This story I wrote was published in regional farm publications such as The Ohio Country Journal to add information and often some levity to agricultural science and current ag topics.

Recently I made a trip to Russia to present several seminars on dairy cattle management. My mission also included meetings regarding American-style dairy planning with government dignitaries, such as the governors and agriculture directors of the Kostroma and Krasnodar Oblasts (an oblast is similar to a state here in the U.S.).  A veterinarian from the Holstein Association accompanied me to promote the sale of U.S. dairy cattle genetics.

We covered a lot of territory during this visit, and learned a lot about the country’s past and present. Russia has a land mass more than double the U.S., encompassing 11 time zones and accounting for 12.5% of the world’s terrain. Yet the Russian population is just half ours and is dropping by a half percent each year while ours is increasing by one percent and the world’s by one and a half percent.

Russia became a Christian nation in 988 A.D. when its leader Prince Vladimir was baptized at the port of Sevastopol in Crimea. He ordered that Christianity become the nation’s primary religion. He had several reasons for making this decree¹:

• To avoid being isolated from the rest of the world.
• To establish a religion of one God, as a spiritual parallel to Russia’s monarchy.
• To strengthen the family and introduce a new morality.
• To develop the culture.
• To require people to abandon paganism.

¹ Reference is Roger Wright, frequent traveler to Russia, businessman and student of Russian history.

Russia continued as a Christian nation until the Bolsheviks revolted in 1917. Since the fall of the Soviet Union, the church has become active again and now appears to be in a renaissance. Yet when Russians discuss religion they have little reference or foundation to speak from. I found it fascinating that my Russian colleagues wanted to know all about my own attendance at church and what I believed. Our translator, who was 50-something, spoke about old memories of attending church with his grandmother as a preschooler.

In my travels, I experienced a dichotomy of cultures, between the big city life of Moscow and the rural country side. Moscow, nearly the size of New York City, is snarled in traffic and more than its share of yuppies at the wheel of fancy sport cars. Rural areas, especially in north Russia, are filled with abject poverty.

One thing that both Moscow and rural Russia have in common is hotels that appear as they did in the communist era—with drab, threadbare furnishings, uncomfortable beds, cramped bathrooms and dim lighting. The exception to such dismal accommodations was our stay at the Governor’s private retreat in Kostroma. However, even these rooms, while new, were devoid of the modern amenities that American travelers take for granted. That is, television, telephone and Internet. I was, however, able to view from my room the first snowfall of the year, in October. It forced me to close the window in the wee hours of the morning.

Northern Russia, specifically the Kostroma region, is 400 kilometers (240 miles) north of Moscow. Its unproductive landscape is dotted by numerous farms abandoned by operators who couldn’t make it economically. Farm equipment sits in fields, abandoned after the Communists lost power. The dairy herds in this region typically had a rolling herd milk production average of 7,000 pounds, in contrast to American herd averages of 22,000 pounds. (Most U.S. citizens, by the way, have no appreciation for the creativity and resourcefulness of the American dairyman.)

My colleague and I, with a translator and our Russian host, drove to the city of Kostroma. Our host drove hard and fast on roads much like our paved county roads. Twice police stopped him for speeding—at about 80 mph. Our translator narrated for us the exchange between the officers and our host. Both times, the policeman asked for a bribe of 1,000 rubles.  That’s the equivalent of 33 U.S. dollars. We didn’t need the translator’s help to know that our host was displeased with the offer; he went ballistic.

“How dare you!” our translator quoted. “I am a friend of the Governor. I am transporting two guests of the Governor. Would you like me to discuss this matter with him?”

Each time, after we dutifully produced our American passports for the police officer, he instructed our host, “Pull over and wait five minutes. Then you can leave.”

Sure enough, our host pulled over into a parking space and in five minutes was waved on. “Was that policeman crazy?” I asked my colleague. “There’s no way our local police would ask for $33!”

After our trip to Kostroma, we returned to Moscow and caught a two-hour flight to the Krasnodar region, which is in southern Russia near the Black Sea. Our plane was a 1960s-style, three-engine Russian passenger jet, with a name that did little to inspire our confidence.

After we entered the Yak-42 we found little to help us climb above our doubt. It appeared that someone had redecorated the walls with a paint roller. The cabin attendant, each time before making an announcement, had to rap the handset of the PA system against the wall to get it to work. At one point her bucky phone prevented her from reaching the cockpit, so she had to walk from the back of the plane to deliver her message. Just as she got there, it started working again. Apparently the pilot was calling to ask if she needed something.

Krasnodar is 1,000 miles south of Moscow in a region that made me think of driving across Illinois, near Galesburg, flat, black soil stretching as far as the eye can see. However, the equipment in the fields looked very much like what U.S. farmers used in the 1970s. Dairy production in this region, though, was better than that up north, with some herds averaging as high as 12,000 pounds.

Krasnodar has a colorful history. Russia’s queen Catherine II gave the region to the Cossacks as a reward for their tenacious defense of Russia. In return for being given their own region, the fierce Cossack warriors continued to ride the southern borders fending off incursions. Krasnodar was previously inhabited by nomads with whom the Cossacks ultimately intermarried. The resulting hybrid vigor has over the years produced many beautiful women—not that I noticed.

A product of their culture, the women are very hardy and industrious—even in their social life. It’s typical for Russian women after working all day to get together with a couple of women friends to go for an evening walk about town. Perhaps they might stop for coffee. These hen sessions can last several hours, combining exercise and a healthy dose of electronics-free relationship building.

On the other hand, two-thirds of Russian men are alcoholic. They often rely on their spouses to provide for the family. The Russian government subsidizes vodka, making it about as affordable as the bottled water we Americans buy at sporting events.

My work in Russia will be continuing, so I have contracted our translator to do some work for my Web site and for future consultation. But I had an extraordinarily difficult time working out a method to pay him for his services. American banks go out of their way to make it difficult to wire money to Russia without exorbitant fees. Banks readily accept money from Russia, but it’s a whole different story when the money’s going the other way.

After applying with two banks to set up a system to routinely transfer money as needed, I was able to reach an agreement with a third financial institution using a payment system that was originally developed for American men purchasing Russian mail order brides on the installment plan.

I haven’t told my wife, Judy, that I’ve learned how to order a bride. So, mum’s the word. It might come in handy someday, if she decides she’s had enough of her globetrotting husband.