We got our business done in The Place That Does Not Exist between halftime of a basketball game in which the prime minister’s son was playing. Well, in truth we also spent a little of the third quarter. It turns out to be a great way to negotiate. The proud father didn’t want to miss too much of the game so the easy answer was “yes” to each of our requests.
And this is what I love about post-Communist countries: nothing works here the way it does anywhere else, and once you’ve gotten past the slightly uncomfortable issue that not too long ago the leaders were singling out people for forced labor camps, you find the government is very friendly and eager to do business.
Now there are certain “inconveniences” about post-Communist countries that have to be overlooked. For example, the water in my four-star hotel was shut off just as I needed a shower this morning. I was told it would be fixed in “one hour.” Of course this is a timeline that should not be relied upon as everything takes “one hour.” This meant no shower this morning, nothing that could come out of the faucet and no flushing of the toilet – all important hygienic needs as it turns out. I did get a small shower from bottled water and a wash cloth, but it lacked the refreshing feel you get from the full trickle that comes out of a post-Communist country hotel showerhead. Just as a follow-up, the water was back on around 5 p.m., but by then I figured my greasy-hair look fit in better with the locals.
There are a lot of rules you have to learn about post-Communist countries and it’s amazing how many people who come to places like this don’t get it. One of the most common comments I would hear from American businesspeople is that they were going to force their hosts to “do things the American way.” If you ever want to be impressed by acts of stubbornness, try to force someone from a post-Communist country to do things the “American way.”
Here are some of the rules I have learned:
• The answer is always yes, even if it’s really no. They expect you to know the real truth.
• Bring lots of Kleenex because the combination of cigarette smoke and hideous pollution tends to stick in the nostrils and be expelled in a smoky-black color.
• Don’t drink the water. Don’t ever drink the water even if you’re host is American and explains he has been drinking the water for years and nothing has ever happened to him (look closely and you will see a third arm growing out of his forehead). When I say water, this includes ice because after ice melts, it’s actually water. Juice is also a no-no as it is made largely from fruit and water and whatever other bits and pieces they want in the mix. To accentuate this point even further, when taking a shower, one should remember to keep your mouth closed tightly so no water will seep in, and when brushing your teeth, you must also avoid rinsing your toothbrush with tap water as it will eventually dry out and leave dying microbes waiting to come alive in your stomach.
• Always wear a seatbelt even if your seatbelt is so far stuffed behind the seat it looks as if it has never been used. Of course your driver would never think of wearing a seatbelt and will give you a weird look when your put your's on, but you will be the lone survivor in a high-speed accident by wearing your seatbelt.
• Never be the lone survivor in a high-speed accident. It only means you will be sent to a post-Communist hospital where you will die a much slower and agonizing death then flying through the windshield and not knowing what hit you.
• If something is stolen from you, chalk it up to your own stupidity. Don’t double your stupidity by filing a police report. It will take at least 10 hours to fill out all the necessary paperwork and whatever is stolen is already re-sold 10 times over by the time the crack police force is on the case. There is one corollary to this rule, however. If the crime involves a Gypsy, the police will have entered every Gypsy camp, beaten several people severely until they have given up which camp has your property. Police don’t need paperwork for this as this is largely seen as a sporting event rather than police work.
• Stay away from the women. I used to think this was more of a guideline than a rule, but Mrs. Laz assures me this is a very important rule with dire physical consequences for even unintentional violations. It’s nice to know my spouse cares so much about my physical and emotional well-being because the women at first appear to be delightful creatures until after getting to know them better. By then you realize why so many men in post-Communist countries are drunk on vodka by 9 a.m. Plus you have to wonder at some point why all women in post-Communist countries are adorned with unattractive moles.
• Don’t get upset when things don’t work. Remember the water problem? The water began running today but as soon as that problem was fixed, the internet stopped working. It’s as if there is a delicate equilibrium that allows for only so many things to work at the same time. By tomorrow I am certain the internet will be back up but the kitchen stove will have ceased to work. Oh, when I say things don’t work, I should also make sure it is understood that half the people don’t work, and that includes the half who actually have jobs.
• Things are relative in post-Communist countries. When I suggest this is a four-star hotel, it should not be confused with a Ritz Carlton. One star here means you share a bathroom and perhaps even a bedroom (if not with people, then when many other creatures); a two-star hotel means you are likely to be robbed but unlikely to have clean sheets; a three-star room means things are clean but nothing is working, including the hotel staff; and four-star just means you paid enough of a bribe to the local tourism ministry to be adorned with four stars on your front door. All in all, it’s just a Motel 6 with a smaller room and smaller TV, which doesn’t much matter because there is nothing to watch except for old Madonna videos and poorly dubbed Clint Eastwood movies. I had one experience in a three-star hotel in Russia in which I entered the room only to be alarmed that it was as cold inside as it was outside. Since it was the end of November in northern Russia and there was three feet of snow on the ground, it was pretty cold. When I asked the front desk if I could get a little heat in the room or at least set fire to the wood bed, I was told there would not be heat until it was winter. I pointed to the snow outside hoping to make my point, but I was firmly told that winter began on December 1 and so there was no need to turn the heat on regardless of what Mother Nature had to say on the subject. But I will say this: those itchy woolen blankets can keep a person pretty damn warm even if there are ice sickles coming out of your nose (dark brown in color, of course).
• Never stray too far on a menu no matter the restaurant. Food we expect to get often has an unsavory twist when it’s served. Perhaps it’s something lost in translation but you may get the eye of a lamb instead of lamb chops. My brother Peter used to have colorful names of inedible food he was served in Russia. There was butt plug of carrot, asshole of beef and slime of fish. We used to have a contest called the Mystery Meal of The Night in which we guessed what we were eating. The person closest would win for that evening. I once won by guessing “some kind of meat.”
• Don’t fly on the local airline in most post-Communist countries. I was in Ukraine a while back and flew on a plane that may have been manufactured by Winnebago. I called it a flying RV because it was square in shape and had that fake wood lining stapled to the walls. I was seated in “First Class” which was in the middle of the plane and consisted of two rows facing each other and separated by a table, the reason for which I am not sure of. I didn’t notice much else as I preferred to keep an eye on the sputtering propellers to make sure they kept us aloft. I quickly learned not to fly Aeroflot under any circumstances. Russians had a name for the national airline and I forget what it is in Russian but it loosely translates to “tubes of death.” There was also another nickname given by Westerners that referred to Aeroflot planes as “Flying Cocktails” since the maintenance workers drank the jet fuel when there was a vodka shortage or just when they ran out of vodka, which was every hour.
I have to admit it is getting better in post-Communist countries and you can see improvements every time you travel to one. I even flew this way on Croatia Airlines which had newer planes than any American airline. It may also have had pilots with far less practical training, but that’s another story.
I wrote this post on Monday and assuming something else breaks down so the internet can begin working again, I will be able to put it up on my blog. We will all know together how long it will take to happen. (Ed. note, the internet is back up as of 8 this morning.)
In the spring of 1964 my family was headed in our 1964 Buick Riviera for a vacation to North Carolina. My dad, as usual, had the gas pedal to the floor and a single-minded purpose to make it as far as he could that night, three whining boys and their mother be-damned.
