Why I left the USSR: first shocking impressions about abroad
'28.02.2021'
I was somehow even ashamed to write and talk about it. But today I suddenly realized what was needed. It's time.
I am often asked why I left a country where, in comparison with others, it seemed to me that it was not so bad. And I came up with answers. But they always lacked something, and I did not know what. It seemed that the main thing was missing. And suddenly I understood, because ... I remembered.
... The immigration route from the Union of Soviets in the eighties lay through Vienna. The first sorting took place there, some to Israel and some not. People stayed there for a short time. The future Israelis left very quickly. The rest were "stuck" for a month. I will not tell you about the Vienna Opera, not about ice cream, and not about yoghurts, although all this deserves a detailed description, but about what became a hint, an answer to the question of why I left. And I confess that for a long time I myself did not understand this.
So. The plane Kiev-Vienna has landed, but the feeling of being abroad (where I personally have never been due to travel restrictions) has not yet come. By the way, the inability to leave somewhere (I was not even allowed to go to Bulgaria. Do you know what I could have blabbed there or would have asked for political asylum?) In itself can already be considered a serious reason for flight. We idiots brought a poodle with us, since there was no money. It was not allowed to take out more than ninety-seven dollars per person, which is again meanness and meanness on the part of those who let go.
And those who have gone this way before said that in America a dog could be sold for a lot of money. Don't worry, we left it in Vienna for free, barely persuading the lovely lady, the owner of the apartment where we lived, to take it for ourselves. It turned out (again, as we were told) that in Italy (which was our next stop) it would be almost impossible to find a rented apartment with a dog. So the poodle became an Austrian. Although not by birth.
On the subject: Immigration is an endurance test: how and why I was brought to America
But that's not what I mean. We got out of the plane, and a small, two-month-old, wonderful, blue poodle, who had sat up in flight, immediately wetted the breathtaking, crystal-licked floor of the airport. We realized that now there would be a wild scandal, and we would be returned to the country of advice and advisers by an urgent parcel post ... And then the first surprise awaited us, which marked our arrival. To the puddle, since it is a slippery danger to the people, several airport workers who appeared out of the ground rushed in a race, who drained it before we could say “three thousand nine hundred and forty-three kilograms and seven hundred and two grams”.
They smiled sweetly, apologized (for what only?) And admired the disgraced dog, as they are touched by a newborn child, dry or wet. Then, it’s not clear from where, a man appeared who brought two cans of canned food (we didn’t even know that they exist in nature then) and handed us a banana and a can of Coca-Cola ... ! ..
Hurrah! Here it is! First shock! No angry mugs, no swearing, no "on your own ... or, clean up yourself!" And for the first time it became perceptibly clear to us that we ... had left the viper. This is what I called not so much the country and the people living in it as those who ruled it. Gadov, that is. Accordingly - a gadyushnik, a place where reptiles rule. As well as a pig house - where are the pigs ...
Then I went to the toilet and experienced the second strongest shock. I was greeted by a breathtakingly pleasantly smelling room, everything in perfectly clean floors, ceilings, walls, mirrors, and in general ... Mozart was playing. Not personally ... in the toilet ... but just from the hidden speakers somewhere, the location of which I never found. From there, light music flowed smoothly, apparently conducive to relaxation of the body, which is so necessary when visiting. Everywhere there were: soap, shampoos, razors, lotions, creams, lighters, combs, hair dryers. In a free-standing box there were condoms, pins for long hair, a set of needles and threads, tie pins, cufflinks (I think not gold), laces, buttons, and other unimportant little things that a person may well need after a long flight.
I realized that I was delusional, and pinched myself ... It didn't help, although a bruise appeared. Then I remembered why I had come - and entered the booth ... But I could not get out. The door would not open. I already, as it were, coped with everything, but - it was not there. They didn't let me out. I quietly beat on the door, not finding an opportunity to open it, and the necessary tools - a hammer, screwdriver and pliers - as luck would have it, were not at hand.
Realizing that I risked staying here for the winter, I tried to climb over the top. Then my compatriot saw me in the next "office". Without raising his head, he said melancholy: "If you don't drain the water, the door won't open."
