On Sunday, I wrote about the first half of my trip to the Soviet Union 50 years ago. Today, I complete that journey. If you didn’t read Sunday’s post, you may want to start there.

We took an overnight train to Moscow. I don’t remember much about it. It was, of course, dark the entire trip, so I didn’t get to see anything and I remember regretting that. But I don’t remember if we sat up in our seats all night, or if we were able to lie down or lie back. I don’t remember the food on the train. I remember nothing.

I do recall that one of the men on the trip had in the past worked for Sol Hurok. Remember him? He was a promoter of entertainment shows and one of the first to bring Soviet performers to the United States. And my companion had been to Moscow several times before (but never to Leningrad). I remember he was met at the station by a woman with whom he had worked when he was a Hurok representative, who first greeted him warmly and the began balling him out – for not having a hat on. I don’t know if any of us Americans had hats on, but as I looked around from then on, I don’t think that I had seen any Russian men on the streets with a bare head.

I do have a lot of memories about Soviet Moscow. Let me just list some of them.

1. It was very cold out, but the streets were still filled with pedestrians, and all of them seemed well dressed for the winter. Heavy and attractive coats, both cloth and fur, scarves, and of course fur hats. The men’s hats were the round ones, with chin straps on the bottom. If you expected to see poor, struggling people in rag-tag outfits, you’d be disappointed. Every one looked OK.
2. Even though it was cold, there were a lot of food vendors on the streets. Vareniki and blini, to be sure, but more surprisingly, ice cream, and people in their winter outfits walking around eating ice cream.
3. There was plenty of this type of street food, but the restaurants, including the hotel restaurant, were very limited in what they had to serve, and the food lacked taste as well. On the other hand, there were various ethnic restaurants that catered to tourists only, and they had more than enough food. I remember we went to a Georgian restaurant as a group – the food and liquor were plentiful, and everyone who worked there wanted you to have a really good time.
4. When you went into a restaurant on a theater, etc., you had to take off your winter outerwear and check it in the cloak room. This wasn’t an option – it was a requirement. All the buildings in winter Moscow and Leningrad were steam heated, and if it was too cold outside, it was always much too hot inside, so it was fine to get rid of your hat and coat. But, it sure slowed things down. After the performance, or meal, you had to stand in very long lines to retrieve your coats and hats. There was no tipping of course, and the cloak room workers were always older, perhaps pensioners.
5. Clearly, everyone had a job. That included the older (and generally heavy) women who swept each street clean before the crack of dawn. Of course, the crack of dawn was about 9 a.m.
6. We went to a performance of the Bolshoi Ballet. The building was quite elegant. I wish a remember what we saw, but I don’t. I know it was a classic ballet, but I don’t know which one.
7. We also went to the Moscow Circus. This surprised me for three reasons. First, because it was a one-ring circus, and the venue was completely round. Secondly, because there really were dancing bears. Third, because there was a lengthy clown skit in the middle (between the animal and acrobatic acts), where the setting was a remote village with happy villagers, and a clergyman entered the village to try to convince the villagers to attend church. This led to a massive display of anti-religious feelings among the villagers, who chased the priest out of town. I was amazed, because it was so blatant, and so upside down from what you would see the America.
8. Red Square at night, with St. Basil’s multi-onion domed cathedral was beautiful with a light snow cover. Lenin’s tomb on the right as you looked at the cathedral and the big department store (GUM) on the left. Behind you, at the other end of Red Square was/is an attractive red brick building that housed the historical museum of the USSR. It featured much about Lenin’s life, and it had an exhibit of pre-Communist Russia, which made fun of – among other things – early 20th century advertisements (from newspapers and magazines) which were said to show the corruption of capitalism; again, topsy turvy.
9. It was in Red Square that I met Edward Okepnik (I do remember his name; I think I do). Edward was a Jewish medical student. This was the time when being outwardly Jewish in the Soviet Union was dangerous, if you were at all associated with the Refuseniks, or with pro-Zionist feelings. None of this seemed to bother Edward – he introduced himself to me (and my dentist friend and her daughter) at night in Red Square by marking in the snow a Jewish star and the words, in Hebrew letters, “am Yisroel chai”, which he quickly rubbed out. He then offered to be my guide the next day, and I accepted.
10. Edward told me that one day the Jews would be allowed to leave and that, somehow, his sister had already left and was a nurse in Los Angeles. He told me about Jewish life in Moscow, and then did some (to me) really stupid things, but they all worked out fine. I had told him that, at home, I thought I could generally tell who was Jewish and who wasn’t, but that in Moscow, I had no clue. He told me he could tell, and he started pointing out people, and going up to them and asking them if they were Jewish. I didn’t know what to think, but he was always right. Everyone said “da”. When we went into a restaurant to get some lunch, Edward even asked the Jewish maitre d’.
11. Edward also took me to the offices of Yiddish Homeland – the official Soviet Jewish publication, although I told him that didn’t seem wise. We went to the office of the editor and he told the editor’s secretary that he was with a guest from the United States who reads each edition of this magazine (I think it was published in Russian and in English for export) cover to cover and thought it a remarkable publication. I was sure we would be thrown in jail, but no, we had a short, but civil, meeting with an elderly man, who presumably ran the place. I also remember Edward pointing out to me a 5 or 6 story building in Dzerzhinsky Square and telling me that if I went to the top floor, I would see Siberia. I looked at him puzzled and he told me that was because it was the home of the KGB. A little Soviet humor. What has happened to Edward since, I don’t know.
12. I remember visiting the Tretyakov Gallery, which I liked more than the Hermitage. I have always liked 19th century Russian realistic art, and this gallery was filled with it. And of course, we visited the limited parts of the Kremlin that were open to tourists. I also remember the parks, which were filled with winter activities, including outside swimming pools, again heated by steam heat, so that smoke arose from them – not only was the water apparently warm enough to swim in, but the pool decks too were warmed by teh steam heat coming up from the vents in the ground.
13. I remember going into a small grocery to buy some souvenirs – I bought a tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap, a box of toothpicks – that may be it. I was adding up the cost as I went along, and I thought the clerk had overcharged me and asked her if her addition was correct. Sure, she told me, and pulled out her abacus from below the counter, did some very fast tricks with the strings and beads, and said “See”? I said I saw. Who knows?
14. I also went into a bakery. That was a big surprise. It looked just like a Jewish bakery here. The same rye and pumpernickel breads, the same strudels and other pastries. I thought I was home. You didn’t see a bakery like this anywhere else in Europe.
15. And speaking of Europe, I had expected my trip to the USSR to be a trip to Europe. But no, it wasn’t. Leningrad is sui generis – nothing like any other place – certainly not like your typical European city; it’s too new and too majestic. And Moscow? Not Europe either. Certainly not America. A third world – a type of place I had not been to before. Lacking European charm, and featuring a heaviness and feeling of power that reminded me then, for some reason, more of Chicago than of London or Vienna.
16. Finally, the plane ride back. We took off from the Moscow airport on Pan American once again. We were served dinner. After ten or twelve days of Soviet food, I must say that this was the tastiest dinner I have ever had.