Comradely Spirit Delights a Tourist : Soviet Union: Soldiers smile, Muscovites chat, artists peddle their work. The new openness leaves one American visitor agog.

“I (heart) the KGB!”

It was a slogan I hadn’t expected to see.

But there it was, emblazoned on neckties being sold at an artists’ flea market in a Moscow park.

And they were selling like hot cakes.

Now, by most accounts, the Soviet people are a cynical bunch who tend to look at the sweeping reforms taking place inside the Kremlin with a great deal of skepticism.

But for even the most casual visitor to Moscow these days--and that’s what I was--it’s obvious that things are changing.

Take soldiers, for example.

Some of them are actually smiling.

That’s right, smiling.

And not only is it possible to capture this remarkable event with your camera, it’s also possible now to talk with them in public.

One morning in a busy coffee shop, for example, I ended up in a line with two young army officers just back from a tour of duty in East Germany. Before I knew it, they had bought me coffee and a pastry and invited me to join them for what turned out to be a 30-minute conversation.

Their English was marginal and my Russian nonexistent, but somehow we ended up talking about everything from pop music to perestroika . And when I asked them if I could take their picture--no problem. In fact, they looked disappointed when I stopped.

Outside the U.S. Embassy the very next day, a Soviet army guard not only agreed to pose with me but hammed it up on camera by pointing at my new artificial-fur hat and laughing. (OK, so the hat looked a little funny. What do you expect for 20 rubles?)

And this new openness seemed to be everywhere.

If you think New York cabbies are opinionated, try listening to a Moscow cabbie these days. A typical cab scenario would be speeding through the city at 60 m.p.h. with a Duran Duran tape blaring while the cabbie rants and raves about the sorry condition of the streets (and hits some gigantic potholes to prove his point).

Visit a “Sports Club” (the closest thing to our health clubs) and you’re immediately surrounded by young people curious about your colorful workout clothes and complaining that American muscle magazines aren’t available at their newsstands. All of this is given a little extra twist by the giant poster of Arnold Schwarzenegger in full combat gear staring down at you from its prominent place on the wall.

The schools are full of students learning English as quickly as they can, and using it. They are intelligent, probing kids, very curious about American culture. After finding out I was from Los Angeles, they asked if I lived close to Michael Jackson and also wanted to know, “Is it true there are some Americans who still hate us?”

But nowhere is the new openness more evident than in the field of art. I’m not talking about the art that hangs in galleries and museums; I’m talking about the souvenir art available to the masses. There may not be much bread on the shelves, but the sidewalks and parks are full of stuff that’s creative, provocative and fun.

Izmailovo Park is a few miles from the center of Moscow and is filled every Sunday with people flocking to the weekly flea market. The market sprang up from nowhere a few months ago and is an example of private enterprise gone berserk.

Hundreds of small stands sell everything from old records to used clothing. But the stands with the most people crowding around were selling items that only a short time ago would have been inconceivable in this country.

How about a matreshka doll? You know, the traditional Russian doll that comes apart with ever smaller dolls inside. Well, the matreshka doll on sale here was just a little different. It started with Gorbachev, came apart to reveal a smaller Brezhnev, a smaller Khrushchev, a still smaller Stalin, and finally a minuscule Lenin. This was a hot item.

And then there were the rubber masks.

They were one of the most extraordinary sights of my entire three-week journey.

Rubber masks of Gorbachev--an uncanny likeness complete with birthmark on the forehead--pinned up on a great cork board. Everyone crowded around for a look. Lots of chuckles and smiles and some buyers. One woman shook her head and said: “Why should I buy a mask of Gorbachev? I see him all the time on TV.”

The Gorbachev masks were displayed next to masks of Stalin, which had been molded to look as frightening as possible. The squinting eyes and scowling face gave me goose bumps.

And next to that, a long board filled with biting political cartoons: Watercolors and pencil drawings making fun of Gorbachev and his policies and depicting past Soviet leaders as buffoons--or worse.

One cartoonist selling his work was a 17-year-old student whose mother told me he was occasionally taken to police headquarters and lectured about the impropriety of making present Soviet leaders look bad.

“When they call me and tell me they have my son, I explain to them that he is not breaking any law and they always send him home,” his mother said. “I’ll be glad when he’s no longer a minor so I won’t get the calls.”

None of these items, by the way, has a set price. The sellers love to wheel and deal, especially when they find out you have dollars or something to trade.

More brisk business is done by the poster sellers in the Moscow subway. This underground metro system was built as a showcase by Joseph Stalin, but the hottest item in the subways these days are the girlie posters plastered everywhere. And while not quite X-rated by U.S. standards, they’re revolutionary by Soviet standards and are causing quite a stir.

Want to buy an “authentic Russian army watch,” a rabbit hat or a lacquer box? Want to change dollars into rubles at black-market rates? (Twenty to the dollar, as compared with the official rate of six to the dollar). Then all you have to do is go to Red Square and stand in front of Lenin’s tomb. You’ll be able to do business very quickly.

Right in front of Lenin’s Tomb.

It’s all very bizarre.

But for even the most casual visitor to Moscow these days, it’s obvious that things are changing.