Yesterday in Moscow I had an appointment with a doctor as I seem to have some kind of sinus problem that’s been bothering me a lot recently. The building of the free hospital where I arrived for my consultation had no work done in ages. Paint coming off the walls, elevator barely working, endless rude yelling. When I tried to go in, the security guard (like there is anything to steal) ordered me to go back to the cloakroom and get what turned out to be plastic shower caps you buy for a modest price of 10 roubles and put over your shoes.
The doctor that performed some form of water boarding on me, which admittedly did ease up my sinus, was left unaffected by my terrorist joke and proceeded to tell me with a grim face that she has no clue what the government does with all the oil money, since the doctors in this hospital, many, like herself with a PhD status, see none of it. Never did, not once. It is the unofficial ‘envelope’ salaries that help them stay afloat. Knowing this and fully prepared, even if extremely uncomfortable, I slipped on her desk my envelope with a 100-dollar bill in it, pushing it gently towards her. ‘You shouldn’t have’ she said and of course it’s true but who am I to fight against this dominant factor of Russian economy.
There are more old ladies begging in the metro than a few months ago. People are often uncontrollably, unreasonably rude. All women under the age of forty wear high spike-heeled boots. Mostly in black and occasionally red. Drinking and smoking youths are hanging on every corner like the whole place is a ghetto. And this is a respectable area of Moscow we’re talking about. As I got into a tram the driver with a burning cigarette hanging from his mouth sold me a ticket. One dollar one way, and I had to get off after two stops. The prices here generally are compatible to those in London and NY. The service is not. Where the hell is all the progress?
This is my motherland.
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