Communist Theme Parks, Street Beers & Chicken Goblet Men.

I left J & N and headed over to VVT Park, formally VDNKh; ‘the Exhibition of National Economic Achievement.’ I was told I’d find it interesting as it was full of old Soviet statues. It also houses the 'infamous' (as I'd read) ‘worker and collective farm girl' statue, which I actually never managed to find despite it being seemingly obvious on my map and I walked around the small park area again, and again, and again. After an hour I was done taking photos of the ‘fallen heroes’ and wondering what to do with my time, when I realised I had not even entered the main park. This place was huge. I made my way past the Peruvian panpipe band and the Memorial Museum of Cosmonautics (Space Museum to you and I...) and then tried in vain to order a coffee from the coffee van man. 

After ten minutes of queuing;
'Coffee?'
'Huh?' 
'Cafe? (pointing at a cup and then a random menu item, I didn't really care what kind of coffee he gave me.) 
'Huh?' 
(Passer by in Russian) 'Hey, do you want a coffee?'        
'Yes Please'
*Exchange in Russian* 'He says he has run out of coffee.' 
He then turns to me shaking his head 'No coffee.'
Lost in translation.. or he just didn't like me...?

Before entering the park I noticed a line of (predominately) old ladies each holding a couple of kittens or puppies. My surprised guess was an outdoor pet shop, which later Nastya confirmed with a shrug. I explained this was not a usual site for me. I suppose it’s like the lepers on the overpasses in Hong Kong; you just get used to it and walk on by.

I walked through the grand entrance arch and headed straight to the rollercoaster.  They don’t generally phase me, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a point on this ride I thought my untimely death would be caused by flying off a track in a cart, smooshed onto the concrete.

The park itself seemed very confused, but fascinating; like a living history museum. The architectural grandeur of the decadent pavilions and fountains looked more like they belonged in Ancient Rome or Greece rather than a Soviet Republic. Originally built to showcase various exhibitions encapturing Soviet Greatness they are now rented to a mishmash of upmarket shops and cafes, as well as some pavilions giving off a more flea market type impression.
Part amusement park, part art gallery, musical venue and shopping centre; was definitely worth a visit.  I also could have taken a camel ride, but decided to pass.Viva Communism?

The view from my port-a-loo

I then headed back to town to watch Arsenal and drink beer. My happiness of winning was shortlived when I started to get concerned that my foot-cahaffuer to Jenya's gig, Nastya still hadn’t shown. Concerns not helped by dropping and breaking my phone... concerns that were helped by the lovely non-English speaking bar staff who gave me free wifi on my iPod and free-on-fire shots of god knows what (think Absinthe played a part in there.. I also vaguely remember some small kumquat type fruit that I was sure was inediable. Of course I ate it. It was odd.) Joined an hour later when my guide woke from her ‘5 minute’ nap and rushed down to pick me up ;)

  

It was International Record Store day so Jenya’s band were playing in the record room in the back of an independent book store. It was amazing watching a hardcore band in a cramped room with people moshing over the shelves and tables of records. I also enjoyed laughing at the punk getting pissed off people were disturbing him whilst he was looking at the records. Umm. Maybe come back tomorrow mate?
Afterwards I met some other non-Muscavite English speakers (one, affectionately known  in my head as ‘American guy.’ Later I found out he knew me as ‘British girl.’) We headed to a local park to spend the rest of the evening drinking street beers & wine until the early hours of the morning.  Nastya and her mates constantly feeding me snacks as ‘she doesn’t eat in Moscow.’ My last memory of the night was Jenya upside down with his head in a bin.

On my final day (the day of feasting!) I was determined (still drunk) to get a proper breakfast. This ended up being a pasta dish in an upmarket Italian chain that was apparently the only place one of Nastya’s mates would eat out, so at a stretch I could say I was getting a real Muscavite experience.. maybe…?

