them nationalists, but most Russians (like most Americans), would consider themselves “nationalists.” I suppose the best current political term would be “ultra-nationalists.”

I’ve had my own run-in with them several times. I lived in a rather rough area of town for a year and a half, and learned very quickly how to look like a Russian, complete with angry scowl. If I ever had any problems walking home at night, I was very far from the metro, and pretty much on my own. Once, however, a friend was visiting me and we were on the bus in my neck of the woods. We were speaking English, not yelling, but loud enough that everyone was aware. The guy in front of us turned around rather angrily and said “Are you Moldovan?!” It’s better that they think I’m Moldovan, so I responded “yeah, I’ve lived in Chisinau. So what?” He started to speak again, but our stop was approaching, so my friend and I headed towards the door. While standing near it, another guy grabbed my arm, and tried to pull me towards him as he also asked if I was Moldovan. I broke away and stepped out of the bus.

Russians have a love-hate relationship with the West, and when you see a drunk Russian, you never know which you’re going to get. I was once kissed on the cheek by a drunk middle-aged man in who I had just met and kept yelling out “America, friends!” Surprisingly, I’ve found that the older the person the more accepting they are of Americans. It’s the young drunks that I want least to find out.

In any case, whenever a foreigner gets beat or killed by ultra-nationalists, it’s always labeled by the police as “Hooliganism.” As if killing a Tajik child was somehow the equivalent of drunk soccer fans beating on each other. Likewise with this bombing, it was called “hooliganism.” Beyond the amateur explosives, Chechens have little to gain from targeting a distinctly Western target. Their fight is with the Russian Federation, not the West. Yes, they are linked into international jihadi movements, but they’re not about to advertise that on CNN. Instead, this target is a much better fit for groups who want to expel the foreign influence into Russia. Ironically, at any given point there are far more Russians in McDonald’s than foreigners. So these ultra-nationalists are really only targeting Russians. Though since these are obviously traitors, I’m sure that suits them just fine.

The windows are shattered, but still in place.

There were numerous uniformed personnel inside the building. The FSB is one of the successor organizations to the KGB, think of it as the Russian FBI. It’s name means “Federal Security Service.”

The city police are there as well.

Not exactly the most romantic way to pass time, but I unexpectedly spent Valentine’s Day on a train from Moscow to St. Petersburg. Last time I was here was Christmas, and a lot has changed in two months. One of the major buildings on Nevsky Avenue (the main drag) has been torn down. They were still preparing the scaffolding when I left. It takes forever to build things here, but they can tear things down in the blink of an eye. Also, a new cafe (Kofe House - big chain) has opened in what used to be a pretty worn down book store on Nevsky. As much as I dislike this particular chain of cafes, it’s a well-needed improvement.

One of the things that I most like about Europe and find lacking in America is cafes. It is completely normal in Europe to spend an hour and a half or more just sitting in a cafe drinking tea or coffee. I first learned about this in France when I was asked “Tu veux aller prendre un verre?” (Do you want to go get a glass?) Essentially this means, let’s go hang out and chat at a cafe, the glass can be anything from beer or wine to coffee or tea. In Russia, this is one of the many links to European culture, with the addition of juice as a very common cafe drink.

In America, we go to restaurants to eat, and usually do it as fast as possible. Even if we’re not particularly motivated, the staff wants to increase turnover, and sitting for an hour after you finished your meal is not the custom. In Europe, however, you can order a coffee and sit for as long as you want, nobody is going to bring you the check and rush you out. Though it’s worth pointing out that the coffee isn’t like the one you’ll get in Starbucks, it’s tiny, usually 150 ml - smaller than your fist. It’s quite funny to see grown men holding an itty-bitty cup filled with three sips of coffee. That’s one of the main reasons I order tea, you usually get at least 330 ml. Juice, at 200 ml, is also a pretty spartan choice, and it’s a feminie option, men don’t normally order it.

I love unique cafes with an interesting atmosphere. I absolutely hate the souless cookie-cutter cafe chain that dominate the market in Russia. In St. Petersburg there are numerous cafes, but only a handful that stand out. I haven’t explored the Moscow scene too much, but I’ve already found at least one that I like.

We all know that trailers are quite often better than the films they represent, but I never actually thought about the framing power that they have. Like real life, moments can be taken completely out of context to portray the film in myriad ways. Here are a few examples:

Marry Poppins (Horror)

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (Gay Drama)

Office Space (Thriller)

Lost in Translation (Thriller)

Thanks to Lex Communis for pointing me in this direction.

A couple of us went to the movies yesterday to see the new Russian horror movie, Dead Daughters. I had read the review in the Moscow Times which raved that it was a phenomenal film, and like a fool, I trusted them. I may not know the actual people who work at the Moscow Times, but I’m pretty sure I know the type. I have learned my lesson, yet again.

The movie is basically a rip-off of The Ring and various other horror movies in the Japanese vein that has dominated Hollywood horror for the past several years now. If flying planes is hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror, this film was two hours of boredom punctuated by moments of motion sickness.

I wanted to leave after the first five mintues simply because the screen was shaking so badly that I had a headache. I have notoriously shaky hands, I can’t hold them still, but even I could have done a better job with the camera. Attempting artsy, gritty, voyeuristic realism, the director instead made the movie tedious and painful. The vast bulk of the two hours are us watching bored people pass the time, often sitting on a couch or chair.

The ending, which is supposed to be the payoff, has everybody die in utterly meaningless ways. It’s as if they just shot the scene with whatever was lying around the set at the time. Was there any forethought? The true horror would be if this film gets picked up for an international release or remake.

On the way out, however, we walked right into a tiger cub, being taken on an outing in the mall. Literally, I walked out of the door of the theater and nearly stepped on the thing. By far the closest I have ever been to a tiger, I could have reached down and pet it. The owner was very nonchalant, and the cub was acting as if it had just woken up from a nap. While going down the escalator, it turned around and looked at me. Cute, but I wouldn’t want to be around when it was in a playful mood.

Really, why on earth was somebody taking a tiger cub on a stroll through a Russian mall? Anyone?