Personal space is not big in Russia

I was walking down the street the other day when I felt the hairs at the back of my neck twitch. You may think I am kidding but coming from a place like Manchester in the UK where violence, potentially, can break out in a nunnery during daily prayers, you learn an entire panoply of survival tactics which you take for granted.

Step outside that environment and things become complicated. It was broad daylight, I was in a busy street. I was walking on my own, both hands free and wearing the loose type of clothing which back in Manchester marks you as willing, able and capable of loosing mayhem at the drop of a hat. Normally, though I would never let my guard down, I would not be expecting a fight either.

This however is St Petersburg. There are dozens of probably unemployed, or shadily employed, or Black Market employed guys hanging around or walking around carrying bottle of beer (yes, it’s common practice here and it gives me the jitters) and drug taking is on the increase. Add to it the fact that the normal signals do not apply and I am obviously not Russian and you begin to see why I was getting twitchy.

I listened as the steps directly behind me quickened. I was walking on a pavement broad enough for cars to drive on (which hey do here, but that’s another story) and there was no reason for anyone to walk directly behind me.

I slowed down a little, looked sideways appraising both those around me and the shape I could peripherally pick up coming up fast behind me. Now, if it was dark and an empty street I would be turning around and getting ready to deck whoever was coming up behind me, out.

It wasn’t and those around me were not registering any alarm (and no intent of assault takes place without ripples), so I slowed down a little more, feeling my body relax and though my heart rate was now up I knew that I had to let this take its course. The worst thing that would happen would be a violent shove I could absorb and roll with and I would then rain down some nukes on anyone sufficiently idiotic to think Westerners are easy targets.

Whoever he was he did come up in a straight line and fast and he was not slowing down as I was. He came right up behind me, veered sharply left and continued on his way towards the nearby underground station.

I looked at him as he receded. He was about 24, thin, dressed in the drab, dark colours that seem to mark everyone here. Wearing a baseball cap and carrying a shabby backpack, his head down immersed in whatever music was piping into his ears through the MP3 player he had on.

In all likelihood he could have been a student, maybe he wasn’t, the point is that here personal space, for some reason is not very big at all. In a country where space is no object, Russians like grinding against each other.

Go to the supermarket queue and the guy (or woman) behind you is standing close enough for you to feel their body. Walk down the street and people around you get well past what back in Manchester would have been the personal assault range past which you would be laying into them with both fists.

Get on the train and you are running the risk of having sexual intercourse with half the commuters there.

I don’t know why this is. It could be because the weather sucks here and everyone is into the multi-layered look of wearing almost all their winter wardrobe at once, which kind of makes men and women in Winter look very much like each other from a distance (many men here have long hair!), until you start noticing the beards (Russian women do not have beards!). It could be because three quarters of a century under communism succeeded in destroying their sense of personhood and the sense of the individual and have fostered the collective mentality that they have yet to escape from.

Whatever it is, it is really unnerving. You meet them in the street and they stand so close you begin to wonder what to do. You take a step back and smile they take a step forward and touch your shoulders.

There are other things they do wrong. Like hold your gaze when you do not know them and just cast that appraising ‘don’t mess with me or I will take you down’ look in the street. Things here are simply wrong.
Westerners can get in trouble real easily (or go quietly mad).