I found this travelogue of Danish author Hans Scherfig’s 1950 trip to the USSR. I think it will be of interest to people here so I have translated it. The illustrations are by Scherfig himself.

In chapter 4 Scherfig describes the preparations and decorations for May Day celebrations in Moscow. Dunking on Steinbeck who was apparently disappointed in what he found to be excessive morals of young Russian women, Scherfig describes fashion, alcohol, nightlife and restaurants as well as the workers’ club palaces.

Travels in the Soviet Union

Table of Contents

Chapter 4

Our hotel lay next to the American embassy. It is a large, heavy palace where the Americans live their own lives in strict isolation. They have brought with them their own doctors and dentists, teachers and nurses; they have also provided themselves with priests of various denominations; the numerous staff can avoid any connection with the dangerous outside world and are protected from any unwanted knowledge of the country they find themselves in. Here John Steinbeck could slip away and enjoy his homeland’s cocktails and listen to the hot records he had to miss so bitterly on his excursions to Kiev and Stalingrad.

Steinbeck was often on my mind. He had been here barely two years ago, recording his impressions in his Russian diary. We followed his itinerary in part, and could observe how much had changed in that short time. I met some of those who had accompanied him, and they smiled as they remembered the great American poet, who was perpetually homesick for the bar at the Bedford Hotel on 40th Street and the bartender Willy and a pale green favourite cocktail called Suissesse.

Steinbeck spent two months in the Soviet Union, but I do not believe he saw any more of life than we did. He came there to speak his own language and meet his countrymen; he says he had to be with people who knew who Superman and Louis Armstrong were. He managed to read a great many American detective novels in those two months, and he listened to a great deal of swing and hot at his friends’, and he depicts so many glorious cocktail parties with American pressmen and legation staff in his Russian diary that it is highly comebacket that he also found moments to see some of the country and was able to remember it afterwards.

It was decided that we were to travel to Kiev immediately after May Day. Later we were to fly back to Moscow to speak with various people whom we had expressed a wish to meet; I was, among other things, to be received by the writers’ union. After that we were to visit Stalingrad. We had hinted that we would very much have liked to go to Georgia and Tbilisi as well, but this could not be fitted into the allotted time, and we would not miss Stalingrad.

They were getting ready for May Day in Moscow the same way as we at home prepare for Christmas. There were three consecutive holidays, and fierce shopping was done before the feast. The crowding in the shops was worse than ever. The food stores stayed open until midnight, and the greatest bustle was in the departments that dealt in delicacies. A kilo of the finest caviar cost 140 rubles, yet people stood in line to get it. Everyone had to have the red champagne, a relatively new Georgian specialty. The houses were decorated with red flags and inscriptions and pictures. Enormous portraits of Stalin and Lenin were mounted on public buildings. In residential buildings, people hung their own pictures out on the façade; you saw framed portraits of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Stalin, surrounded with paper flowers, ribbons, and garlands. Wires were strung and lamps set up for illumination. People clambered on ladders and scaffolds, and large, complicated arrangements hovered in the air, threatening to fall down on your head. From every corner of the Union, people had come to the city; you saw all manner of races and human types in the streets, Uzbeks, Turkmens, Georgians, Azerbaijanis, Tajiks, Bashkirs, Chuvash, Mongols, Yakuts, Ossetians, Kabardians, Lezgins, Evenks, Nenets, Nivkhs, Tatars, Nanais, and whatever else they are called. The swarm of promenaders in the streets in the evening had grown dense; some had brought their musical instruments out onto the street and played merrily, each his own tune; young girls walked arm in arm and sang; the radio loudspeakers blared at full volume, and all the drivers let their horns sound from their hearts’ delight, and the small, plump policewomen laughed and joked and directed the traffic with mighty sweeps of their arms.

You did not see many national costumes. The Russian blouses are no longer common; women from the countryside went about with headscarves, a few men wore small embroidered Kalmyk caps, but otherwise people wore ordinary European clothes. The Russians proper are mostly small people, and the girls are usually plump. Steinbeck complains in his book that in Moscow he cannot find “mascara-treated eyelashes and eyelid shadows.” I do not know what mascara is, but I will take Steinbeck at his word when he says it is lacking. Otherwise the Russian girls do not seem to want for cosmetics. Lipsticks and powder puffs were in active use, as in other cities. The girls devote much time to their hair, and there are strikingly many ladies’ salons and very elegant perfumeries. It was claimed that Russian perfumes are on a par with the French, but I am not competent to verify whether this is true. Fashion shops and department stores were as in other big cities; there were long dresses and short dresses on display, and outfits and suits and shoes and hats that were just as various and absurd as in Paris; cotton and silk fabrics flowed in abundance, and the ladies tore and tugged at the fabrics and feeling abs discarding and could not make up their minds, just as during the big sales back home. There was plenty to choose from, also luxury goods of all kinds, beautiful things and tasteless things, depending on your preference; taste is different here as in other places in the world. It would be redundant to say so, were it not that our well-informed Danish newspapers never tire of reporting on regimentation, drab uniformity, and intolerable standardization.

