Chapter the Eighth: Moscow! Moscow! Moscow!

It's a good thing this is the final part of Chapter the Eighth, because if I kept up with this title convention, things would get awfully silly, awfully quickly.

Anyway, right. Moscow, Day Three. As previously mentioned, all we had formally scheduled for the day was a tour in the afternoon, so Brenda and I took the day to explore solo. She's an early riser, and my knees (both of them now!) were stiff and sore after spending the vast majority of the previous two days on my feet, so I was happy for the extra hour or so of sleep. She left me a note with the name of the metro station we were meeting Josh at and went off to explore, while I napped blissfully.

After I showered and such, I grabbed my purse and decided to make a quick jaunt down to the Citibank at the end of the street where the hostel was, because (1) I was out of cash and (2) I wanted to rent a locker to store my stuff for the day. We needed to be checked out of the hostel by 11, so I needed a safe place to store my backpack full of highly rare and valuable sweat-soaked T-shirts and a 2-liter bottle of flat, discount sparkling water with lemon juice. To rent a locker required a security deposit of 500p, so I ran to the ATM to withdraw money for that as well as breakfast. I hadn't yet decided where I was going to eat that morning, and even in a very modern and metropolitan city center like Moscow, not all establishments accept plastic. When I got back to the hostel, the guy checked but none of the 8 (! seriously, that's it?) lockers were currently available, so I had to put my stuff in the luggage closet and hope for the best. Thankfully there was a space behind some other, more promising-looking luggage, so if someone did happen to steal anything from the closet they wouldn't see my stuff first.

I headed out and decided to try this cafe near the hostel for breakfast, called Coffee Mania. They offered coffee prepared dozens of ways, as well as a variety of food, but it was all really expensive (like everything else in Moscow), so I settled for the cheapest breakfast combo I could find: an apple blini and a cup of milk. It was actually pretty good; I have to say, I like how Russians do apple filling. Instead of big chunks of mushy roast apple coated in cinnamon-sugar syrup, the apple is sliced very thinly and presented on its own, without any additional sauce, inside the pirog or the blini or whatever it's filling. Maybe with a bit of cinnamon or a touch of honey. This breakfast also marks the first time I think I've ever had whole milk--I grew up drinking 2%, then recently switched to skim, and have bought mostly 0-1% milk since I've been in Russia. It was bizarre! I had no idea milk could taste so...oily.

After that, I decided I wanted to check out ГУМ (pronounced GOOM), a giant mall that generally caters to foreign tourists on Red Square that is directly opposite Lenin's mausoleum (oh the ironies). In a rare moment of not giving a [swear word], I just kind of set off from Coffee Mania in the general direction of Red Square; I knew roughly where it was and knew that the direction I was headed made it basically impossible to miss. I ended up in the gardens behind the Kremlin, recognizing where I was when I saw the Sbarro we ate at with Mikhail the previous day. I was actually pretty proud of my orienteering on Sunday; most of the time I can't navigate my way out of a paper bag. The place was crawling with tourists, of course, but it was nice getting to see a bit more of the grounds--there were some really impressive-looking fountains that we hadn't seen (or I had been too tired to notice) the day before.

Once I had determined where I was, the next step was determining how to get to the other side of the Kremlin; that is, how to get to Red Square. The Kremlin is basically a giant museum with a government building inside it, so every entrance is guarded and requires a ticket to get in. So, I basically had no choice but to walk around it. Logically, if I kept the red stone wall to my left and followed the sidewalk, I would eventually come to the square; and, indeed, this is what happened. There was still some scaffolding up around a couple of entrances to ГУМ, as they were still taking down the Victory Day decorations. I slipped in through a cafe, and was suddenly very uncomfortable.

ГУМ was nearly empty. I've played too many zombie games to ever be fully at-ease in even a bustling mall ever again (the use of the zombie as a metaphor for rampant consumerism makes malls a popular choice of setting for this genre). The main building had 3 principal sections, called lines, shaped like long, skinny ovals. Each line had 3 floors, and there were sections of some of the lines that had zero shop fronts, which is sad enough on its own. There was still plenty to see in the parts with active businesses, though, including a sprawling restaurant with four different distinct sections. I never ate there; the food didn't look too great, particularly for the prices they were charging. The decor was very colorful, though, and I think there was a baked potato bar somewhere in the complex? I never found it, anyway. I did buy an ice cream cone and a cherry-flavored Italian soda from a couple of vendors around the fountain in the mall before I left, though, and that was quite nice. I finished my beverage sitting on the curb and observing people in Red Square until it was time to head to the metro.