Despite Nastya texting me to dress properly as the weather had turned (and I’d been cold the night before the beer blanket kicked in) I was, to anyone that knows me, unsurprisingly underdressed. Hoorah for her spare socks. We met outside Lenin’s Library and spent the next few hours walking around the Kremlin complex, going in and out of the various churches. It wasn’t until I’d got home did I find out I’d been there before.  We laughed. A lot.  Who would have thought the Kremlin would have been so amusing. Our favourite piece, (even beating painting after painting of Russian Beauties ‘did they actually look like that? With melty faces?’) was the chicken man goblet. One day I shall own one such trinket.

Jenya had been raving about this Hare Krishna Vegetarian Restaurant for the last couple of days, but not being the biggest fan of either Krishna consciousness or  Indian food I was actually slightly reluctant to go. Hoorah for my British manners and not wanting to appear rude or ungrateful to my incredible hosts. What I had really been after was some Eastern European food, and this place had loads of it. Of the vegetarian and vegan variety. It was food heaven for me. Incredible.

(Side note: I am slowly starting to really love Indian food thanks to places such as Open House and Haandi in Nairobi,  and my due to my colleague who feeds me incredible homemade Indian food on a regular basis.)

Leaving Moscow and saying bye to Nastya left me feeling pretty sad. In the last couple of days I’d rediscovered a lot of my independence and met some incredible people, on my own, doing what I wanted with no-one propping me up (if you don’t count Humpty or my Dr. S bible.) I was eternally grateful to that little voice in my head that made me book that flight to Moscow back in January. And to me, for being me, saying ‘well why the hell not?’ 

Detonating a Nuclear Bomb

Waking up late and hungover, I sprinted to meet Nastya and Jenya at Pain De Quotient for my plat de jour before heading into the Special Secret Soviet Nuclear Bunker 42.
I love guides who are insatiably fascinated by the subject of their tour, and in this instance he seemed bordering on obsessive.  As well as adding comedic value, his fevourish love of the Special Secret Nuclear Bunker, now to be referred to as the SSSNB, seemed to fit perfectly with a tour around a Soviet era construction.                                          

A 'little' apprehensive due to being mildly claustrophobic we descended 65 metres down a narrow, steep staircase.  When we reached the bottom our nuclear-bunker-pride guide discovered that one of our party hadn’t yet purchased a ticket. How we all laughed when the guide said back up the stairs to the ticket booth for him. How he stopped laughing when he realised the guide was being serious. Built in the 50’s, it was home to 2,500 workers (a large percentage being telephone operators) for the next few decades as a ‘nuclear attack sanctuary.’

We were guided through the narrow passages of the SSSNB, and shown the entrances linked to the Metro system, which I found strangely fascinating. We got to play dress up in Soviet army gear complete with AK 47’s. Perhaps my favourite, and most definitely the guide’s part of the tour; blowing up a Nuclear Bomb in the SSSNB. The guide and I were both sat at a computer, listening to commands from our superiors (he was mine from) that ultimately ended up in us pressing a button that dropped a Nuclear Bomb on civilians. Whilst he was excited and enthusiastic about this act, I sat there with a dropped jaw staring at the screen above that was showing a mix of terrified humans and the aftermath of my actions. I did however enjoy sporting the Soviet hat. At the end of the tour we were shown the area you could rent out for parties and conferences. Capitalism eh?

Getting lost in Moscow Part 2

Moscow City HC

After a whole day and a half by myself I was looking forward to drinks with my mate Sheep's good friend who he'd met living in Moscow years before. I had hours to kill, so decided to take a slow walk back to the hostel via Gorky Park.

What I thought I would experience: 80s fun fair with cheap tasty snacks and beer in the sunshine. People watching.


In reality I experienced : Seeing a space ship by the side of the river. An overpriced packed Italian restaurant where I got a table and a large glass of wine  thanks to the incredibly nice staff that seemed to take pity on me.

Then walked around the more 'park' part of the park, and watched people posing, skating, breakdancing and queued for 20 minutes for a corn-on-the-cob (best snack food ever in foreign countries.) My aim was to head back to the hostel, probably a 20 minute walk... 30 minutes at best..? 

