It has taken me way too long to write this – hate it when life gets in the way! Warning: this is long.
Russia is a cruel country. I don’t mean that in the sense that you’ll get mugged the moment you step outside (although, like all big cities, it’s possible depending on where you live and if you look like a dumb tourist) but that it’s very sink or swim; nobody is going to hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be ok. I like that; I like the fact that being brought up in that environment teaches you to fend for yourself and to network like a motherfucker (nepotism is alive and kicking). At the same time I’ve lived in the UK for so long that having to constantly manoeuvre my way round complicated social scenarios – because nothing is done by the book – is exhausting.
I had mixed feelings going back to Moscow for the first time in two years. I’d missed the Soviet architecture and everyone smoking and roasted sunflower seeds and pickled herring. But recent news reports made me think it was going to be North Korea with a familiar alphabet. Plus there was my babushka (grandmother), who seemed to have gone senile in the last couple of years.
I flew with Easyjet for a ridiculously low price – I can’t remember the exact amount but it was under £100 not including baggage fees – from Gatwick to Moscow Domodedovo. I prefer Heathrow but would’ve been looking at prices of £250+ if I went with BA or Aeroflot (who fly from there). Easyjet are my homies now.
Did you know: UK and Russia have an agreement where only 2 Russian airlines (Aeroflot and Transaero) and 2 British airlines (British Airways and Easyjet) are allowed to fly between London and Moscow. Until recently the British airlines were BA and BMI but then BA bought out BMI and a ‘slot’ opened up on the British side. Virgin were the main other bidder for the route.
There’s a Domodedovo Express station 30 seconds away from the airport. Tickets are 400 roubles if you buy them on the day (slightly cheaper if you do it online in advance), which is about £7. The journey time to Paveletsky Rail Terminal is about 45 minutes and there’s a Metro station on that end.
Tip: If you don’t fancy lugging suitcases around public transport, make sure you pre-book a taxi in advance. Do not under any circumstances get a taxi from one of the drivers who approach you at the airport, they will rip you off ESPECIALLY if you’re a foreigner.
Polina met me at Paveletsky. She’s my main Russian bitch; our grandparents own dachas next to each other so we’ve been friends since we were about three years old. We went from fucking around in a sandpit to fucking around in Moscow bars. She and her husband Andrei had a baby six months ago and I was dying to see them.
We drove to Zelenograd, which I’m sure I’ve written about before but here’s a short summary: ‘technically Moscow’, built to imitate Silicon Valley, a closed city at one point and now a sort of commuter suburb. The ‘technically Moscow’ part is important and here’s why:
Russians have two passports; an internal one and one that they use for travelling. The internal one contains details like their marital status (if you get married, it gets stamped), any children and residential propiska, or registration. I’m not sure what the status of registration is now but it used to be compulsory to be registered at your place of residence, and people who were living in Moscow got better social and health benefits (qualified for more free medication etc) than those with non-Moscow registration. So when Zelenograd was being built, it was given Moscow status to attract new residents even though it’s actually 23 miles away from Moscow proper. In contrast, a city called Khimki which is directly adjacent to the city of Moscow only has ‘Moscow region’ status. Which isn’t the same thing at all; it’s like City of London vs somewhere like Bromley.
There isn’t much to do in Zelenograd but there is a great shopping centre called Iridium (Street View link) that not only has a Body shop and a Burger King which serves beer, but also a cafe called Shokoladnitsa which has FREE WIFI! Russia isn’t in the EU so Vodafone’s Eurotraveller sadly isn’t available and roaming costs a bomb. Luckily many places out there have free wifi that’s either an open network, or the password is written in the menu, or you can ask the staff, or check out the venue’s Foursquare reviews.
Shortly before the end of my visit I offered our next door neighbours 200 roubles (about £3) to use their wifi. They gave me the password and refused to take the money which was nice of them.
