Of Being Back in the USSR

So that was the weekend in Moscow.

I left early Saturday on a BMI flight to Moscow from Heathrow. In front of me sat a young attractive Russian mother who was soon demanding her right to be served earlier than everyone else on account of two year old child who was thirsty. When explanations from the steward as to why she had to wait her turn fell on deaf ears she got she wanted and was duly served the drink of orange for her child. When she was told she would have to wait for her juice but it wouldn't be long as they were almost with her she demanded to see the Supervisor. He dealt with her with great British aplomb and diplomacy repeating several times that he was sorry if she felt the service didn't meet her expectations but that he felt that a "cultural difference" might be at work here.

As I witnessed the episode I remembered my last time in Russia and indeed my first (years ago when Breznev would still be wheeled out onto the balcony for the May Day Parade) and how hard you sometimes had to work to get beyond a nation not famed for over using their smiles and their please and thank yous. It was always worth it but you had to put the effort in.

I arrived at the airport and was mobbed by drivers all offering to take me to my hotel. I ventured to find an official looking desk to check the standard price into the city centre but could find nothing. So I asked at the one taxi company that did seem to have a desk and was informed the cost was 2,000 Roubles (about £50). Before I could say "da" I was rushed off by a man with a dodgy looking ID badge to the very corner of the car park and into one of the most dilapidated taxis I have seen since my holiday in Havana some two years ago. Money changed hands not from me to the driver but from the driver to Mr Dodgy looking ID.

The taxi driver hurtled at some speed down the motorway with cars overtaking either side of us. As he did so a dreadful noise started up directly underneath my seat. It became louder and more serious sounding with each bump we hurtled over. I was glad when we arrived to the hotel in one piece. Optimistically, he offered to take me back on Monday and optimistically I booked him for 5a.m. that morning.

The lady at reception dealt with me efficiently but with little courtesy and there was no time for a smile. I asked if she knew if the Lenin Museum was open tomorrow (Sunday) and she said she didn't and gave me no indication that she was going to find out.

That evening I spied a sign at the corner of the Kremlin that stated the Lenin museum was indeed open on Sundays and that entrance was to be gained via the historical museum. Having missed Lenin some two years ago (he had been sent away for re-embalming) I was determined not to miss him again. But this is easier said than done because despite Red Square being a major tourist attraction it offers just one sign in English which features little useful information. Just the opening time of 3 museums - nothing more.

The following day I was back at the Kremlin at 9.30a.m. ready to join the queue but there was no sign explaining whereabouts the historical museum was situated. The only clue given was that it was located on one of the corner walls. Not wanting to take a chance I determined the only thing to do was to start walking around the walls until I fell upon it. I started the journey in Red Square and marched off in a clockwise direction.

I'm guessing the walls are a good 3 miles in length and it was a long walk in what was quite a cold wind. But there was no sign of any entrance to any museum. Losing patience I decided to go into the official ticket office not far from the tomb of the unknown soldier and ask the lady in the tiny ticket booth for help. Dipping low to see her face through the tiny circular window I asked her for a ticket for the Lenin museum and where I could find it. She replied with a face and tone that suggested she found me both irritating and stupid. "Lenin is free" she proclaimed "but where is he I can't find it?" I demanded to know with my patience finally running out. "Its nearby Red Square" she spat back indicating that this was the final bit of conversation she ever wanted to have with me in her life.

By now it was well past 10a.m. and I headed for Red Square one more time to find nothing that I could see that looked like an entrance to a museum. On returning to the hotel for a change of shoes the receptionist informed me that the Lenin Museum was closed today for the holidays. She'd found out but clearly the offical tickets lady at the Kremlin had not been told.

The following day I was up at 4a.m. waiting on my friend and his noisy old taxi to take me to the airport at 5a.m. At 4.30a.m. he sent me a text informing me that his car had broken down (no surprises there I thought) but that his friend would pick me up instead. Fearing he might be late I went to the reception bar to see the same lady who had, it seemed, been behind the counter throughout my two days at the hotel. I asked her to call my taxi friend to ask him to get his mate here ASAP for the time schedule was tight. She did and being so early I was not expecting a smile.

While waiting I asked her where she learnt to speak such good English. She told me she had been in London for 6 months on a language course. She said she had enjoyed it very much and when she came back she noticed many differences. "What were they?" I inquired. "They don't smile very much here in Russia" she replied as my taxi pulled up a full 20 minutes early.

As I sat in the taxi speeding to the airport I wondered what it was that compels me to come back to a country that seems to try so hard to put tourists off from enjoying their visit and to be amongst people that seem at best cold and direct and at worse brutal and rude. I sent a text to my taxi friend and thanked him for organising his mate and in such good time if only to convince myself that I hadn't forgotten how to be uberpolite.

When my plane from Moscow landed in Zurich I switched on my mobile and I saw a text had come in from my friend the taxi driver. It read "You're welcome..it's because I am from Georgia"!