At long last, here I sit in front of my own keyboard, the proud new owner of a cheapy Russian netbook, since my cheapy American laptop is now in the hands of... well, Putin knows, really. The trip here was filled with delayed flights, rerouted itineraries, 40-second-but-nonetheless-$23 phone calls, missed airport pickups, lost luggage, and a Halley who made a lasting first impression on Moscow by crying on it. A lot.
I even cried on the phone of a taxi driver who let me call the guy scheduled to pick me up, even though it meant that he was losing a fare. Dear Nice Sir: <3.
Shitastic though it all seemed, however, Dmitry showed back up within 10 mintues, carried my (now sparse) baggage to the most beautiful car I had ever seen (or maybe it just seemed so at the time), and took me home to my dorm. The relief was indescribable. I crashed out instantly, and woke up rested, optimistic, and IN GODDAMN RUSSIA. That's when I quit my crying and remembered that everything is actually pretty flippin' fantasic.
And so far, just about everything has been. I've been to Red Square (suuuuuuuuuuuuuuurreal!!!!!!!!), the Kremlin, the Tsar's palace, a honey fair, crazyawesome shopping spots, street markets with flowers and produce and druggies oh my!, and the occasional accidentally-found mafioso gathering (note to future Muscovites: In Russian, the words for "Open" and "Closed" look strikingly similar, and just because a door to a "Sportsbar" is unlocked doesn't mean it's something you have any business walking through...).
It's only been a week and some change, so I'll refrain from making sweeping cultural statements for at least a few more days, but I will share a few musings I've had so far:
1) Beauty fever is all over the place. These women are glamour itself, and they're gonna pay to remain so no matter the cost. Boots match purses match belts match coats everywhere you go, and that's just today's outfit. And this shit ain't cheap, either. Do cvedanaya, Soviet shortages; welcome to Moscow, rampant consumerism. Mercedes symbols and Pepsi marquees dot the skyline, and yes (be still my caffeinated heart), there are Starbucks! This is anything but your mother's Russia.
2) Of course, not everyone is so lucky as to be swathed in Burberry. Poverty and general hardship are still pretty rampant, and the haves-and-haves-not thing is instantly evident from your average stroll in the metro marketplace. To the left is one woman pondering a $300 coat, and to the right is another cleaning out the porta-potty that she rents out to passersby for 15 rubles (about $0.50) per use. Also, heroin has taken over a lot of people's lives here. It's an average walk to the metro for me to step over hundreds of discarded plastic baggies left in the park from the night before, and that nasty little AIDS epidemic ain't just sex's fault. Mix that with police who are just as likely to screw you over as they are to save your life, and a mob that (as I recently discovered) hangs out, well, everywhere, and it's still a place you absolutely don't want to get careless in.
3) The contradictions in daily life provide endless hilarity. Security guards are stationed at almost every store and I have to lock my bags in a locker before I can shop for groceries, but airline workers are left unattended long enough to steal a whole damn computer. Tradition is so alive that opera houses are still filled to capacity every night and the hammer-and-sickle symbol is in the center of Aeroflot's wing pins (OH! I just figured out the computer theft...wealth redistribution!), but teenagers walk around shopping malls with purses that read "Karl Who?" And my personal favorite: The cafeteria of my university employs a lovely gentleman as a coat check man for the lunching students' coats, but the bathroom in this very same cafeteria is completely without toilet seats, or toilet paper. That's right; they'll pay for you to check your coat, but if you leave your personal supply of toilet paper in said coat, you're pretty much (yup, I'ma go there...oh just watch me...) shit out of luck.
4) Russians basically invented the culture of Fortune Favors the Bold. There's no being polite, there's no saying sorry; you just shoulder your way through the masses to the finish line any way you can or you're waiting for the next train. The rude side of me is having a blast. The rest of me, of course, is shocked and offended.
Okay, fine. I guess I'll make a few sweeping culutral statements.
Overall, though, it's been a great time. I miss everyone back home so much that the saying-goodbye knot in my stomach still lurches every few hours or so, but that doesn't mean I'd take this back for a second. I am desperately in love with this place, and I can't wait to meet more of it.
