A soap opera

The block of flats that I live in, is not your standard stereotypical situation that many expats have while they stay in Moscow. We don't have a doorman, we don't live in a private gated community and we don't live in the Patriarchs Pond area like so many expatriates do. I am thankful for it as have the chance to live as many Russians do. Admittedly, we do not live in a poor situation or in flat with a family of ten, as some Russians do, in some parts of this vast city. We are fortunate. Our situation may come as surprise to some and I know it does shock some expat mothers who expect us to live in the same situation as they do, as I have described above. The look on their faces, is a real picture when I tell them we pay our own rent, shock horror.

I'll tell you, we live in a good location, in standard Moscow block, that was probably built in the 1970's or early 1980's. Our flat is not free, we pay a good salary to our flat owner for doing nothing, his flat was given to him free when the communist dream failed. All is paid in cash and no tax is declared by our owner. We live a few floors up from the street and face the back yard, so it's not so noisy but the soot from the cars stills gets in and covers anything that is near to a window. Our block, is a mini soap opera of personalities and certainly never dull. Next door to us, lives a nice old lady who must be in her late 70's although she seems to be as strong as an Ox. She is highly religious and her daughter is to. She lives alone and her daughter visits her often and is rather serious looking. When her daughter arrives at her door, she makes the sign of the cross, when she leaves her door, she makes the sign of the cross. They follow all the Orthodox customs. Her daughter is slightly strange and is always dressed in long skirts and always in headscarf. The old lady, her mother, regularly knocks on our door and gives us pancakes and homemade jams from her dacha country house, she is very different to her daughter in personality and is always smiling. I doubt she has very much money. We give her a bottle or chocolates sometimes and check on her, to see that she is OK.

We have our resident busybody and our resident drunk, as I'm sure many block do, the world over. Our block of flats is made up of very different personalities. Above us, we have a dysfunctional family, below us lives a man who has very loud, regular sex. One lady always leave the block in strange, large hats, as if she is off to a big wedding or horse race and I enjoy seeing what her hat she will be wearing, whenever I bump into her, when I enter or leave our block. A driver, in a smart car always collects her and I don't know where she is going or what she does and I don't care. Our resident busybody, who must smoke forty packs a day, is always telling people where to park their cars and is always seen giving orders to the brooms who work outside. I call them "brooms" and although this may seem a cruel name for them, it's an accurate one. Some of these men are from Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. I have grown to despise these men as we get no peace. At first, I felt very sorry for them and now they are a daily irritation to me, like a fly stuck in a room when you try to sleep. They wake us up early, seven days a week, at six am each morning. We are woken up in the winter by the sound of metal shovels clearing the snow and in the summer, by the sound of brooms or by the sound of them clearing out their noses on the ground below our window. They clear the snow, even if its just one millimeter thick on the ground, they sweep puddles clear of water and six of them paint one tiny fence, that goes around the blocks small garden. Apparently, there are no jobs back home and most of their money is sent back home to support a family. These men never rest but surprisingly, seem to look fairly happy with the miserable existence. Our small yard, has four such men, they sweep and re-sweep when there is no dirt, clear snow at all hours and paint things in the spring. One man could do the job of these four and I am not entirely sure who pays them or where they sleep at night? They could go to my country, the United Kingdom and they would be very welcome and very unusual, in a country where the workshy won't take the most basic of jobs, as taking the unemployment money is far easier and much less effort. They guys could reduce our yearly welfare bill by at least 50%.

