Two Tourists: Tale & Sequel

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Female tourists in Communist Soviet Union get in trouble.
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This story is set in the Soviet Union, beginning in the Communist era, when two women tourists decide to ignore the rules on export of restricted items. There are consequences for both, for one humiliating and the other highly inconvenient.

The story involves a sequel, when there is a return to scene at a later time.

* * * * *

Chapter 1

Alone at Last

Irma Bradley and her friend and companion Helen Murzac stood at the entrance to the modest hotel they had occupied with their tour group for the last several days. They were waving farewell to the others of the group with whom they had been touring the Soviet Union for the past two weeks. The time was 1983, the place a town not far from Kiev in the Ukraine. Irma and Helen had long looked forward to this tour of the communist empire, and now it was coming to a conclusion. This was to be their last stop, but Irma, ever the adventurer, had persuaded Helen to arrange with her that the two of them might remain for two extra days after the group left; a time, Irma had insisted, would allow them to taste a bit of the country without the supervision of the tour guide and enable them to taste the 'real' Soviet nation - also a time to do a bit of prowling and shopping of the type that would make them the envy of others when they returned to their homes in the USA.

As the bus carrying their former companions pulled away, Irma turned to her friend. "Now it's just the two us for two days. We get our chance to pick up the things we want to bring home - and not from the shops the guides steer us to! And we can roam around by ourselves, talk to whom we wish, and in two days we go home with an experience that wasn't on the official list!"

Helen smiled back. To be sure, Helen was a bit less adventuresome than Irma. She liked to poke around in strange places and pick up interesting bits of artwork or artifacts, but she was a bit more conventional than Irma. Helen would prefer to do her shopping in stores or museum shops, while Irma loved to hunt up street merchants, always looking for a bargain or something that couldn't be found in the conventional places.

Both women were single, fairly independent, and educated. Irma was thirty eight, a real estate salesperson accustomed to negotiations and completely at home with the bargaining process. She liked people and had no fear of anyone she might meet. From long experience she understood posturing and the processes of deception people often used; yet she inherently liked people and felt she could deal with such strategies. Irma, a schoolteacher, was a bit more of a conformist in her habits. She could be open and friendly with her students, yet she had a private side that she seldom revealed. She liked her privacy, enjoyed watching others get into adventures she would prefer to avoid, as she might watch that activity in her students, yet enjoyed intellectual exploration of the cultures and varied people she encountered.

Irma wasted no time. "Remember that man on the street corner who asked us about changing dollars? He offered an awfully good rate - twice what the banks would give!"

"The one our guide said to ignore? Because it was illegal?"

"So she said. What she really meant was that he didn't give her a cut! If we're going on a shopping spree, we need a supply of rubles. Let's go!"

The two women wandered back along the street, looking for a familiar corner. After a time they found it. They stood, looking around. Before long a rather plain looking man approached them. He was wearing an old coat, his head covered in a gray woolen cap, fairly appropriate to the changeable fall weather. "Ah, my American ladies!" he greeted them in rather good English. "I hope you are having good time in our country! We like our friends!" He went on, complimenting them on their dress, their hair styles, their smiles. Irma cut him short. "Yesterday - you offered a good rate on money exchanges - are you still in the business?"

The man suddenly became quiet. He looked about carefully, then motioned them to come into a sheltered doorway.

"In my business, it is good not to be too noisy. I have many competitors - they would not like to know what good rates I can offer - I like to do business with Americans, but some of the others are not so understanding. If they hear the good offers I make for you, they make things hard for me. You understand?"

Irma nodded. Helen looked on, a bit suspicious. He went on "How much you want to change? I make very good price - but, you understand, I cannot let others know what I do for you - so it just between us? So?"

Before long, a deal was struck. Several hundred dollars changed hands, and Irma and Helen moved away, purses stuffed with wads of rubles.

Irma smiled to Helen. "See why the guide didn't want us dealing with him? She probably gets a cut from all the places she takes us to, and this guy wouldn't be cutting her in. So we got a good deal! Now, where would you like to go first?"

