Moscow: Final Days and Exit

Finally, a few moments of free time to actually write something.

It's been a fairly hectic trip.

I will start with my last few days in Moscow, and continue on my experience in Ukraine at a later point.

In the waning days of the Moscow trip, we visited two particularly important places: Novodevichy Cemetery (Новоде́вичье кла́дбище) and Bunker 44.

At Novodevichy, many of the most important figures in contemporary Russian history are buried. It is considered second only to the Kremlin Wall. The graves are incredibly ornate, many holding emblazoned portraits or incredible statues of their permanent residents. Initially, when one is buried, a fairly plain wooden set-up is constructed over the grave -- the ornate markers come later. The enormous cemetery wall is used as a columbarium, holding the urns containing the remains of a variety of Soviet figures. Most of them victims of Stalin's purges. Khruschev and Yeltsin are buried here, the only contemporary Soviet leaders to not be buried at the Kremlin Wall. In Khruschev's case, this was due to his death after being unseated from power. Gorbachev will likely be buried here as well, as his wife's tomb is here. The neighboring covenant/nunnery once housed Peter the Great's older sister who was imprisoned there, along with being host to thousands of graves now bulldozed by the Soviets. There, you are expected to walk on the path, else the ground beneath caves in and reveals one of the old graves.

Bunker 44 was another interesting trip, if not something of a letdown. Located 18 floors beneath Moscow, lower even than the metro (you can hear the trains overhead), it has since been converted from a nuclear war command center into a museum. Many of the equipment and gear was left there to rot, and there it mostly remained. Still, it was something of a letdown, as the tour only covered a fraction of the bunker -- most of it was off limits.

Finally, we left Moscow late at night and took a train to Kyiv, and for the first time I really felt like I was "in Russia" as I was leaving it. The train was very rickety -- it felt almost historic, a great counter to the absurdly lavish and bourgeois Aeroflot planes. The station itself was packed with people trying to make a quick buck, people speaking in broken English to try and carry other people's luggage "express, express!" None of them looked to be ethnic Russians.

We had two other passengers riding in our compartment. An middle-aged man who spoke no English, was very quiet, though pleasant and friendly, along with a young Moscow lawyer who spoke in excellent English, albeit with a limited vocabulary. He was very talkative and excited, saying that even in Moscow he did not often meet Americans. I noticed he was wearing a single earring, something very rare amongst men in Moscow, and he explained that it denotated that he was the last in the Cossack line of his family, not as of yet having any children.

We spoke for several hours on and off through the night, touching on the differences in life, along with particularly controversial subjects -- usually brought up by him. He was curious to understand LGBT rights in America, asking whether it was something we considered "normal" and that he could not see it as being considered such, ever, in Russia. I dodged the question, not wanting to put a damper on an otherwise pleasant night, but explained that until very recently we were hardly some sort of bastion of tolerance -- and in many cases, our international approach to issues is contradictory to how we face a subject domestically.

The others slept on and off through the night, though I was restless, instead choosing to listen to music. We were constantly awoken at different points on the Russia-Ukraine border. For myself and my American classmate, we had to present our migration cards in order to leave Russia. As our passports were being examined, a plainly dressed and strangely smiling man who was probably in his 30s inquired as to why we were entering Ukraine. I let my classmate, who speaks better Russian, do the talking; I noticed that our Russian co-passengers immediately averted their gaze. I figured this meant he had a reputation, or that he could seriously interfere with our plans. When he asked why we were going to Ukraine to study Russian, rather than staying in Russia, I immediately thought he was a "spook." I was probably right -- the Russians later said they were fairly certain he was an FSB agent, the modern equivalent of the KGB.

Another border check on the Ukraine side woke us up, and I was singled out by a Ukrainian borderguard to come into the hallway. In my passport photo, my head is shaved -- this was years ago, and now I have shoulder-length hair after my brief stint in the military. She asked two other borderguards to confirm that I was actually the person in the passport photo. Eventually, they did. Finally, we were on the home stretch. The older Russian treated us to a breakfast of blackbread and salami, and we said our goodbyes -- exchanging gifts. However, as we arrived at Kyiv, I immediately wished I was still in Moscow -- the amount of graffiti bearing far-right symbolism was highly offputting, and it littered the trainyard.

The night gave way to the day, and our taxi took us to our hostel -- the smoke of Maidan burning easily visible on the ride. The hostel itself was nice, but the bedroom housed eight people -- and it smelled like it, too.

I let out a heavy sigh and closed my eyes as I tried to finally get some sleep. Now I was truly feeling homesick.

