Sunbathing in Siberia by M. A. Oliver-Semenov Read Free Book Online Page A

missing from small accidents, which are quite common as most people drive like nutcases.
    Boris’s car was quite old, and Nataliya Petrovna was forever nagging him to buy a new one because it seemed every other day he had to spend an afternoon with his car in the garage because it failed to start. Although this would have driven me crazy, Boris didn’t seem to mind. He has an attitude of ‘If it’s not broken, why replace it?’ Which I could understand, but at the same time, his car may not have been broken, but it was on its last legs. Materialism and capitalism are very much looked down upon, not only within my Siberian family, but throughout Krasnoyarsk. Having spoken with some of Nastya’s friends, the general view is that ‘the soul is more important than money.’ Dima, who is aware that I am writing this told me that he hopes it brings me success, ‘Not lots of money, but happiness, and a little money.’
    I was surprised by the number of people I spoke to who lamented the dissolution of the USSR. One person even attributed its loss, not to the cold war but to Coca-Cola. Although Pepsi was available in the Soviet Union from 1979, Coca-Cola only became available there after the cold war in 1992. This person’s theory was that the cost of the cold war resulted in massive economic decline, leading to extreme poverty. This, coupled with the broadcasting of American television programmes in which seemingly well-off people lived happily and drank Coca-Cola, seduced many of the people in the smaller countries that formed the Soviet Union into thinking they would be better off in a capitalist state; which of course proved not to be the case. Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the economies of many former Soviet countries, such as Georgia, and Tajikistan are worse than in 1991, while other former Soviet countries are only marginally improved. Coca-Cola therefore is seen here as a seductive mistress who promises gold but only provides fool’s gold.
    When I first arrived in Krasnoyarsk, I felt some sort of culture shock, and while being unable to buy welsh cakes, laverbread, or (real) sausages and (real) mashed potato in gravy, I took to buying Coca-Cola, even though I do not drink it normally. I had to keep it a secret however as whenever Boris saw a bottle of it around, he would look at me disapprovingly, say the words ‘Cola, bad’, and promptly pour it down the toilet. Although Boris wasn’t a fan of the Soviets he still lives in the way he had to during their rule. Everything is recycled, including every plastic bottle, scraps of clothing and discarded bits of wood. This is a stark contrast to how the younger Russian generations live. Influenced by capitalist values, the younger people I met liked to have new things, and didn’t mind replacing things when they weren’t broken. This juxtaposition in attitudes is no clearer than in the city centre, where babushkas live in old wooden buildings that are sandwiched in between contemporary apartment buildings.
    At the very centre of the city stands an unfinished, twenty-four storey tower block, the unofficial symbol of Krasnoyarsk. Begun in 1985, the tower was originally constructed to house new businesses, as if Russia somehow knew the transition to capitalism was inevitable. With the subsequent dissolution of the Soviet Union, the tower was abandoned. In the decades since then it has changed hands many times but has never been completed. Today it stands a hollow shell of concrete legs, half glazed with tinted panels. It is a constant reminder of one of the worst recessions Russia has known, and perfectly symbolises the current economic and political climate here. Locked in perpetual recovery, forever unfinished, the tower represents the ever present conflict between capitalist and communist ideals. Construction of the tower block began just before perestroika, the political movement for reformation within