Helen's taste went to small pieces of jewelry, and a bit of hand made skirts and blouses; things she would use as gifts to her close friends. They browsed a bit through street stalls and small stores.

Irma had more exotic tastes. She inquired at one small store, "I hear there are old pictures - religious icons - for sale. I'm interested in old art - could you guide me?" At first she got shakes of the head, or comments indicating her English was not understood, but Irma was insistent. She had a brochure describing old artwork sometimes found among merchants selling antiques, and she used the pictures to help with her inquiries.

Helen was less than enthused. "Even if you find any of the icons, you know you can't take them out of the country if they're over a hundred years old - it's not allowed, as the guides told us!"

"So who's to know the birthdates? Old art doesn't come with date of manufacture - that's what makes it interesting. I was told we'd find some old icons if we looked far enough. Oh, I'd love some of that - something of old Russia, from the Czarist times - or older!"

They continued looking, until a shopkeeper showed signs of interest. "Pictures? Old pictures? The old churches - they tear down - some make into museums - sometimes, sometimes, people sell pictures from old churches. Such is you want?" Irma's interest was immediately aroused.

Both of them were ushered into a small back room. A large chest was opened, and from it the shopkeeper withdrew several framed pictures, obviously quite old. Irma's eyes brightened at the site. This might be what she was looking for.

A number of old pictures, obviously church icons, were spread before her. The shopkeeper offered comments in broken English "old - sixteen, fifteen century - from old church - very rare- you want?" Then he added, "Old book - too?" Her interest was piqued. She nodded.

After some further search, a very old book was produced, illustrated with several hand painted pictures. She failed to connect with the text, all in Russian, or perhaps Ukrainian, but the pictures cleared showed her it was a religious text, and probably at least two centuries old.

Irma employed her negotiating powers. She played the pictures against the book, seemingly debating which was her real interest. After a time, she finally had a bargain - the book and four small icons. She smiled as she paid out the cash, thinking how these would appear as rare finds in her home. All, she noted, were small enough to fit in her suitcase.

The shopkeeper offered no receipt, no papers. The deal was closed. The purchases were wrapped in a nondescript cloth and given to Irma. The two women left the shop, pleased their shopping expedition had yielded such quick results.

The next day was largely Helen's. Her tastes were less exotic, but resulted in more bulky purchases. At the end of the day, they retired to their room to prepare for their impending departure.

Irma had thought it best to place the icons in the bottom of her suitcase, wrapped in articles of her apparel. Helen was unconcerned about her purchases, and packed most of them in a carton she had acquired along the way. They had a late late dinner, and retired early.

The day of their departure began. They breakfasted, and had arranged a car to transport them to the airport. The driver arrived on time, and they were off, anticipating a long day returning home. They would not be disappointed.

On arrival at the airport, they checked in for their flight. After receiving their boarding cards, they were ushered into a room where passports and customs papers were checked. Baggage, tagged for their flight, was still in their care until it was cleared by the customs officials.

The two approached the customs counter. They were directed to place their bags on the counter and unlock them. Two customs officers carefully looked over their currency and baggage declarations, and passports.

One official tapped on Helen's box. He indicated she was to open it, which she did. She stood as he carefully went through the contents, carefully looking at the pieces of clothing and jewelry she had purchased. Helen was a bit irritated as she saw her careful packing being disrupted by the rummaging hands of the official, as he withdrew item after item and looked it over. Finally, he seemed satisfied. With a nod of his head, he motioned for her to close it up. With a shrug she bent to the task of restoring order to her carefully packed carton.

Next was Irma's suitcase. Again, items were withdraw and examined. The officials seemed disinterested in conversation, or couldn't communicate in English. With sour expressions, they explored the contents of the luggage. At length an article was withdrawn, Irma's slacks, worn and unwashed, wrapped around one of the icons. The official carefully unwound the slacks. He withdrew the icon. His face brightened as he drew it out and held it up to the light.