3 hours later, almost in tears due to tiredness and sore feet, which had lead to indecisiveness and backtracking I was still not at the hostel. Being determined to walk rather then use the metro was not a wise move. Still, on the way I'd seen the Peter the Great Statue, which has been voted 10th ugliest by a travel forum. I was told they tried to move it to St Petersburg in 2010, but the city didn't want it. The tour guide actually told me as well it was given as a gift to the Dutch but they sent it back. Perhaps an urban myth? Still, I thought it was cool. All 98 metres of it. Other highlights ('features') of my walk...

* Stumbling into a Soviet Statue Art Exhibition

* Seeing the padlock trees and wondering if they come and break them when they get divorced (just my state of mind at the time..)

* Watching the hippie types in a park (who knows what park. I was lost. L.O.S.T.) breathing fire and walking on tightropes between the trees.

* Seeing the Red Square in the evening.

and finally... getting back to the hostel, and having a beer. Lying on my bed, drinking my beer. No shoes on, no pain, drinking beer. 

After a bit of rest and a few beers I met Jenya and his girlfriend Nastya and saw a few sights (such as the Pussy Riot Church...), hit a few bars and had an amazing night with great, friendly people. By this point I was very very very much liking Moscow. 

The Hitler and Mussolini Puppets

Long before Spitting Image, Russia had the Hitler and Mussolini Puppets.
Now showing at the Great Patriotic War Museum.

Getting lost in Moscow. Part 1.

Started the morning off with a walking tour by 'Moscow Free Tours' (this is the only one that is actually free...) Walked through and around the main sites; Red Square with Lenin's Mausoleum, St. Basil's & the GUM store, and watched the changing of the guards outside the Kremlin. I was a little put out by the guide's comments on the Babuska's earning their living by collecting the coins thrown outside the gates to the red square 'we used to take the money, now I feel bad... NOT' (firstly, who says NOT (aside from Wayne and Gareth obviously,) and secondly, yeh.. haha.. like taking money from a beggar. Haha :/)

I then decided to head over to Victory Park, hoping to grab some food en route as so far I'd only had a 'Soviet' Ice Cream and it was 2pm. Got pretty lost from the moment I stepped off the subway. I tried to use googlemaps and spent about £20 in around 2 minutes on data. I walked alongside motorways, (in both directions), up grassy banks, down grassy banks and finally ran across train tracks... but eventually made it to the park with the tanks. A snow covered park. I was in short shorts and a tank top.

My first priority was to eat my picnic feast of bread, 3 types of cheese curd, (I know!! pushing the boat out) and sweetcorn, washed down with black russian in a can. Slightly postponed as the caretaker (I assume) of the memorial synagogue pretty much forced me in to look. Wasn't quite comfortable due to my dress, the fact he was forcing me to take photos in a no photo zone (I also had no interest in taking the photos in the first place) and kept talking to me in Russian expecting me to understand. He then asked for a 'donation' which went in his pocket rather than the donation box. Who knows what I'd actually prefer. Maybe for it to go to his family? A fiver for a really surreal, unwanted experience? Not bad I guess.

Sat down and ate my lunch admiring the snow, whilst at the same time the heat from the sun was toasting my bread... Then headed over to the Great Patriotic War Museum. Though all exhibits were in Russian I really enjoyed the five diorama rooms &a the gift shop which was predominately full of toy guns and soldiers. A LOT of toy guns and soldiers.

Diorama's: http://vimeo.com/16128349 (Not my video)


After sitting watching the skaters and bladers and getting some energy together I set off to get lost for the second time that day...

My first night in a Russian Hostel

Heading back to the hostel armed with a bag of beers and cheese curd I stopped off at a pub for a few pints. Exhausted and not too sure what to do with myself. I felt like being sociable, but wasn't sure of the best way to attempt this. Apparently not in the Irish pub with the surly waitresses. But it was nice to sit, drink beer, watch some ice hockey and write.

Going back to the hostel I thought perhaps people would be sitting up in the common room - nope.