When I got to Taganskaya, where we were meeting Josh, I grabbed a seat on the first bench I came across with a space big enough for me on it. I wasn't sure how much walking this tour would involve and I wanted to give my feet and knees a chance to heal a little bit. I saw Brenda about 50 feet away, but she never noticed me, somehow; I decided to keep my seat and stay put, and see which one of us Josh noticed first. (Answer: Me, haha.) We were joined shortly by Rich, and Josh led us to the site of our tour: a bunker built by Stalin circa WWII, which has become a legitimate tourist attraction in present-day Moscow. He basically dropped the three of us off there, leaving us in the capable hands of Natasha, our tour guide. The tour was in English, as the tour group was comprised mainly of Brits and Aussies. Some of them were in Moscow working for their respective embassies, as we later found out while chatting after the tour. But I'll get to that.

The tour began by descending 36 flights of stairs, down a 60-meter vertical shaft. Even in the entrance corridor the air was already damp and musty, and it only became more so the deeper we ventured. A handful of women kept up with the tour guide, who must have, I don't know, teleported down there or something--she was fast. I was a few seconds behind them and a minute or two ahead of everyone else, walking down the endless switchbacking staircase alone. Everyone eventually caught up and Natasha led us into this little movie theater, where we watched a movie about the nuclear arms race which boiled down to "America is a prick, the USSR had a moral obligation to develop nuclear weapons." Then we moved on into a massive cylindrical room. 45 feet from wall to wall, the whole thing made of reinforced steel and concrete, probably 150 feet long. In this room, there was a map of the world and two control panels, as well as a bunch of models of Soviet spy planes, warheads and ICBMs. Natasha called up two volunteers, explained their roles, and then ran a simulation of the USSR blowing up America. (Hopefully that sentence doesn't get me put on any watch-lists.) The little movie that played on a screen above the control panels was set to Lux Aeterna (the Requiem for a Dream theme), which was basically the best use of that piece of music I think I have ever experienced.

The next room was full of communications equipment; the bunker's layout consists of 4 chambers, mostly used for communications with the surface. This room had several typewriters, a working (in that it still made noise if you pressed it) telegraph key, and an old telephone switchboard (which also still works and which Natasha called up another volunteer to demonstrate). There were also officers' coats people could put on to get a photo behind an official-looking desk, as well as hazmat jackets and gas masks, and AK-47s, because if you're going to tour a Soviet bunker, there have to be Kalashnikovs somewhere. This was a very hands-on exhibit - a welcome change from the museums with all the exhibits behind glass. We had about 10-15 minutes to play with stuff before moving on.

The next room we went to had actually been converted into a restaurant, and I wish I could have had the time and/or money to experience it. The group stopped for a bathroom break here; I was fine, but I did want to sit down, and I saw something that appeared to be a couch on the way down to the floor of the chamber. Now, let me preface the following with this. Lots of Russians smoke, and there are no apparent laws about smoking indoors in this country. And remember, we tourists are now 60 meters underground. Whereas a comparable American establishment would basically tell smokers to "deal with it," in Russia, the management of Bunker 42 has set up a smoking lounge in the chamber. 3 couches, made of old rail carts (the kind miners might use to haul coal--the bunker was built at the same depth as the metro and indeed included a couple of quick-escape rail tracks connecting the tunnels with the nearest metro station) with one wall removed, and trash cans for ashtrays. It was nice to sit for a while, at least, but I don't think I'll ever see such a unique smoking lounge again.

After that, we filed up into another tunnel, where Natasha suddenly stopped. After a few minutes, giving the whole group time to negotiate the stairs involved at this point, the lights suddenly shut off and a klaxon started blaring. A cloud of steam formed further down the hall, and a male voice made an announcement in Russian. After some emergency lights turned on, Natasha explained what he had said: there had been a nuclear attack, and everything on the surface was destroyed. Radiation levels were dangerously high, please stay in the bunker. Of course, it was just a drill, but if another tourist hadn't said "Is this the part where the lights go out?" I'm sure I would've jumped three feet in the air. Spoilers aren't fun for anyone, usually, but I guess in this case it worked out for the best.