Of course a female bricklayer on her scaffolding does not appear in evening dress, but when she strolls along Gorky Street or presents herself at her club, she is extremely well dressed. We recognised some elegant young ladies who greeted us at a club as the working women we had spoken with that morning in the factory, where they wrestled with black metal parts and large wrenches and oil cans. These palatial clubhouses, which belong to every single enterprise, are furnished with a splendour I can recall only from the rooms of the Ekstra Club during theatrical performances of Around the World in 80 Days. I have not seen the clubs where the wealthier part of the English nobility is said to gather, but they cannot be finer than Moscow’s workers’ clubs and cultural houses, and the Russian worker’s natural dignity does not yield to any British gentleman’s. He who works in this country knows his own worth very well; the goods he creates belong to him. When there is but one class in a society, that class is the upper class.

Traffic officer, Moscow 1950

We asked who owned the many cars parked outside the clubs, and were told they belonged to the workers. Who else should they belong to? — Is it common for a worker to be able to afford to have a car? — We were told that it was not uncommon. — See for yourself! In the department stores we saw new cars on display. No special purchase permit was required. One could get a new car for 6,000 rubles, i.e. three months’ wages for a skilled worker. A motorcycle cost from 1,400 to 1,800 rubles.

Steinbeck complains about many things in his book. He disapproves of “the wave of morality that has gripped Russian youth,” he is unhappy that the girls do not drink enough hard liquor, and that they are very critical with their friends of the opposite gender. I had no opportunity to study the morality of Russian girls, and I cannot know for certain what difficulties Steinbeck may have encountered; perhaps he missed the prostitution which American tourists expect to find at their disposal when they come to a European city. That no prostitution is to be found in the Soviet Union is surely going to be noted as a serious deficiency by Western intelligentsia.

There was no lack of spirits, but I never saw young girls trotting about with hip flasks in their purses, constantly feeling the urge for a dram, as I saw in New York during Prohibition. Reportedly, more wine than vodka is being consumed nowadays. Russian wine production has risen very sharply in recent years; the many experiments in plant breeding have also benefited viticulture, perhaps this will dispose Western writers more favourably toward Lysenko. There are excellent red and white wines, there are countless fortified wines, most of them quite sweet, there are sparkling wines, red and white champagne, there is cognac and liqueurs. The most expensive champagne costs 30 rubles. A bottle of vodka costs between 25 and 35 rubles depending on strength; I think there are half a hundred varieties of vodka.

I had imagined the Russian restaurants as a kind of people’s kitchens or mess halls, but it was quite otherwise. There was nothing uniform about them. There were small taverns and fine dance restaurants, there were cozy beer parlours and cafés, there were confectioneries and sidewalk restaurants and open-air cafés under colourful parasols and sun-awnings. We took our very substantial meals at the hotels; we had no need to go to taverns, but they were places where you could easily fall into conversation with people. Russians are approachable and curious people, who like to talk to strangers and discuss. Many of the younger ones speak English or German quite well; in school they can choose freely between English, German, and French, as it is considered more useful to learn a single language well than to sniff at many languages. Over 50% of the schoolchildren chose English.

When you spoke to random people, you got the impression that they knew more about the Western world than people back home knew about the Soviet Union. Many listened to foreign radio and asked us whether people really believed the absurdities told about the Soviet Union on English and American radio. We had to answer that many of our countrymen believed these tall tales. — Are you going to lie as well, when you come home? We answered that we would try to tell the truth, but that probably not all of us would be allowed to.

Original Danish text

Rejse i Sovjetunionen

  • Hans Scherfig, 1950

IV.

Vores hotel lå ved siden af den amerikanske ambassade. Det er et stort tungt palæ, hvor amerikanerne lever deres eget liv i streng isolation. De har medbragt egne læger og tandlæger, lærere og sygeplejersker, de har også forsynet sig med egne præster af forskellig confession; det talrige personale kan undgå enhver forbindelse med den farlige omverden og er beskyttet mod enhver uønsket kundskab om det land, de befinder sig i. Her kunne John Steinbeck ty hen og nyde sit hjemlands cocktails og lytte til de hot-plader, han har måttet savne så bittert på sine afstikkere til Kijev og Stalingrad.

Jeg måtte ofte tænke på Steinbeck, som havde været her for knap to år siden og har meddelt sine indtryk i sin russiske dagbog. Vi fulgte tildels hans rejserute og kunne konstatere, hvormeget der var forandret i den korte tid. Jeg traf nogle af de mennesker, som havde været sammen med ham, og de erindrede smilende den store amerikanske digter, som bestandig havde hjemvé efter baren på Bedford Hotel i 40. gade og bartenderen Willy og en bleggrøn yndlingscocktail, som hedder Suissesse.