Last week, I heard a massive bang, I looked out the window to see a body splattered across the ground. We later found out from ours blocks cleaning lady, who makes it her job to know everyone business, that the body was that of a women from the eighth floor above us. She is the mother of our drunk, who is in my opinion, an acute alcoholic. I see him every day walking his old, tired dog to the local shop to buy his daily booze. He staggers back with his plastic bag, clanking with vodka bottles, I hear him first and then see him later, as he walks, bandy legged, round the corner, dragging his aging dog behind him. He is often unable to get into the main door, because he is so drunk, so he just lays on the floor, with broken glasses on his face, while his dogs lays by him, longing for a better life and for a different owner. I digress, the cleaning lady told us, that his mother was trying to fix a cable in the balcony wall when her chair broke from under her and she fell over the railings to her death. The poor lady, his mother, was in fact senile and I would often see her wondering around the car park in her night dress and she would often she would ring our bell, thinking it was her flat. I have kids and living under these two has been a great source of worry to me. A flat with two people sharing it, one who is a drunk and one who is senile, is a very dangerous situation for everyone as gas can kill. I was convinced he had pushed her to her death but it later transpired that he was out at the time buying his booze, so he was not at home when she fell. I know this sounds awful but I had hoped he had done it, so we could be rid of him but I feel very sad that his mother had to die and in such an awful way, perhaps if he had been home and sober at the time, she would still be alive now. He is now back in their flat, living alone on a liquid diet, I only hope someone will keep an eye on him for all our sakes! This women was once a some parents beloved daughter and was once a tiny baby, why did her life end in such sad way?

One thing is for sure, personalities, what every their habits, make life less dull and Moscow is turning out to be an experience I shan't forget in a hurry. I try not to see life as good or bad but as a journey and as an experience. This is the best policy and makes for some very interesting memories. I think life is a soap opera, to entertain, shock and inspire us.

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Spare the rod spoil the child?

This expression may very well be true, although on a personal level, I don't believe in beating children with a stick or with a rod if they are bad. However, these last few months, I have been teaching two twins, that we will call twin X and twin Y and a smack bottom would certainly help the situation. You may recall in "through the keyhole", I mentioned that they live in flat, on one of the main socialist avenues of glory, that leads into central Moscow. Their flat is a grand old red lady and is pre- revolutionary in design. It has solid walls and forms many blocks that sit around a large central courtyard. The courtyard, has a play area with low metal fencing around it. The fence is green and yellow, as are all fences, around play areas, in most of Moscow. Every year, men form Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, paint these fences yellow and green painting over the multiple layers of old paint, put on by their fellow countrymen, in previous years. When they are not painting metal fences in the spring, these men, sweep or shovel snow. Some guys get the best jobs. Their countries loss, is Moscow's gain.

The twins, X and Y that I teach are spoiled. They have three nannies that work in shifts, to care for their every need although, the family is not bling bling or flashy like some families I have taught at. The nannies sleep in the kids single beds at night, the two bedroom flat has five adults and two kids in it every night and gives a new meaning to the word crowded. These twins are not identical, one twin is intelligent, while the other twin is rather simple, although I think he has a learning difficulty like ADHD or dyslexia. They are both badly behaved. I see each twin separately, one after the other, five days a week, for three hours. These last few months, I have been sitting at the table with them in the kitchen and we have played memory card games, learned colours, basic shapes, days of the week, seasons, months, time, emotions, animals, opposites etc, or at least one twin has, the other twin has the memory of a blind goldfish. They are both five. One twin goes to a Russian kindergarten in the mornings and the other twin does not go to any kindergarten, he has been kicked out of two schools because of his bad disruptive behavior.

I have written many times about Russian nannies as they are a source of endless mystery to me. Many expat families and wealthy middle class Russian families have nannies. These women are native Russians, often, don't speak any English and are usually older mothers. I have been told that these women have big hearts and I believe this to be true, as I have my own nanny, for my own kid, here in Moscow and have seen her kindness.

After you have lived in a country or countries, away from your own home, you get to notice many habits and characteristics of the people in your host country. I have noticed some funny characteristics since, teaching at Russian families. Teaching, would be relatively easy and stress free, if it were not for these over protective nannies. They fuss and cluck around their children and make it hard for the teacher. When I arrive at the twins flat, when its + 20 and warm outside, all the windows in the flat are shut. It's only just recently, they have turned off the flats central heating but the sun shines into the flat from noon and so consequently, the flat is very warm. When I go through the front door, it smells like a long hall flight, where 300 people have sat breathing out stale air, for nine long hours. It makes me gag and gasp for fresh air but I sit there for three hours each day teaching these kids English. We sit at the kitchen table to learn, if I open a window, a nanny rushes in and shuts it, as if we were all in a hut, in deepest Siberia. I sit there sweating, while one twin bashes on the computer keyboard or twists and wriggles in his chair, while the other twin can be heard in another room wrecking the furniture and beating the nanny. The mother wants the kids to go to an international English language school in Moscow, she hired me some months ago, to teach them to enter the school. I knew it would be a tough gig but took on the challenge as I like a challenge and frankly, I need the money!