Finally, we made our way through one final chamber. This one had not been restored and converted to a restaurant or an exhibit, and apparently someone had been playing with airsoft pistols down there. There were little plastic pellets everywhere, as well as a lot of oil barrels and a couple of plywood walls with slits in them to fire through. I don't know if it was a military exercise or just some bored teenagers or what, but I thought it was funny, anyway. We came out of that room and entered the first tunnel again, and started our ascent. There was an elevator, which Brenda and I decided to wait for, rather than walk back up; interestingly, while waiting for the lift, a few of the women around us noted that all of the men on the tour had decided to take the stairs. Guess they felt it would be more macho, or something. Brenda and I went up with the final group, consisting of two Australian ladies working for the embassy in Moscow, us, and Natasha. The ride up (plus the wait) took longer than it would have to simply walk, but neither of us really felt like ascending all those stairs. When we reached the top, we found Rich, chatting with this girl that had been part of the nuclear attack simulation. She was also working for the Australian embassy, and the four of us decided to go get some dinner together.

We went to this French restaurant just down the street, where the menu was available only in French and Russian. Between the four of us we had a reasonable command of both of those languages, so no one accidentally ordered anything horrific, but it was still a bit of an adventure. We got a bit of wine, and I settled on a croque monsieur (because it was the only menu item that I was certain didn't contain spooky organ meats or whole fetal birds) and a side of grilled vegetables with pesto. Among those vegetables was half a tomato, which I didn't eat, and--brace yourselves, family--a couple of mushrooms, which I ate. I decided to try them and if they had the usual effect of being squeaky, I would leave them or offer them to my friends. Somehow, they had been cooked such that they didn't squeak at all! The generous coating of pesto didn't hurt, either. And, as a bonus, the restaurant covered the tables with paper (for easy clean-up) and provided a cup of pencils for diners to doodle. I drew a little dancing person with the caption "I dance, all day, every day!"

It was a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours, with good food, good wine, and good conversation. Rich and I had a spirited debate (fueled in part by generous quantities of wine) about the necessity of formal, i.e. classroom, education; he contends that anything you could learn in lecture could be learned on your own time with a book or the Internet or simply by experiencing the world, but I believe that stance discounts the value of classroom discussion. In today's world, you don't find erudite people discussing science, literature, art, and philosophy in bars or similar social settings (usually)--you find them on college campuses, or at the very least, more often in bars in college towns. Is that framework strictly necessary? No, but that's just where that sort of thing happens now.

After our linner, Brenda and I went back to Red Square; she wanted to look around ГУМ, and I wanted to explore a bit more. I tried to visit St. Basil's, but I was too late--it closes at 6 PM and I got there at something like 6:05 or 6:10. Sad. So I explored ГУМ some more, too. I actually ran into Brenda in one of the stores, but apparently I am a ninja and I disappeared before she could ask about getting dinner someplace. I wouldn't have been hungry again at that point yet, anyway, though. I wandered around a bit longer before deciding to go and collect my belongings from the hostel around 9, planning to just go on ahead to the train station and get a bite to eat there. There were cafes and snack bars in the waiting area there, after all. Our train left at 11:43, and I decided I'd much rather be at the station, cooling my heels, than rushing to get there. Turns out that was a good idea; see, the metro stop that is closest to the station dumps you out literally behind the Leningradskaya train depot...which is directly next to two other train stations. One of them goes principally south/east (as opposed to Leningradskaya, which goes principally north/west) and the other is a suburban commuter train. And, of course, as you are behind all of these buildings, there is precious little signage indicating which is which.

I eventually found Leningradskaya and made my way into the waiting area, where I purchased a mediocre sandwich and found a seat in view of the information board. A gentleman sat down next to me, offered me gum, and tried to talk to me; I admit I could probably have used the impromptu Russian practice, but I was really tired and didn't want to think that much. Thankfully, Brenda showed up at the station not too long after that, and it gave me the perfect excuse to stop talking to him. We walked around a bit to kill time; Brenda bought herself some fruity lady-beer to help her sleep on the train, and then we hung around by the door to our car so when they started boarding we'd be near the head of the line. There was a big group of Chinese tourists in our wagon this go-round; last time it had been French and German. We shared our cabin with one other Russian girl. The night passed uneventfully to the best of my knowledge, which I guess means I got a decent amount of sleep on the train; Renee specifically scheduled our train rides such that we wouldn't have to miss more than one class going on this trip, but I had no intention of going to class on Monday from the beginning. Good thing, too, because I had only enough energy left to make it back to the apartment, change into PJs and collapse into bed for another four hours. An alarm went off around 9 AM reminding me to go to the university and order transcripts; I decided I'd do that tomorrow, because it's not like it would be ready before I left, anyway. I spent the rest of Monday resting and recovering and hoping my legs would stop hurting (spoiler: they did, I'm fine now).