Monthly Archives: August 2018

Moscow in 1982 – Some Views

I don’t usually post just photos in this blog, but I mentioned earlier that we’d add some from Moscow for this one time. Grand Kremlin Palace in the Kremlin Complex Assumption Cathedral of the Kremlin, the oldest church in the … Continue reading

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I Would Like to Buy Your Blue Jeans

I decided to do a little shopping one day and took off, the cameras hanging from both shoulders. On my way to GUM’s, I encountered a young Russian man who could not speak a word of English, but had a very resourceful way of communicating. He had a small spiral note pad with sentences and phrases of English written on each page. He would flip through his pad then show you what he wanted to convey. After he stopped me on the busy street, he ran through his pad until he got to the page that said, “I would like to buy your blue jeans.” Continue reading

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No Child Abuse in Russia

After about an hour with our pleasant “judge,” who was obviously well-connected with the “Party,” we concluded her main function was to present an appearance of representing a judicial system. After all, according to her, Russia had no crime or social ills for her to deal with anyway. The local Communist Party leaders could take care of any other needs the citizens had. Our study of the Soviet judicial system had been brief and unrevealing. We now had time to explore what we could of Moscow. Continue reading

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We Arrived at the Hotel Russia

As we rode in on the bus, I mused that the vast Soviet Union extended from Eastern Europe to the orient spanning thirteen time zones, a distance of about half the circumference of the earth, but had only roughly the population of the United States. I further calculated that this resilient nation had about a third of its citizens either murdered by its own leaders or killed by Germans during the short period of twenty years. Until I met some of its smart, hearty, proud people, I wondered how a country could survive such devastation Continue reading

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No Mirth in Moscow

On our bus ride to the hotel we first met Sonia, our guide, caretaker, and I assumed representative of the KGB. She would attempt to assure that we only saw what we were supposed to see. Sonia would also indoctrinate us on life in Russia—according to the script she had been given. She spoke excellent English. A lean, but sturdy redhead, in her forties, Sonia spoke with the authority and certitude of a former Russian Army officer. Continue reading

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