Soviet Communism

 December 15, 2020

My exposure to Soviet Communism - An eye opener:
Back in 1971, having lived as an immigrant in Australia for 5 years, I decided to take a trip back to my native Norway.
Having rather limited means at my disposal, I looked for a good deal and came across a group tour arranged by the Soviet Union government in Moscow involving flights on the national Aeroflot carrier from Singapore, via Moscow to Stockholm in Sweden and on to Oslo, Norway.
To get from Sydney to Singapore. I boarded a Scandinavian Airlines System (SAS) jet full of drunk Norwegian sailors going home.
Thankfully we made it to Singapore before anybody tried to open the door for a pee and I proceeded to the designated rendezvous point to check in to the Aeroflot flight.
A bunch of us showed up at the designated time to meet with a rather confused Aeroflot office staff in Singapore who was not aware of this planned flight.
Anyway, they got their act together rather quickly, somehow, and the group was duly taken to a waiting aircraft.
During the direct flight north across a goodly portion of Asia to Moscow, we enjoyed excellent service from friendly stewardesses who served caviar and wine on the way. Because of the small number of people on the aircraft, I actually got to stretch out across several seats for a really good sleep accompanied by the drone of the engines.
Early in the morning of April 30, 1971, Moscow appeared below me as I looked out through the window through snow flurries.
Now, it happened that the connecting flight from Moscow to Stockholm was to depart the following day, so our group was parked in accommodation right next to the airport and offered a bus tour of Moscow.
I happily went along with the group where we had a young girl as a tour guide.
Traveling into Moscow on the bus, I began to develop a feeling: "There is something weird here.."
I had a similar feeling about two years previously, in 1969, when, at 2pm in the afternoon, I traveled through the normally bustling City of Sydney, Australia when Neil Armstrong put his foot on the surface of the moon: The city was dead, as if deserted, because everybody was watching television.
The streets of Moscow were empty, except for the very odd pedestrian and old looking car.
And the buildings? It looked as if nothing had happened here since the 1930ies. It was like traveling back in time 40 years.
We were then taken on a drive-through of the Red Square where the Communist hero Lenin is interned, and our young guide spoke with great affection for Comrade Lenin.
Sensing our lack of enthusiasm for what she was showing us, she blurted out in frustration: "Communism is right, because it is the truth!"
Nobody said anything and as we continued driving through the streets of Moscow I noticed these floats with huge pictures parked in side streets, ready for the May Day parade the following day (May 1).
And the pictures were of the political brass of the day: The Communist Party leaders.
Boarding the plane bound for Stockholm and Oslo the next day, and flying the distance, also had some interesting moments.
The group, now including many Russians who had managed to get tourist visas to go to Sweden, was assembled into a herd and guided to a bus by young airport guards, who proceeded to go inside and check the bus before we were allowed to enter.
We were then driven onto the tarmac, next to the waiting Aeroflot plane, and the plane was checked inside out by the guards before we were allowed to board.
During the flight to Stockholm, I happened to sit beside a Chilean student at the back of the plane who was spending time studying in Moscow, sponsored by the Chilean government of the day.
We had a great conversation consisting of a mixture of Spanish/ Russian (which I didn't understand), English (which he did not understand) and sign language.
We talked about things happening in the world and I suddenly noticed other passengers standing beside us in the aisle of the aircraft, ostensibly on their way to the toilet at the back.
And the numbers grew to the point where the Captain of the aircraft came across on the intercom with a message that the aircraft was getting tail-heavy, implying that people had better get on with their business.
I made another interesting observation at the aircraft terminal in Stockholm where everybody except me ended their journey, and I got to stretch my legs:
Walking into the terminal from the aircraft, we were greeted by a solitary young girl in a smart uniform, wishing everybody a happy stay in Sweden. That was it.
My Russian compadres could hardly believe it. They kept looking around for their familiar guards, but there were none.
And now for the twist: I disembarked at Fornebu Airport in Oslo as the only passenger on a big Soviet airliner and walked to the customs entry. Happy to be back on home soil again, I got a rude shock.
Notwithstanding my Norwegian passport, I was treated like a potential Soviet spy by people who were almost my colleagues by when I served in the Royal Norwegian Air Force in Oslo some 5 years before.
That was the world of the Cold War in 1971.

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