0
not know what. All we knew was
that around midnight, an embassy
operator my father was speaking to
by telephone said that an
emergency situation had
developed at the embassy, which is
near the Russian Parliament. Half
an hour later, we called back and
were told the emergency was over.
Although our window faced the
White House in which Yeltsin was
holding out, we were too far away
to see or hear anything. Lying in
bed, unable to fall asleep, my
senses were on red alert, singling
out every noise coming from

0 0
outside, no matter how
insignificant. Although on occasion
there were sirens wailing or heavy
thuds that seemed like they could
be exploding shells, I heard
nothing that was clearly the sound
of battle.
From Russia with
Haste
The next morning I was
awakened by the piercing ring of
our telephone. My 27-year-old
brother, Dan, vacationing in
California, had been following the
turmoil in Russia with mounting


0
alarm; the news that three citizens
had been shot or trampled by tanks
had convinced him that the time
had come for us to flee the coup.
After countless attempts, he had
finally gotten through, which is no
small feat even when the Soviet
government is stabfe.
He reported to us the latest
news: that an attack on Yeltsin's
building had been repulsed,
though several people died and
some soldierswere beaten up; in
Leningrad, hundreds of thousands
of protesters had been taking to the
streets; Leningrad's airport was
rumored to have been shut down.
Even if we decided to continue to
Leningrad, he pointed out, it
would be difficult to tour and even
more difficult to fly to Prague,
where we intended to continue our
vacation.
We told him that this was all
news to us, though we were as yet
unconvinced that we should leave.
We knew that the number of
people leaving had increased
tremendously in the past 24 hours.
We were told by other tourists that
some countries, including Japan,
had gone so far as to order their
citizens to leave the Soviet Union.
Our decision to leave was made
soon after calling the American
embassy for an update. The State
Department's official statement
had changed since Tuesday: "All
Americans should consider leaving
within 48 hours," we were told.
The two public liaison officials
with whom my father and I spoke
that morning told us that in their
opinions, we should cut short our
vacation and leave immediately,
though we still were in no
immediate danger. This was the
coup degrce, convincing us more
than anything we had seen or heard
that it was time to leave.
Before I continue with this tale,
I would like to express my
disappointment in the American
embassy for doing little to inform
us of events in the Soviet Union. I
realize that the embassy personnel
had to deal with a crisis of
tremendous magnitude, and that
their responsibility for Americans
in the Soviet Union does not
extend beyond ensuring their
safety. However, Moscow during
the coup was anything but the
information capital of the world,
and the embassy public liaison
officers did little to enlighten us.
Simple questions met with evasive
answers, forcing us to make the
decision to leave or stay blindly.
Not all of the foreigners staying
in the Intourist Hotel were in such
a hurry to leave. Although the hotel
was emptying fast, there were
some who wished to stay in
Moscow, come what may. I include
myself in this category. As I told
my parents at the time, I firmly
believed that the Red Army would
not attack any civilians. Each
soldier has parents, siblings and
relatives trying to survive a
devastating economic collapse.

Many of these people see Yeltsin
as their only potential saviour, and
the soldiers all knew this and
realized why these tens of
thousands of citizens were facing
down the Soviet military. I would
not be surprised to discover that
some of the soldiers trying to
control Moscow had relatives
behind the barricades.
Although I saw no danger of the
army attacking the people, I would
not have been surprised if fighting
had broken out between army
units loyal to the coup leaders and
units loyal to Gorbachev and
Yeltsin. And even if such
bloodshed occurred, I believed that
we would be safe. For one thing,
most Russians feel a strong
friendship for Americans. And, if
the situation really did become
dangerous even for American
tourists, I had faith that our
embassy would somehow get us
out.
These arguments were
considered and rejected. The
prevailing logic was that if the
embassy personnel had privately
advised us to escape, there must be
some reason. And delay could cost

