Moscow is like Marmite..love it or hate it...

Arthur following the lines in Red Square

I've had a rather long absence from this blog due to computer troubles and pure unadulterated laziness...that's my excuse and that's all you're getting in explanation.

So...Moscow. I have done and seen many things since I last wrote this - backstage tour of the Bolshoi -

 Met the man who makes the Bolshoi ballet shoes (slightly like a hobbit but we'll not dwell on this since his working conditions were, well, less than appropriate for a man of his stature) -

Tour of the House on the Embankment (place of Stalin purges), drinks at the British ambassador's residence -

 Palaces -

Ostankino Palace

Theatre within Palace

Parks -

At the Museum Techniki with his friend Luke

At birthday of his friend Teisai

Collecting the biggest sticks he can find

Hoovering the park with a stick

David Bellamy of Moscow....

Mountain climber...

I even managed to get to a cemetery and pay my respects to some famous folks -

Tolstoy

Mayakovsky

Anton Checkov

Checkov inscription

Yeltsin  - not overly enamoured with this one.... 

There were plenty more famous people here but I failed miserably to follow the Russian map - again - mega complicated trying to work out in the Cyrillic whose name is what when in Russian their names are usually slightly different. Anyway - I'll need to return and say hello to some more dead poets and playwrights.

 I am definitely working my way around this city and so my laziness is purely to do with writing this and not my ability to experience the crazy world we live in.

When I arrived in Moscow I was slightly let down by the similarities to any other city - Starbucks, Costa Coffee, KFC, Burger king, Macdonalds and now Moscow has a 'Wendy's' - of course, on the opening of said fast food joint the franchise holder made Wendy's more 'Moscow' and had the uniforms changed to mini skirts, stripy tights and 6 inch heels...da da da - this is Moscow style baby-

Not quite the wholesome image of Wendy's U.S.A

Anyway, sorry I was side tracked by stripy tights, the longer I'm here and the more people I meet the more differences and nuances I notice. Just under the surface of the shiny western front is a city that is truly opposite in most ways to anywhere - especially anything British- be it people, language, politics or something simple like queueing. You have to throw yourself into this city with gusto and if you don't then you get swallowed up and spat out. It is definitely a city that inflames the heart - mostly because of some arcane system for something simple like buying a bus ticket but I've decided Moscow is pretty damned cool.

There are many people that bitch and moan about this place and are really truly miserable but these people are generally the types that should never have left their town in rainy England or at least gone to some place that sells fry ups in the local cafe and has a M&S food hall they can stock up with so as not to have to eat the local food. Life is hard here but there is also so much to do and so much to learn that I just weigh up the good and the bad and the good always wins. Anything that you manage to overcome here makes you feel elated - and that's a great way to live.

My triumphs since I last wrote:

I have learnt some of the bus system - I went and bought myself a bus map - to tell you the truth I shouldn't have bothered seeing as it is one of the most complicated pieces of literature known to man but it makes me feel safe if it's in my bag...

Praying for this old bus not to break down...

