It Looks a Lot Like Christmas : Soviets on Buying Spree; Grandfather Frost on Way

From fir trees with lights and ornaments to a white-bearded character who looks quite a lot like Santa Claus, Moscow is getting ready for the coming holidays with a gift-buying spree and plenty of home cooking.

It’s not Christmas, of course, in the atheistic Soviet Union. Instead, the celebration here centers on New Year’s Eve and three days off from work that come afterward.

Family meals, the arrival of Ded Moroz, or Grandfather Frost, with gifts for the children and decoration of a yolka , or evergreen tree, are all part of the ritual.

Already, Moscow’s toy stores are jammed with customers snapping up plastic versions of the Kalashnikov assault rifle for 9 rubles ($12.60) and 24-inch-high dolls that cry when they are laid down for 20 rubles ($28).

At the Children’s World department store across from the headquarters of the KGB security agency in downtown Moscow, parents are signing up for visits from Grandfather Frost and his customary companion, the Snow Maiden.

For 5 rubles ($7) for the first child and 50 kopecks (70 cents) for each additional youngster, these beloved New Year’s characters will visit any Moscow apartment on Jan. 1 and deliver toys and a small homily to young Muscovites.

There are about 100 Grandfather Frosts who work out of the central office of Zarya, a municipal agency that normally provides such mundane services as floor polishing and window-washing to Moscow residents.

Those who portray Grandfather Frost, however, must be punctual--no more than 10 minutes off the scheduled time--and must not have vodka on their breath, Zarya has decreed.

In almost every Moscow store, ornaments and tinsel are hung in the windows along with a hand-painted sign saying, C Nobim Godom!-- Happy New Year.

At the intersection of Stoleshnikov Lane and Petrovka Street stands a 45-foot fir tree, topped by a red star, at the center of a bustling New Year’s bazaar.

Pancakes, hot dogs, tea and hot bubliki , or bagels, are gobbled down by eager shoppers along with the ever-present ice cream.

A young mother in a silver fur hat handed over 25 rubles ($35) for a large stuffed animal from East Germany, a present for her 4-year-old daughter. Why did she spend such a large amount for the toy? “I just liked it,” she said with a smile.

A Political Tinge

Soviet citizens seem to prefer the New Year’s holiday to others on the calendar that have a political tinge--such as the Nov. 7 anniversary of the 1917 Russian Revolution or May Day in spring.

It’s an occasion for family reunions, seeing old friends, watching the once-a-year all-night television and perhaps, despite the Kremlin’s anti-alcohol campaign, sipping some champagne or downing a bit of vodka.

Children get presents--perhaps a new pair of skates or a hockey stick--and adults buy gifts for their close relatives and a few friends.

Stores in Moscow always seem crowded by Western standards, but next week they will be wall-to-wall people.

Police With Bullhorns

Already this week, police with bullhorns tried to keep order in one downtown store as dozens of people stormed a selection of baby clothes, a rare commodity here.

“Please clear the aisle,” a young policeman said as the line, three or four deep, struggled to reach the cashier’s desk.

At this time of year, stores are open on Sundays and remain open an hour or two later each evening. This is partly to meet customer demand but mainly to make sure that the stores fulfill their annual sales targets.

No Break for Lunch

Dom Igrushki, the “house of toys,” announced that it would be open on the final two Sundays of the year without taking the customary one-hour break for lunch.

Holiday spirits were somewhat dimmed by official confirmation that the absence of coffee and tea from stores will not be remedied until after the first of the year. The good news, however, is that its price will not be increased, as many Muscovites feared.

And another cheerful note: For the first time this year, there will be fireworks in Moscow in the opening moments of the New Year, which an enthusiastic journalist described in advance as a “waterfall of fire in the sky.”