several merchants confirmed my
suspicions that many of their
competitors had failed to set up
shop because the tourists were all
leaving.
Thy were not the only ones
sorry to see all the foreigners leave.
Our hotel's staff was deeply
bothered, since they had no idea
how long it would be before the
tourists and businesspersons
returned. One clerk, according to
my father, had tears in her eyes as
she watched people checking out.
There is little more to tell. We
arrived at the airport around 2:45,
debating all the way whether in
leaving we were doing the right
thing. At the airport, the porter who
helped with our luggage explained
to me that he was positive that
there would be no major
bloodshed. He urged us to
reconsider, but to no avail.
My visit to the Soviet Union
had started as a vacation and
opportunity to practice my Russian,
but it had become an opportunity
to observe what may prove to be
one of the most significant events
of the century. I must say,
however, that there was certainly

by Lynne Cohn
College. It's four years,
sometimes five, of exploring the
world around you, the campus, who
you are and society in general. And
college not only consists of the
campus and academic life. Extra-
curricular activities as well as the
surrounding university community
makes college a whole experience.
You can't go to college and ignore
everything outside of the
classroom. It's a package deal.
As a Michigan student, I look at
this university as the epitome of
the big American school. Across the
Atlantic Ocean, on the far side of
the European continent, in the
heart of northern Italy, sits another
university community: the
University of Parma. It is separated
from Ann Arbor by distance,
language and cultural barriers. But
in many ways, it is quite close.
This past summer, I spent three
weeks studying at Parma.
Attending both universities has
allowed me to view two very
different but very similar cultures.
So sit tight and hold on to your
seat, as I attempt to create for you
the very real illusion that exists
both in Parma and in Ann Arbor.
Michigan Stadium, packed near
its 101,701 capacity, rocks with the
feverish enthusiasm of excited
students and alumni anxiously
awaiting another Wolverine victory.
A 21-year-old male undergrad, his
face painted half yellow and half
blue, yells "Go Blue!" while
throwing his fist in the air. People
chow on Domino's pizza, TCBY
frozen yogurt and various soft
drinks in U-M football cups while a
drunken group of fraternity men
pass a lone Michigan State co-ed
up the bleachers.
The wind blows. The sun
shines. Cheeks turn rosy on even
the palest faces despite the fact
that it is late October. The leaves
have changed, painting Ann Arbor
red, yellow and orange. They have
forgotten mid-terms and dreams of
six-figure jobs. The game comes
first. Now they are ahead, but it
could change at any minute if the
hiss of the cheering crowd should
quiet.
The third quarter ends, of
course, in a tie. The crowds must
cheer louder, get more excited,
inspire the team to victory. The
Wolverines always beat the
Spartans at home, but can they do
Lynne Cohn is a Daily staff reporter.

it this year?
The MSU player catches the
ball. He runs. He runs. He runs.
He crosses the field as if he were
flying. And he scores.
I remember this tear-jerking
scene as if it were yesterday. A slim
Foreign
Focus
A special feature intended to
provide students the
opportunity to share
accounts of their travels
abroad.

These two university
communities, half a world apart
from each other, generate stories
like this due to the active nature of
the students. The stories arem
different, but they carry the same
amount of importance in their
respective communities. Although
the University of Michigan and the
University of Parma are separated
by 9,000 miles, several bodies of
water and many nations, they are
united by universal similarities
inherent to college communities.
Probably a climatic difference,
Parma's easy-going, laid-back
lifestyle clashes with the brisk,
competitive pace of Ann Arbor.
Parma doesn't have to deal with
the frightening winter weather
about which Ann Arborites
complain incessantly. This
difference in climate might explain
the mindset within these two
places. Ann Arbor people are intent
on succeeding. Michigan students
often take five and six classes each
semester to graduate on time. In
Parma, the attitude is completely
opposite. Students are not
concerned with time; whether it
takes four years or as many as eight,
they don't worry about it. In fact,
most plan to spend more time after
college either in a non-paying
apprenticeship or, for the men, in
the army, so the students often try
to prolong their college careers.
A similarity between Parma and
Michigan is that the students know
how to have fun - they don't just
study. Parma students often gather
at bars or gelaterias (ice cream
parlors) where they feast on french
fries, Cokes, or a panino (sandwich)
of prosciutto di Parma. Italian
students grab a quick calzone
before hitting the chic disco just

outside Parma's city limits. They
sit on dorm balconies playing guitar
and singing sappy love songs by
Claudio Baglioni or Gianni
Morandi.
Parma students even have
hang-ups about sex and dating
similar to those of Michigan
students. The biggest difference is
in the "backwards" attitude
popular among Southern Italians,
says 24-year-old economics
graduate Paola Maggi.

