Around the draining expeditions we grew an odd daily schedule, based primarily on eating. It began with snacks purchased from a convenience store, where worked the most likely Russian Bride we met. Blonde, mid twenties and otherwise slim but with legs like the thick oaken boles of an Ent. They tapered but an inch from thigh to ankle. We immediately dubbed her Treebeard. She lacked the beard of course but the resemblance otherwise was striking. I say she was the most likely bride because she showed a mild interest (well amusement) in us, whereas the hotpants sporting makeup slathering Russia sorts, hot though they were, had clearly no interest in drainer types. Each day she sold us icecream in a chunk 12 x 7 x 3cm. Chunk is an understatement, this was a fucking slab of dairy goodness shaped just right to be inhaled for breakfast. Best of all, available for the low low price of ~50p.
Dinner was a two tiered affair initiated by a delicious mix of Russian, Georgian and Armenian cuisine at a restaurant above a sushi house, which provided serving number 2. We'd roll downstairs to continue stuffing ourselves with nigiri (average but well priced) while listening to electro-house-trance and watching the Beijing Olympics. Surreal culture mash was more enjoyable than the food. One evening Moscowhite and his wife joined us for dinner. She explained "rakom" is Russian for crawling like a dog, something all of us drain veterans are well versed upon. Uninterested in crawling around the dark she shook her head slowly and said without humour, rakom is only good for sex.
So fueled on icecream, meat and sushi (not simultaneously thankfully) excellent drains were explored but it was the things we hadn't counted on that surprised us. With Reverse, Skyfi, UrbanPsychosys and friends we took a trip to some disused central heating tunnels, which include a small tunnel above which is emblazoned the bold title METRO2 ENTRANCE. I laughed but this is Russia... maybe it wasn't kidding. These tunnels are clearly a well-worn party venue but tonight we would party elsewhere: the university steam tunnels.
Teamed with a bunch of drunk, disorganised explorers we rubbed ourselves against asbestos wrapped pipes and squeezed through the maze of tunnels until reaching the underside of the tiered seating of a lecture hall. A 5L beer baby (yes a 5L plastic bottle of beer), hookah and various exotic alcohols joined the fray and Siologen, once more in his element began to speak of drains and cars. A vague recollection remains of Siologen explaining to the spellbound Russians the merits of the Torana. Culture mash.
The taxis are an odd state of affairs, as you will discover if you try to jaywalk in Moscow. Merely stepping out onto the street to initiate your ambulatory trajectory across the street will cause a near traffic accident as 3-5 passing taxis swerve to attend your transportation needs. When they discover the nature of your journey is merely across the street they may be less than pleased. Further there is no signage, no visible meter and certainly not the little name badge/license you're accustomed to seeing. A black London cab this ain't. If you have russian friends on hand, it's wise to let them negotiate the price of your journey for you. We hailed such a cab and returned to the hostel.
Another night, Venturing further from the city into a much more industrial neighbourhood, we wandered past a mouthwatering powerstation on route to what I believe was a car factory. They don't just grow from the ground now do they. Like a rat up the drain pipe we climbed, up a drainpipe, to the roof access ladders whereupon we took stock of the situation. The powerstation billowed smoke into the night air to our left, the freight trains pulled in and out of a yard totally unsecured to our right. No fences, no bulls, nothing. The rooftop plans were quickly scrapped, there was a better idea.
pic: qx
Like the PC which encircles paris, Moscow has a freight line which skirts her periphery. With a hop, step and a jump we boarded a train to run this circular route, climbing up between the steel into an empty bucket car. Tense minutes flicked by then a shudder, a creak and slowly the train inched forwards out the yard. She picked up speed, bumping and rattling along the rails our merry band of vagabonds in tow. Perched high on the car's rusty lip we rode through the night past industrial estates and blunt soviet era apartment blocks, the warm air rushing past our smiling faces. Skyfi and I climbed across into the adjacent car, packed to the brim with bags of rubbish. Riding our rusty metal chariot, sitting upon a throne of trash we were hobo kings of the rails.
pic: qx
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Comments on BD 2.05 - Moscow Miscellany
Site
#1 - 2009-01-10 04:53 - Reply
uliveandyouburn
#2 - 2009-01-10 15:56 - Reply
Plastic liners on a gondola? Why bother?
Vivo
#3 - 2009-01-11 02:14 - Reply
Oleg
#4 - 2009-01-13 02:23 - Reply
dsankt
#5 - 2009-01-13 23:55 - Reply
ulive, perhaps the contents were more harmful than we paid mind to...
Site
#6 - 2009-01-15 05:34 - Reply