Photographs from February 13, 2014

This is Andrei's last day in Moscow. He will be leaving soon to travel by train to Ukraine! Click through the break to see:

Photographs from February 12, 2014

So many photographs! Click through the break to see them:

Back in Time - Photos from between February 6 and February 9

Some of the first photographs taken of the journey are located below the break:

Photographs from February 11, 2014

Details on these photos are to come when Andrei can edit this blog post.

Celeste Here: Posting Photographs

Hi everyone. :)

I volunteered to help Andrei post some of the 300+ photographs he has taken so far in his past few days in Moscow. He has internet access by phone, but that doesn't give him much organizational control, and it will hopefully be easier for him to sort through them and add comments when they're posted here.

As much as I can, I will be cross-referencing his comments from Facebook to here. For now, have a quick selfie he took while touring a graveyard in the snow:

"Yayy snow.. So.. Exciting.. Not."

Red Square

I visited Red Square two days in a row. You may assume by that, that there is enough there to fill two days. You would be wrong.

There is enough there to fill two weeks.

The area is split into a more public sector where you can access the Duma and Dt Basil's Cathedral (you all know the cathedral, it is the big onion domed building), but getting into the Kremlin, the several hundred year old churches, and the museums is far more difficult. Expect metal detectors, bag checks, coat checks, et cetera.

St Basil's is actually something like 9 different churches, and is far more impressive outside than in.

What impressed me more was a place I could not take pictures in, the Altar to Archangel Michael. It houses the tombs of various Tsars, including Ivan the Great, Peter, and several Romanovs. The Icons and holy murals are simply incredible, and the walls and ceilings are littered with them.

More to come later...

Moscow: Beautiful, Big, and Contradictory

(Pictures to come later. They are available unsorted at Facebook.) Where oh where do I even begin? I've only been in Moscow two days, but it feels like a week already. It's been busy, brushing up on my Russian thanks to random encounters along with listening in on every day life. My head is spinning, between trying to figure out Moscow's metro system (when your first subway ride is in a foreign country, it complicates things) to wondering about how the program will proceed, to the disappointment in learning I will be going to Odessa instead of Kyiv, indefinitely, to trying to find WiFi and treking through a snowstorm to do it.

First thing's first. The flight itself. Getting from Orlando to New York wasn't so bad except for almost missing my flight – it was fairly average. However, my flight to Russia was delayed thanks to a new Russian rule on absolutely no carryon liquids whatsoever, and at times even confiscating check in liquids. I was fairly excited, however, as it gave me the opportunity to pick up on Russian vulgarities. What was interesting to me at JFK is that flights to Russia appear to be set up near gates for flights to China, Korea, and Japan. I don't know if this rotates or not, but the contrast between Russians and, say, Japanese, was enormous. The (younger) Japanese dressed in bright flashy colors, were very extroverted, and looked very happy. The Russians, in contrast, were reserved, dressed in tints, and only smiled at their friends. Russians don't smile just to smile.

After finally bording, Aeroflot gave me a sort of “taste of Moscow” in how cramped I felt. And my very first instance of confusion. Greeting the flight attendant with a hearty “Zdrasvuyte!” and being met in response with a likewise greeting led into a quick flurry of Russian that went in one ear and out the other. After a moment she figured out I was American and spoke fairly decent English, albeit in a stereotypical accent. Finding my seat wasn't hard, but part of me wishes I hadn't found it. I'm a bigger guy, who sat behind another bigger American, and had to sit bow legged for nine hours. I didn't sleep a wink.

However, what was really neat about the trip is that they had a very interactive computer embedded in the seat. It seemed to be coded in Flash, and you could listen to a variety of music, watch television, movies, or even see in flight information. During takeoff and landing, you even saw a downwards video from a camera on the airplane. As I didn't have a microUSB to USB cord, I was thankful for this, since I couldn't use my phone. I took the opportunity to watch Daniel Day Lewis in “Lincoln”, listened to a few techno albums, and then watched a bizarre Russian movie called “My Stepbrother Frankenstein” which gave me some much needed practice in understanding basic Russian conversation.

The other taste of Moscow it gave me was at how beautiful the people tend to be. This isn't only in physical appearance but how well dressed and “made up” they are, at least with those born either shortly before or after the Soviet Union collapsed. I'm fairly certain to work as a flight attendant with Aeroflot you have to be a multilingual supermodel. Just because Aeroflot hires beautiful people does not mean those people are interested in obnoxious American flirtation, however. After figuring out that someone who thought they were the next Kanye was only asking questions on Russian so that he could flirt with her, one flight attendant leaned in – not a seductive leaning, but a warning, and informed him with a half-smirk that she was neither a prostitute nor a dictionary, and he could find those in Moscow if he wanted. Good for her.


