Москва AKA Moscow

When I was 22, Clint and I embarked on our first European adventure. Our Rick Steves’ guidebook sang praises of exploring the culture and getting to know the people. Whatever. We weren’t going half way around the world and spending all that money to see people! We didn’t even know our neighbors. Why would we try to meet people we would never see again? We wanted to see crumbly castles, cavernous cathedrals, ostentatious palaces, famous paintings, snowy mountains, cows with big, heavy bells around their necks…all the stuff we couldn’t find in Tucson, Arizona. We went on that trip and eight other trips to Europe, and I can think of maybe three times we had any meaningful conversation with anyone outside of ourselves. We researched the heck out of anywhere we went, then spent action-packed day after action-packed day seeing all the places and things that made each destination unique.

Fast-forward ten years. I live in Riyadh, one of the best places to do some serious traveling. Everyone I know has their next vacation planned. Adventures I never dreamed as a 22-year-old lie within reach, and I take advantage of them as often as possible.

My last adventure began with eight days in Russia. As I began planning my trip, I thought about what I wanted to see and do. My Frommers’ guidebook suggested lots of ways to fill my day, but unless it is something truly unique I would probably rather walk around outside with the freedom of knowing that no one will tell me to cover my hair. My itinerary for Moscow was filled with a few MUST SEE things like the Kremlin, Cosmonautics Museum, an authentic space shuttle now used for amusement park rides, and lot of other indifferent stuff.

From previous solo adventures, I knew that by day four or five I get a little lonely. Fortunately, I also happen to be cheap and trusting, so I decided to do some couch surfing for the middle leg of my journey. I went on the Internet, found the coolest looking couple in Moscow, and sent them an email asking if I could crash at their house for a few days.

Luckily, they graciously accepted my request. As soon as I got to Moscow, I saw Max’s smiling face at the train station. We went to the cozy apartment he and Tina shared with their chinchilla, Severus. The three of us enjoyed a simple yet delicious spaghetti dinner together. We cheerfully chatted with each other and watched as Severus ran between the piano, couch, china cabinet, mattress and overstuffed bookshelf that lined the perimeter of the room that served as both the living room and bedroom. We got to know each other a little more, then planned some things to do over the next few days.

They were better than I ever could have hoped! Max was a cute 22-year-old who graduated from college the year before but held on to his student metro pass. Tina was a beautiful 20-year-old with dreadlocks who read about Rastafarianism and shared my love for Alice in Wonderland. Both of them were fluent in English, quick to laugh, and happy to talk about a wide variety of topics. They treated each other as only young lovers treat each other, and I couldn’t help but miss all the unpolluted emotions I had when Clint and I were about that same age.

As we talked, I told them a few of the things I wanted to see, hitting the highlights like walking around the Kremlin after dark. I wasn’t expecting them to be my tour guides but they were so much fun to be with, I wanted them to come with me anywhere that they thought might be fun. Lucky for me neither of them had full-time jobs, so they were up for pretty much anything!

We explored a lot of Moscow together, enjoying the beauty of tree lined roads, flowering bushes and a horizon filled with skyscrapers. The hot, muggy weather threw me by surprise as we spent our walks sweating, laughing and drinking lots of water. They took me to their favorite park where goats lived off of the apples fed to them by locals and people paddled in boats around a sleepy lake. They showed me their favorite statues of Pushkin and Lenin, and we went to their favorite Russian restaurant. Their friend Alexander showed up at the restaurant and we all walked along Arbat street together.

At one point, the strap on Max’s flip-flop broke. Over the next few hours, the resourceful Russian tried to mend the sandal with Tina’s hair holder, a piece of twine from a construction site, and finally some scotch tape. When one attempt failed to hold the sandal in place, he never complained or seemed frustrated, but just kept trying different solutions.

We went home, hung out for a bit, then Tina and Max went to sleep. I stayed up with Alexander watching his favorite American comedian, Bill Hicks, on YouTube. That was one of my favorite memories of Moscow. I had never heard of Bill Hicks, but we had a good laugh at his comedy routine from the early ‘90’s. Equally entertaining was watching Alexander. Sometimes we would pause the clip so we could talk about Bill’s jokes. Alexander knew a surprising amount about American culture, and his clever sense of humor added an extra spark to the late night comedy clips. I loved finding myself describing trailer parks and explaining terms like “white trash,” and I enjoyed hearing him describing Easter in Russia where they “colorize” Easter eggs and children hunt for them like they do in America.

At 3:00 AM the airport delivery service arrived with my missing suitcase. Russian men are such gentlemen, and skinny little Alexander sweetly carried my heavy suitcase up five flights of stairs. I hadn’t been there a week and he was the third Russian man to assist me with my suitcase, but the only one whose name I knew.

It’s hard not to see the stark contrast in Russian chivalry and manners with what I see in Saudi. The last time I interacted with a Saudi man at an airport, he pushed me aside as I lowered my carryon from the overhead compartment. I felt morally obligated to teach him not to push his way in front of people, so I “accidentally” knocked the back of his legs with my suitcase with every step we took down the long aisle of the airplane. No Russian would require that sort of social disciplining. They’re gentlemen.

After I got my suitcase I zonked out on the sofa bed, but Alexander stayed up. Before I went to bed I told him to touch my arm and tell me to roll over when he was ready for some sleep. Before anyone gets any big ideas, it wasn’t like that. The guy was eleven years younger than me and the couch was in the same room as Max and Tina’s mattress. We both knew nothing with potentially uncomfortable consequences would happen. I’m not sure if American women have a bad reputation in Russia or what, but he opted to stay up all night instead.

