Sabbatical Journal: 8. The End of the USSR

Friday, 6 September, Cannes.

12:15, at the beach. Sunny, calm breeze. Hazy today, the cape on our right is barely visible. I told the children, "This is the last day at the beach for the year."

I love to be at the beach in September! This morning Cathy and I sat on the balcony, overlooking the Mediterranean and discussed events in Russia and, in particular, an article by Simon Schara comparing the 1789 French upheavals with the Russian coup d'etat. Schara writes that the happenings of recent weeks are the most momentous post World War II events.

For several days it appeared to the readers of the IHT as if Gorby was flipping back and forth between radical changes and hanging on to some of the old system. Yesterday, after three days of deadlock over Gorbachev's demands, the Soviet legislature, the Soviet First Deputies or something like that (I'm never quite sure of the names of these bodies), agreed with the proposal put forth by Gorbachev and the presidents of 10 out of the 15 republics to turn over power to a group composed of Gorbachev and the 10 presidents, who are to figure out how to transfer centralized power, within the next few months to a year, to a confederation of republics.

The IHT headline read: "Wastebin of History," meaning that the move yesterday, following last week's abolition of the Communist Party (CP) as an entity of any official recognition, signifies the end of the USSR and the beginning of something new.

I am reminded of the prayers we used to say at the end of mass for the conversion of Russia. Perhaps they worked after all! I wonder when that started, and why the Russians, not the Muslims or the Hindus, Buddhists? Was it that atheistic communism was against religion, rather than an alternative to Catholicism? Was it the political acceptance of communist governments by the west? My teachers in the 4th - 8th grades, the Irish nuns, taught us to hate communism. Jan used to have dreams in which the "communisms" kidnapped her. Scary stuff for little kids!

The danger now appears to be nationalism. Yugoslavia is the best example. The Serbs hate the Croats (because the Croats took advantage of their alliance with the Nazis to take it out on the Serbs in World War II) and are intent on dismembering Croatia. Will this be a good example to the others of what to avoid, or is it a sign of things to come?

Robert returns with two small crabs, he catches them in the rocks on our left and transplants them on our right. Jeffrey is "taking a dip." Thomas is with Robert. Mara is by the shower.

In France, the coup has raised many concerns. Was the CP leader here a volunteer worker at the Nazi factory? The French want to use military force in Yugoslavia. The Russian (USSR) ambassador to France has been recalled; he delivered a message to France on behalf of the coup leaders. Mitterand said things that appeared to be supportive of the coup.

When we call home, people ask us, "Do you follow what's been going on?" We say, "Of course! It's happening here!" That is the American point of view: looking at how things happen concerning America.

What will happen in Russia? Will there be a meaningful central government of some sort? Will there be demagogues and fascists? Is Yeltsin (Eltsine, as they spell it here) one? Will there be attacks and persecutions on the old guard, as there were in France after 1789?

It seems that the sorts of things that happened in France two hundred years ago are unlikely to happen now, given the relative sophistication of modern day communication and transportation (and consequent enlightenment of the masses), but modern inventions cannot fight hate, and, if the winter brings large scale problems with food in the old USSR, then no telling what can happen. In a large sense, the future lies with the rich West, only the West has the ability to take care of the hunger and distress (to some degree at least) likely to cause such problems.

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Saturday, 7 September. We leave Cannes at eleven for the long drive to Dijon. I load up the car and let the air out of tires in order not to scrape the roof again. I get lost around Lyon and we take the long route, but arrive at Dijon (420 miles) in time to have the car serviced at Lube Express, where there are Leggos in the waiting room and a free bottle of cologne for the LOF. We arrive at the Novotel at 4 p.m. Dinner at Chez Margot, French version of Chili's. It is cooler.

Sunday, 8 September. Today is the most beautiful morning of our visit to France. It is crisp and clear and we eat our breakfast outside. I hate to leave, but we head off at 10:25 a.m. Midway to Paris, Cathy realizes she has lost her bright pink bag (specially bought in pink so as to be difficult to lose). Inside is her passport and wallet. She calls the hotel at a gas stop and they check: she left it in a drawer. They agree to hold it. We drive around Paris to Hotel Mercure at Meulan, west of the city. We take time to check in around 3:30 p.m., then quickly hurry back to Paris, where Cathy and Robert catch the TGV to Dijon. I have a nice dinner with Jeffrey, Thomas and Mara at the hotel. Our hotel is in Meulan. Across the river is Les Mureaux. Paris is a 30 minute train ride.

Monday, 9 September. My group takes the 10:43 train to Paris, where we meet Cathy at noon at the Louvre. We spend several hours looking at the works of art. It is an intense day of culture for a person of any age. From the Louvre we walk up the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. The top is closed in preparation for the visit of a dignitary. We have drinks on the Champs Elysees, and watch as the street is closed off and the motorcade drives by. Afterwards we return to Gare St. Lazare, our new station for the return train.

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Monday, 9 September, 9:20 a.m. Meulan.

At breakfast at the Hotel Mercure. Just four of us this morning. Cathy left her wallet and passport at Dijon and went back there with Robert last night on the TGV (the fastest commercial train in the world), which left Paris at 1946.

A lively breakfast room this morning. Cathy called at 7 o'clock to say good morning and that she and Robert are on their way. The weather here is fine, but the mornings and evenings, since Dijon, are cool, even cold. The days are still bright, but there is a definite touch of autumn (fall, as we say in America) in the air. Our hotel is a very interesting bit of architecture: a new building has been erected within the ruins of an old monastery, a few half standing walls of white stone, the usual for this part of the world.

The yellow headlamps in the evening, particularly in the city (as when we sat outside at the pasta restaurant in Cannes), remind me of a distant past, perhaps in wartime.

Dijon was absolutely beautiful, though I suspect it had more to do with the weather: like a late October day in Las Vegas.