Hertz

Now, here’s a memory….

Actually it’s going to be a number of memories from a trip to Russia (the USSR). 

Our trip actually began in Switzerland and ended in the UK with Russia sandwiched in between, and extending the imagery Russia was to be the real meat and the longest part of the trip. Because of the Cold War the trip was difficult to arrange since it was not easy to visit Russia due to all the political and military tensions between the East and West. We needed special documents and background checks and our government as well as the government of the USSR wanted to know why two young Americans wanted to go to Russia. 

Months of planning went by until finally we were given permission by both governments. Then it all fell apart, and we had to start over.  

I was finished with all the stupid official nonsense and started to think about Portugal. 

Deed said, “Russia!” 

So we started again. The bureaucratic problem was our trip was to begin with a flight to Switzerland and end in the UK. Both governments asked endless questions about endless “Whys.” 

There I was responding to three bullheaded forces all determined to have it their way. More time went by when finally the stars aligned.  

We purchased our multiple plane tickets and organized what we would do in Switzerland and the UK. We also arranged when we would go, and where we would stay, and what we would do. The Russian government, however, insisted on telling us when we could go, and where we could stay, and what we could do. 

Moving this story along after a wonderful two weeks in the Swiss mountains we were about to catch our plane from Switzerland to Leningrad. I was in the process of checking out of our beautiful lakeside room in Lucerne when something caught my eye. As I was in the process of checking out of the hotel I noticed a rather large pile of brightly colored yellow business envelope-size brochures on a table. 

Faster than a blink they were off the table and in my backpack. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. It was pure stupidity. 

By the time we were at the airport and through Swiss customs and boarding the plane for Leningrad I had totally forgotten about the brochures. Did Deed know about the pretty yellow brochures?  

Good question.  

Let me be brief. Until the moment I stood in front of my very first Russian customs official I don’t think I had ever experienced the full fright and horror of imminent doom. 

My normal strategy in approaching a customs official is to appear as the hopeless, lost and confused traveler. That was not going to play with Boris. 

In my journey through life Deed has always been my rock, but as I turned to her I noticed in her eyes a similar look of fear. If Boris said, “Boo!” she was about to …. 

Somehow we cleared customs. Somehow I still had my yellow brochures. They were Hertz brochures. 

We were in Leningrad. 

We were quickly directed through the airport to a grey nondescript older bus that looked like it had been used to quietly take unsuspecting people to the far corners of Siberia. The driver did not instill confidence. We found our seats and gazed out the window at the grey sky and the grey buildings. Before many miles of greyness I found my thoughts had once again turned to sunny Portugal. 

The drive into the city took about an hour and I don’t mean to overwork “grey” but all the cars and trucks we saw were grey. The buildings were grey. The people were grey. I would have given anything for one sparkling colored truck to pass us saying, “This Bud’s for you!” 

As the bus stopped in front of the hotel we gathered our luggage and quickly stepped from the bus to enter the hotel. To our surprise everyone on the bus also got off and moved toward the hotel. At the entrance we were greeted by a young woman who said in perfect English she would be our guide while in Leningrad and would we follow her to our orientation meeting. 

As we entered the orientation room our guide stepped aside and disappeared. Three men were seated at a massive old oak table from another age --- the table, not the men. They greeted and welcomed us to the USSR the hope and future of tomorrow. Again in excellent English they proudly listed the achievements of the Soviet Union from penicillin to the airplane, to the car, to electricity, etc., and more. 

That was followed by a long list of dos and don’ts. Like don’t buy or sell on the Black Market --- because, anyway, the Black Market doesn’t exist. Don’t ask for city maps or any other maps. Stay with the group and don’t wander off on your own. I was about to raise my hand but Deed anticipating my thoughts gave me a rather impressive kick which was my clue to lower my hand. 

Finally, one of the gentlemen informed us that we (that is the 36 of us from the bus) would always be moving as a group. I looked at Deed and again lowered my hand. 

With that they left, and our guide, Irene, returned with another young woman (Zoe) who was to be our co-guide. Why two guides?  So that they could check up on each other. 

We were to meet in the lobby for our first group activity in one hour and in the meantime we were assigned rooms. 

First experience. Going to our room we passed an elderly women seated in a straight back chair next to a large locked cabinet along the hallway. I will only say that she resembled in every way the comic stereotype of what a Russian peasant would look like down to her hairy chin and patterned housedress. 

Soon after entering the room Deed called from the bathroom, “There’s no TP!” 

In sympathy I quickly assumed my problem solver demeanor and finding no TP in the room went into the hallway to find the woman still affixed to the chair. 

She had no English; I had no Russian so somehow we agreed on a primitive form of pantomime. The light in her eyes turned on and with a smile she unlocked the cabinet behind her and reached for the TP. She tore off one square. I pantomimed a tear. 

 She tore off another square. 

More tears. 

She tore off a third square and shook her fist at me. 

Deed was not happy. 

This pantomime was replayed for 6 days and nights.

So we became a group of 36 and dined together, went to the ballet together, and churches and palaces welcomed us as a group of 36. The first night at dinner we discovered our 36 were traveling as a group of 34 from Texas and that Deed and I were the intruders. But we were soon taken in and before long Deed was leading the 36 in song on our long bus days. I think singing The Yellow Rose of Texas 48 times in a grey bus might still be the Russian record. 

Second experience. Advertising. Ads did not exist in Leningrad --- likely in all of Russia. I would have given a month’s pay to see the Golden Arches. There were no neon lights. If Pepsi was there I never saw a can. I’m not going to even mention TV.  

I mentioned grey trucks and buses. Stand on a street corner at home and watch the color that moves up and down the street. 

I missed color. 

Third experience. Across the street from our hotel was an impressive park with benches and beds of unattended flowers where the weeds, also unattended, had declared victory over the flowers. On any given day Deed and I might have been free both of the group and our guides for one or two hours. We usually spent those hours in the park or walking the streets looking at the empty store fronts near the park. 

One afternoon I took some of my bright yellow Hertz brochures and went into the park. When no one was looking I would place one on a bench and move away from the bench. I repeated that a number of times and without exception I got the same result every time. 

Someone would walk past the bench, pause, scan the area, return to the bench, check again, then quickly grab the bright yellow Hertz brochure and tuck it away. 

Sorry Hertz. I owe you about 100 brochures.