It’s absolutely unimaginable that I would be in Moscow.
I remember growing up in the midst of the cold war. I remember fearing nuclear attack from Russia. I remember Ronald Regan’s dramatic demand that Mr. Gorbechav would “tear down that wall.” The Russia that I know is a communist state, ruled with fear and failed idealism in the strength and integrity of the worker, and dedicated to destroying capitalist America with…lord…whatever it was they had aimed at us in War Games.
And yet, I am in a city of full unbridled capitalism, teeming with market-won wealth, and, perhaps most amazingly, me. The immigration process was, of all things, uneventful, consisting of five nervous minutes of an immigration officer oscillating between staring at my visa and staring at me, then finally stamping it with what appears to be “CRMNNICTAR,” but probably does not mean criminal, dictum, nectar, or any combination thereof.
I sped through the city in the back of a taxi, and marveled at how many Mercedes and BMWs I saw, and how very few old wrinkled women in head scarves carrying swaddled babies I saw. (To date, none). There were no huge statues of Stalin or Lenin, no giant communist flags, and no scary soldiers in war-green outfits and sloped hats. Mostly just people who look like white Americans, but with skinnier clothing, bonier cheeks, and far more attention paid to their mustaches. The buildings blurred by in a Germanic theme, colorful remnants of a period of magnificent culture and art before communist rule, many with brand new signs on the front, blazing Cyrillic interpretations of names I know from my local shopping mall…Sbarro, McDonalds, CitiBank.
I ate dinner in a very modern Russo/Euro fusion restaurant, very appropriately named Vogue. It was a European take on Russian favorites…my dinner consisted of Borsch (warm red beet soup), Beef Stroganoff (sautéed beef, noticeably without noodles), black caviar (far more common here than in the US…sometimes spread on toast in casual meals), roasted vegetables (vegetables which have been roasted), and raspberry blini (a pancake blintz with liquid fantastic on the inside).
Magnificent dinner…but, after receiving the bill and running a quick exchange-rate-tally…it became apparent why Moscow was just announced to be the “most expensive city in the world.” Dinners ran over $100 apiece, hotel costs somewhere pushing $680/night, and a bottle of water in the room will cost you just around $12. This a great city to visit if you’re on business, you’re insanely wealthy, or you’ve stolen someone else’s credit card.
If you're interested, you can check out pics at the ol' Flickr site.
Peace,
Justin