Here there are trams, trolleybuses and buses - sometimes you get all three doing the same route - buses are quickest as they can overtake whereas the other two are kinda stuck on the same sad path - heh, sounds geeky but this kinda knowledge can save you serious amounts of time...So, most of the buses and trolley buses are really old with 3 steep steps and if I'm with Arthur in the pram then I always have a dilemma - if I get Arthur out of the pram and stand at the bus stop with buggy and Arthur in separate hands then what should I lift onto the bus first - Arthur or the pram? If I lift Arthur then he is at will to run wildly up and down the bus whilst I am struggling with buggy or do I risk trying to get Arthur to stand on the street whilst I struggle to get buggy on and then the driver shuts doors and we leave Arthur on the street, picking his nose? When I wait for the bus now, I start to sweat as I'm trying to plan for such a simple thing as getting on the bus. So far I have been lucky as Russian Babushkas (means grandmother in Russia but is a general term as far as I can tell for all grey haired ladies) have rushed to my rescue and scooped Arthur up off the street and onto the bus but it is like public transport roulette. Once I struggled onto an empty bus by pulling the buggy (with Arthur in it) up the stairs - trust me, this is quite a challenge - only to be shouted at by the driver - his arms waving quite erratically. I presumed that I was being told to get off the bus and so proceeded in trying to get the buggy back off - this action caused the driver to shout even louder at me - waving me back on - so back I went - in the end after much chaotic hand signalling I realised that he wanted me (only me) to get off the bus (I'm such a sheep that I left my child on a bus by himself because I was being shouted at...) and come around to the front door and pay him the money and THEN go to the back of the bus where Arthur was sitting - this farce must have taken at least 15 minutes but the driver wanted me to do things by the rules so that is what I had to do. I might add that most bus drivers allow you to get on in the middle (you have to with a buggy as there is a turn style at the front of bus) and then walk to the front and pay over the turn style BUT NOT THIS GUY.
I have had the honour of being on two buses that have broken down mid journey. One bus bunny hopped down the main road to the side of the Kremlin for about 20 minutes until the Babushkas on the bus went up to the bus driver and shouted at him to open the doors and then shouted at me (in a caring way)to leave the bus as it was a pile of junk. This happened to be at the furthest point from my house - marvellous - but I was too scared of the babushkas to stay on the jumping bus even though my lazy side was egging me on to just stay put. I had a rather interesting bus driver the other day who was dressed in tiny shorts, no top and some flip flops - he then decided to stop the bus in the middle of the street so that he could leave and buy some cigarettes at the street kiosk. He then returned, sat in his seat and chain smoked the whole way - again, marvellous.

Triumph two - I have formed some kind of relationship with my local Russian shop workers. People say that the Russians are unfriendly but actually this is just because they are not so polite and over the top as Brits or Americans. Shop workers here are notoriously bad tempered and dour but then the Russian customers they usually deal with are pretty bad themselves and so the store becomes a battle ground. Finally after nearly a year, one of the cashiers at my local produkti says 'hello' to me and smiles! I am now on speaking terms with my local kiosk owner - her name is 'Galia' - Unfortunately I gained this information when intoxicated with my friend Liz (who speaks Russian with a fine Mancunian accent ) after drinking at hers for many an hour ( she lives in the block behind me) and complaining that I never get to speak Russian to Russians and  Liz deciding that I should start my quest for Russian friends with poor Galia. I think we were at the kiosk for a while but I have no idea what I said. I now approach the kiosk in a rather sheepish manner although Galia seems quite happy to see me - must have said something okay I guess/hope.
I have also had a few conversations with ladies in the play park and am now on 'hello' 'how are you' basis. I even had a chat with someone about Alice - a fellow dog walker in the park (a 6ft Russian blonde) who has ignored me for a year but suddenly the other day, out of the blue she comes at me with a big smile and chats away as if she had only just noticed me in our very small park....it seems that it takes the Russians nearly a year of repetitive behaviour for you to be classed as 'safe' to speak to. I was so excited by this break through that I phoned Graeme with the news - I AM BEING ACCEPTED - HURRAH! For expats who can't be bothered or have little patience then they will always find Moscow cold and uncaring but for those who are in for the long haul - it is very rewarding.

