1997

My first thought when Putin said let's turn the clock back to 1997 was fine, you weren't president then.  You weren't even prime minister.  You were just a deputy chief in Yeltsin's administration, in charge of managing his property.  Not even a significant player yet.  Yea, let's go back to that time.

It was the year I came to Vilnius.  It was a cold October.  What little heat there was coming from the radiators escaped through the attic roof, as there was only a tarp on it.  The building was in the process of being repaired.  I huddled next to the radiator to keep my hands warm so that I could at least sketch drawings for the interior remodeling.  Whenever Daina would come by, we would immediately peel off our clothes and jump into bed, wrapping ourselves in the thick duvet to give each other warmth.  

I remember all the talk swirling around about NATO at the time.  Most of the Eastern European countries saw it as an insurance policy against future Russian aggression, knowing full well that the "big bear" may not be what it once was, but could easily become that way again.  I understood these worries, but it seemed like this was a golden opportunity to reset relationships and end Cold War hostilities once and for all.  Oh, but Jim, I was told by my Lithuanian friends, you don't understand Russia!  Needless to say, they were right.

Yeltsin was already in decline.  The Chechen war had sucked all the air out of his administration.  He had become a national embarrassment with his impromptu dances, in which he looked like a drunk uncle stumbling around at a wedding party.  Russia was in tatters.  The US and Europe had provided a tremendous amount of financial aid, at the expense of Eastern European countries, which was quickly gobbled up by emerging oligarchs, who had turned the country into a gigantic black market.  I remember reading Moscow Madness, a book I heard about on VOA, in which a young American entrepreneur tried to import Miller beer into the country only to experience the tremendous amount of graft and corruption in the system.  

It wasn't much better in Vilnius, which was why my friends advised me against trying to start a business of my own.  I had all sorts of ideas, ranging from a futon company to purchasing a Starbucks franchise, not that I could have afforded to do so, but figured I might get some interested parties involved.  

I stuck with architecture instead.  Daina's father hooked me up with a couple construction companies, and I did a few designs for individual flats.  Her elder cousin was an assistant director in the telephone company, and gave me a commission to design a new employees' cafeteria for the central office.  Didn't pay much but kept me busy.  Eventually, I was able to buy a computer and had a techie install a pirate copy of AutoCAD. 

Daina was working for the Restoration of Monuments, a broad semi-private company that was responsible for managing the historic sites in Lithuania.  I tagged along with her to a restoration expo in Leipzig in 1998.  It was impressive.  All the latest materials and techniques when it came to restoring and remodeling historic buildings.  However, there wasn't much respect for Lithuania.  One German guy, whose company specialized in fabricated historic roof tiles, said what is there to preserve in Litauen?  That was the way pretty much everyone in the West saw Eastern Europe.  They either had no idea or didn't care about the rich history of these former Soviet states.  In their minds, it was still the Soviet Union.  

Perversely, Lithuania was still under the shadow of Russia.  If you wanted to make money, you did so by trading in Russia.  The new elite that was rising up in the country would pay exorbitant prices for just about anything.  I had met an American on the train who had ridden his Harley-Davidson motorcycle to Moscow and gotten a fantastic price for it, and was now returning to Germany to pick up another bike to sell.

It was a wild and woolly time.  The mafia was still strong in Lithuania, Russian and local.  We picked up a small project to design a basement casino for a Russian "businessman" living in Vilnius, as Lithuania had recently legalized gambling.  I don't remember who recommended this project, but we went to a couple meetings.  Daina translated between Russian and English as best she could.  It was very unnerving, especially his partner, who kept opening and closing his large pocket knife throughout the discussion.  We did a design for them, and they paid us something, but nothing ever came of it.  I think they were just attracted by the idea of working with an American, maybe thinking I could serve as a runner for them.  I don't know.  

I thought about putting together my own book, Vilnius Madness, but it didn't quite have the same ring to it, and I had a hard time concentrating on putting my thoughts together at the time.  I was trying to make my relationship with Daina and her children work.  I had run out of money, and was growing increasingly frustrated.  I couldn't stand being dependent on her father, but I loved her so much that I didn't think of leaving.  So, there I was, taking it one day at a time.  I still didn't even have a residential visa, as I was in and out of the country, giving me a fresh 90 days each time.

All that changed when we got married in 2000, and our daughter was born in 2001.  We went to register her birth, only to be scolded and told I needed a residential visa.  It was long past 90 days since I had last been out of the country.  The immigration department was ready to kick me out, but her father appealed to authorities and I got away with a 500-lita fine ($125), stamped into my passport, and eventually was given my first one-year residential visa.

It's kind of fun looking back on that time but I realize I can never go back, and if I could, what then?  Sure, there are a lot of things I would have done differently.  I probably would have tried to start a business, as several of my friends had, and done much better than I have as an architect. In retrospect, I can think of many business opportunities that would have succeeded, not least of all coffee shops, which have proliferated in Vilnius since the early 2000s.  There's no need for Starbucks with so many homegrown companies.

However, you have to look to the future, not the past.  This is what Vladimir Sorokin has said is so wrong with Putin.  He's still trying to prop up the old Russian "pyramid of power," totally obsessed with the restoration of the Russian Empire, when all it has brought is misery and discord to Russians and everyone around them.  Russia is essentially a failed state, just as was the Soviet Union in 1991.  It may not topple soon, but it is a state running on fumes as Putin is completely unable to look to the future.  He is holding onto some mystical vision of the past after spending way too much time in his bunker, seemingly out of fear of catching COVID, which can only make you wonder what else is rotting in his "Russian soul."