On the day I went to visit Dostoevsky's grave…
it rained.
It rained that cold & constant Petrograd rain
that gets between your bones and the meat.
I thought to get out of the rain
at the Moskva Intourist Hotel.
My Russian blue overcoat was wet
white sneakers soaked muddy brown at the ends.
As I went in a big guy in a blue blazer
looked down at my shoes and shouted at me in Russian
"You, where you going…" (Ti— Kooda!)
I said I wanted to buy a magazine
& he turned me around
hand big as a rump roast on my chest
"go on, go on, get out… ".
With my wronged American self image
my Russian faltered:
"but what but why can't I how buy magazine…"
In that moment he realized I wasn't Russian
and in clear English:
"Excuse me, sir, the newsstand is on the second floor."
— Bruce Isaacson