Conference tallis::celt

1031.0. "O'Moscovites in business..." by TALLIS::DARCY () Mon Apr 06 1992 23:14

    In Moscow, an Irish revolution - by Loretta McLaughlin
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    For Ivan and Boris, Natasha and Anya and all the other Muscovites who
    spend their days in tedious jobs, the August revolution has set down an
    unlikely piece of the world in their midst.  But a piece to their
    liking.
    
    Now they are able to stop in at their choosing for a bit of cheer and a
    chat at - can you believe it - the Shamrock Pub, newly open for
    business just off Red Square.
    
    Nyet to vodka.  Draw them a pint of Guinness.  On payday, set up a nip
    of Irish whiskey on the side.  If they wish, they can be served a
    bottle of sparkling Irish water from Ballygowann in Tipperary.  Or have
    brought to the table a small platter - just a taste, don't you know -
    of fine Irish smoked salmon atop a few slices of grainy Irish brown
    bread, straight from Shannon.
    
    Just for fun, the Muscovites can mix in a bit with the Irish barman and
    pub manager, John Murphy from Tralee, and his wife, Garrie, from Cork. 
    They can exchange stories; the Murphys know some basic Russian.  Have a
    laugh.  Maybe sing a song.
    
    For the Murphys, along with 150 colleagues from Ireland, the outposting
    in Moscow represents a revolution of sorts - a revolution in modern
    marketing and aggressive pursuit of sales and jobs anywhere in the
    world.  Ireland is on the move, too.
    
    John Murphy previously worked behind the bar of his father's Imperial
    Hotel in Tralee and later managed a bar in London.  Now, as a European
    newspaper reported, "he's pulling pints just around the corner from the
    Kremlin."
    
    In early September, under the auspices of the Irish Airport Authority,
    Ireland opened a Western-style supermarket, shopping complex, pub and
    liquor store - an entire mall - in Moscow.  Called Arbat, the mall is
    the first downtown, freestanding retail center undertaken in the Soviet
    Union by the Irish.
    
    The ill-fated coup delayed the opening of the mall for only a few days.
    Planned for months, it is the eighth joint venture by the Irish with a
    Russian management partner.  The Irish are already operating duty-free
    shops at airports or hotels in Leningrad (make that St. Petersburg),
    Kiev, Tashkent and Tblisi.
    
    The mall in Moscow, however, adds a new dimension to the venture. 
    Shops on the first floor are primarily grocery stores, where purchases
    can be made in rubles.  Some 30,000 Moscovites a day are coming in to
    browse and to shop, marveling at the fresh produce; milk and cream (the
    best cream in the world), brown bread, yogurt, cheese, bottled water,
    smoked salmon, sausages, black and white Irish pudding, and beef.
    
    The Irish have sent butchers to cut and trim the beef and package it
    inn sealed plastic containers - and to teach Russians how to do the
    same.  Russians shoppers are goggle-eyed at the attractively packaged
    meat with little fat or waste.  "We have to restock the grocery shelves
    every hour," an Irish agent said.
    
    Upstairs, the shops primarily carry Ireland-manufactured clothes and
    appliances - TV sets, washing machines, stoves, refrigerators,
    freezers, microwave ovens, stereos and compact disc players.  Here,
    sales require hard currency.
    
    How the Irish get their products to the Soviet destinations is the most
    amazing part of the story.  They truck it in.  The principal
    debarkation port is Rosslare in Wexford, to move by ferry to Fishguard
    in Wales.  Then, overland to Dover in the south of England and across
    the Channel to Calais.  Thereafter, Irish drivers haul it through
    Germany to the Gulf of Finland, by ferry into Finland and then over the
    road to St. Petersburg, Moscow and points east.
    
    A few ago in St. Petersburg, Irish Foreign Minister Gerard Collins
    heard a brogue-edged voice call out to him.  It was that of a young
    truck driver from Galway who'd just made his first truck run.  He
    scoffed at the thought he might have had trouble finding the way.
    
    All the Irish workers speak Russian.  And for each Irish worker, a
    counterpart Russian worker is employed.  The Irish live in apartments
    near their jobs, and, says Collins, they "love it there.  They get
    along well with the Russians.  They're all having a grand time."
    
    Combining Irish and Russian ballads of revolution, no doubt, with
    gossip about Sinead O'Connor.  The millenium is come.
    
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    Lorett MMcLaughlin is associate editor of the editorial page
    The Boston Globe