Steinbeck tilbragte to måneder i Sovjetunionen, men jeg tror ikke, han så mere af livet end vi. Han kom dertil for at tale sit eget sprog og mødes med landsmænd, han siger, at han måtte være sammen med mennesker, der vidste, hvem Superman og Louis Armstrong var. Han nåede at få læst en hel del amerikanske detektiv-romaner i de to måneder, og han hørte på meget swing og hot hos sine venner, og han skildrer i den russiske dagbog så mange glorværdige cocktail-parties hos amerikanske pressefolk og legationsfolk, at det er meget beundringsværdigt, at han også fik stunder til at se noget af landet og kunne huske det bagefter.

Det blev bestemt, at vi skulle rejse til Kijev lige efter den første maj. Senere skulle vi flyve tilbage til Moskva for at tale med forskellige mennesker, som vi havde ytret ønske om at træffe; jeg skulle bl. a. modtages i forfatter-foreningen. Bagefter skulle vi så besøge Stalingrad. Vi havde antydet, at vi også meget godt kunne tænke os at komme en tur til Georgien og Tiflis, men det kunne ikke nås på den tilmålte tid, og Stalingrad ville vi ikke undvære.

Man forberedte sig på majdagen i Moskva, som man hos os forbereder sig på julen. Der var tre fridage i træk, og der blev foretaget voldsomme indkøb før festen. Trængslen i butikkerne var værre end nogensinde. Fødevareforretningerne holdt åbne til midnat, og der var størst stimmel i de afdelinger, der handlede med lækkerier. Et kilo af den bedste kaviar koster 140 rubler, men folk stod i kø for at få det. Alle mennesker skulle have den røde champagne, som er en forholdsvis ny georgisk specialitet. Husene blev udsmykket med røde flag og indskrifter og billeder. På de offentlige bygninger blev der anbragt enorme billeder af Stalin og Lenin. I beboelseshusene hængte folk deres egne skilderier ud på facaden, man så indrammede billeder af Marx, Engels, Lenin og Stalin, omkransede med papirblomster, bånd og guirlander. Der blev trukket ledninger og opsat lamper til illumination. Folk masede på stiger og stilladser, og store komplicerede arrangementer svævede i luften og truede med at falde ned i hovedet på en. Fra alle unionens egne var der kommet mennesker til byen; man så alle mulige racer og mennesketyper på gaderne, usbeker, turkmener, grusier, aserbajdjaner, tadjikker, basjkirer, tjuvasjer, mongoler, jakuter, osetinere, kabardiner, leuravetlaner, evenkier, nentser, nivkier, tartarer, nanaitser og hvad de nu ellers hedder. Mylderet af de promenerende på gaderne om aftenen var blevet kompakt, nogle havde taget deres musikinstrument med på gaden og spillede glade hver sin melodi, unge piger gik arm i arm og sang, radio-højttalerne gik for fuld kraft, og alle chauffører lod deres tudehorn lyde af hjertens lyst, og de små buttede kvindelige politibetjente lo og morede sig og dirigerede trafikken med vældige armsving.

Man så ikke mange nationale dragter. Russerbluserne er ikke mere almindelige, konerne fra landet gik med hovedtørklæder, enkelte mænd havde små broderede kalmyk-huer, men ellers gik folk i almindeligt europæisk tøj. De egentlige russere er mest små folk, og pigerne er sædvanligvis buttede. Steinbeck klager i sin bog over, at han ikke i Moskva finder »mascara-behandlede øjenvipper og øjenlågsskygger«. Jeg ved ikke, hvad mascara er, men jeg vil tro Steinbeck på hans ord, når han siger, det mangler. Ellers synes de russiske piger ikke at savne kosmetik. Læbestifter og pudderkvaster var i flittig brug ligesom i andre byer. Pigerne ofrer megen tid på deres hår, og der er påfaldende mange damefrisør-saloner og meget elegante parfumerier. Man påstod, at de russiske parfumer står på højde med de franske, men jeg er ikke kompetent til at kontrollere, om det er rigtigt. Modeforretninger og magasiner var som i andre storbyer, der var udstillet lange kjoler og korte kjoler og skrud og dragter og sko og hatte, der var ligeså forskellige og tossede som i Paris, det flød med stoffer af bomuld og silke, og damerne rev og sled i stofferne og følte og vragede og kunne ikke bestemme sig ligesom under de store udsalg hos os. Der var rigeligt at vælge imellem, også af luxusvarer af alle slags, smukke ting og smagløse ting, efter som man nu kan lide det; smagen er forskellig her ligesom andre steder i verden. Det ville være overflødigt at sige det, hvis ikke vores velunderrettede danske aviser til stadighed havde fortalt om uniformering og ensartethed og ulidelig standardisering.