The other official stopped what he was doing and turned to see the find. Together they inspected the icon. With an expression of disapproval, the customs officer looked directly at Irma. "Nyet!" he said, clearly, followed by a string of words in Russian which Irma could not decipher.

They burrowed further into her suitcase. One official looked over the customs papers she had completed, and pointed to it in a quizzical way. Their voices became animated. Irma sensed there was a problem.

"I just bought that - I didn't know there would be a problem with it! I'm sorry - can I leave it?"

The official clearly did not understand. Then he found a second icon. He voice rose as he spoke to Irma. She flushed.

One of the customs officers disappeared into another room. It was indicated that Irma should wait. Helen, her own inspection completed, stood beside her.

"What are they going to do?" Helen asked. "I think maybe you should have declared the icons! They seem upset about them!"

"If I had put them on the paper, they wouldn't have let us take them out. They don't know where we got them. They don't know whether they are fakes or not - these men aren't art experts! Just wait - everything's going to be all right!"

The customs officer returned with a man they had not seen before. He addressed Irma. "Deutsch? Francaise? Italiano?"

"English! We're American - as you can see from our passports!"

The newcomer nodded slowly. "English. We will try. You ... together?" he indicated the two of them.

"Yes", they agreed, in unison.

He picked up the two icons, one in each hand. "Not allowed. Not on form. Who? Which one?"

Irma indicated herself. "They are mine. I bought them!"

"More?" asked the official. "No - just me!" Irma responded, evidently misunderstanding the question.

"Purse", he said. indicating Irma. She handed over her purse. The official began to rummage through it. The contents were hastily dumped on the counter.

After a few moments, he opened an envelope and withdrew a small pile of ruble notes. He held them up, showing them to Irma. He looked at the currency declaration, where she had listed no rubles. She knew full well export of ruble notes was not allowed.


The official frowned. His displeasure was evident. "Not allowed - forbidden!" he said emphatically. "No rubles can be taken!"

Helen whispered to Irma, "Why did you keep them? You know they were not allowed?"

Irma answered quietly. "They're what's left of the ones we bought - I couldn't change them at the bank without an exchange receipt, so I just stuffed them in my purse."

She quickly addressed the official. "I couldn't change them back- I lost my exchange receipt. What else could I do?"

He seemed to ignore her statement. "Rubles not allowed - old pictures not allowed - no, no!" he shook his head, and said something in Russian to the other customs men. They began dumping out the contents of Irma's suitcase, searching every item.

In a few minutes they had found the rest of the icons and the book. They began writing, at some length, on an official-looking document. Irma and Helen were both addressed in Russian, but they could only understand that the officials were disturbed.

Soon their boarding cards were taken from them, along with their passports. They were ushered into a small office.

A new, and evidently more senior, official came into the room. After a long conversation in Russian with the customs men who had inspected the baggage, he addressed them in hesitating English.

"You carry.... forbidden material. Rubles, old, antique - no permits. No declaration. You cannot go. It is not allowed. " He tried to explain further, but his command of the language was slight. They understood only that they were in trouble, and would not be allowed to board the flight.

Irma tried to explain. She protested. She stood up and shouted. "I am an American! You cannot keep me here! Take these things if you will, but you cannot hold me! I demand to speak to the American consul!"

The officials did not answer in English. They conferred among themselves, then left the room, leaving only a guard to watch them.

Irma fumed. "No one understands us! They have made us miss our flight! This is ridiculous! We bought these things, paid for them with money we got for good U.S. dollars! How can they do this?"

Helen was a bit calmer. "Irma, you know we were warned. The guide told us not to exchange money on the street, and we were told taking out antiques would not be allowed! Maybe, if we just get to someone who understands English, we can explain. It won't help to shout!"

They were made to wait over an hour. Finally a uniformed officer came into the room. He tried to speak to them. "Go - go Novorosk! Militia will handle. English. You go!" he motioned to the door.

