Nyet, My Russian No Good

MOSCOW - "No one speaks English on the street. You can try to speak Russian, but even if you say something, you won't understand what they say back."

These were the pessimistic words of Ian, talking on a bad cell phone connection two months ago from outside a library in Vermont to me, standing, worried in my kitchen. He should know. He lives here.

Despite Ian's advice, I packed a Lonely Planet Russian phrasebook for this trip. Leaving Latvia, I grabbed the book out of my suitcase and put it into my hand luggage.

Winding through the dark woods of western Russia last night, I practiced saying phrases that might be useful in the coming days. "Ehhh-TAAA." I have. I mouthed the words without producing sounds, afraid that my mostly Russian cabin mates would turn my exercise into cheap entertainment.

I shouldn't have been worried. From the moment I handed my ticket to the bus lady - who said "thank you," - I've been pleasantly surprised at the amount of English spoken.

At the entrance to the  Cathedral of Christ the Savior - a clustering of Orthodox domes on the bank of the Moscow River - I started rummaging through my bag for the phrasebook. Before I got it open, the young guard said, "English?"

I asked for directions to the Pushkin Museum - which houses a large collection of Impressionist and Modern art - and he a gave precise reply.

"Right. Then right. Then stay."

Sure enough, I took two right turns and walked a couple hundred meters down the street and there was the museum.

Now I'm not sure if this English penetration is such a good thing. What Russian studies were sacrifices so more service workers can understand the inquiries of an American tourist? ("Do I have to put my bag in the coat room?" "Yes.").

But it sure makes it a hell of a lot easier for someone passing through.