Really Dirty Money

I haven't posted in an embarrassingly long time. While I would like to write something light and positive, I have to get this off my chest.

It's often hard for me to articulate to friends and family abroad some of the everyday challenges of living in Russia. Because I've been here long enough to grow accustomed to life a la Rus, many things that a few years ago may have surprised me, now simply seem normal. My threshold for stressful events has risen to a level that allows me to navigate life here without cracking too often. Only now in moments of real awareness am I able to clearly pinpoint those events that build up to cause living-in-Russia stress.

Take for example the exchange that took place in the checkout line of the grocery store yesterday. The cashier informed me that my purchase total was 649 Rub and 10 kopecks. I dutifully placed my 1000 Ruble note on the change dish, and waited for the cashier's inevitable request for small change. She looked at my 1000 Rubles and growled for me look for 10 kopecks (less than 1/2 of one cent). Even though I knew I didn't have any change, I replied by dutifully searching my wallet and apologetically told her that I don't have 10 kopecks, causing her to give me the Stare down (or more accurately, the Glare down) followed by an angry silence. After a moment, she banged around in her drawer and grudgingly handed me 351 Rubles change. Ah, but the 1 Ruble coin wasn't your average Ruble coin. It was a disgusting, filth-encrusted Ruble like none I had ever seen before. I paused with the nasty coin in the palm of my hand alternating between staring at the horrid Ruble and the cashier. I knew in an instant that she chose the most disgusting coin to send me a clear message about her displeasure at my lack of kopecks. And she knew that I knew. I considered for a moment -- do I slam down the coin and tell her to give me a different Ruble, or do I walk away irritated and disgusted at the thing that I just touched? I finally decided that it was easier to walk away. Such are the everyday interactions here that can break you down if you don't learn to ignore them. But then sometimes, there are moments too precious not to share with others.

Ivan made me throw away the toxic coin, but before doing so, I decided to take this photo to share with you. Just be happy you didn't have to touch it.

On buying real estate

After a serious adrenaline rush and a lot of action, we bought a new apartment today. We had been looking for some time, and while we tried to make up our minds about how serious we were about buying, the real estate prices in St. Petersburg doubled. So much for good timing.

Nonetheless we found a place that we are very excited about. Even better, it's now almost paid in full.

You may ask 'why adrenaline?'. Simply put, Russians still use cash -- even for real estate purchases. This means that you can't let people know when you are planning to buy a place, because it means that you may well be carrying hundreds of thousands of dollars -- either on you, or locked in your safe at home (Russia's 21st century version of under the mattress). Needless to say, there are plenty of willing thieves out there. You have to assume people will come after you if you give off even the slightest hint that you're ready to buy.

Without going into too much detail, we mustered up 80% of the cost of our new apartment in cash. Dollars and Rubles. On Sunday, we drove to a designated meeting place where he picked up a plastic bag filled with $150,000 in 100 dollar bills. We were both armed (me just with pepper spray), and I behind the wheel. It was like a scene from a movie. Vanya got out of the car and casually strolled to the pick up point. I stayed in the car with the engine running -- keeping my eye out for suspicious looking people. Thank goodness that suspicious white car parked nearby drove off without me having to use my spray. I breathed a sigh of relief when Vanya emerged from the apartment building carrying a plastic bag. He got into the car and told me to wait until another suspicious-looking guy walked away. I put on my sunglasses and scanned the environment for potential traps, feeling like I was playing a role in a gangster movie. We decided that the coast was clear, and I carefully pulled out of the apartment complex driving. Vanya kept a look out for cars tailing us, and dangerous looking drivers who might try to side swipe our car. My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, and my heart pounded drowning out all other sounds. We made it home, walked calmly into our apartment building with our bag, up the stairs, and then collapsed from the adrenaline drain.

That night we sat and counted money. Piles of cash totaling a few hundred thousand dollars. I've never seen so much money in my life. At least not piled on my floor.

Yesterday, we stuffed the carefully counted money back into a plastic bag and casually walked to the car - again me with my pepper spray, Vanya with his gun - and drove to the bank. Did you know that you can walk into a bank with a gun in Russia? Even though we thought we looked like regular bank customers, I think the bank security was trained to spot bags of cash (and perhaps concealed weapons?). He took one look at us and the bag I was carrying, and quickly waved us through the security point. Ahhhh. Safe and sound. We walked into a small room, locked the door behind us, and handed two sets of bank tellers our stacks of cash to count. It took a total of three hours for them to inspect each bill (each dollar need to be checked 6 different ways), then count and re-count the total amount. The money was then deposited into an account over night and transferred to the seller today and documents signed.

I'm very excited about our new apartment ... but I do miss the sight of those stacks of money on our floor.

Russian Market Logic - Confirmed

This will probably be a quick post. Yesterday I wrote about mystery of the Russian soul when it comes to buying things, and noted that I would ask around about why people would buy things for more than they are worth. With respect to the question of the shoes in the market, the response I received was simple -- there must be something wrong for shoes with 200 Rubles, which explains why people will buy the same pair for 800 Rubles from the neighboring vendor. Ah ha.

Today I had lunch with a colleague that works for an advocacy group for people living with HIV/AIDS in Russia. She told me that there is a growing group of HIV/AIDS activists in Russia that are against the distribution of generic anti-retroviral drugs in Russia. They believe that only the name brand drugs are good enough for Russians living with HIV/AIDS. In a place where ARV treatment is available only to a few, and the idea of paying the price for brand name ARV treatment in a place where the need is snowballing into epidemic proportions is simply mad -- or so I think.

So, there you have it -- the idea is the more you pay, they higher the prestige and quality. There are actually jokes about this that circulate widely -- One "New Russian" in conversation with another "New Russian" proudly shows off his new $500 tie. "Oh, that's nothing" boasts the second New Russian, "I bought the same one across the street for $5000".

I guess the logic isn't so mysterious after all.