One twin speaks no English and the other speaks some English. I telephoned the school to find out what was required to enter the school and I was told that they must be at the level of a six year old native English speaker and that Russian kids are not given any priority to enter. Despite this harsh reality, I have tried hard to teach them slowly, bit by bit but the mother told me last week, that she expects her darlings to make full sentences in English, after just three months of teaching. She lies to me about what the school requires but she has her hopes and false dreams and she does not know, what I know. She should have started them both on English, from the age of three, rather than five. Did she wake up one morning and decide she wanted her kids to be at the level of a six year old native speaker, within three months and to send them to a posh, expensive language school?  These unrealistic exceptions are not uncommon in Russia. They are either true optimists or true dreamers. I'm more inclined to believe that they think money can buy anything and I think that in Russia, this is certainly still very true. 

As I said, I believe one twin has a learning disorder and the other "normal" for a five year old. Last week, the mother told me, no more exercises and games but just speaking, speaking, speaking. She has now accepts that one twin cannot go to this school and hopes the other will, I suggested a Montessori school for the problem twin but got no reply from her. I have not told her what the school told me, as she has her own expectations and wants to live in her bubble of make believe. I do want to burst her pink bubble of fluffiness, it would be too cruel and I need the money.

One twin loves pirates, that's the one who is has no chance of going to the school. We spend our time, watching Captain Pugwash, pirate cartoons on YouTube, he watches one cartoon, then clicks on the same cartoon two or three times, watching the same cartoon, without remembering he has just watched it. We spent three weeks, learning six shapes and six colours.The other twin and I spend our time speaking but like her brother, she is vary badly behaved. She does however, stand a good chance of entering the school, if she is very lucky to be accepted or if the parents can pay a cash bribe to the Russian school administrator.

Their world, has been around their three kindly nannies, they go with their nannies outside to play in the park in ski trousers and woolen hats, when its + 20 outside. They have just spent their days playing and drawing all day. The nannies, shoot sea sprays up their noses, give them countless syrups and dress them up in thick woolen tights indoors. Three draws in the kitchen, look like small pharmacies and are stuffed full with medicines and sprays. The nannies do not discipline them and see that as the parents job, although the parents are never at home. I am sure that an occasional smack bottom for twin X or twin Y and a bed time without any television, would help their behavior issues. This is unlikely to ever happen, as long as these women look after these children. These children are like this, because of their nannies and because of soft absent parents. As the saying goes, to kill with kindness and these children are slowly being killed with love.

The parents of these twins, love their kids as any parent would but they simply cannot see what damage they are doing to them. It's very sad. So many Russian men, drive around Moscow in flashy jeeps, that look like giant black boxes on wheels. They drive like total pigs and have an air of arrogance, that chokes you up with its you smell. I would not be surprised, if these men had nannies when they were kids and I would not be surprised if these men had little or no discipline when they were kids. History effects our present and our future. The children of these arrogant guys, will become like my twins and life will go on in Moscow. Boys are worshiped here, so its little wonder, they often become so lazy. Women run this country from a back seat and culturally, it's causing more harm than good. Perhaps, its time to get tough and to share responsibilities within the home. In my opinion, a little careful disciple from time to time, can help. Spare rod and spoil the child, has some truth to it and can metaphorically, be applied to our society and to our children.

Update: I have since read a book called the "The Well behaved Child" and now see ADHD etc as total poppy cock. What we need is good old fashioned parenting.

