(The Soviet Union, or USSR, to be more exact. Gosh. I AM OLD!)I was really into gymnastics and figure skating in those days. I still remember the pain I felt when I slammed my leg into the balance beam while attempting a simple cartwheel. Ouch!!!
So, my love for the country mostly likely stemmed from the fact that the USSR was a major powerhouses in those sports.
I even bought a Russian workbook to study the language on my own during elementary school! We didn't have Rosetta Stone back then either : (
I got very close to the border during my RTW trip. In Finland. But due to recent restrictions on issuing Russian visas to Japanese citizens in Finland, I didn't make it in.
Even in Japan, it was quite a hassle to get the visa because I had to get an invitation first. I'm sure any travel agency can handle it, but they charge a huge premium. Instead, I got an online invitation. A bit sketchy at first, but no problems at all. Pretty easy in fact - provided detailed travel plans (flights, hotels, cities visited, etc.), paid about $20, and then received an electronic invitation. Printed that out, brought it to the embassy, filled out the paperwork. A few days later, I had a beautiful Russian visa stamped into my passport.
You can imagine just how excited I was to finally be heading over there!!!
But those MMMMEEEEAAAAAANNNN Muscovites…..they completely drained my enthusiasm for the country on Day 1.
From the very gloomy airport, I took the "airport express" to the metro.
Here comes Mean Muscovite #1.
I got completely lost at the metro station. For some reason, this station had absolutely NO signs in English. Yes, I studied a bit of Russian ages ago, but it wasn't nearly enough for me to recognize which direction I should be heading, or which train I should board. Considering that the station links with the international airport, shouldn't it have some English?!?!?! At least for the station names?!?!?!
Anyways, after walking around in circles, I asked Mean Muscovite #1 if the approaching train was the one I should take to get into the city. She nodded. So I got in. The train took me towards the opposite direction. ARGH.
But don't worry - I did manage to find the right metro and make my way to the hostel somehow.
My plan for the rest of the day was to book my long distance train to St. Petersburg. There are many trains along the route, but I had a specific one that I wanted to take - the "Red Arrow" sleeper train. It's one of the oldest running sleepers, and should have a lot of history and classical beauty to it. I MUST get on that train.
Here comes Mean Muscovite #2.
Assuming that I'd be able to book the ticket at any long distance train station in Moscow (which I confirmed with the guy at the hostel), I headed over to the Belorussky Rail Terminal since it was the closest one.
Again, I got lost. I couldn't tell where the ticket office was. I thought I'd ask someone and chose Mean Muscovite #2 to approach with an "Excuse me, sir." This guy did not even have eye contact with me. He just pretended that I didn't exist, that I wasn't standing in front of him, speaking to him.
Needless to say, I was completely shocked!!!!!!!
I must've started at him, speechless, mouth wide open for a few seconds before my brain kicked in and I wandered off. Still shocked.
Luckily, I found a uniformed officer who was nice enough to walk me over to the ticket office.
Here comes Mean Muscovite #3.
I handed over a piece of paper with planned date of reservation and train name on it to the ticket agent. Mean Muscovite #3 took a quick look at it and shook her head. HUH?!
She wouldn't sell me the ticket. Saying that I couldn't book a ticket for a train leaving from another terminal. WHAT THE ****?! That's not what I heard or read!!! I kept on insisting and battling with the agent, but that got nowhere.
I left the station, EXTREMELY frustrated. All I wanted to do was to vent. And perhaps land a punch.
But at this point, I was determined to get my hands on the train ticket.
Since the St. Petersburg-bound train would be leaving from Leningradsky Rail Terminal, that's where I went. The thought even crossed my mind that the agent at Belorussky had been right - maybe odd Russian rules required that I buy the ticket from the exact point of departure. Maybe Mean Muscovite #3 wasn't Mean.
Surprisingly, Leningradsky Rail Terminal was tourist friendly. Signs were in English, and there was an English speaking agent at the foreigner's ticket office. Very nice agent this time, who quickly got the booking done.
When I explained to her my ordeal at Belorussky, she confirmed that I should've been able to purchase any rail ticket there.
So, unless she lied to me, Mean Muscovite #3 was indeed MEAN.
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