En kvindelig murer på sit stillads optræder naturligvis ikke i aftentoilette, men når hun promenerer på Gorki-gaden eller indfinder sig i sin klub, er hun særdeles velklædt. Nogle elegante unge damer, som hilste på os i en klub, genkendte vi som arbejdersker, vi om formiddagen havde snakket med i fabrikken, hvor de tumlede med sorte metalgenstande og store skruenøgler og oliekander. Disse palæ-agtige klubhuse, som hører til hver eneste bedrift, er udstyret med en pragt, som jeg kun mindes at have set i Ekstra-klubbens lokaler, når man spiller Jorden rundt i 80 dage på teatret. Jeg har ikke set de klubber, hvor den mere velhavende del af den engelske nobilitet siges at færdes, men de kan ikke være flottere end Moskvas arbejder-klubber og kultur-huse, og den russiske arbejders naturlige værdighed står ikke tilbage for nogen britisk gentleman’s. Den, der arbejder i dette land, kender meget godt sit eget værd; de goder, han skaber, tilhører ham selv. Når der kun er een klasse i et samfund, er det overklassen.

Vi spurgte, hvem de mange biler tilhørte, som var parkeret uden for klubberne og vi fik at vide, at det var arbejdernes. Hvem skulle de ellers tilhøre? — Er det almindeligt, at en arbejder har råd til at holde bil? — Man sagde os, at det ikke var ualmindeligt. — Se selv! I stormagasinerne så vi de nye biler udstillet. Der krævedes ingen speciel købetilladelse. Man kunne få en ny bil for 6000 rubler d.v.s. tre måneders løn for enremovedarbejder. En motorcykle kostede fra 1400 til 1800 rubler.

Steinbeck klager over mange ting i sin bog. Han misbilliger »den bølge af moral, som har grebet den russiske ungdom«, han er utilfreds med, at pigerne ikke drikker nok spiritus, og at de er meget kritiske med deres venner af det ander køn. Jeg havde ikke lejlighed til at studere de russiske pigers moral, og jeg kan ikke godt vide, hvilke vanskeligheder Steinbeck har været ude for; måske har han savnet den prostitution, som amerikanske turister forventer skal være til deres rådighed, når de kommer til en europæisk by. At der ingen prostitution findes Sovjetunionen vil sikkert blive noteret som en alvorlig mangel af vestens intelligens.

Spiritus var der nok af, men jeg har ikke bemærket, at unge piger gik rundt med lommelærker i deres tasker og til stadighed følte trang til en dram, sådan som jeg så det i New York under forbudet. Der drikkes efter sigende mere vin end vodka i den senere tid. Produktionen af russiske vine er steget meget stærkt i de sidste år, de mange eksperimenter med planteforædling er også kommet vinavlen tilgode, måske vil det stemme vestlige skribenter mildere over for Lysenko. Der er fortrinlige rødvine og hvidvine, der er et utal af hede vine de fleste ret søde, der er mousserende vine, rød og hvid champagne, der er cognak og likører. Den dyreste champagne koster 30 rubler. En flaske vodka koster mellem 25 og 35 rubler efter styrken, der findes vistnok et halvt hundrede arter vodka.

Jeg havde forestillet mig de russiske restaurationer som en slags folkekøkkener eller marketenderier, men det var ganske anderledes. Der var ikke noget ensartet ved dem. Der var små beværtninger og flotte danserestauranter, der var hyggelige øl-stuer og caféer, der var conditorier og fortovsrestauranter og friluftscaféer under brogede parasoller og solsejl. Vi fik vores meget solide måltider på hoteller; det var ingen nødvendighed for os at gå på beværtning men det var steder, hvor man let kom i snak med folk, russerne er indladende og interesserede mennesker, som gerne vil tale med fremmede og diskutere. Mange af de yngre taler ganske godt engelsk eller tysk, i skolerne kan de vælge frit mellem engelsk, tysk og fransk, idet man anser det for nyttigere at lære eet sprog grundigt end at snuse lidt til mange sprog. Over 50% af skolebørnene valgte engelsk.

Når man talte med tilfældige mennesker, fik man det indtryk, at de vidste mere om den vestlige verden, end man herhjemme ved om Sovjetunionen. Mange hørte udenlandsk radio og spurgte os, om de urimeligheder, som blev fortalt om Sovjetunionen i engelsk og amerikansk radio, virkelig blev troet. Vi måtte svare, at mange af vores landsmænd troede på disse røverhistorier. — Vil I også lyve, når I kommer hjem? Vi svarede, at vi ville prøve at sige sandheden, men at vi nok ikke allesammen ville få lov til det.