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Gone with the skin

I love to complain about my feet, like an old man complains about his wife, mistress, back or teeth. As I have mentioned before, the water in Moscow is very hard. Some people and that includes me, get very hard skin on their feet due to the Moscow water. The skin on my feet often becomes harder than a Rhinos bum, tougher than an old Swiss cheese left down in an old dark cellar for six years to mature.

I have tried to soften my feet by rubbing my feet with a stone, I have sanded my feet with sandpaper and creamed them with vitamin F cream and taken bits of my feet with a potato peeler but they still get hard. They stick a ton of chemicals in the water here, that could strip the paint of a battle ships hull. Skin problems, including Eczema are very common here in Moscow Russia. Surprisingly, many Russians actually drink the water here.

In the United Kingdom, we have Chiropodists, in Russia they have Pedicures. When getting a pedicure, I recommend you to visit several salons to find the best price as like everything, here they can be costly. Unable to find a Chiropodist here, I had no choice but to visit a Pedicure salon. I went into one salon to see what it was like and they wanted over 3,000 Rubles. The salon was full of women having their nails done or feet done, you could almost smell the Estrogen, I ran out the door, terrified by my trip into the world of female beauty care. Eventually, after some recovery, I found another pedicure salon called "Pur Pur". It was recommend to me by a lady friend. It was hard to find but the price was reasonable for Moscow at 2,000 Rubles (50 Euro). It was situated in a shopping centre and could be found by walking past all the checkout tills of Auchan. Pedicures, are very popular here in Moscow, you can see salons and pedicure bars everywhere in the city, mostly in shopping malls. Women sit on high stools at these pedicure bars, one hand held by the pedicurist, who buffs and polishes her nails, while her other hand clutches an iPhone. I expect some fat Russian guy, owns a chain of these pedicure bars in Moscow. He probably drives a gold Bentley, smokes Cuban cigars and has a wife with expensive taste and breast implants.

Often, you see women inside these salons, sitting in rows of chairs, both feet being done by one women and both hands being done by another. They all watch some Russian soap opera on the large plasma TV, on the wall of the salon or gossip about their work colleagues, husbands, boyfriends or neighbours. I suppose women, gossip and their beauty habits are international. I expect you can see the same beauty rituals, in any country, anywhere in our mad, small world. Everything has a price and beauty treatments are big business. Feet and nails make money and to some, are as important as teeth or hair.

Telling you about my feet, is very boring and not really my reason for mentioning it here. I mention it really for a more obscure reason, than just sharing with you my medical problems. At my chosen salon, my feet were gently scraped and creamed by a large but pleasant women, while I watched "Gone with the wind". I sat in an electric massage chair, surrounded by women, while my large lady, with big wobbling breasts, huffed and puffed with sweat running down her face. She worked hard on my feet, while balls in the electric massage chair, jiggled violently up and down my spine, easing away my stress. I watched Gone with the wind on the salons large television. I often find myself in these surreal and weird situations and this was certainly one of them. There I was, a man from suburban London, sitting in an electronic massage chair, having my feet tickled and scraped, in an old shopping centre, in Moscow Russia. As they say, "What the fuck". I would never have gone for a pedicure, if my feet were normal but the skin was beginning to crack and they looked horrible. Too much information "TMI" dear reader? Sorry, I hope you are not eating a cheese sandwich when you read this.

The movie Gone with the wind, was dubbed in heavy Russian. Clark Gable was speaking to Vivien Leigh in a kind of documentary style tone of Russian. The voices of the Russian actors, were more wooden than my kitchen table. I can honestly say, having your feet scraped and creamed, while you watch Gone with the wind, in the Russian language, sitting in an electronic massage chair in Moscow, is one of the strangest things to experience but a lot of fun. After one hour, I paid my 2,000 Rubles and left the world of female beauty treatment with smooth, soft feet.

I will go back again in a month or so to repeat this foot ritual and to once again enter the world of female beauty care. I wonder what will be on TV next time I go? Greece, Titanic or Dallas, dubbed in Russian? I'd love to see Gone with the wind dubbed in Chinese or Arabic, that would be funny. I look forward to going back and to be gone with my skin, Moscow has decided that for me.

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