Waiting and walking, Moscow day 3

If there was an easy way to accomplish something, today, I would choose not to do it. This morning I got out of bed just as Teresa was leaving for work. I spent my time getting ready. I had already decided I would spend the day running errands, and I wasn't necessarily eager to start. It would also be my first day alone, wandering through Moscow without supervision.

I walked to the metro. The skies were grey, with occasional drizzle— a light sprinkle that would now and again grace my face. I was off to the offices of the Russia National group to register my visa. Teresa had pointed it out on the map and offered metro directions. The transfers went without a hitch and soon I was emerging onto the double lane boulevard of Chistroprudni. A beautiful tree-lined park ran down the median.

I found the building fairly easily, and walked around to the back to the entrance. A guard led me up a flight of stairs and pointed the way to the office. Paintings lined the walls of the interior courtyard. I waited my turn and then sat in front of the agent. She xeroxed my visa and departure card and told me my registration would be ready Wednesday. I told her I would be in St. Petersburg on Wednesday. I said I could pick it up on the weekend, but then they were closed. On Monday I was to set off for Irkutsk.

She looked at me and counted the dates. She said I should be ok without registration as I was changing locations so often and quickly. I'd barely be anywhere longer than three days. I thanked her and left the building. I walked back to the metro then northeast from there in the direction of Leningradskij to pick up my ticket to Irkutsk and also to purchase a ticket to St. Petersburg. Along the way, I stopped and had a schwarma for a quick snack.

At the train station, I found the kiosk where I had to pick up my trans-Siberian train ticket. My travel agent and sent me a letter in Russian with a photo of the kiosk and a map. My trans-Siberian ticket in hand, I surveyed the station. I saw boards written in Cyrillic with train numbers listed, headed for St. Petersburg. I could make out what some of the columns meant but not others. I saw a ticket window listing tickets from Moscow to St. Petersburg and stood in line. Five minutes later, I was talking to the attendant.

I had written down the dates and times on a piece of paper and handed them to her. She asked for my passport. She jabbed at her computer keyboard slipped a ticket into the printer. She punched some numbers into a calculator and held them up for me to see. The tickets were over 4500 roubles. I balked. I asked if she had platzkartny (3rd class) tickets. She shook her head. I asked if she had anything cheaper. She yelled something in Russian. She flicked her wrist and with a wave of her hand banished me.

Teresa had told me I'd be yelled at. She had also told me that I would be waiting for a long time in lines. The first had occurred but not the second. It was to be my only experience buying a ticket in Russia, and so I determined to wait in line and see if I could find another window selling cheaper seats (I thought that perhaps the dedicated window was selling tickets for special trains).

I walked to another window with no line. The woman pointed at a Cyrillic laser-printed sign and crossed her hands before her. The woman in the next window did the same. I stood in a longer line, almost reaching the window before the attendant started sending people away. I then realized the signs indicated when people would be going on break. I found a window where the attendant was soon to return. I was third in line. I waited. A group of three teenage boys was in front of me. When they didn't step up to the window quickly, the attendant yelled at them.

When it was my turn, I handed the dates and times to the attendant. She held up a calculator with the price. It was the same as before, but had done the conversion and realized that the price was under $200US for the round trip. It was more than I had been lead to believe from the guidebook, but about what Teresa had quoted in passing when she mentioned going there. I handed her the money without complaint. She printed the tickets and held them up for me to inspect. She read them off in Russian, and I nodded. She pushed them through the slot and I thanked her. She said your welcome. She barely raised her voice above the din around us.

Leaving the train station, I stopped to take some photos and to buy a bottle of water. I stepped up to a small kiosk. I pointed to a bottle of water. The woman smiled and with her hands asked me what size. I chose a small. She typed the price into a calculator and held it close to my face for me to read. I handed her the money and she pushed a button. I half expected someone to emerge from an elevator with my bottle in hand. Instead, she laughed and pointed to a cooler located beside the kiosk. I understood and went to open the door. It was stuck. I pulled harder. She kept her finger on the button and smiled. I pantomimed using all my effort and the door opened. I pulled out a bottle and held it up for her inspection. She laughed and nodded and I went my way.

I took the train to Red Square. Had I the time I would have toured the Kremlin, but instead I walked through the old quarter of Moscow, following a walking tour outlined in the guidebook. The skies remained grey and a light sprinkle would flick water now and again into my face. Upon reaching the Saints Cathedral on the Kulishka, a large square split by boulevards, I decided to walk back to Teresa's apartment.

I turned down one road and walked towards the river. Upon reaching Red Square, I walked upon the Moskvoretsky bridge to get a better view and to see the views from the bridge. Realizing the other side had better views, I crossed the bridge and ducked under it to walk back from the other side.

Crossing Red Square, I looked at the map. I had overshot the street I needed to walk back to the apartment. I ended up circumambulating the Kremlin. Then, I had to walk halfway back around after ending up on a block in the middle of two boulevards that didn't have any underground passages connecting it to the other side. At one point, I stood beside a policeman who seemed as if he were about to dash across; I was hoping to cross as his shadow.

I walked back along Arbat, the pedestrian street. A few people had set up canvases with which to sketch passersby willing to part with a few roubles. A drunk man accosted couples, begging for money. I walked into a souvenir shop and bought some post cards.

Back at the apartment, I sliced some bread and spread caviar atop it. I finished my snack with some sliced torpedo melon. It was good to get off my feet and let my legs rest. It almost makes me wish I were getting on the trans-Siberian this evening so that I might sit and lay down and read for the next three days . . .
Posted by eku at September 15, 2008 9:30 AM