"The Last Meeting"

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Trip Start Jun 03, 2010 Previous
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  Moscow, Central Russia, Russia
Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I leave tomorrow, although by the time I post this, it will already be today. I spent the day wandering around, trying not to die from the heat, and in fact spent part of the afternoon relaxing in the hostel. Being a good tourist is not worth collapsing over. Went to see the church of Christ Our Saviour, and then popped into the nearby Pushkin museum of European art for a look-see. After, I returned home to clean up a little before heading out to see my friends for the last time.

Doors in Russia are, by and large, opened by hitting a button, waiting for a beep and then opening it and exiting onto the street. This has always struck me as a bit dicey - after all, this is a country not widely known for its efficiency. What if the door stops working? It was a situation I've never been particularly keen to try out. I showered, changed into clothes that, at least at the beginning of the evening, smelled decent, and headed downstairs. I hit the button and walked into the door. Nothing happened. I hit the button again. Nothing. I was already pushing it, as I has to cross the city by metro at rush hour. I frantically began hitting and pushing and pleading. Still, the door remained locked. I never thought I'd have a problem getting out of a building. I ran upstairs and got the girl from the hostel in case I was just doing something stupidly wrong (it has been to known to happen - after all, this is a Russian door). She came down with me and tried. Nothing. She started banging on the door and yelling at people in the street. A woman started trying to help. "Hmm. This is bad...never happened before. Must be the heat." At this point, I was running late and I didn't really care what the cause was, I was just about ready to jump out the second story window. Another girl came down from an apartment. "What's going on?" "The door, it won't open. I'm going to call the services," replied the hostel girl. She ran back upstairs and the new girl starts yelling instructions to the woman on the street.  Finally, after what sounded like punching the wall from the outside, the woman finally manages to get buttons on the domafon to register, and frees us from our prison. I call a quick 'thank you' to her before running down Gogol Boulevard to the metro.

I get on the metro.  It is hot, crowded. People smell. I am crammed in against a post and a man with a beer belly that keeps pushing against me every time the train lurches. The man in the seat in front of me falls asleep and looks like he's going to fall right off the bench. I finally make it out to Orexovo, half an hour later and burst out of the metro, covered in sweat and daubing myself with a Kleenex. I surface and look around. My friends are nowhere to be seen. I take a seat on the metro wall and wait, and soon Sasha shows up. He waves to a girl in a purple dress who has also been standing around waiting, and introduces me to his friend Natasha. At that moment, Zhenya and Genya show up, and we walk into Tsaritsyno Park. After walking around the big body of water, we finally - after some complaining - make it to our final destination, a big beautiful fountain that adjusts the water volume in time to classical music that plays (last time I was here, it was playing Lara's Theme). We sit for a few hours in front of it and chat, occasionally watching the water and, at one time, complaining about the rain that has started to fall but quickly stops. I am seated between Natasha and Genya, and I have a bit of a hard time because Genya is talking to me, but Sasha tries to ask me questions, so I'm half in and out of conversations in Russian. My flawed understanding sets up many jokes for Sasha, who at one point talks to me like I'm 2 years old, saying the Russian equivalent of "Puuuuuushkin. Museum in his naaaaaame. Arrrrrt gallllery. Paaaaintings." It's all in good fun though. After a few hours we walk back through the park. Zhenya points out a man to me. "He's speaking English. He's not American, can you tell what he is?" We snuck up behind him, but he was silent, listening to the woman he was with who was obviously Russian. I lay my bets on him being an Englishman judging by how he was dressed, but it almost seemed as if English was not his first language and I really couldn't tell.  We ruled out German and French, so I'm not sure who he was.  They urged me to go up and ask him. "Well, what should I say?" I ask in Russian. "Oh hi, excuse me, where are you from?" "nooo," they say, "you have to ask in English!" (Well duh, thanks guys).  I escape this task when the man takes a different turn from us.

We exit the park and approach the metro station, stopping and staring at each other. I shake hands with them all. "We should meet somewhere, even overseas," says Zhenya. "We'll wait for you." She adds in English, "you're welcome," and the others wish me good luck. I stare at them all for a moment.  I need to remember this, how everybody looked at this metro station in summer 2010, so that when I'm an old lady I can tell my grandchildren who the people were who made my stay in Moscow so memorable and who made me part of their group, even if only for one night or one day. "Bye," they say, and walk off, and I start to descend down the ramp into the metro. "Bye!" calls Sasha. "Bye!" I yell back. "Bye!!!" "Bye!!" This continues a few times, and then I am on the ramp and they are up above and we are going our separate ways. I am just about to enter the station, and I hear a final "Byyeeee!" and look up to see Sasha leaning over the ramp. Typical. Always has to get the last word...

I take the train downtown, feeling a bit lost. That was my final set of goodbyes; it's real, it's happening, I'm leaving the city tomorrow. Russia will be a distant memory soon, and these people will all continue their lives and I'll continue mine and maybe we'll meet up again sometime, somewhere. I get out at Red Square. GUM, the department store, is decked in a cloak of clear little lights, and St Basil's is subtly illuminated. Spasskaya Tower chimes the time - 10:15 - and I glance over to see the mausoleum where Lenin slumbers for all eternity. I wonder if they turn off the lights for him at night? It seems a bit incongruous to have the lights on at night, even if he is dead. Everywhere tourists are taking photos, and I snap some too. A warm breeze tugs at the hem of my skirt, and the haze, though still abysmal, seems to be a little better.  Maybe I just can't see it because it's dark out. I toy with the idea of walking home - I wouldn't mind the walk, honestly, - but then I realize just how exhausted I really am and how all I really want is a cold drink and a chair. I get back on the metro and get out at Arbatskaya station. I open the door and the sound of a rock band meets my ears - a small group has set up their equipment, complete with amps, at the station.  People are dancing, couples are embracing, guys are drinking beer and girls are carrying flowers. Everybody is laughing and having a good time.  A stray dog lopes past, looking more like a wolf than a domestic dog. It's just another ordinary Moscow night, one that will happen tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow, whether or not I'm here to enjoy it.

Poka-poka Moskva. It's been a blast.

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