Hot dinner and breakfast was provided on the flight, but it was fairly “American” in palette – salad, chicken parmigiana, bread. When asked what I wanted, I joked that I wanted pelmeni, and the flight attendant smirked and said “At least you did not say borsch. I would keep walking.” That sort of thing. I knew, thanks to previous experience with Stetson Russian Studies, that a very different palette awaited me in Moscow.

Landing in Moscow was very fast paced. When in Russia, even with a visa, you have to have a “migration card” filled out at the airport – and you keep half of it so that you can actually leave Russia. There are a few different lines, mostly separating Russian citizens (who don't have to do such) from foreigners. The people working the station that day were all fairly young, younger than me probably, and didn't speak a word of English. While I thankfully didn't need it (and had to politely decline the girl asking me to come to a Children of Bodom concert in April), other people struggled through. I was already running late, so I didn't feel much like standing behind and helping.

I found my luggage and taxi within seconds of finishing the migration card. I surprised myself that I was able to hold a conversation with him throughout the entirety of the trip, although I wished I hadn't been able to, as Russian “multitasking” is terrifying. Traffic lights and signs are more of a “suggestion” in Moscow, and he rapid fire text messaged while talking to me and narrowly avoiding being crushed inbetween busses every thirty seconds. Despite having my camera ready, I was too awestruck by the enormity of Moscow and the fear that I was not going to survive the end of the trip. Although I have not seen an actual wreck happen, I fear the dashcam videos are very accurate.

Still, as you can see, I draw breath. I had zero chance to relax or sleep, however. After pulling into MGU (Moscow State University), even further awestruck by how pictures do not do Moscow justice, we quickly had to dart through the guards, with me showing my passport and propusk (basically a pass to get into the dorm) quite a few times. Within minutes I was in my room, and wanted to do nothing more but sleep – alas, it was time for orientation.

While on a tour of the campus, which is itself a mini city, I quickly realized I had somehow forgotten my propusk and passport back at my room. Despite repeated warnings and (I thought) an accurate self-patdown, I had to slip back into the dorm (with my guide thee, they did not ask me for a propusk) and retrieve them. Rookie mistake.

Leaving the campus, I quickly discovered that although I was dressed in fairly warm enough clothing, the style of clothes I had on was “aged.” Wool peacoats are something worn primarily by foreigners or older Russians – most of the youth are in a sort of stylish ski gear. I realized that most people would quickly realize I was American, which is both a good and bad thing.

I certainly -felt- like an American with how disoriented I was in the subway. There are enormous escalators that lead down into it, and with how the ads and lights are set up, it creates the optical illusion that you are going straight forward rather than down. Despite not having a fear of heights nor escalators, I had to close my eyes. The trains are particularly fast, though I expected it and was able to prevent myself from falling on my face. Although the trains are equipped with some decent technology, some lines having provided WiFi and digital maps, they still made me feel like I was an anchovy in a can launched from a cannon.

Moscow is home to extreme consumerism, but it is also a place of strange bedfellows. Former Communist Party buildings are now home to malls and museums, and even Moscow State University, with hammers and sickles emblazoned everywhere, has ATMs at every building and sells western style food while playing poor remakes of western music, with Pepsi and Coke sold at every store.

This is not to say Russians have somehow abandoned their own culture. A vast amount of the restaurants in Moscow serve Eurasian food – however, fast food joints are alive and well in Moscow, and not frequented only by foreigners. In fact, I feel like you're less likely to meet a foreigner in a Russian McDonald's. We didn't come to Moscow for a Big Mac.

In a strange parallel to America, many of the restaurants are staffed by Central Asians, who are looked on by Russians as many in America view Mexicans. Moscow has a labor shortage, however, and Muscovites are not willing to work many of these sorts of jobs.

After a fairly exhaustive tour of some of the shops and malls, it was finally time to sleep. I hit my prison bed and passed out like a rock, eventually rousing in the middle of the night. I decided I needed to find WiFi somewhere to make sure my money was proper, and to let people know I was fine. I wa. ndered the campus from about 1AM to 3AM, trying to find an open Wi-Fi spot to no avail, and to the bewilderment of the guards who did not seem used to a foreign student being up at the time. I went off on my own to try to find an internet cafe or a hotspot near the campus, further to no avail. Eventually, I retreated back, defeated, and found a hotspot in a cafe that finally opened.

The sun rises very late right now in Moscow. It was pitch black even at 8:30, something I am not used to whatsoever. I found it very disorienting, and so far I have seen two shades of sky in Moscow: black, and a bluish grey.

After trying to fix my bank account along with getting in contact with people on Facebook, it was off to Red Square.