Super-Duper Wacky n' Tacky Euro Adventure: 2005-10-09

It's all my fault!

0 comments Published Thursday, October 13, 2005 by Beto Juarez III.

Oh no! I jinxed the Irish team when I made that world cup comment about a few weeks ago! I'm so sorry.

The rowdy crowd of Irish fans at Silver's Irish pub last night had nothing to cheer for as Ireland stalled to a 0-0 tie with Switzerland. So close! If nothing else, it was a good excuse to go ahead and have another round after the game was done.

So who to cheer for? Well Russia is definitely in. Mexico and the US pretty much have it wrapped up. Looks like we still have plenty of teams to root for.

Ok, so here's the deal with the internship since a few people have been asking. I have a definite spot at the Carnegie Center. Eric already started working for them and they have him catalogging their massive library and he hates it. Now, a mile down the road, the World Bank has invited Iris and I to interview, along with other Russian candidates, tomorrow at their offices. They will then likely invite us to a reception they are later having for none other than Mr. Wolfowitz when he comes to check out the operations in Moscow. Our Stanford program director has gotten word that there are definitely two spots available for Stanford students, however, for some reason we are still required to interview and compete for the positions. Basically, this is Russia and absolutely nothing is guaranteed. What is guaranteed, however, is that time keeps on tickin', tickin' and there ain't that much time to do significant work at an intership here. So, I've put Carnegie on hold, trying not to quit outright, but I would def prefer to work at the World Bank. Who knows.

So. I have to declare. From abroad. This is gonna be interesting. Whoever does end being my advisor is probably gonna hate me from the beginning. Oh well. Let the process proceed!

Viva Moscow!

0 comments Published Tuesday, October 11, 2005 by Beto Juarez III.

The following is an essay/rant that I wrote even though I really do have better things to do with my time. However, like the abandoned building essay, I simply have to document some of these Russian quirks and cultural oddities that I find so terribly interesting. If you have no desire to read this, please skip it. It honestly has nothing to do with my time here in Moscow. But if you want to get a taste of Moscow life, I hope to post more of these little tirades in the near future. Enjoy!

With the era of unregulated business enterprise now in place in Moscow, has come an interesting player to the corporate machine that plays on the unhealthy habits of undisciplined individuals: the casino.

They are quite literally everywhere. They boast names like Jackpot and Super Slots (which mean nothing in Russian and written in Cyrillic, but the big letters and flashy lights tend get the point across without being lost in translation). On the fifteen minute walk to my sleepy metro stop on the orange line I pass by two of them. A ten minute walk down any major street will reveal plenty of chances to scratch that gambling itch. Most are not huge. Or extravagant. Most don’t have theme parks and cheap buffets. One can’t even see a decent tiger or French-Canadian singer act at one of these casinos. However, they are good at keeping it simple: Lots of slots, and, if they’re big enough, a few tables with the usual games. With the tradition of uncontrollable habits that exists in Russia, it’s no wonder they are so popular; and so successful.

No doubt the Mecca of the casino revolution is located on the short, but very bright street of Novi Arbat which stretches from the inner-most ring to almost the Kremlin walls at the center of the city. Some have dubbed this street “New Las Vegas” for its affinity for flashing lights and exuberant displays. On this street are the city’s biggest casinos and some of its highest towers as the gambling revenues have contributed to the unparalleled growth of this area of downtown.

Even I can’t claim to be deterred by the siren lights. Last weekend when I had a desperate itch for American baseball, World-Cup qualifying soccer, and American college footbal all at once, only one place could satisfy my desire: Metelitsa Casino on Novi Arbat. On the basement floor of this casino was a place called “SportLand” bar. The unsympathetic metal detector and steep cover price are enough to send any casual American sports fan sprinting for the doors. But I was determined to satisfy my urge, so I subjected myself to the semi-strip search and paid the fine to see my precious sports. As soon as the pain of paying the entrance fee wears off, one soon realizes that it’s really not so bad because the money just paid is returned in the form of casino chips. Needless to say I was very excited because this was the first time that I had actually held genuine casino chips. But I held my twenty-year-old cool and cheerfully took my seat. There is only one big screen, but there are plenty of other flat-screens and smaller TV’s about to initiate a proper stimulus overload. The overall experience was very pleasing. With my chips I bought a couple of ice-cold pints of Guinness (perfect for the Ireland game) and everyone had enough left over to chip in for a heaping plate of nachos with, gasp, actual jalapenos, actual guacamole, and something closely resembling salsa. The blackjack tables were definitely calling me, but I need to hone my card-counting skills a bit more before I venture off into those kinds of things. Considering this was my first trip into a casino, I must be happy to have escaped only paying under $20 for a few hours of entertainment. And because I don’t like the odds of a bagillion to one, I can’t imagine myself frequenting other casinos very often.

I just can’t say that the same is true for some Russians. There are definitely those junkies that one sees entering the casino religiously, waiting for that one big break when they won’t have to gamble any more. The problem is that the break never comes. And just like alcohol has done to so many here, a vice begins to consume a life, and a life-long habit is formed. While gambling addiction may not have any recorded deaths recently, there are doubtless economic consequences to the individual and to society. While I was working in the state legislature and there was a bill on the floor further expanding gambling in Texas, a lobbyist once gave me the statistic that for every two dollars the state earns in tax revenue, it must pay three in social costs for gambling addiction. And it makes sense. When just one Russian is able to carry on a gambling addiction, he not only hurts himself and those that might depend on him, but Russia loses a competent working individual to contribute to the economy. And instead of helping his country, he does nothing but depend on what few state services exist here.

It is for this reason that I am amazed that casinos seem to have quietly integrated themselves into Moscow life without any public or political debate. In most industrialized nations politicians would have a field day with all the sin taxes one could place on such a profitable industry. But while oil revenues remain at all-time highs and Russians pay less than a dollar for a pack of cigarettes and the same price for beer as for water, I can’t imagine the casinos having to worry about tax reform any time soon. But one has to wonder: why not sin taxes? When one wants to deter a practice, yet not outright abolish it, the sin tax is born. Politicians couldn’t possibly think that casinos moving in and having free-reign is helping Moscow’s image, much less its economy. The main reason I probably will not be hitting up the real Las Vegas any time soon is that it is well documented how casinos in the US are only money-making machines for the super-rich (e.g. the Maloof brothers). I must speculate that the situation here is the same or only exacerbated to a situation only Russia could get itself into - policy makers dipping from the same pot as the super-rich.

The $200,000 Bentley coupe I saw casually parked on Novi Arbart while exiting the casino last Saturday does nothing to disprove my suspicions.

Perhaps it is telling that closely parallel to “New Las Vegas” is a small pedestrian street called Stari Arbat, or “Old Arbat,” that is the famous tourist corridor of the city boasting plenty of American-friendly restaurants and touristy novelty acts including busking musicians and cartoon portrait artists. As Russia opens its arms to the west and foreign money on one street, 30 meters down the road it keeps its secret vice semi-hidden from the public image. But if one looks hard enough they’ll soon find out that the gambling business is doing much better than the tourist industry could ever hope for.