Triumph three - I don't know if I can really class this as a triumph but heh why not - TRYING to learn Russian. Every time you think you've made a break through you turn the page and discover another mountain to climb. I swear to god I sometimes wonder whether it is actually possible for my brain to withstand such an assault at this late stage. The Russians and the British use language in such opposite ways that it is not the actual vocab or grammar that poses the main problem it is the cultural way in which we try and express ourselves as people. Russian is very direct and has little time for filling sentences with what I would term as 'fluffy' polite sentence fillers. They have no verb 'To be' in the present but they do have it in the past and future  - in practice this makes things easier as you just say 'Bus on street' or 'I at home' for example, but me being a user of the English language am always trying to translate in my head and add in unwanted words. I think my Russian teacher Olga is bored of my, 'But why Olga Why?' question that seems to take up most of our lesson. Another example of how deeply aggravating this language can be is that there is not one verb 'To go' as in English. In Russian there are many verbs of motion which are much more detailed on 'how' you are travelling. To walk somewhere on foot, to walk somewhere and come back by foot, To go somewhere by transport, to go somewhere and come back by transport. The one Olga taught me today was the verb that describes the act of starting to go somewhere but you haven't got there but you're not home either - or something like that - to tell you the truth  I looked so confused that she felt the need to say that we would leave this until she brought me in extra material that would explain it in more depth - this is to learn the meaning of one bloody verb! I think I will just try to speak Russian without ever saying where I've come from or where I'm going.
What the lessons have given me is confidence - confidence to battle my way through this city like my fellow Russians. The difference between how I deal with situations now and how I dealt with them in my first few months is so worlds apart because I can now throw some words out and am willing to do battle. If people queue jump me now I shout 'Niet!' and arm swipe them - although this is only using the word 'no' - I feel more in control of situations and realise that when people tut or stare at you in an evil fashion, they are waiting for you to back down and slope off to a quiet corner - but I have become hardened to this Russian way and do not take their abruptness personally. Arthur is of course learning Russian without the need of blood sweat and tears - he mixes English and Russian together and is probably saying a lot more in Russian than we think. He never says 'Water' always 'Vada' in Russian. His teacher at nursery says he sings the Russian songs well and knows all the words - but she said it would be unusual for him to use Russian at home as he knows that we do not speak Russian (ain't that the truth) and so will differentiate when to use which language. You notice quite a large difference here in the development of speech, I think that most of the expat children are so busy trying to process all these languages that it is much slower than at home. Arthur is doing pretty well though and is stringing at least three words together although he is obsessed with the word 'poo' at the moment and walks around the park pointing at dark patches saying 'dog poo here' - lovely. He also points at the bottoms of any animals he encounters and says ' poo poo bottom' - Why oh why?

Triumph four - Graeme and I managed to get into one of the trendiest clubs in Moscow called 'The Soho Rooms' -

The Soho Rooms

Sadly, I have to admit that we didn't have to pass face control as if that had been the case then we probably would have been firmly rejected  - sad but true. I have a very good friend whose lovely husband is the executive chef at one of the best hotels here in Moscow and he knows the head chef at The Soho Rooms and they kindly invited us pair of reprobates to join them for his birthday dinner! The food was amazing and then we were given wrist bands to go and have a good look around the club. It was truly amazing inside - Graeme and I even had an excited chat over a Mojito about how great the toilets were - seriously - they were cool. The funny thing about these A list type of clubs is that everyone just stands around posing - no one ever breaks a sweat or dances - in fact the only people who dance are the ones who are paid to dance, the obligatory ladies on podiums that are part and parcel of everything here in Moscow. Of course, I was dancing with my friend Maria - after a few straight vodkas I realised posing next to a 6ft 6" blonde Russian lady at the bar wasn't doing me any favours and so threw myself into Mojito drinking and arm waving. You can become slightly entranced by the women dancers though and realise that you have been staring at one for about 20 minutes discussing whether the woman feels degraded or enlightened? Who knows, but here is a snippet of one of these ladies - I might add that they tried to throw me out of the club for taking videos of the dancers but I pretended to delete them all in front of the security guy and managed to save one!

Not much of a clubber these days but I must admit we all had a fantastic night thanks to some good mates who got us passed the door!!

So, there are more triumphs but I'll leave those for another day! I'll curse myself if I get too cocky and then I'll get hit by a very slow trolley bus.

I will try to recount my adventures on a more regular basis now that I have managed to break my silence - 

Paka Droozia! (bye friends!)