I saw a darker side of the city today. A man dressed in rags was playing the violin on the train today and collecting change. He reminded me of the Dicken’s character, Fagin. On the old creaky train and the neo-classical surroundings of the stations he looked like a figure from a film about war-torn Europe, a Jewish refugee or something like that. The same day I saw a little girl doing exactly the same thing but in the street, she too looked like a street kid rather than a citizen of an affluent European city.
A guy got on the metro the other day on a kind of low trolley. He had no legs and propelled himself along with handgrips. He began shouting viciously at everyone the moment he boarded and though I couldn’t understand his words it was obviously some kind of recrimination. When a policeman entered the train at another station he ceased his rant and moved away down the aisle between the crossed legs occasionally swiping at a foot that was in his way. Imagine if your world is a forest of legs when you have none, scrounging for change and picking up cigarette ends.
I haven’t mentioned the subway yet. I’d been told about it before I left but nothing could have prepared me for the splendour. Each station is different but an absolute work of art. Most have enormous pillars and busts of famous Russians, chandeliers and spacious colonnades – sadly I lack the architectural jargon to do it justice but just imagine the most opulent stately home, imagine marble floors, archways, sculpted ceilings, gold-leaf and enormous paintings and you begin to imagine the Moscow underground. It seems Lenin wanted to bring the opulence that only the wealthy had enjoyed for so long to the proletariat and what better place for them to experience it than everyday on the underground as they travel to work.
Earlier today I was walking near my hostel and passed two men who were admiring a Jaguar car, noticing me suddenly one of the men put his arm around me and they both grinned with golden smiles. I froze and tried to remain absolutely calm. I was wearing my money-belt around my waist and underneath my clothes and so I felt quite secure and I’m sure they were just being friendly or drunk and wished me no harm. I got away by explaining that I was ‘An-glee-ski’ (English) and we all nodded and chuckled and parted the best of friends as if I’d just explained that I was about to explode at any moment and for everyone’s safety I ought to be on my way. Just a few yards down the road another man suddenly accosted me for a light and I nearly jumped out of my skin and mumbled something incomprehensible and made the universal signs for ‘smoking’ and ‘no’.
A guy got on the metro the other day on a kind of low trolley. He had no legs and propelled himself along with handgrips. He began shouting viciously at everyone the moment he boarded and though I couldn’t understand his words it was obviously some kind of recrimination. When a policeman entered the train at another station he ceased his rant and moved away down the aisle between the crossed legs occasionally swiping at a foot that was in his way. Imagine if your world is a forest of legs when you have none, scrounging for change and picking up cigarette ends.
I haven’t mentioned the subway yet. I’d been told about it before I left but nothing could have prepared me for the splendour. Each station is different but an absolute work of art. Most have enormous pillars and busts of famous Russians, chandeliers and spacious colonnades – sadly I lack the architectural jargon to do it justice but just imagine the most opulent stately home, imagine marble floors, archways, sculpted ceilings, gold-leaf and enormous paintings and you begin to imagine the Moscow underground. It seems Lenin wanted to bring the opulence that only the wealthy had enjoyed for so long to the proletariat and what better place for them to experience it than everyday on the underground as they travel to work.
Earlier today I was walking near my hostel and passed two men who were admiring a Jaguar car, noticing me suddenly one of the men put his arm around me and they both grinned with golden smiles. I froze and tried to remain absolutely calm. I was wearing my money-belt around my waist and underneath my clothes and so I felt quite secure and I’m sure they were just being friendly or drunk and wished me no harm. I got away by explaining that I was ‘An-glee-ski’ (English) and we all nodded and chuckled and parted the best of friends as if I’d just explained that I was about to explode at any moment and for everyone’s safety I ought to be on my way. Just a few yards down the road another man suddenly accosted me for a light and I nearly jumped out of my skin and mumbled something incomprehensible and made the universal signs for ‘smoking’ and ‘no’.
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