actuality
with for
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"A g
asks a b
Ferrari,
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Hisi
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other w
Still,

Big Ten vs. Big Cheese: A
Study in Contrasting Colic


Students are not concerned with I
takes four years or as many as eig
they don't worry about it.

us dearly, since if fighting broke
out the airport would probably be
closed down and we would be
stuck in Moscow. After trying to
get through to several airlines, we
finally arranged to fly to Zurich at
about six o'clock Wednesday
evening.
Having several hours to kill
before we would have to leave for
the airport, we decided to use up
our rubles on souvenirs at a tourist
trap known as the Arbat, a street in
downtown Moscow which is
infested with merchants who sell
art and souvenirs of dubious quality
for inflated and unfair prices. The
day before, the Arbat had been
bustling with tourists, as it always
is. On Wednesday, the Arbat was
practically deserted - both
vendors and customers were hardly
to be seen. The rain that had been
falling for most of the day had
something to do with this, but

something unwholesome about our
activities and those of all the other
foreigners who enjoyed the
spectacle of tanks in the streets.
That bartender who had fought
so valiantly and vainly to watch
Vremya had spoken the truth when
he exclaimed "It's my country!"
We were only visitors, and we had
the luxury of knowing that we
could leave at any time if the
situation became unpleasant. The
Russians, though, had to stay and
face the crisis. For foreigners, the
danger and disintegration of society
were unreal and incomprehensible.
Therefore, many of us ignored and
even enjoyed the misery of the
Soviet peoples as we went around
taking snapshots of this splendid
little coup.
-O V

Italian student told me of an
equally vivid and important scene
which is commonly witnessed
every fall at the University of
Parma. It goes something like this:
The girl opens her door, lugging
two hefty suitcases inside. She
shuts the door behind her,
breathing a sigh of relief.
Raffaelo leaves his hidden
observation point and darts up the
three flights of dormitory stairs to
the room he has called home for
three years. The whole gang is
there, laughing loudly and jamming
to Michael Jackson's 'Thriller."
"Get ready!" he shouts in
Italian, excited with the
anticipation of his final year of
playing pranks on first-year
students.
Pasqualina steps out onto the
balcony, the glare of the hot sun
reflected in her sunglasses and
black hair. She looks down to the
girl's first floor balcony, waiting.
Suddenly, it's time. The group
pours onto the balcony, squeezing
through the glass opening like
sardines into a small tin. Raffaelo
reaches into the trash can, securing
a water balloon, as does the rest of
the group.
"Uno - due - tre - Avanti!"
Everyone drops their balloon on
the poor student below.
Drenched, she looks up at the
hysterical crowd and cringes.
Damn, she thinks. I can't wait to be a
senior.

with
Baolloons
o Costume & Tuxedo Delivery
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o Balloon Bouquets
o Myiar Balloons
o Candy & Champagne Boskets
o Party Decorating Service
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"Here, girls are very
independent and confident," she
says. "Boys from the South think
that to become a good wife, a
woman must cook, be kind to the
man, be a good mother, and it is
not necessary that she works."
Maggi insists that within the
group of 20,000 Parma students,
women ask men for dates
frequently, though mrany of her
male counterparts disagree. Italian,
men have a reputation for being
great romancers who pinch the
behinds of foreign women while
exclaiming, "Ciao, bella!" In

compon
commur
universi
grades u
with the
"college
Parrr
heart of
home of
the worl
houses h
wife, M
hosts a g
Romane
Pleas

AVOID RU
You are already ac
CAMPUS CH
1236 Washtenaw
(one block south of Geddes a
668-74211662-1
SUNDAY WORSHIP: 10 a
WEDNESDAY: 9-10 p.m., U
R.O.C.K. Group Meeting-fur
provocative discuss


September 13, 1991

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971 -~863O

WEEKEND

Page 8

Page 5

WEEKEND

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