At least they're consistent

So the 2014 WInter Olympics are in Russia. (Also, Hi. Long time, no blog).

There's been a lot of talk about things in Sochi not being ready for the Olympics. Well, with the festivities beginning this week, I guess we'll find out. Or maybe we are finding out right now.

First, as most people who know me know, I have a soft spot for Russians. The history, the culture, the people, and the half truths and fantasy world that the Russian (and formerly Soviet) government lives in. It's not that I give them a complete pass, I just, well, expect it.

The Washington Post posted some of the totally hilarious tweets from different journalists trying to get into and settled in their hotels. So far there have been busted elevators, missing floors, golden brown water, and pictures of Putin. I read these and laughed. Out loud. To myself. Because it makes me think of the hotels I stayed in in 1992.

Granted it was 1992. The Soviet Union had fallen less than a year before but chaos had yet to settle in. There was little to no infrastructure, the banks were closed, and the only way to get anything was to approach the black market kids hanging outside of our hotel. We were a student group so our hotels were not high-end--I wasn't expecting them to be. I knew we may run into some issues, although I think some of my travel companions had higher hopes.

But reading the tweets from the journalists? I can relate.

We arrived in St. Petersburg after having travelled for who knows how long from the midwest. We left our little town about 4:00am and arrived in St Petersburg middle of the afternoon the next day. I think. By the time we got to our hotel, Hotel Rossiya, I didn't really care what it looked like, I just wanted to sleep. It wasn't fancy. We had two single beds each with one sheet, a shitty pillow, a 1960s-looking TV that broadcast one of three things: hockey, the weather, and what I called Good Morning, St Petersburg. Our view was a statue of Nikolay Chernyshevsky and Soviet housing.

We had been advised not to drink the water and to not even use it to brush our teeth. We all showed up with giant bottles of mouthwash to use for brushing our teeth. I don't know if we really needed to do this, but based on the experience of those that travelled before us, we did it. But the big thing? No hot water. We were at the end of the water line which meant... well, no hot water. And I'm not talking lukewarm water. We had freezing ice cold water. Bathing meant washing you hair as quickly as humanly possible and a sponge bath because that was the longest any of us could handle it.

St Petersburg hotel room

Don't get me wrong, St. Petersburg was lovely. The architecture and history were amazing. The influence of Peter the Great was evident and felt. The 75 years of Soviet rule wasn't able to mute the richness of the colors--or the history.

After three or four days there we left for Pskov. It was a gorgeous town and everything I expected and wanted from my trip. It was walkable and almost magical, honestly. Our hotel was fine. Still single beds with a TV that broadcast nothing but hockey (not that we watched a lot of TV, but I was curious). But we had hot water and lots of it. We arrived in Pskov about 4:00am by train. I am fairly sure that we all took steaming hot showers as soon as we got to our rooms. I know I did.

Pskov hotel room. What you can't see is the bathroom. It was one of those bathrooms where the entire thing was the shower. I didn't care because we had hot water. 

After a few days there, we went to Moscow. Moscow was what I thought. Gray. Squatty buildings interspersed with bits and pieces of Romanov rule, but it was dominated my Soviet modernism. And our hotel. Oh... our hotel.

Our Moscow hotel had been built for the 1980 Summer Olympics and had a statue of the mascot (a bear) out front. (And apparently I took pictures of everything but the bear statue.) It was a high-rise and had real hotel lobby and a gift shop (that was open) and guards who made us show our hotel pass to make sure we were really staying there and not members of the black market--or prostitutes. We had hot water. But what I remember the most about the hotel (other than the bear) were the elevators. There were two banks of elevators. One bank went to even floors and one went to odd. Thing is, the elevators broke a lot which meant taking the other bank to either the floor above or below ours. And I don't remember the details, but it seems like there was a trick to access our floor from the stairs.

Moscow hotel room. We had acquired a lot of crap by then. We had a suite of sorts. Five beds, two rooms, one shared bathroom. 

But when these elevators broke, they broke with flair. Or in this case, water. One night, coming back from somewhere, none of the elevators worked and there was water gushing out of the closed elevator doors. Looking back, I also wish I'd taken a picture of that. Because water running down an elevator shaft you is not something you see every day.

So, when I read the tweets from the journalists in Sochi, all I can think is: Well, at least Russians are consistent with their inefficiency. I wouldn't expect any less.