They were taken to a waiting vehicle. The uniformed officer ushered them into the rear seat. He and a driver took the front. Their baggage was not loaded and their passports not returned.

"Where are we going?" Irma said to her companion. "I can only guess", Helen responded, "he said something about Novorosk, I think. That sounds like the name of a little town I saw on the map, a ways from here. They seem to think someone will speak English wherever we're going. But that's just a guess!"

The driver and their escort talked among themselves, but they used no English words. Irma and Helen could only guess at their destination. The car drove for some time, and eventually they spotted a road sign pointing to Novorosk. Helen had guessed correctly.

Chapter 2

English at Last

The car stopped in front of an official looking building in the town of Novorosk. The escorting officer opened the door, and indicated they were to come out. They entered the rather drab building, passed a number of uniformed persons whom they assumed to be police, and were taken to a fairly large room with several benches. "Wait!" the escort ordered them. They sat down, and waited.

A female in a military style uniform came in, evidently to keep an eye on them. She sat beside the door. Their escort left.

Time dragged on. They waited and waited. The room had a small water dispenser, from which a glass of water might be obtained, and two rooms that were evidently toilets. They made use of the facilities and helped themselves to the water. The female guard seemed to tolerate these actions, but said nothing to them.

After they had been in the room almost two hours, a uniformed militiaman entered, and called out, "Irma Bradley!" Irma stood up. "That's me," she answered. The man indicated she was to come with him. She followed down a hallway, and then into an office. The room was the usual drab official style, furnished with an old desk, a couple of chairs, and an assortment of shelves holding papers and books. She was offered a chair.

Behind the desk was a man in a military or police uniform, slender, perhaps about forty. He smiled at her. Then he addressed her, in rather good English. "I am Vassily Kuznetov. I am, as you might say, an officer of the Novorosk militia, or police, to you. You have been referred to me, I have been told, because you do not speak Russian or Ukrainian, and you are foreigners. Sometimes persons are sent here because my English is perhaps a bit better than some of our men at the customs posts. I have been given some information about you, and it is my task to deal with you so we can resolve this matter-"

Irma could not contain herself. "We have been taken from the airport! Our luggage was taken from us! Our passports were taken! We have missed our flight! No one understands us, or can tell us what we are expected to do - then we were brought here and you kept us waiting for two hours! I insist you tell us exactly what you expect us to do, and let us get back to the airport as quickly as possible!"

Vassily listened to her outburst with as much patience as he could muster. He allowed her to finish. Then he told her, "Miss Bradley, you are charged with violation of the currency control laws and attempting to export prohibited items. You were found with rubles in your possession as you were about to embark on a flight out of the country. You were found with antique artwork in your luggage, for which you had no export permit. You had not declared either to customs. You had, in fact, wrapped the paintings in articles of clothing, in an evident attempt to hide them from inspection. These are serious matters.

"Further, the value of the artwork and the currency in your possession would seem to considerably exceed the value of foreign currency you brought into the country and legally exchanged. This suggests that you have engaged in foreign currency transactions at places not authorized to do such business. These are serious charges. Do you deny them?"

Irma was furious. "We declared all of the money we had when we entered the country. Why do you care where we spent it? We paid for everything we bought! We stole nothing! We're Americans! You can't hold us against our will! We have rights!"

"In our country," Vassily went on calmly, "We have laws that govern where you can exchange money, and what you can bring in or take out of the country. They may not be like the laws of your country, but they are our laws, and while you are here you must abide by them. The charges against you are quite serious, and it may take some time to deal with them- "

Irma interrupted him. "We are not going to stay in this place! You have no right to hold us! If you must, you can keep the things you found in my suitcase, but you have no right to hold me! I know my position! I am American, and I demand to see the consulate!"

"You will have opportunity to make your defense, Miss Bradley," Vassily answered. "In due course. We may allow you to contact the American consulate, but it is not yet time. As for the items in your suitcase, we shall indeed hold them. We intend to find out where you acquired them, and how or if you paid for them. You may have had an accomplice. What is you friend's position in all this?"