The Accidental Tourist
I was able to sleep a bit longer than the night before. I joined the others down in the dining room at the appointed time and tried to draft a tour of Red Square and the Kremlin. This was the rest of the party’s second or third time and I couldn’t convince anybody to go with me. Backliner did however want to hit out and get some Russky vodka to take back to the states with him. We decided to do that and got some recommendations on a nearby market where we could not only get vodka but other provisions so for the final days or our jaunt we didn’t have to pay mini bar prices for our water and snacks. Normally we would pillage those from the dressing room after the gig, or if it was really good just stash it in the room before the band gets there. Most of the time they don’t use it anyway.
Trudging a few blocks through the 25 degree late winter/ early spring chill we happened what could be considered the CompUSA/Apple store of Moscow. They had at least six locations in town. It looked like a computer store anywhere else in the world. There was even a small Mac dept that while didn’t have the latest Macs and iPods, still had a pretty good selection. It’s been about 10 years since the Russian economy tanked but over the last few years there has been some pretty good growth and in many places it shows. Though not every place. There are still some that aren’t enjoying the quality of life others have. It’s pretty apparent after you get out of the swanky area of Moscow and head toward the airport. Sure, there’s an IKEA and plenty of relatively new Russian shopping malls with multiplex movie houses. I couldn’t really get a definitive answer on how much the locals were making, primarily because I didn’t want to be so rude as to ask. I was afraid that my per diem for the day would be more than they made the entire week. I did ask talent buyer dude and he indicated it was only a few hundred to five or six hundred a month. I couldn’t believe that so I did some checking and indeed those numbers were supported by other studies and reports but it still doesn’t make any sense, numbers wise. That might be what they are reporting, but they have to be making more than that. Another interesting stat I got (which I checked on) more billionaries live in Moscow than any other single city in the world. Well, yeah. We’re working for one. It was explained to us that as foreigners, in that part of town we were basically being charged tourist prices. No shit. We left the computer store and hit the market. It took us about 15 mins to pick what we were going to bring back and stocked up on some other things as well. We then trudged back to the hotel. I was going to go to Red Square and Kremlin but backliner didn’t so I bid him farewell, put my stuff in my room and headed out on the town.
When I’m on tour I take public transport quite a bit. In other parts of the world and even in a few in the US, public transport doesn’t have the stigma attached to it that it does in suburban America. I could have walked, or taken a cab but I like to get out among the people. Check things out. It’s bad enough much of the time we only see airports, tour buses, hotels and venues so I like to get out and see what things are like where ever I might be that day. I headed to the Metro station a couple blocks away and headed down underground. I went to the map and looked where I needed to go. Everything on the map was in Cyrillic and English. That was handy. I went off to get a ticket. There were no automated machines, only a row women sitting at ticket windows that looked like they’d had the gigs for years. I get to the ticket window, no English signage. I look around. While the maps had English, none of the signage anywhere in the station did. I moved up to an open window anyway. “Hello, All day, please” I said, hoping they would speak English. I used to say “do you speak English?” but since most people we are dealing with did, I’ve stopped. I occasionally got some eye rolls or a “of course” and once in the Canaries some wound up ex-pat Brit bartender that replied “better than you do, laddie.” I figured before I got a “I speak four languages, asshole. How many do you speak?” I should just say hello, and take if from there. For the record, I did take a year of French, but I couldn’t concentrate because of Madame Catani’s skirts back in seventh grade. I can stumble through enough German and Spanish to get by and when I’m in Britain I also speak that langage.
“Da?” the woman asks. “Yes, one day.” I reply. She looks quizically at me. Another woman, apparently a supervisor speaks broken English, explains to the agent what I want, clips me for 15 roubles (about half a buck), prints the ticket and I’m on my way. I enter the gate and head down the escalator to the platforms. This is no normal escalator. It’s as steep as the ones in the Tube in London and at least two or three time faster. It’s quite the ride and I’d reckon it’s almost as old as me, or certainly older than my last couple of dates. The real people of Moscow are down here. The front line workers. The people we don’t see, spending a Saturday afternoon shopping, being with family or otherwise running errands. At the end of the world’s fastest escalator (Guiness book you know…) I reach the platform and realize one thing. I have not a clue which train to board. It was dimly lit, dirty, loud and crowded and smelled like buring rubber, dirt and putrid sweat. I was in a transfer station which meant I had four lines (8 different trains) to chose from. Where I was going was on the blue line and I was on the blue line platform. That was easy. Now, which direction to take. Normally easy, but here not. I do have the Metro map from the hotel with the English translations. It’s cool to discretely look at a map, and in some places be pretty touristy but down in the subway you want to watch what you do. Don’t want to appear lost or otherwise become a target. There are no larger maps or info kiosks. The light is so dim and the print so small I can’t read my map. That and my eyes aren’t as good as they were years ago. Even being touristy I can’t read it. There is a dim lamp right about the bench that if I stand on the bench and put the map next to the light, I can read it. So much for low key. It’s obvious I’m a westerner, perhaps German, English or American. I’m getting a few strange looks but in a minute or so figure out which train to board and not only that, memorized the next two stop names prior to mine so that as I was heading that way, if I didn’t recognize the names I could get off and head back. The train stopped, I boarded and off we went. This train car was old and hammered. It had seen better days. There were a few different cars that passed as I was figuring out where to go. Some looked new and modern. This wasn’t one of them. We stopped. I exited the train car.
I was pretty far underground now, hundred perhaps closer to two hundred feet. As I exited the platform the only exit I saw was leading down. That didn’t seem right but it was the only exit so I followed it. As I went down through the twisting maze of a tunnel, I noticed a large, thick door, like a bank vault. It hadn’t been moved in years. This was a Cold War fallout shelter. And they were having a “pardon our dust” sale in the station. Construction everywhere in the station and adjoining tunnels. And dangerous as hell too. Hardly any warning signs, you could walk right into a hole or jackhammer. It was Saturday and they were working. Eventually I found one of the world’s fastest escalators and started be hurled toward the surface. If you went up this fast diving you’d get the bends. I found my way out of the station, the main station enterance and floor a disater from the construction and made it out to street level. I got a quick bearing and headed for Red Sqaure.
I’m not going to describe it too much other than there were a lot of people enjoying the day, plenty to see. I shot 20 or 30 mins of tape. The usual stuff. Several wedding parties and couples there getting photographed. Must be some sort of tradition. I hung out and explored the square and surrounding area for a couple of hours. The sense of history was astounding. The GUM Department Store, formerly the state run store now basically a mall. Lenin’s Masoleum and St. Basil’s Catherdral. Spasskaya Tower. The May Day parades of military might, once right here. “We will crush you”, next door. Now, tourists taking pictures, enjoying a Coke and Lay’s chips and newlyweds starting their new lives together with the square flanked buy what was once . A lot changes in 30 or 40 years. After a couple of hours I decided to head back. I made it to the Metro station and set to board a train back. When I swiped my card, a buzzer went off and the normally open gates of the turnstyle slammed shut. I didn’t have an all day. I went to the window, slid 15 roubles through the slot and without a word she produced a ticket and sent me on my way. She did a double take as I took the ticket and said “thank you very much.” I decided to ride the train one stop past where I got on and walk back to the hotel. Past the block long Tag Heuer billboard with Brad Pitt, Uma Therman and a few others I didn’t know, but I think one was Anna Kournikova. As the train pulled into the station, I was pleasantly surprised. It was a brand new, modern station. Complete with fast but not dangerous escalators, good lighting and ventalation and no smell.