Soundtrack – Au Revoir Simone, The Bird of Music
The thing is, no matter where you are going, at what time of day, with or without the most seemingly thorough directions, you will get lost in Moscow. I just plan in extra ‘getting lost’ time now every time I travel. But the first day of school, my second day in the city, was one of my more hectic and anxious experiences, completely lacking any sense of direction and totally at the mercy of this frantic organ that is the transportation system of Moscow.
I live only one metro stop from the university, where I am taking Russian classes for the summer. I’m about a ten-minute walk from my metro stop. After getting off the metro at the university I have only to cross the street and walk about the equivalent of 3-4 blocks through campus to get to class. Just to be sure, the girl who also helped me register my visa and get my student ID, walked me through the entire travel scenario just one day before. I walk out of the house thinking, sweet… Moscow. I’m checking out the sun and the great variety of people walking to work, walking home from a night out, trying to sell you bread and scarves and flowers and cab rides, handing you flyers about a sushi restaurant or a new clothing shop or a strip club, trying to sell you religious books, and begging for money while crossing themselves repeatedly or propping up missing limbs to evoke pity. Everyone around me is trying to elicit some emotional response as I take it all in and fall into stride with my soundtrack.
I navigate all of the signs to get into the metro and down the stairs and headed in the right direction and I see that there is a train already waiting there at the platform. I pick up my pace to make it onto the train before the doors close. Did I say close? I mean slam shut almost in hopes to catch some bit of clothing that the train can then steal from you. There are, incidentally, many things in Moscow, mostly related to the metro, that can close sharply on you and with a lot of force, leaving initiation marks and bruises.
I almost made it. There is a warning before the doors slam shut, but I was not at all accustomed to listening for it and even so did not have a prayer of understanding the announcement. I slipped in, the doors shut, and I turned to make sure nothing was stuck, already knowing that my purse was caught. Just as I turned a nice gentleman grabbed my bag to help me pull it out. (Turns out people are very accustomed to helping others pull various things out of these ridiculously unforgiving doors.) I was, of course, quite flustered and said to him (in English) thank you. Just as I was beginning the accompanying thank you glance, the train lurched forward and I was thrown back, literally on top of this guy. I had reached out for the handle near the door and missed it by a matter of centimeters. He was standing against the backdoor of the train car, and so luckily did not fall, but I was completely off balance and made full body contact before he could help me to my feet. I was then, of course, frantically grabbing for the handle near the door so I could stand myself up again and at the same time muttering thank you and excuse me and I’m so sorry, which made the perfect segue into staring in the complete opposite direction with a bright red and sweaty face, pretending that nothing had happened and thanking god I only had to go one metro stop.
Ok. I’m getting off the train. I’m flustered (especially because this was his stop as well) but somehow I wander out of the metro station on the correct side of the street and going in the correct direction. Things look familiar. I think I spot the street I have to cross. I’m recounting the directions given to me a day earlier and breathing deeply and starting to hook back into my soundtrack.
The thing about campus is that all the buildings look the same. Condemned-looking and with old Soviet emblems and signs that I thought would be telling markings when I saw them for the first time. I did, however, find the building. I pulled out my student ID in anticipation for the document check, and I even remembered which door I was to enter. Then I got into the entryway and saw panel after panel of slightly tinted windows banded with wood across the middle in the fashion of a handle. I remembered the first door was all the way to the right, and the second door was all the way to the left, with about 40 feet in between them. For some reason here all the doors are single entry, meaning that all traffic, in and out, must flow through a door that is one person wide. Under the watchful eye of the security guard I had a 50/50 chance that I would pick the correct panel and avoid the more extensive questioning and document check. There was no one coming or going for me to just follow in so I picked a panel and pushed on it. Then I pulled on it. I thought oh shit, I came to the wrong door, wait, maybe I came to the wrong building! And the security guard pointed to an adjacent panel and motioned for me to come through.
Of course my documents were checked. I was told my first day on the campus to never get stopped by these guys – or anyone in uniform for that matter. They will maybe hassle you or at worst question you and hold your ID. (These student ID things are like gold by the way.) The guy asked me some basic questions, which I (remarkably) could understand and respond to. Then he asked me what department I was studying in, and I said Russian Studies, which was where I was headed. I even explained to him that this was my first day. He told me that on my ID it said that I was with the Foreign Languages department and that was in another building, therefore meaning I had no right to be in this building.
At this point he is holding my student ID and speaking with increasing pace and volume and I, already flustered by barely making it there in the first place, start to stammer and speak with a horrible American accent and look around at other students, the majority of whom pass me by with little more than a glance. Finally a nice Russian guy, who spoke enough English to ask me what was wrong, stopped to watch the questioning and then interject on my behalf. Apparently he just raised his tone to meet the guard’s and told him it was none of his business and that I was a student and allowed to go into any of the buildings. I didn’t understand any of what was going on at this point. I had once again been thrust, full contact, upon the mercy of a random stranger who I could barely thank properly. The Russian guy explained to me what the guy was saying and showed me to my class, and added a little commentary about what people in uniform do and do not have the right to do.
The moral of the story. Don’t hop onto trains hoping to slip in before the doors close. It turns out these trains run literally every two minutes, sometimes sooner, and even when in a hurry there is no reason to rush train entry. And never, never get stopped to have your documents checked. These people truly do not speak any English whatsoever, and when flustered, I really think a native English speaker’s default is probably English. Any hint of an accent is a sign of weakness and they move in for the kill. This is not an exaggeration. I’ve since found that the best policy whenever you see someone in uniform is to look mean and walk fast. Flash documents and look offended if their glance lingers too long. Mmmm…
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