I sat on my bed for around 10 minutes eating my rye and curd and then thought 'fuck it, I'll go sit in the common room with a beer. It's got to be more fun than this.' As luck would have it... I was joined
shortly by a youngish Belarusain... who only spoke Russian. Determined to have some sort of conversation he started chatting me up using google translate, "you are beautiful," "I love your tattoos." This was new chat up concept to me, but broke the ice (in some strange way) and somehow we managed to engage in some sort of charade conversation and ended up playing Mortal Combat on the Hostel playstation.

Slowly people began filtering into the common room. A Canadian guy who liked beer. My happiness of seemingly finding someone I could converse with was short lived as he then preceeded to spend the next few hours going through every single photo on his facebook complete with stories of his awesomeness (please note sarcasm). Thankfully this was aimed at a Russian girl, who seemed strangely interested. I saw them holding hands a few days later; so I guess his chat (up) worked.

I met a lovely girl who'd arrived in Moscow a couple of weeks before. Like many people at the hostel she were there temporarily whilst looking for work and trying to find somewhere more settled. She was from Dushanbe (yes, I just googled 'Capital of Tajikistan' as I also had no idea where she was from.) She said it as if I should know, I guess people in Russia would? I also spent a lot of time talking to a Russian guy who'd previously lived in England. Interesting hearing about their lives and their plans and hopes for the future, and what they were looking for specifically in Moscow. This was the sort of chat I was looking for.  A few beers later and then I pootled off to my room for sleep.

End Note:  I lied. I was not alone from the start. There was a young gentleman on a computer, on facebook, shirtless, with his belly hanging out. He sat there for hours on facebook, shirtless, with his belly hanging out. Then he moved. and lay next to me on the large sofa. I turned to him and smiled, even though I found him rather repulsive. He stared at me. He lay there for another hour. Not engaging with anyone. Not doing anything. Then he left. Nice guy :/

Back in the USSR...

USSR, April, 1990 with my Dad, Dan & Josh 

Sat on the train into Moscow I felt really dazed; as if I was in a little bubble. I seemed to be going the right way, getting on the right trains but my brain was just going 'what the hell are you doing here? what the hell are you going to do here?' Still, I was smiling.

The metro was pretty simple; took time matching up the various characters on the walls with the ones on my printed google maps. My guide book maps & downloaded Moscow map were entirely useless in a city that doesn't really use the Latin Alphabet. Well done Lonely Planet. I arrived on the first platform just missing a train; thinking 'ahh crap.' At this point I didn't know that trains arrive on every platform in every station every two minutes with a timer at the end of each one counting the seconds since the last train left.

Made my way to my hostel, dumped my bags and took a long detoured walk before meeting my Communist Tour Guide. The sun was shining and I was starving, a sensation I would become accustomed to over the next few days. I came across a free outdoor art exhibition before sitting in the sunshine with a beer and salad watching the Muscavites go by, wondering, hoping that this would not only be an interesting weekend, but a fun one too. 

Solovetsky Stone & Detsky Mir     

I met my guide by the Solovetsky Stone, a memorial to political victims, which is placed outside the Ex-KGB Headquarters (now Federal Security) and directly in front of the largest toy store I have ever seen.  No one else turned up so I had my own my very own private tour guide. Young (early 20s), patriotic but fairly grounded. She was generally open to my questions, but seemed unknowingly

FSB Building, formally KGB Headquarters

contradictory, mainly in regards to the USSR. For example, the great education and equality of the masses, yet how many were starving and had no personal or political freedom. Of course it's not black and white, but it was that she didn't pick up on these huge discrepancies or seem willing to engage in a discussion on the imbalances and issues, not out of defense, but because she just didn't see it. On top of this she told me stories of her family outside of Moscow and their hardships, during Soviet Times, and also acknowledged how outside of Moscow and St. Petersburg most in Russia still had quite harsh living conditions. She stated enthusiastically what a great leader Putin was; strong and fearless, but had the world fearing him, which was a good thing. I questioned if she was part of Nashi (Russian Political Youth Movement, pro-Putin), but I got the impression then that she wasn't actually that political. Perhaps a lot of this was lost in translation or her feeling she needed to paint a good picture of Russia?

