Today is a momentous occasion (sort of)

Boring title for a post, but my mental capacities are limited on my weeks off work. On saturday I (again) went to Ikea. There's about three in Moscow, and regardless of where you go they are always jammed with horrible people. I managed to cart a table all the way back from a far-off massive shopping centre at Белая Дача (Belaya Dacha which means, umm, white country house, I guess. Bit of a misnomer) in the south-west by myself, both blistering my fingers and looking like a pillock at the same time.

Walking along the Moscow ring road carrying a table top sideways would have turned me into a type of sailboat, meaning I constantly had to attack the wind. So rather than continue my zig-zagging, I ducked down the back streets behind the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on my way home. I didn't dare walk in front of the damn thing, in case one of the blasted militsiya decided to question my strange behaviour.

It's not entirely uncommon for muscovites to be seen carrying random pieces of crap . On the metro you'll run the gamut of mad old ladies with kittens stuffed down their coats to a slightly sheepish young girl carrying an enormous stuffed animal from an unknown fairground, or, my personal favourite, a tramp with a glazed look on his face holding three half-full glass tankards of beer and a half-opened bottle of champagne - all the while acting as if this were the norm, as if he was left at the table while the rest of his mates went outside for a fag.

As a result of my herculean efforts, I now have a proper desk to work from - rather than being hunched over on a crappy bedside table thing - or just eat in front of the comp like a fat slob.

On Sunday I was (sort of) teaching a class with my acquaintance Alex. He already teaches at an institute and asked me to come along and voice some optional classes for extra hard-core interpretation. Essentially it was me talking about myself and them having to interpret back to Alex as succinctly as possible. I rather enjoyed it, as I think that's one of the best possible teaching methods: put the feckless ones on the spot under pressure and see how they perform. Worked for me in my school days, and I lament the fact it didn't continue to uni level. Indeed I got a lot out of yesterday's class myself, as I hardly speak any Russian these days. At uni they made us read numerous works of Russian literature instead. I didn't mind, but it was too much of a roundabout way of learning a language.

Caveat Emptor

I'm at terrible risk of sounding like one of those foreigners that plague Moscow with this post. The Expat stereotype, especially those from England and America, who haven't been here that long, have a dreadful tendency to openly complain about everything here, like the service or food or general quality of anything, despite the fact they don't pay taxes because their multinational employers pay them via their Swiss bank accounts, nor do they even go as far to sample anything Russian (and yes I do pay taxes, unfortunately, quite a hefty sum too because of the whole double taxation bawls). They pay no heed to the axiom "when in Rome..."

In this case, though, I am not so much complaining, but rather warning anyone who comes here expecting anything simple, such as a basic transaction. One shop relatively near to mine (I'm not petty, so I won't point out its exact location via googlemaps just yet) is but one of many 24-hour продукты (Produkti, like the word product with an 'ee' at the end) which are scattered around Moscow, and are exceedingly useful for food, booze, emergency toilet roll (or even all three if you're having a good night) etc...

A scant few outlets let you walk around and pick up your own stuff and proceed to a makeshift till, but god forbid you muss anything up as you meander around the cramped shop. Most of them, however, are over-the-counter style, which create the ideal situation for language students who have studied the necessary vocab, but what that teaching doesn't prepare you for is how vile some of the shop attendants are towards their customers.

I don't give a monkey's about the sub-par service or the relatively-low quality food that is permanently at odds with its price tag. What I do care about, or rather what baffles me constantly, is my constant need to be within approximately ten kopeks of whatever I need to pay for.

The simple idea of a float in a till isn't just limited to the uncouth turnips responsible for the bungalow down the road, it's EVERYWHERE - all the way up to the equivalent of Marks & Spencers, Седьмой Континент (Sedmoi Kontinent - lit. Seventh Continent). I have been refused service on more occasions than I care to remember, simply because I had in my possession more money than was needed, until I coughed up something closer to the sum required.

Think of it this way: you come into the Savoy, or the Ritz or somewhere fancy and you order a cocktail from the bar and halfway through your drink you whip a £50 noteout of your wallet to hand to the well-dressed waiting staff, only for them to say"we can't take that" (I think the phrase in Russian is "не несете" ne nesyote lit. "you don't carry").

What would you do? Kindly root around your pockets for two minutes trying to get the exact amount in musty coins and piss-soaked notes, or would you spit up that half of your drink onto their face in utter disbelief?

I cannot understand what the root of it is. Some places are okay. Ironically another produkti not far from the one I accuse has no such problems with doling out change (and they actually smile because I'm such a regular customer), but it's just that little bit too far away sometimes and my laziness prevents me from venturing that far. So what's their excuse? Does someone come in every day right before I do and pay for chewing gum with a 5000 rouble note (approximately £100)? Do they have a stingy manager lying in the wings who snatches away any and all cash of notable amounts as soon as the till drawer closes? Or do they just not care that I'm trying to not only prolong my existance by eating their sub-par salads, but also to contribute to an economy that is going down the toilet?

Nothing works against them either. You be nice and present the correct change and they stonewall you. You are neutral and they stonewall you. You act as much of a miserable fuck as they do and still nothing happens.

It's just... I just can't get it.

Oh right, yes other news:

- Eurovision tonight, approximately 7PM GMT which is 10PM here
- Gay pride parade was attempted earlier today near the grounds of MGU, only for about 24 people to be strongarmed by the armed forces (both the regular police AND folk called OMON, who are not known for their patience) and viciously heckled by right-wing arseholes claiming to represent the Orthodox Church. Cue footage of a policeman in a big hat smoking a fag dragging a transvestite in a wedding dress by their hair. Mayor Luzhkov, in one of his more diplomatic moods, has referred to the parades as 'satanic' and an abomination.