Oops ... I wanted to, but I really couldn't do it, because I didn't find a cistern or a button. And the inscription on the wall, made in pure German-Austrian-Viennese, did not tell me anything, since I did not know all these languages equally well.
“There is a button on the wall, look carefully, it is invisible and the same color as the wall,” the assessor continued from the next booth, calmly, as if sitting in my head and reading my thoughts. Well yes. I don’t really see the colors, special thanks to my grandfather, who passed on his unique color-blind gene to me before leaving ... So I didn’t notice the button. I had to bustle about the wall with my hands and ... lo and behold ... the button was found. She really was barely noticeable. I pressed the button, the water washed away my presence, the door opened and ... There was a man at the door who accompanied me, an idiot-Sovieticus, to the sink. I myself would not have thought of washing my hands. Or did not understand that they were not being washed in the toilet (by the way, crystal clear) ... The peasant, by the way, spoke English tolerably well, so I understood him, fifth, tenth.
Question: was he standing at the door and realizing that I am here inside fighting like a fish against ... walls, did not give a voice, and did not try to help? Answer: no, I didn't try. And now the security question - why? Have you figured it out? Not? I didn't get it either. Then he asked. Are you ready for an answer? I wasn't ... then.
He didn’t give a voice so as not to embarrass me.
AP !!! It's like in a circus, when tigers stand on their hind legs and stand. So much for abroad. I didn't know how to get out, but his rude attempt to help me could put me in an uncomfortable position. Who is pleased when they explain to him how to get out of the toilet? .. Thanks to a compatriot from the neighboring department, who, fortunately, has not yet fallen ill with a foreign culture. Otherwise I would have settled there forever. In that booth. And I would write this opus today, also sitting there.
On the subject: You will never think in English: how to learn a language correctly in immigration
Well, that's it. I am in Vienna. Around the cleanliness, beauty, inhuman politeness. The smell of flowers and baked poppy seed buns is in the air. In the store, I was left speechless after visiting the toilet after seeing six varieties of bananas and nineteen varieties of cheese. In a shop ... At the airport ... On weekdays, not even on a holiday.
I was given a package for the sandwich I bought in this store. And, naturally, like a complete hamadryl, I took it, having no idea what was in it. There were a spoon, a fork, a knife, a dry and wet napkin, salt, pepper, mustard and mayonnaise. The package seemed to be saying, "Sorry, we don't know what you need, so take everything."
Even so, we still behaved like Neanderthals in the twentieth century. Not because they were stupid, dark and uncultured even once, but because they did not know how, what and where ... We are already so smart today, we know where the buttons are and are not surprised at anything. True, having arrived in Japan after the United States, you understand that you continue to live in the Stone Age, faced with what they thought of in the form of trains moving at the speed of airplanes, singing toilets, furniture hiding in the walls, and robots waiting for you there. where you don't even know.
Summary.
I left the rudeness. From the need to keep us in check, like cattle, forcing us to contrive in order to find-buy-sell-survive-get a job-register, etc. I can continue the list indefinitely. I fled from constant humiliation by everyone who could afford it, from a postman to a passport officer, a saleswoman in a store, a policeman, a KGB officer at any job, a cashier at an airport, a doorman who would not let you into a restaurant or hotel ...
Have I arrived in a perfect world? Of course not. Everything here is incredibly far from ideal. And the story is not about that.
Several first deafening impressions at the Vienna airport, which caused a culture shock, tears of resentment in our eyes and a lump of indignation in the throat ... then, for a long time already, were very important and necessary. They were a clear confirmation of the correctness of the step taken. It doesn't matter what happens in that country today. Even if complete communism, or capitalism, has already been built in it, I left the other, which no longer exists, but I, nevertheless, are insanely grateful to her for a lot. For my youth, which remained forever there, for education, for health care (as it was) ... for people, for friendship, for love.
It has already happened. I live here. In a completely different country. By the way, it is completely different even in comparison with the one where I arrived thirty-four years ago. True, this is a completely different story.
If you want to talk with me about it - go to my page in facebook.
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