We walked around the main parts of the city walking past murals, statues, the Bolshoi Theatre and a couple of museums, talking all the while. A lot of it seemed to awaken some corner of my memory. I'd forgotten how much Russian history I'd studied at GSCE and A-Level. There was SO much money around. In concentrated areas, but more extravagant than I expected; not entirely sure why. The tour was great, and I'm so grateful it was just the two of us as we could properly converse, not just about Russia, but about our lives, which for me, not knowing many Russians, was great.

At the end of the tour she pointed me in the direction of a typical soviet restaurant. Though I was hungry I was more concerned about making sure I had some beers for what could be a night alone in a hostel, or preferably hanging out with others. I'd read about how it was a super sociable place and already been shown the BYO alcohol fridge. I headed to a fairly upmarket supermarket we'd already visited (not sure why), bought some beers, rye bread (which I love) and some cheese curd... (I thought it seemed suitably Russian) just in case I didn't find food.

My issues with food were:
1. I don't like being in a country and not being able to say anything. I mean ANYTHING. I tried to learn a few words but they wouldn't stick in my brain.
2. Menu's were all in Russian, which unlike French or Spanish I couldn't even attempt to navigate or make out using my guide book (as menus were in the Cyrillic alphabet and guide book 'translations' in the Latin Alphabet.) Due to issue number 1 and being a vegetarian I didn't want to go in and ask in total English.
3. I don't like tourist places, which normally solve issues 1 & 2, but I'd rather eat rye and curd.

My long weekend in Moscow - the preamble

I think it was payday, January 28th,at approximately 3am I purchased my flight to Moscow for April later that (this?) year. The idea popped into my head a few months before - I knew I wanted to go somewhere alone, where I didn't know anyone. I needed to do some independent travelling again, but nothing too big. Somewhere that would be interesting and I could keep my mind busy. Somewhere I could explore and learn, rather than sit back and watch the world go by, alone with my often terrifying thoughts. I didn't know what to expect, and wasn't even particularly looking forward to it. I just knew it was something I had to do. If I get an idea in my head, and no other one pops up to replace it, it WILL happen. After two months of no travel (seriously) I went to Marrakech with Suzy, a big stepping stone after the events of the previous six months. But this time, using the words of Lickety Split as inspiration, I'm going alone. 

So flights booked, I started the arduous process of obtaining a visa. I'd had some practice from work and knew what to expect. 
Some questions pretty easy; 'no, I had not been convicted on terrorist charges.' Some took a while; 'list every country you have visited in the last 10 years, with dates.' Here I actually ran out of space so just made sure all the ones in my passport were covered. Others, a little more confusing 'have you ever had a Russian Visa?' Yes, I thought. I went to Russia in 1989. But on looking at my old passports, and my parents old passports I could find no evidence that any of us had visited the USSR. 'No, I have never had a Russian Visa.'

Being brutally honest, prior to this trip, I've not held the highest opinions of Russia. Born out of a mix of deep family prejudices (my mother and her family left Latvia as refugees in 1944), studying modern Russian history, and more recently studying the country in regards to Human Rights. But I know just because I think something DOES NOT mean I'm right. Here, I was ready, and wanted to be proved wrong. 

Early wake up, en route to Moscow I felt pretty alone, confused (in the vein of 'what the fuck am I doing?') but okay; armed with Humpty & my Dr Seuss bible. Thankfully the easyjet flight was practically empty. They had only started the route a couple of weeks before I bought the flights. 
Just about to land I looked at the window, and thought, (and wrote in my beautiful leather bound :/ Arsenal journal) "so what the fuck is that? Is it sand? Is it snow? It's 16*C. Maybe it takes a long time to melt here. Yes. it must be snow. Why would it be sand? Weird. Almost landing and my brain is like ????
But one step at a time. One activity at a time. I can do this on my own. I always have. The support is invaluable, but ultimately what I've done. The good AND the bad, is, and has always got to be, down to me."