The hostel had put directions from the Kitai Gorod station on their website, but they didn’t seem to match up with the street exits you could access from the metro. I emerged from the underground and tried to find my first landmark, but was not successful. Every once in a while I would stop and ask someone for help, but not a lot of people seemed interested in helping. Sometimes I would get pointed in a direction (often the wrong one), but most people said they didn’t know where I was going. It didn’t help that the street had a fairly long name and I had written it down poorly. After about an hour I stopped and was going to hail a cab, but I didn’t see any. My throat was so dry that because of my heavy breathing, I almost threw up. I tried once more to ask someone, and luckily he was also a foreigner from Italy living in Moscow, so he understood my plight and helped me find the street. I found the address number of the hostel, but the address was for a restaurant and I walked back and forth up the street looking for the hostel but somehow didn’t see it. A car rolled down its tinted window and inside sat a typical Russian mafia man, watching some sort of monitor mounted to his dashboard. Oh great. He suggested I go up a different way, and having nothing to lose, I followed in the direction he pointed, and found the entrance to the hostel. After lugging my luggage up about 8 flights of stairs, I was safe and not so sound in the hostel.
The girl at the front desk was somewhat rude and showed me to my room. I was ever so pleased to find out that the bed I was going to be sleeping on came with free bloodstains. She said she’d give me my sheets later. I guess I wouldn’t be getting any rest at that moment. I needed to eat anyways, so after stuffing my bag in a locker, I strolled out in search of food. I had my heart set on buying a cheap shashlik, some Moya Semya juice, and having the meal of my life. I was unable to find either, and in hunger I settled for McDonalds. I was going to be sick no matter what I ate, at least I knew what to expect from McDonalds.
I ordered a Big Tasty and some chicken mcnuggets and then sat down. I got down a few mcnuggets before I began to feel really, really sick. I must have looked terrible because this young girl kept looking at me. I thought at first that possibly she was in love with me, but I realized she must have thought that I was going to pass out then and there. I then returned to my hostel to hop on my laptop to assure some people that I had arrived safely, but to my horror I discovered that I had forgotten to pack a US 3 prong to US 2 prong converter, and my power transformer only took two prong. Luckily the hostel had a public computer I was able to use.
After using the computer, I gave myself a little tour of the hostel. It was certainly not nearly as nice as others I had stayed in. It was quite dirty, the bathrooms smelled and swarmed with flies, and in general just wasn’t a friendly atmosphere, unless you like living in a bar. After that I decided I should probably switch hostels soon, but in the mean time I hopped on a metro and explored the city. My first stop was the Yelesevsky grocery store, which is in a mansion. I unfortunately was unable to find Moya Semya juice there, so I trudged on to Red Square, which I had been avoiding. After several failed calling attempts (Russian numbers are tricky), I finally got in contact with Benjy’s uncle. He explained to me that the next day (when I would be moving in with him), he would not be back until 8 pm, so I would have to try to get the people at the hostel to let me stay past the 12 o’clock checkout time.
After that it was back to the hostel, where I met a Russian from Siberia, who I then later went out exploring with. He was not a very enthusiastic explorer I must note. We returned to the hostel and I explained my situation to them, and they said I could leave my suitcase at the front desk, but if I stayed until 8 they’d have to charge me another day. Whatever. I got my sheets from the new and much friendlier desk girl, and went to bed. While I was falling asleep I realized I had not slept in about 40 hours. I was tired.
The next morning I awoke at 10am and was greeted by the sound of rain. I sluggishly got all of stuff together and attempted to pretty myself up in the claustrophobic bathroom. I discovered that some of the liquids (soaps) I had packed had began leaking, luckily I had put most of them in plastic bags in anticipation of such an event. I went to the front desk, checked out, put my valuables in my locker, grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I couldn’t stay in the hostel, but I couldn’t move into my new place until 8 or 9 at night, so I had a whole day to kill, and nowhere really to go. If I wanted to overdramatize things by quite a bit I could claim I was homeless for 8 or so hours, but that’s not exactly true.
The previous day while in Red Square, I checked the times the Lenin Mausoleum was open, so I hopped the train to Ploshad Revolutsii and got in the nonexistent line to see Lenin. I guess no one wants to see a dead man while it’s raining. I was glad to get to see Lenin at long last, but it seemed a little anticlimactic. Because of the fact that we didn’t get to see him last year, I had waiting over a year to see this man that had ruined so much for so many. I certainly don’t think he deserves the prominent position he has on Red Square. Having Lenin interred in state is roughly the equivalent of having the leaders of the Khmer Rouge or Kim Jong Il preserved for all to pay tribute to. Maybe not quite that, but you get the idea.
Because it was pouring and freezing, I often sought refuge in the metro stations. Sometimes I would just sit on the platforms for a half hour or so and watch people go by, and sometimes I would ride the trains just to ride them. I developed a game where I would pick the most interesting person and get on their train, and then get off where they got off. It was a good way to explore the city. I also stopped in as many supermarkets and alcohol stores as I could in search of my favourite vodka, and some Moya Semya juice. I found the vodka, but have still yet to find the juice. Guards by the way, do not like when you just browse in stores. I got followed around more than a few times.
After realizing I hadn’t eaten yet, I stopped in a restaurant around 2 or 3 and had lunch and was able to use a free bathroom. Woo! It was there that my phone died, which I wasn’t happy about because I needed to get in contact with Benjy’s uncle later and my charger and converter were at the hostel with my stuff. I walked around some more and hoped that maybe I would run into a group of American tourists I could latch onto and translate for in the hopes of wasting some more time or making friends/connections. As luck would have it, I ran into a group of girls from Stanford who were lost. I unfortunately couldn’t help them, and they didn’t seem interested in hanging out because they were late to meet their group, so we parted ways.
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