The "Potemkin"" Steps - Odessa, Ukraine
Hazrali Street - Teheran, Iran
The "Y" chromosome identifies Lindells as descendants of the Haplogroup N that migrated out of Africa tens of thousands of years ago. The group spread to Central Asia and then casually west towards Europe. Individual markers link Lindell genes to Siberian populations east of the Altai Mountains, in northern Russia and Scandinavia. The reindeer herding Sami people of northern Scandinavia and Russia are members of the N group. Modern family history suggests a twist - Lindells may have been immigrants to Sweden from Belgium during the reign of Gustav Adolphus (1611-1632) as he sought to "modernize" the Swedish nation.* Whatever the history - after millenniums of genes mixing, dissolving and then reemerging the Lindell genome is pathetically short of "trading" genes. In the course of intense bargaining situations for automobiles, furniture or vegetables the phrase most utilized by Lindells is "I'll take it!" At bargaining most of us are simply lousy - "I'll take it!" is our fallback position and mantra. (There are exceptions. My brother Michael and sister Mary have sons with tremendous business talents. My youngest daughter Jennifer has also shown trading instincts.) But for me - I am in the process of selling a condominium and purchasing another - transactions with women both named Cheryl. From one Cheryl I shall receive less value than I am sure my property is worth. To the second Cheryl I shall pay more - "top dollar" - for her property. It's the Lindell way.
The most miserable and embarrassing deal of my life took place in a six stool pub with a bartender - a very decent fellow, Sasha - in Odessa on the shores of the Black Sea. Odessa has been known for centuries as a city extremely rich with gifted business people - flourishing even under the steel fist of Soviet rule. Sasha and I were commiserating. I was responsible for a large group of college students and faculty. My program was seven weeks long - three weeks in Austria and four in the USSR. My supply of Rubles desperately needed replenishment. Sasha thought he could help - he had a need for "hard" currencies. As luck would have it I also had some surplus Austrian Shillings and Deutschmarks (this was before the "Euro") as well as US Dollars. The official Soviet exchange rate was 4 Rubles to the Dollar; a rate that Sasha and I agreed was exorbitant. So we began working on a deal - currency trading was not my forte - so I worked with pencil and paper for about thirty minutes. After a couple of stiff vodkas in salute of proletarian solidarity we concluded a deal. Memory tells me that I received 15 Rubles to the Dollar with Shillings and Deutschmarks somehow thrown into the mix. Back in my room I recalculated the deal and to my astonishment I had come up short by about $125.00. But I now had a load of Rubles and my reaction, far from anger or remorse was amazement, "how the hell did he do that?" The following day at lunch I was providing a hushed account of my profound incompetence at exchanging currencies. My students at the table thought the tale quite funny and hopefully learned a critical lesson; "don't do as I do, do as I say."
Our Intourist National guide was told my story. Natasha was about 35 years old, with dark hair tightly wrapped in back and over the calves black boots. She spoke English with a delicious accent. "Hello; my name Natasha. I will be with you always." She was dedicated to Soviet ideals - mostly. Natasha read a student's copy of Dr. Zhivago, carefully hiding the forbidden book in a Soviet magazine. But that evening after dinner she took me like an outraged mother back to the bar and mercilessly ragged Sasha for illegal currency trading and exploiting a guest of Mother Russia. Twice he turned to me for support, "Did I exploit you?" "No, no, no" I cried. But Natasha was relentless. Defeated Sasha gave me $100.00 worth of Rubles at the official rate of 4 to 1. The victor then stormed out of the bar. Sasha and I stared at each other. "I'll have a vodka." "No" he said, "You leave now."
The finest trade I have ever consummated occurred in the early evening hours on a street corner in Teheran. Wandering along I had become bored looking at store fronts with interminable photographs of the Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, his wife Farah, their son Reza and family portraits. There were also peddlers, a few beggars including the occasional child asking for a handout. We had been asked and warned not to give to begging children - the youngsters were being exploited by parents or relatives. I had no intention of trading on the streets or giving money to exploited children.
I stopped on a corner to glance at a peddler's jewelry collection on a portable kiosk. He had many kinds of cuff links and a brass pair caught my eye - they were brilliant, half inch by quarter inch squares. Next to them was an identical pair in shiny steel. I immediately coveted both pair and engaged the merchant. "How much?" I did not hear his answer because a small girl, perhaps 8 or 9 years old was pulling on my arm soliciting a handout. "No little girl, absolutely nothing, run along" I said more harshly than necessary.
"How much?" The merchant said "Thirty dollars." I replied that was too much and offered $20.00. He seemed to smirk at my good faith counter offer. Again I had to respond to a tugging on my sleeve. "No, nothing, no handouts, nothing." The girl was imploring me in Farsi I assume, but I turned my attention back to the merchant. "OK, how about $22.00?" Again he smiled and simply shook his head - no. Again the child, "I said no!" This scene continued for about ten minutes as I demonstrated excellent bargaining skills and dogged determination. Finally the merchant capitulated saying "Yes". I handed him $25.00 and took possession of the cuff links. More tugging at my arm - "OK. here!" - and I gave her $5.00. A three way business deal had been successfully concluded - I began strolling back to my hotel. Turning a corner I saw the little girl in a store doorway, happily chattering away to an adult while bouncing up and down on one foot - firmly clutching my five dollar bill.
* Information provided by Dr. Erik Lindell from the National Geographic Genographic online.
** Articulated first by Roger Marquis.
Photo; The "Potemkin Steps" Odessa, Russia - Wikipedia.
Photo; Hazrali Street, Teheran, Iran - by Kamyar Adl.
