Old, reliable Moscow

I arrived in Moscow around noon on Friday afternoon. The city looks good. For all that we hear about the rough winters, Moscow’s residents seem to have developed an adequate set of coping mechanisms: a middle-distance stare, a quick-step to negotiate the perpetual ice on the sidewalks, and the mandatory hat and paket (shopping bags from any number of stores). The hierarchy of the paketi is particularly interesting, though I can’t claim to be an expert; I did hear when I was last here that H + M bags, from the discount Swedish clothing store, were a status symbol.

And yet, somethings haven’t changed about Moscow. There are still drunks on the metro and the gypsies being chased after by police near Kiev Station; families out for walks together in the city’s parks or packed into the Макдоналдс; and guards standing watch over Lenin’s tomb. As an urban space, Moscow most reminds of Mexico City (having been there since I was last here, 7 ½ years ago); sprawling, alive, and a place that would be rewarding to really get to know, if only you had the time and the stamina.

I can’t say, though, that I like Moscow. There are some magical places: Red Square and St. Basil’s Cathedral (even for all its touristy-ness), the park at Kolomenskoye (see more below), and the metro stations with their gracefully-aging, Soviet-era artwork. To really like Moscow, I think that you have to be a twenty-something with an expense account, loose morals, and more than a connoisseur’s interest in alcohol. Even then, I have to imagine it would get old.

After three days here, I’m flying to Volgograd (née Stalingrad) tomorrow. After a night there, it’s on to Kalmykia.