Just a few thoughts on the fascinating country I'm living in.
---Leo

All Russians, men and women, wear their hats squarely on top of their heads. If they wore Fedoras, instead of these nifty fur Shapka things, you'd think that the country was populated by conservative Jews. For a while there, I couldn't figure out how everybody knew I was a foreigner, even before I opened my mouth.

It seems I was wearing my hat crooked.

I still do.

Screw 'em.

Traditionally, Russia had a centrally controlled culture with a centrally controlled economy. America has had an uncontrolled culture and a free economy. One would therefore expect to see a lot more individuality in all the little things in America than in Russia.

Not so. In America, there are only two designs of toilets in general use. One with a flush tank, for use with a small cold water pipe, and one without, for use in a big building with big pipes. After that, the mechanisms of each sort are the same, the handles are always in the same place, etc.

In Russia, I have to date counted 81 separate and distinct toilet designs. I am not talking about different colors or decorative things. I mean that the handle can be on the left front or the right, or in the middle of your back when you sit down. Or on either side, although the most likely place is the top, where everything gets disconnected if you try to lift the top to examine the wonders within. These operators may be pulled, pushed, twisted left, twisted right, or completely non-functional.

Thus, while in America you can do your "little job" (which is what Toilet means, of course), flip the handle, and get out of there without personally observing the amazing thing you did, in Russia this is quite impossible. You must turn around to determine the make, model, and operating mechanism of the device you just used, and thus see the product of your loins in all its glory.

Nor will you generally find it modestly floating in a pool of water, but rather enthroned on a ceramic platform above the water level, proudly awaiting your inspection. The wonder of it all is that there is often enough water pressure to blast your turds towards you (usually) and then down a drain situated between your ankles. But a really big, goowie sticky one can take a few flushes, or even a helping push with the brush that is often provided. (In a public toilet, the seat is usually missing, but not the brush. After all, who would steal a toilet brush? Then why are the seats missing?)

Ah, well. That's enough philosophical dissertating for now. Perhaps next time I'll gift you with my observations of the placement of the Russian Light Switch, which is usually in a different room that the light bulb, and sometimes over seven feet above the floor.

But just now, I've got to get spiffed up for a date with Anna Omelchenko, a 21 year old English speaking medical student.

Eat your hearts out.

Tver, Russia, 2004

---Leo