Moscow, Russia

Ever been so hungry you could eat a horse? I ate horse last night. It's a Kazakh specialty. I'm glad that my list of eaten animals continues to grow. This morning on the way to the airport for the first time on this trip I felt sad to be leaving a place. I felt sad because as a result of not speaking the language, I feel I didn't really experience Kazakhstan. I don't regret the decision to leave, however. It's just not fun when you're feeling confused and unsafe all of the time (keep reading and maybe you'll understand exactly how not speaking Russian makes me uneasy). At least I actually stood in Kazakhstan, saw some things, tried to communicate with a few people, and ate horse. I do hope, however, that some day I will return to this region better prepared and able to do the Stans justice. Despite how horrible of people I was expecting to encounter, most people in Almaty were very nice and patient with my lack of Russian. But there is one huge exception: the airport. The airport restaurant was very nice and had a menu in English. I ordered the "pancakes with jam" but was told that there was no jam, but I was suggested the pancakes with meat. These were, actually, pancakes with meat. Delicious. The check-in lady seemed nice enough until, because I was a foreigner, her supervisor had to come over and inspect my passport for a proper Russian visa. He said something to me in Russian, and they noticed I didn't understand so she said to with disgust in her voice "do you speak Russian?" I said "no, sorry." She said "this is your boarding pass" and literally tossed it at me with the look in her eyes saying "get the hell out of my sight you capitalist piece of shit." I was thinking "hey! didn't you just see the Russians press Hillary's reset button?" Almaty had that ridiculous triple security that I have encountered so much on this trip. The first checkpoint was uneventful. At the second checkpoint, the guy didn't like something he saw on the x-ray screen so told me to open my bag. I did, and he just looked at it and let me go. The third checkpoint was the one. They also didn't like the same thing the second guy had seen, so again I was asked to open my bag. They said "what is metal?" I digged around a little bit and it turns out it was my Master lock. I think it was at this moment when they realized I didn't speak Russian that they decided they were gonna have some fun with me. I was led into a search and interrogation chamber with one official. He took my passport and threw it on the ground. Then he patted me down and had me empty my pockets. He opened my wallet and thoroughly examined my drivers license. He handed my wallet back to me and I put it back in my pocket. He kept asking me questions in Russian and I said "ya nye gavarit pa ruski - I don't speak Russian." He continued and I just kept saying "ya nye panimayu - I don't understand." Finally he said "do you speak English?" Oh right, he might have known that from the beginning if my passport hadn't been lying face down on the floor. He pointed to my bag and said "open" so I did. He picked up the lock and took a good long look at it. Then he pointed to my camera bag and looked at me inquisitively: "it's a camera." Then he took out my bottle of malaria pills. These are the antibiotic doxycycline and are used by tourists around the entire world when travelling in malaria zones. I had to take one pill every day while in India, and I have to keep taking them for four weeks after leaving the malaria zone. These pills are completely legitimate and were prescribed by a doctor in the US. Holding them in his hands he looked at me and I said "malaria. I was in India." He looked at me not amused. I said "medication." While holding the bottle with one hand he pointed at it with his other hand, looked me in the eye and said "problem." Then he handed them back to me and told me to put them back in my suitcase. Then he said "how much money?" I know it sounds dumb, but in my naive Western mind I didn't understand at the moment what he meant. He motioned for me to take out my wallet. He took my wallet, opened it and pulled out a 1000 Russian ruble note. He held the note up in front me, pointed to the pills and said "no problem." Then he asked "OK?" and waited for me to agree. I agreed, he gave me back my passport and let me go. On the plane breakfast was served. I noticed that the Russians were all drinking wine with their breakfast. When they got to me the flight attendant asked me something in Russian and I said "gavariyet pa angliski - do you speak English?" She said yes then barried her face in her hands in embarrased laughter. She said "omelette or...." then tried really hard to remember what the word for the other choice was. Not being picky and wanting to spare her I said "omelette, yes please." Then I expected to be offered coffee or something, but she just said "would you like white wine or red wine?" I had red. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Russia, get your drink on at breakfast. Landing in Moscow all I could see was white - tons and tons of snow. It's not falling right now but they obviously got heavy snow very recently. The men's restroom was full of men smoking who I guess had ducked in there for a cigarette thinking they could avoid airport security. I followed the signs to passport control and found nothing but a huge scrum of miserable people waiting, and not in any form of a line, to be processed into the country. It was confusing because there weren't many signs in any language, but I saw an escalator leading to somewhere and a sign saying "foreign citizens." I asked an airport information lady standing nearby where I should go, and she told me I should indeed go upstairs. Upstairs I found just the same, a scrum. No line. And what's worse, this scrum consisted of Uzbeks. A flight from Tashkent had just arrived. Out of at least 10 immigration booths, 2 were open. You just had to cram yourself to the front. Later 3 or 4 more opened up. Each Uzbek had to start a serious argument with the immigration officials. I have no idea what they possibly could have been arguing about, but each one was able to find something. Towards the front of the scrum there did form some idea of a line at each booth. When I finally was next at one of them, the official closed his booth because the electronic turnstyle they had had suddenly stopped working. I had to wait for it to be repaired to enter Russia. After that I headed to customs fearing another shakedown. Everybody was putting their luggage into an x-ray, so I started to do the same but the officials said to me something in Russian, then noticing I didn't understand said "you can go." Past here were a lot of very intoxicated looking old men offering taxis. I had planned on taking public transportation into the city anyway. This was beyond miserable. Everybody absolutely reeked of vodka. Russians are complete assholes. Then again, I knew that long before even thinking about coming here, so I don't know why I'm complaining. To get onto the Moscow metro you have to go down the longest escalator I've ever seen. It's REALLY underground. Feels like you're going into a mine shaft. At points where metro lines interchange, each line has its own station with its own name. Anywhere else in the world this would be one station with one name to make it easy for users (and because no other way conceiveably makes any sense), but nooooooooooo. There are no signs in English, so you have to be able to read Cyrillic to get where you're going. I saw Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral, the Kremlin, and Lenin's Mausoleum (though it wasn't open). Moscow is definitely one of the world's most beautiful cities (but read on). And the Svetlanas are out in full force. They saturate every part of the city and come in all shapes, sizes and flavors. Most of the time I'm just drooling as I walk around. The question I'm asking myself is is it worth it. Although Moscow is beautiful architecturally and scenically, it's miserable. This just isn't a happy place. If Disneyland is the happiest place on Earth, Russia is the saddest place on earth. Everybody is miserable, nasty and drunk. Virtually NOBODY looks even remotely friendly. I've never been anywhere like that. I'm afraid to go into a restaurant to eat because all I see behind every cash register are old women who look like they want to kill me before they go home and blow their brains out. It's really a horrible, horrible place. I'm not sure how much of it I'll be able to take, and if seeing more of Russia is worth it. I'm staying at the Hostel Kremlin, so at least I can say that I'm a guest of the Kremlin.