The next day Alexander walked me to the spectacular BLAST OFF! entrance of the Cosmonautics Museum, then headed back to his house to get some sleep. I never saw him again, but he’s definitely on my list of favorite things in Russia.

The Cosmonautics Museum gave me one of those, “Wow, I’m in Russia!” feelings. I loved it and enjoyed seeing the first dog in space, outfits of the first man and woman in space, and a life-size model of the space station. The museum was a treat for nerds like me, as well as the Russian military men who came in as a beautiful herd wearing fatigues over their blue and white striped shirts. Russian women are famous for their beauty, and their bothers are no less beautiful. I knew a pic of an American woman and a Russian military man inside a space museum would be pretty freaking awesome, but I couldn’t muster up the guts to bring myself to ask one of them to pose with me.

I left the museum kicking myself for not being bolder, but got over it quickly. There was a park with fair-type rides right across the street, so I walked on over.

I love Russia. I love how Russians celebrate life in all their various ways. If I had to say which country Russians would be from if they weren’t from Russia, I would say America. Odd as it sounds, they reminded me of Americans more than any other group of people I’ve met. Sure, there were minor differences, but their friendliness, enthusiasm for innovation, pride in their country’s worldwide standing, fierce competitiveness without a hint of insecurity and failure to let circumstances deter them made me feel right at home.

I started missing my new friends, so I headed back. On my way home I found some cookies for Max, who loves sweets, and a bouquet of pretty wildflowers for Tina. The look of delight on Tina’s face when she saw the flowers made me want to surprise her with flowers every week for the rest of her life! She is everything a young lady should be.

The three of us walked to Red Square that night. What a breathtaking way to see Moscow’s most famous part of town. I felt like I walked into a postcard. The stately red brick buildings crowned with stars that I had seen so many times in pictures were suddenly glowing in front of me. Thinking back on them, they still have a dreamlike quality to them. Tina and Max taught me quite a bit about Moscow’s history, but the thing I remember the most is that the architects for St. Basil’s were blinded after it was erected out of fear that they would make one like it somewhere else. Unfortunately, they never passed their blueprints along to the architecture firm in Utah County that builds all the LDS chapels, because all those little kids would LOVE to go to a church that looks like the Candyland Castle!

We walked by a pond with sculptures depicting scenes and characters from Russian fairytales. Tina recounted several sweet fairytales as we walked to the metro station. I couldn’t get enough of them! They added so much to the experience of being in the most famous landmark in Russia with two wonderful Russians. The only thing that could make it feel more Russian is if I wore a big furry hat with earflaps, held a flask of vodka and had caviar stuck between my teeth.

The following day needed to be my grand finale in Moscow. I set my alarm clock for 7:00 AM, planned on hitting Red Square the moment it opened for tourists, check out all the armor, jewels, mausoleums, museums, GUM shops and everything else before going to the Gulag museum to learn about Soviet labor camps.

Sometimes my body hates me. I woke up an hour before my alarm with the worst stomach cramps in my life! Seriously, I struggled to make it to the bathroom, but luckily I did…twice within half an hour. As I sat sideways on the toilet leaning against the miniature washing machine that took up valuable leg space, the hypochondriac nurse in me KNEW it was giardia that I must have picked up in St. Petersburg the week before. I grabbed a Flagyl tablet from my mini-pharmacy in my suitcase and popped one down. I was one sick puppy, and I made it to the bathroom just in time to puke the tablet into the toilet along with anything else that might have been left behind in my digestive tract (my mom would be so proud that I made it, unlike when I was a kid).

So much for the grand finale. I slept for another few hours. When Max woke up, I told him about my canceled plans, then went back to sleep while he read Harry Potter #5. Then Tina woke up, and I woke up again. The couple tried their best to think up entertaining things for us to do instead, and decided to download a movie made during the USSR times about a Russian fairytale. Max brought all of us some tea and we began the movie. I appreciated the uniqueness of the experience, but couldn’t fully enjoy it. I really felt awful. I put my pillow on Tina’s lap and went to sleep there while she stroked my hair.

After the movie, I woke up long enough to ask them if I could sleep on their mattress. The hot, humid weather made everything stick to me, so I only wore a t-shirt and undies. I woke up on their mattress at 6:00 PM, spread eagle and half naked. I remember wondering how many people I would feel as comfortable with as them.

Max brought me some tea and I apologized for sleeping the entire day. He flashed his friendly smile and said, “It’s actually easier this way.” Hahahaha! Can anyone get any cooler than that? I don’t think so.

I ended my last night in Moscow watching Mulan with Tina, knowing that I didn’t cover half of the stuff I marked in my Frommers’ guidebook, including the biggest site of them all, Red Square during touring hours. Instead, by following the sage advice given in my Rick Steves’ guidebook ten years ago, I got something better. On this trip I realized that it isn’t the sites that make each country unique, it’s the people. The people created the stuff the rest of us come to click pictures of and post on the Internet. Locals don’t take pictures of those things because they don’t have to. They own it; it’s a part of them. As I reflect on all the beauty I experienced with these three fantastic young Russians, I realize that all these years I had missed out on bonding with the people that make each country great. Maybe I should break down and meet my neighbor.