What Jon Bernthal Learned His 3rd Day Living in Russia

SUMMARY

Jon Bernthal shares on the Joe Rogan Experience his chaotic third day in Moscow—his birthday—marked by forgetting papers, getting lost, a police shakedown, and witnessing violence, contrasted with Russia's honest, literate culture that ultimately saved his life.

STATEMENTS

Jon Bernthal arrived in Moscow with no Russian language skills and lived in the rough Gorky Park area, relying on a translator named Max for navigation.
On his birthday, the third day in Russia, Bernthal forgot his essential papers required for entry to the Moscow Art Theater, leading to a decision to retrieve them alone.
Unable to read Cyrillic signs, Bernthal got completely lost while trying to return to his apartment and then back to the theater, missing his entire first day of school.
After retrieving his papers, Bernthal attempted to cross the 16-lane Tverskaya Street improperly, resulting in Russian police confronting him with AK-47s and accepting a 20-ruble bribe to let him go.
Feeling defeated on his birthday, Bernthal treated himself to a McDonald's meal before heading back to Gorky Park on a cold, dark night.
Walking alone in Gorky Park, Bernthal witnessed two men dragging a limp woman from a Mercedes and smashing her head against a building, prompting him to intervene.
When Bernthal confronted the assailants in English, one pulled a gun to his forehead and warned him to leave, making Bernthal realize the extreme danger and his insignificance in that moment.
Despite the brutality, Bernthal found Russian culture free of pretension, with genuine eye-contact conversations where emotional honesty, including tears, was common even in first meetings.
Russians demonstrated a profound national appreciation for the arts, and public transportation users read classic literature like works by Bulgakov and Tolstoy rather than tabloids.
Bernthal expressed deep gratitude for his time in Russia, crediting the experience with saving his life through its raw authenticity.

IDEAS

Forgetting official papers in early 1990s Moscow could lead to severe shake-downs by corrupt police who relied on bribes for income since they had no formal salaries.
Navigating Moscow's subway system required multiple directional changes to reach central landmarks like the Moscow Art Theater near Red Square, highlighting the city's sprawling layout.
Cyrillic script posed an insurmountable barrier for non-speakers, turning simple tasks like returning home into disorienting ordeals in an unfamiliar urban environment.
Improperly crossing major streets like the 16-lane Tverskaya could immediately attract armed police enforcement, enforcing strict pedestrian rules unknown to outsiders.
A single 20-ruble bribe sufficed to resolve a minor infraction with AK-47-wielding officers, underscoring the normalized corruption in post-Soviet law enforcement.
Witnessing intimate violence, such as men dragging and assaulting a woman in a cocktail dress on a deserted street, revealed the unchecked brutality lurking in everyday Russian life.
Intervening in a violent altercation as a foreigner could escalate to lethal threats, with assailants casually drawing guns and dismissing outsiders as insignificant insects.
Russian social interactions emphasized raw honesty over superficial politeness, allowing strangers to break down in tears during initial conversations without judgment.
Public spaces like subways fostered deep literacy, where commuters engaged with profound literature like Tolstoy rather than celebrity gossip, reflecting a culturally rich society.
Immersing in a harsh foreign environment, blending terror and beauty, could profoundly transform one's life, providing salvation through authentic human connections.

INSIGHTS

Bureaucratic essentials like papers in unstable regimes serve not just as identification but as shields against systemic extortion, teaching the value of preparation in chaotic settings.
Urban disorientation in linguistically alien cities amplifies vulnerability, revealing how reliance on visual cues shapes survival and underscores the power of language barriers.
Bribery as a normalized transaction in corrupt systems exposes the fragility of authority, where minor infractions become opportunities for power imbalances rather than justice.
Confronting visible injustice instinctively can endanger lives in high-stakes environments, highlighting the tension between moral impulse and self-preservation in foreign brutality.
Cultural pretension's absence fosters deeper emotional authenticity, where vulnerability in conversations builds genuine bonds faster than polished facades ever could.
A society's literary devotion on public transit signals a collective intellectual resilience, countering brutality with enduring appreciation for art's humanizing force.

QUOTES

"I forgot my papers because I'm just a just you know unadulterated [__] and I said to Max man I'm so sorry man I forgot my papers."
"I'm like dodging cars like a normal [__] like I can't get to the other side as soon as I get to the other side boom AK-47s in my face."
"I give them you know 20 rubles they let me go and I'm just like just such an [__] it's my birthday I've missed my first day."
"I knew in an instant man I knew in an instant that like it was like I was a bug like I was a bug."
"It was a culture that I found like completely full free of pretension you know if you have a conversation with somebody you really have a conversation."

HABITS

Russians engaged in deep, honest conversations during first meetings, often involving emotional vulnerability like tears to convey genuine feelings without fragility.
Commuters on Moscow subways habitually read classic literature such as works by Bulgakov and Tolstoy, prioritizing intellectual depth over light entertainment.
Pedestrians in Moscow strictly followed designated crossing points on major streets to avoid police confrontations, a enforced norm in the city's traffic system.

