Heinlein, Robert A – Expanded Universe

which your investment will be well repaid in education if not in pleasure.

But to get fun out of it, too, you must understand the Intourist game, play

it, and win. Winning consists in outwitting the system so that you get more than

they intend you to get; it does not mean fair value in the fashion (for example)

that a traveler invariably gets

his money’s worth in any Scandinavian country. It is not possible to get fair value

in the USSR; the game is rigged against the American tourist. But there are ways to

minimize the expense and maximize the return while having quite a lot of fun.

All travel in the USSR is controlled at every point by Intourist; you must

buy from it all travel, all automobile and guide service, all hotel rooms, all

meals- or if you buy a meal not from Intourist you simply waste a meal already paid

for.

You buy from Intourist at four rubles to the dollar- and you are licked from

scratch as the value of the ruble is closer to forty to the dollar (which is the

rate the Soviet government gives to favored visitors such as Asians they are trying

to woo into the Communist camp).

You can cut costs by ordering cheap accommodations. Three grades are

offered: Luxe, Tourist A, and Tourist B. A single man might risk Tourist B if he did

not mind public toilets and baths of uncertain cleanliness, plus sharing sleeping

space, dormitory style; a couple might risk Tourist A, which is supposed to be (but

is not) equal to first-class travel elsewhere. But I cannot honestly urge anything

short of “Luxe” class because even the best in Russia is often shockingly bad by our

standards-bathrooms without baths, even hotels with no baths, tubs with no hot

water, plumbing that is “quaint” or worse, poor cooking, dirty utensils, maddening

waits. The lodging for Luxe class is often a huge and fantastically furnished suite,

but a firstclass double room & bath in any other country is more comfortable.

Luxe class costs $30 per day per person (3 Dec 79- Kremlin rate

$182.40-World free-market rate $370.29) and includes lodging, meal coupons, and

three hours of guide and automobile service per person (thus six hours for a

couple)-if you get it. It does not include any train, plane, or bus fares. Add these

in, plus round trip aircoach fares from New York, and a

month in the Soviet Union will cost an American couple at least $4500 (3 Dec

79-Kremlin rate $27,360.00- World rate $55,543.50), plus spending money and extras.

You will get at least twice as much for your money in any other part of

Europe, but the real problem always is to get what you have paid for and Intourist

has contracted to furnish you.

Start by realizing that Intourist is not really a travel service in the

sense in which Thos. Cook or American Express is. It is a bureau of the Communist

government and its function is to get those Yankee dollars in advance, channel you

through a fixed route, then spill you out at the far end almost as ignorant of their

country as when you started. P. T. Barnum’s famous sign “This Way to the Egress”

anticipated the basic Intourist principle: Get the sucker’s money first, then get

rid of him with the least trouble to the management.

So treat it as a game and don’t fret when you lose. Try to get a good

night’s sleep-the bed may be awful but it will be quiet because there is almost no

traffic- and try again the next day.

For example: the guide is not there to guide you, the guide is there to make

sure that you see the stadium- so try not to see a stadium anywhere in the Soviet

Union. Surely they have stadiums; any people so devoted to “Togetherness” have

stadiums-how else could they display ten thousand people all doing physical jerks at

once? (A “Spartakiad”) But remember that your fixed cost is about $20 just to look

at a stadium (with no football game thrown in) and that, in diverting you to the

stadium, Intourist has kept you from seeing something of real interest, a factory, a