4

It was a thrill last night to explain why the statue of liberty is green. Of course, I had to look up the word for "copper," and the grammar of my explanation probably went something like this: "Because it's from copper, and when rain goes copper will become green." But, acuity aside, it stirred up the patriotism lying in a leafpile somewhere in my torso, and I was able to imagine, probably for the first time, what that statue means by its stance there, the first--if only symbolically here in the jet age--American structure arrivals see on their way into the harbor. Most of all I wondered how the statue must of appeared before it patinated.

I've found that young Russians, too young for the cold war, are usually pretty eager to quiz me about the U.S. They ask sharp questions. "Do you drink vodka there?" I mentioned something about Grey Goose. Konstantin had never heard of the stuff, and stuck to Smirnoff and Stolichnaya, he said, among a billion alternatives. He thought we mostly drink whisky. "Do you agree that Russia has the prettiest girls?" I stuck up for the American South and the Mediterranean but conceded a three-way tie. "What do Americans associate with Russia? Fur hats, vodka, Stalin?" I added snow and ice fishing. "Elvis. I love Elvis, man." Graceland, TN. I've been there.

It's a natural question because, it's true, American culture has sowed its seed. Widely, and not always in a manner conducive to the general good. Like an oil spill, the crappiest and most slippery constituents travel furthest, and I don't really know what to make of American Pie in every theater and a MakDonaldz on every street corner. One impression I certainly get is that it would be fairly easy, at least at this point in Russia's economic swing and compared to in the U.S., to make a killing here. I might be wrong about that. But my instinct is that it wouldn't even take very much creativity, just killing off some principles. Chick-Fil-A, for example. I don't think the world needs any more fast food restaurants, but Russians would dig Chick-Fil-A, for sure. Of course, it might be easy to reap the profits if you manage to start something up here, but I imagine it's a nearly impossible task to get approval through official channels, that is to say, the Kremlin. Now that I think about it, perhaps that's why the things that do traverse the Atlantic (some part of my brain is flashing "low culture," but I don't want to say it) are what they are: they're slippery enough to diffuse around the barriers. But enough of this. I apologize: my rants are always unapologetically elitist. Tomorrow I plan to run for the second time with the Moscow Hash House Harriers, so I should have some good yarns to spin.