Today I learned that my friend Almira was in Moscow for a few days. We met up at about twilight and strolled around the city center as the sky darkened and lights flickered on. Because it was a chilly weekday evening, the streets were relatively calm, perfect for walking arm in arm.

Almira and I met at Covenant Harbor the summer of 2007 where we shared a cabin for two weeks. It was very refreshing to have a conversation with someone I knew from a different context. Most of the people I interact with here on a daily basis are new friends and all of them I’ve met on this side of the Atlantic. Speaking with Almira felt more like resuming a conversation than beginning a new one.

I learned something important. Here, one is always passing promoters handing out small sheets of paper. Sometimes they are in costumes and sometimes not. They tend to cluster at the top of stairs leading out of the metro or along busy stretches of sidewalk outside theaters. I always shake my head and keep my hands in my pockets when passing them, hoping to say, “Sorry, but I’m just not interested in discount diamonds.” Well, Almira takes any paper they’re handing out, even if she will just toss it in the nearest garbage. To an American that seems very wasteful, but she explained that their job is difficult, standing on cold street corners all day with people passing them as though they don’t exist. She’s worked as a promoter before and therefore accepts their handouts in solidarity. It reminds me a little of overtipping in the US just because the job is so hard, not because the particular service was outstanding.

Maybe accepting scraps of advertising will help ease my conscience for only tipping ten percent (many places where we would tip, Russians wouldn’t, but ten percent is usually an acceptable middle ground—not so much as to be ostentatious, not so little as to make us Americans too uncomfortable).