FACTS

In the early 1990s, Moscow's mayor effectively controlled the mafia, while police operated without salaries and sustained themselves through public shakedowns.
The Moscow Art Theater is located on Tverskaya Street, directly across from Red Square, accessible via multiple subway stops in different directions.
Gorky Park was considered a rough, substandard neighborhood in Moscow during that era, characterized by pitch-black streets and cold nights.
Tverskaya Street featured approximately 16 lanes, making it one of the city's widest and most hazardous thoroughfares for improper crossings.
Post-Soviet Russia exhibited an exceptionally high literacy rate, evident in subway riders poring over dense classics rather than popular magazines.

REFERENCES

Moscow Art Theater (on Tverskaya Street, near Red Square)
Gorky Park (living area in Moscow)
Works by Bulgakov and Tolstoy (read on subways)
McDonald's (as a comfort meal spot)

HOW TO APPLY

Always carry official identification papers when entering institutions like schools or theaters in bureaucratic environments to avoid exclusion or extortion.
Use a local guide or translator for initial navigation in foreign cities with unfamiliar scripts, preventing disorientation during essential trips.
When lost in an unfamiliar urban area, prioritize retracing recent paths step-by-step rather than wandering, to safely return to known locations.
Cross major streets only at designated points to evade law enforcement in strict regulatory systems, reducing risks of immediate confrontation.
In witnessing potential violence abroad, assess personal safety before intervening, weighing cultural norms against instinctive moral responses to avoid escalation.

ONE-SENTENCE TAKEAWAY

Embracing a foreign culture's raw brutality and beauty can profoundly save and reshape a lost life through honest connections.

RECOMMENDATIONS

Immerse in unfamiliar cultures to experience their unfiltered authenticity, balancing risks with the potential for life-altering insights.
Prioritize learning basic local scripts or hiring translators early to mitigate disorientation and enhance independence in new environments.
Cultivate emotional honesty in conversations, drawing from cultures that value vulnerability to forge deeper, pretension-free relationships.
Engage with classic literature during commutes to build intellectual resilience, mirroring societies that prioritize depth over distraction.
Reflect on personal mishaps in challenging settings as catalysts for growth, turning chaos into gratitude for transformative experiences.

MEMO

On a frigid Moscow evening in the early 1990s, Jon Bernthal's third day in Russia unfolded as a whirlwind of mishaps and menace, all coinciding with his birthday. Fresh from America and utterly lost in a sea of Cyrillic signs, the aspiring actor had ventured to the Moscow Art Theater for his first day of classes. Living in the gritty environs of Gorky Park, he relied on his translator, Max, for guidance. But in a stroke of forgetfulness, Bernthal left his indispensable papers behind—documents that were not mere formalities in this era of post-Soviet chaos, where the mayor allegedly ran the mafia and police subsisted on shakedowns rather than salaries.

What followed was a comedy of errors laced with peril. Insisting on retrieving the papers alone to prove his maturity, Bernthal soon found himself adrift in the darkening city. He eventually clawed his way back to the theater, only to botch a crossing of the sprawling 16-lane Tverskaya Street. AK-47s materialized in his face as Russian officers barked in an unintelligible tongue; a hasty 20-ruble bribe secured his release. Defeated and hungry, he consoled himself with a Big Mac at the golden arches—a quintessentially American ritual amid the alienation. Yet the night held darker turns: trudging through pitch-black Gorky Park, he stumbled upon two men hauling a red-haired woman from a Mercedes, her cocktail dress disheveled as they smashed her head against a building wall.

In a surge of bravado, Bernthal charged forward, yelling in English. The response was swift—a pistol pressed to his forehead, the assailant's words cutting through: "Go away." In that frozen instant, he felt reduced to insignificance, a mere insect in a world of casual brutality. It was a stark awakening to Russia's underbelly, where interventions could prove fatal for outsiders. Yet Bernthal, reflecting years later on Joe Rogan's podcast, balanced this horror with profound admiration for the nation's soul.

Russia, he found, brimmed with a pretension-free ethos that pierced the superficiality of his homeland. Conversations there demanded eye contact and raw truth; it wasn't unusual for a first encounter to dissolve into tears, not from weakness but from unbridled honesty. The arts pulsed vibrantly at the city's heart—the Moscow Art Theater itself a beacon near Red Square—and everyday life reflected an almost reverent literacy. Subway riders, forgoing glossy tabloids, delved into Bulgakov and Tolstoy, embodying a society that cherished intellectual depth amid hardship.

This duality of terror and beauty, Bernthal mused, ultimately redeemed him. The experience in Moscow, fraught as it was, pulled him from personal despair, forging resilience through cultural immersion. In a world often veiled by artifice, Russia's unvarnished reality offered salvation—a lesson in vulnerability's power to heal and elevate the human spirit.