My babushka was determined that I go to the dacha. Coming back in October was strange; I always used to visit in the summer when the whole place was full of greenery and flowers but with the yellow leaves and wilting plants it looked like Chernobyl. The older generation uses these plots to grow their own vegetables, often on the scale of a small farm, and scorns the nouveau dachniki for converting their inherited dachas into log cabins with saunas for parties and weekend breaks. I was handed wellies and a raincoat to plant a bed of garlic in the rain but on the bright side I did see a few other babushki that I knew from when our parents shipped us off to summer with our grandparents as kids.
The next day I ran off to Moscow proper to hang out with Polina. I saw her adorable Yorkie, Yasha, and her adorable daughter Varya, we drank wine in the evening and I slept on the biggest and most comfortable sofa on the planet.
The next day we went to Gorky Park. It used to be an amusement park but, according to Wikipedia,
In 2011 the Gorky Park underwent a major reconstruction. All amusement rides have been removed in order to transform the place into an eco-friendly recreational zone. In March, the city appointed Sergei Kapkov director of the 120-hectare, or 300-acre, Gorky Park. He canceled the entrance fee and cleared the park of outdated carnival rides and junk food stalls, while bringing back the traditional sport activities: aerobics, yoga and salsa dancing taught by educated instructors, along with creating new spaces, such as a pétanque cafe, beach volleyball courts and an open-air cinema theatre. With free Wi-fi, contemporary public art projects, design fairs and a new cafe policy, Gorky Park soon became one of the most popular places in Moscow.
The free wifi is fucking awesome, by the way. There are little numbered posts with solar panels, each post corresponds to a wifi name so you just connect to whichever network your phone picks up. There was also a tea pop-up which served hot kvas with ginger that tasted like a savoury mulled wine. Also: amazing.
The park itself wasn’t that brilliant. In the summer it’s full of cyclists, skaters, rollerbladers, people playing football, tennis, BMXing etc but this time it was quiet and there was a giant ice rink being built so we left pretty quickly, stopping to buy a handmade chopping board with a cat drawn on it in the subway that takes people from Gorky Park to Muzeon (otherwise known as the Fallen Monument Park).
We saw a tram on the way there!
In the evening we met up with a girl called Ksenia and her boyfriend Kirill and went to a viewing deck in Moscow City, which is a commercial district (basically loads of skyscrapers) in the centre of Moscow. It cost 800 roubles (just under £20) to get in but our guide went through a short history of the complex itself and pointed out notable buildings that could be seen from the deck. The view was breathtaking.
We drove round for a while looking for some bar/restaurant type places that were open late but it was a weeknight so we were out of luck. We ended up in a 24-hour Japanese restaurant called Yakitoriya. Later that night Kirill drove Polina and me back to hers and as we bombed down a four-lane road past the Kremlin, with the radio blaring cheesy 90’s pop, laughing at memories of drunk times in the past, I realised that I couldn’t remember the last time I had that much fun sober.
After a few more days with babushka I was back at Polina’s. The temperature dropped rapidly below zero and it was snowing by the time we went for a walk down Arbat. It’s a pedestrian street in the centre of Moscow and looks majestic as fuck with the snow coming down.
We ate at an Italian restaurant called Rucola which brought out huge bellinis in wine glasses and put chorizo in bruschettas, then wandered down to Hard Rock Cafe. I don’t know it’s supposed to be a legendary venue but I found it uninteresting. The wifi took ages to connect (these things are important!) and the people seemed kinda pretentious. On the bright side, the potato skins were tasty as fuck and the salad Polina ordered was gigantic.
The next day it was time to leave. Polina drove me back to Paveletsky (we decided that was easier than driving all the way to Domodedovo; last time her parents went to pick someone up, they got stuck in traffic for four hours). At the airport I saved a child whose shoelace got stuck in the escalator and helped an old woman who had never been abroad find her way to her flight, and then it was back to Gatwick, back to Kent and back to my old life.
But I felt different coming back. When I was leaving, my head was a mess for a whole amount of reasons. I felt sad and tired and confused. My comrades helped me recharge my batteries with their advice of the ‘get your shit together’ rather than ‘u ok hun’ variety. I remembered that despite all the shit that the government was doing to their people, the people were still fun and interesting and determined to swim rather than sink. I remembered that I was one of them – you don’t get this shit for nothing: