Moscow: A World of Filth and Sin

ended up sleeping in a lot as I was getting adjusted to the time change. It doesn’t matter that much though because it’s not like you can ever tell what time it is this time of year anyway. I woke up one day at 9 and it was dark grey outside. Another day I woke up at noon and it was the same dark grey. It stays dark grey all day until 4:30 when the sun sets. Even at night the city is so well lit it hardly makes any difference. So, I didn’t regret sleeping in that much because I got full days in after hours.
I went back to my home metro station Petrovsko Razomovskaya, where I lived last year. I passed the lady on the bridge who always stands out there advertising for some shopping center over a megaphone. Entering the underground crosswalk I started hearing the familiar sound of the accordion music being played by my favorite bomsch (homeless) guy in town. He sits in a wheelchair and I think he might be missing a leg or something. He looks like a veteran judging by the camouflage pants he wears, but who knows. I slipped him 100 rubles and stopped to talk a minute, which was probably a mistake because he immediately told me to take the money I just gave him and go buy him a small bottle of vodka. I was hesitant at first because the guy looks like the last thing he needs is more alcohol; his breath already reeked of liquor and I am certain he is a hopeless alcoholic. But, he was persistent! I don’t know if it was right or wrong to do it, but I went into the store and bought him a bottle for 96 rubles ($3).
The thing is, the guy was going to buy vodka with the money anyway and there’s nothing I can do about that. I know he’s an alcoholic, but it’s not like you can just stop drinking cold turkey after years of abuse. It must be an arduous struggle to get that wheelchair up the icy ramp up to the street, so I definitely saved him a trip. Maybe I’m rationalizing. The reality is that guy probably won’t be alive the next time I come to Moscow. Sad to think.
I also went to the grocery store where I used to shop and talked to the lady who weighs the fruit. She remembered me and seemed glad that I came in to say hello. Unfortunately, the shawarma (like a pita) lady wasn’t working, but I bought one anyway from the Tajik guys.
I met with a friend of Liliya’s named Anton, because everyone else was busy working or something, and we walked around in the center for a while. He was a cool kid who just started learning English which meant that most of our conversation was in Russian. He was interested in my travels and he had travelled a lot himself. He told me he had hitchhiked from Moscow to Vladivostok. That’s about 6,000 miles for those of you who don’t know, and it took him 3 months living out of his backpack to do it. That definitely ranks as one of the coolest travel adventures I’ve ever heard.
Anton and I went and grabbed dinner at that Georgian restaurant where I got ripped off last time (see old blog), but it was good this time. In spite of what Russians may tell you, Georgian people are generally really friendly, at least to Americans. Georgia is one of the places where American foreign policy has been a big hit and very welcome.
We returned to Petrovsko Razomovskaya to meet with Liliya and Valera so that we could go together to the club. Outside the big dormitory I ran into a couple of old friends and we started chatting when my old girlfriend walked up. To be honest I didn’t leave things so well with her because after I left Russia I got back together with my old American girlfriend and then I wasn’t in such a good position to keep things up. Anyway, I guess it hurt Diana’s feelings because she seemed very standoffish and was in a rush to leave. Oops.
I met with my old neighbor, Rustam, who is also the maintenance guy in the building. Last time Shelly and I gave him a gift card for the American themed Starlite Diner in Moscow, which was apparently a big gift. So Rustam comes down with his son, who’s probably about 7 or so, and we chatted it up in the lobby. Apparently the kid speaks English now because out of nowhere he chirps in and translates some word I didn’t know—I was really surprised.
Around ten we headed to the center of Moscow to a club called the “All Time Club.” Valera had invited one of his colleagues, another American guy from Iowa who had just gotten to Moscow. I asked him how he liked Moscow and he said “It’s just like America really.” Then he told me that he’d only been there for 2 days and hadn’t left downtown. I guess he won’t be there long enough to be proven wrong.
We drank some and talked and danced—the usual club stuff. At about two we left and went across the street to a 24 hour sushi restaurant. They put us in a small back room, which was good because we all started singing “Ee Lenin, takoy molodoy, ee yunie oktyabr vperedi!”
By the time we went to leave the restaurant it was 3am and the metro was closed, so we crammed into an unmarked taxi driven and were on our way.