My last night in Goa. Arambol, café. Im hurrying Cross as I need to pack my clothes and be on time in the Airport. On the way home we stop at some guesthouse where Cross had some friend, or client, or both. Cross gets nervous and interrogates local dwellers.
Little by little he summons a dozen of angry Hindus. It seems that theyre going to beat the shit out of us. On my right an old wrinkled man is shaking a stick. After ten minutes of verbal confrontation, we break through the living line with a ram attack and embrace freedom.
Twenty minutes afterwards, we come by a guy named Jimmy in a place looking like a jungle. Covered by an empty darkness, Cross divides the pill into two parts in order to sell Jimmy the right dosage. I don't know what to do: whether to look over for the cops or just keep silence. Most likely, the second. I stop thinking about some cops nailing us and putting me into Indian jail. All I want is to get on the fucking plane on time.
Finally, we get home. I quickly pack my backpack, say goodbye to Cross and take a taxi to the airport. I made it on time, but the plane is delayed. It triggers a chain reaction where I miss all four flights I planned. I change the time of the second flight to restore the chain. I pay in excess with all spare cash I have. I arrive to Bishkek, wait for a Moscow flight the whole night, feel sick and tired on all fronts: physically, emotionally and mentally.
I think thats the case when you need a vacation after you had a vacation.
Motherland
Angels
I have a childhood friend in Petersburg who could host me for a few days, but not a single soul in Moscow. Though its fairly easy to find a host in Moscow since there are lots of them, its all different during May holidays. People move to country houses, visit parents and set off on trips. So, my searching led me to expat Jose. He doesnt have a country house; his parents are far away. Traveling is the core element of his life.
Jose is from Ecuador. He is thirty years old, skinny, intellectual, cosmopolitan; speaks somewhere between six and eight languages including his brilliant Russian. He moved to Russia for work in a biomedical company. He lives in Lyublino District and shares a three-room apartment in a human hive with guys from Saratov. Couch helps him abstract from russkiy bydlo12 and make a personal Pokémon collection out of interesting people.
Even before an eye-to-eye meeting, we have a misunderstanding:
[Me]: Good morning, Jose. Im looking forward to meeting you tomorrow at the train station. I have your phone number, so everything is ok. Could you give me your address just in case?
[Jose]: Im not meeting you at the train station, God dammit!!! I can meet you right away at the exit from the tube station! You can take the metro to Lyublino. I would recommend you to call me when you arrive to the city, so I would have time to prepare. I dont find it necessary to meet you at the airport or train station, as I doubt its your first visit to Moscow Besides, you can speak Russian, so it shouldnt be difficult for you to navigate in the city. Thus, you can ask, listen to and read without trouble.
[Me]: I believe its just a misunderstanding. Sure, I meant metro. See you tomorrow!
We chit-chat in the kitchen about some abstract stuff: cars parked on lawns, environment, technologies, countries and cultures. After our conversation, I start to explore Moscow, looking forward to seeing the match between my favorite team Lokomotiv and not-so-favorite Spartak. Lokomotiv would get aced, and we would get detained on the stadium for a good one and a half hours after the match ends. Thank you, Jose, for opening the door at 11 p.m..
After my trip, we chat on Facebook for some time.
[Jose]: Too many holidays. That doesnt suit the country with economic decline.
[Me]: Its not about New Year holidays. Its not caused by lavatories, but its something that starts in peoples heads13.
[Jose, transliterated]: Problema V to 4isle i v golovax NARODA, ne tolko v golovax pravitelei. I etot moment, tot kotory 4itateli tvoego roda, naprimer, o4en vugodno propuskaiut, kogda tsitiruiut Bulgakova. Vsegda dumaiut 4to vina vsiu nado nalozhit na pravitelei, u kotoryx BEZ SONMENIA est bolshaya dolya otvestvennosti. NO na samogo sebya Trudno smotret'. Budto Russky narod takie angelo4ki. Samy takie lentiai i lenivye14
I think Jose is one heck of a toxic guy.
Sky
I meet Nadya at the Teatralnaya metro station. On the way home, we try to get to know each other better, but the unbearable metro noise puts in its two cents. Nadya tells me about the meeting with her friends they've just seen each other. Im playing my card straight away by telling about my life in the States.
Nadya lives with her husband Dima and a dog named Sky a reference to Luke Skywalker from the Star Wars. They work all round about film industry, usually as camera operators. Also, Nadya earns money from photoshoots and wedding photography. They live on mortgage in a new built three-room apartment in a residential complex near Podolsk. Because of urbanization metastases, their Podolsk propiska transformed into Moscow propiska15. I spend three nights in their apartment, they provide me with a free room loaded with different stuff. Two years afterwards Nadya would give birth to a boy and this room would become the children's room.
Next day I spend walking between museums and pretend to be a minor to get free tickets. I come back in the evening happy and tired. Nadya is cooking frounchosa, some kind of Moscow delicacy Ive never heard of. Were having dinner with her friend who came a couple of hours ago. Sky runs into the room. Nadya hugs him. I manage to take a picture with my Nikon D3200.
[Nadya]: Misha, where did you have lunch today?
[Me]: In Burger King.
[Nadya]: Im sorry.
During our last evening together, we walk around Kolomenskoye. They tell me about their wedding here, show photos on the phone. We are fooling around with my camera and make some nice photos. Their speech is full of historical facts about Moscow and its overall charms. The guys belong to the sort of people who are mad in love with the capital. Our conversation flows into political history direction: there we find ourselves on the opposite sides of the barricades, though mutual respect and common sense help us keep the conversation cool.
I think Moscow and Muscovites seem to be very delightful.
GROMYKA
At the weekend, I go to Moscow to see Rammstein live. Jose is busy moving to a new apartment, Nadya and Dima dont host anymore. I go for the third round of looking for a friendly soul with a couch in the capital.
Yeah, feel free to come over. Ul. Vvedenskogo, 11-2. 89061328907. Call me a couple of days in advance.
Having arrived at Belyayevo metro station, Im waiting for Yan and Julia in a sub. They should be picking me up in a minute after their visit to parents. Yan doesnt pick up the phone. Im trembling from anxiety and cold in the subway. Its raining cats and dogs today in Moscow, and not a single umbrella in the world would save you from it. After an hour of waiting, we find each other. On the way home, we share a single umbrella between three of us.
Yan and Julia young family from Makhachkala. Yan has a creative job in a public agency, Julia works in catering service and air travel. They have a three years old daughter. She spends this weekend at grandmother. Julia is pregnant with the second baby. Once again, CouchSurfing blows my mind with the people who are ready to support others, think out of the box, act and help. Guys, you have a little daughter, never mind pregnancy why would even host some guy from Penza? Perhaps, guys wish an interesting life with little routine, too.