I was there... The first picture was very typical. The second
one less so. If there was a line, there was "something"...
And then the ruble lost 4 zeroes.
news.bbc.co.uk
It was January 1990.
Moscow was still the capital of communism - just. But it was clear then that the Soviet economy was grinding to a halt.
Shelves in the shops were empty, the list of shortages was as long as the Russian winter.
Everyone carried round with them string nets known as "just in case bags", just in case they saw something being sold on the street.
It did not happen very often, but one day I happened to be in the right place at the right time, when a surprise shipment of grapefruit was being sold on what was then Gorky Street.
"Three hours later I had made my way to the front of the queue and next morning's breakfast was finally in the bag"
Looking back, they were nothing special. Tiddly little things, and, as I recall, a particularly unappetising shade of green.
They had been imported from some faraway socialist ally of the Soviet Union. But since I had not eaten grapefruit for months I decided to join the long queue.
Three hours later, I had made my way to the front of the queue and next morning's breakfast was finally in the bag.
Mystery shopping
In Soviet times, even if you did find a shop that had something in it to sell, the assortment of goods was not always what you would expect.
On one occasion I walked into a "Tea Shop", at least that is what the sign said on the door.
"I'd like to buy some tea, please," I announced innocently.
"We haven't got any tea," barked the shop assistant. "Only coffee or vodka."
And I will never forget my visit around the same time to a "gastronom", a Russian food store. There was not any food in it.
Instead, quite bizarrely, the shelves were packed with children's potties. Hundreds of them, and all the same horrible kind.
I remember thinking there was not much point buying a potty, if you could not buy any food to go with it.
So I left, potty-less and extremely hungry.
Mind you, there was one place in Moscow where you could always find something worth buying.
The "beryozka", the "silver birch" store. It was such a beautiful name, but what a shameful shop.
Stocked to the hilt with the kind of Western goods ordinary Soviet stores could only dream of, it was designed for foreigners with dollars and deutschmarks, as well as members of the communist elite.
There were guards on the door to keep ordinary Muscovites out. Tinted windows concealed the Aladdin's cave of French cheese and Swiss chocolate, video recorders and fur coats.
And all that was just 15 years ago. |
