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Published: November 24th 2005
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I promised myself I would put an end to this arriving at stations at obscene hours in the morning without a room reservation. But, once again, Gerry and I found ourselves at Moscow Station at 4 am. We huddled in a corner of the station with our bags, avoiding eye contact with all the city "riff-raff" that wondered in - most of which consisted of men smelling of vodka and body odor with freshly bruised faces. When we finally discoverd that we COULD enter the restricted station waiting room we were cold, tired and hungry. We had to step around strange pools of blood to get to the chairs. Whwn we found two open seats we sat there for almost 4 hours verociously reading our guidebooks - waiting for first light and the metro to open.
Around 8 am we deemed it safe enough to wonder outside. Yes, 8am...it was almost light outside AND rush hour on the Moscow Metro system. Perfect timing. After finagling with the ticket lady and buying our tickets we weaseled our way through the masses to the gigantic wooden escalators. Decphering the Cyrillic and line numbers was a headache. But we made it on the train
safely - which was where Gerry and I parted. I chose a different hostel to stay in because they would register my visa. So, I had to get off the train a few stops before he did. After more than one month together, there was a heartfelt pat on the shoulder and a quick wave. The doors slammed shut and I was alone.
The 2 km hike to the hostel was lonely. Checking into the empty hostel was even lonelier. My footsteps seemed to echo in the hall ways. Hellllooooo??? The only response I barely got was from the strange French couple sharing my dorm room and a small twin bed. Ahhh...walking in on a cozy couple. Nothing worse!
My first day exploring the city was exhilarating. I found the Red Square, St. Basil's and other famous landmarks. By the time I tramped back home to the hostel it was dark and bitter cold.
Peeking into the open door of the common room I was greeted by a welcome sight. People crowded around a table with guidebooks open and pens flying on notebook paper. Other backpackers planning their travels. It wasn't ten minutes that I sat down together with the
group that I four new friends! Erica, a lovely Norther Italian, coaxed me into switching rooms and soon I had 3 new roommates.
Karen, a globetrotting Australian, Tomoko, a Japanese teacher in St. Petersburg in Moscow on a business trip, and Erica grew to be not only my dorm mates - but sweet friends. Erica, Karen and I spent 2 days doing the crazy things I would have wanted to do myself. We rode the metro around the loop - line just to admire all of the beautiful stations along the way. We spent the afternoon at the market where Erica bought a beautiful PURPLE fur hat. We got up a bit early to see the embalmed body of Lenin. We ate at McDonald's. And, we oogled at the expensive clothing displays on the streets downtown.
You may have heard the rumors about the Russians. Unfriendly people. Faces fixed in a permanent frown. Unhelpful and rude. These characteristics, I have found to generally be true. And yet, the girls seemed to have some sort of golden touch with the locals. Whenever we got lost or needed help we always met the kindest of people. Moscow seemed to be taking pity
on us.
At the post office ( a place notorious for bad service)...Erica and I stepped up to the counter to find an unhappy woman with unwashed hair and dark circles under her eyes. She immediately started yelling at us in Russian. All attempts at playing the charades game with her were not working. "We want STAMPS for these postcards, please..." Was all we wanted to communicate. We had 15 postcards between us and they simply needed to be mailed. In utter frustration Erica shouted to the growing line behind us "Can anyone here translate, Please!!???" And like magic a woman popped up and helped us purchase the stamps and set us in the right direction of the mail boxes. Phew!! Who knew that mailing postcards could be that difficult? Only in Russia...
Every night Erica was true to her nationality by making us fantastic feasts of pasta and cheese. These were beautiful meals I will never forget or understand how to make. She was like magician with only the bare ingredients.
When it was time for us all to part there was tears in my eyes and tight hugs all around. I boarded the midnight train to St. Petersburg
with my heart a little lighter than it was when I arrived in Moscow. With the address of hostel to stay at in my pocket and set plans to meet Tomoko I was proud to be a single woman traveling on her own again.
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