No one seems to have pointed out to any of these people that Moscow is already hosting the biggest gay parade Europe has ever known and they're paying for it too.

I can't say it about all of my Russian friends, but the ignorant bigotry in this country is staggering.

Hey wait, did I mention that foreigners need to get HIV blood tests every six months?

Hack journalist strikes again

*cough* page 18 *cough* [/shamelesspromo]

Editorial correction

Following the recent post on Moscow's hot water issues Ben has been informed by a Russian friend that the theory about Muscovite plumbers going away on holiday is incorrect. Rather, it is thought that the turning off of the hot water is a way of 'bringing people together', in that old friends will suddenly appear and your neighbours will unexpectedly become less hostile towards you for approximately a two-week period. Ben apologizes for any international language mishaps.

Hot water hydrophobia

At some point (probably right now, if I'm lucky) the hot water in my apartment building will be turned off for about two weeks. I've never figured out the official reason for this, but it might be because the hot water is on CONSTANTLY all year round in every building, meaning they need to shut it off a district at a time to do maintenance. Russians joke that it's because "the plumbers go on holiday."

Those lucky enough to have either water heaters or are going away on holiday won't suffer the bone-chilling misery. I tried to wash during cold-water season on two occasions. It's impossible and it's not character building, though one esoteric character I met put it rather neatly, with something along the lines of "Well, you know, years ago, they never had warm water like today, so I don't see why it's hard," and used it as an obscure form of meditation. He's a good chess player. I also taught him poker.

So abandoning philosophical musings I'll either be reduced to using the kettle and the sink, or just not washing. Hopefully it'll start when I'm not working. On occasion, both the cold and hot water are known to go off completely in the building due to people doing something called Ремонт (Remont, which are repairs, literally, but when applied to apartments it means a complete overhaul). The revolting Soviet-era infrastructure (rusty pipes, bad wiring etc...) and uncomfortable furniture are often swept away in favour of IKEA-esque refinements (Moscow has at least two IKEAs - and a couple of H&Ms, finally), which are usually just as crappy, but do work much better (especially depending on the age of your apartment building i.e. Krushchev-era, Brezhnev-era etc...). Usually when the water goes off like that it's when you're trying to do something important, like flushing your recent contribution to the sewerage system down the loo.

The only other way of avoiding such a fate is get into a disastrous short-term relationship that at least affords you the opportunity of using their hot water. Then just break up once yours comes back on.

TV Go Home

Not that I care too much, but because my tariff for my Kosmos TV account changed recently (slightly long story - previous tenant had signed a long-term agreement, but buggered off early because of rather shocking circumstances, meaning I got satellite TV on the cheap for a few months), I didn't get to watch the Victory Parade earlier. The channels are all scrambled. Boo-bloody-hoo. You'll probably be able to watch it here at some point later today.

My continued quest to teach Russians Hold 'em Poker is progressing nicely. I've already taught a couple of folk. I look forward to ripping their kopeks off them in the near future.

Sun, Soldiers and Motorcycles

Summer has finally hit the streets Bulgakov once strolled, and with it the Russian character changes dramatically from the cold, gruff exterior, to just a gruff exterior with an occasional smile. It's entirely welcoming, given that the winter was not-cold-enough-to-be-inhospitable but just-cold-enough-to-depress-you, except for the fact that my flat is west facing, meaning the place now turns into a greenhouse. Swings and roundabouts.

Tomorrow is Victory Day (День Победы - Dyen Pobedi) so lots of St. George's ribbons have been handed out via young volunteers forced to sit in blazing heat wearing hazard vests, which everyone wears happily on whatever they can attach them to, yours truly included. There has already been a practice parade for the military, which meant that nearly all of Moscow traffic yesterday was brought to a standstill because they closed off the main road in the centre (Тверская Улица - Tverskaya) so the tanks could trundle down and ruin the roads, like they did last time. Pundits in the Western media will likely bitch about how it's a provocating show of military strength and how the whole Medvedev-Obama reset relationship blah blah blah...

Anyway, because the weather has defrosted the roads, many Russians, who were pedestrian bound beforehand, have suited up and mounted several CCs of unnecessary engine power. It's kinda fun watching them drive by, because it shows that they're actually enjoying themselves, throwing the whole stereotype of Russians having no emotion out the window. My balcony affords me a view of one of the major roads, and yesterday some bold maniac sped off from the lights and pulled off an insane wheelie over several yards with his biker friends on either side.

In other news - To nobody's surprise Moscow is due to host the Eurovision Song Contest, following 2008's abysmal performance by Dima Bilan. Russian's are not known for being particularly tolerant of gays or non-European Russians - European Russians are called Русь ('Roose' pronounced like the word 'moose') - so it's interesting that Bilan (a combination of both) has become so popular with the masses. Some kind soul (me) has arranged all the 2009 entries on YouTube into a playlist.

Germany's entry Alex Swings Oscar Sings will have Dita Von Teese dancing alongside them during the final. It's already the best song out of the lot, and, combined with Marilyn Manson's ex, this can only be seen as Western Europe's last-ditch attempt at wrestling the Eurovision title out of the grimy hands of Eastern Europe Bloc voting. Bookies are saying 2-1 Norway, tho.

First time for everything...

Actually, that's a lie. This is a second attempt at a Moscow-related blog - the first one deleted years ago out of shame - but we've moved on now, so let's give it another turn...