Cars, kids and hospitals

Today has been busy, with a hospital visit and a tyre change. If you drive In Russia you will need winter tyres. I am grateful that we still have winters but every year its a pain in the ass. I have to get the winter tyres off the tiny balcony (logier) that is stacked high with junk, wheel them through the flat, put them into the lift while the door constantly shuts on my head (as the door closing timer is too short), load them into the car, strap the wife into the baby seat or is it the kid into the baby seat? Drive to the garage and wait while the man changes the summer tyres and puts on the winter tyres onto the car. Drive home and do the tyre thing in reverse.

On top of that, my kid has been ill since last week with vomiting and massive diarrhea. Today after the tyre fun and games, he puked on me again so we called an ambulance, not for me but for him. They arrived surprisingly quickly. The doctor listened to his chest, did doctor things with a stethoscope (in between sipping the coffee I made him) and told my wife that he needed to go to the state hospital. I panicked and we agreed, I packed my wife's bag and sent her off with junior in the ambulance to the hospital. Once they had gone, I kicked off my shoes, made a giant sandwich of peanut butter and crisps and settled down to watch TV in peace. I had a slight momentary guilt as I sat comfortably on the sofa, but I assumed they would be taken care of and put in a ward with other children. I was very wrong.

I few hours later, my wife phoned me to say the bed mattress was about 3 inches thick with springs sticking through it, she was sharing a room with a spotty woman and a crying baby, the floor had lino on it, there were kids running around the corridors wrapped in bandages and she wanted to come home. I got my Tom tom car sat navigation thingy to get directions to the hospital and pushed the start up button. Nothing, no action. I tried again and again. Nothing. It would not work or 'power up'. Not speaking any Russian, driving here without my sat nav friend would be impossible. My wife constantly phoned me threatening divorce and demanding I collect her right away. I put on my suit of shinning of cardboard and got on my donkey to rescue her and child. In fact, I grabbed the pram, got dressed and ran sweating to the metro, took the train to the nearest station to her and she was waiting for me on the platform. I was very relived to see them both OK. I had thought I would never see them again. To be honest, I thought they would stay in a ward with cots neatly lined up in rows with a strict Russian nurse with large pointed breasts and a mustache and clipboard to take care of them. The reality was some what different. At the hospital, they did take good care of my kid, I feel sorry for the doctors and nurses, they do the best they can in a grossly underfunded system. Its very sad.

I almost take everything back I have ever said about hospitals in my own country, here they are worse. It seems you either pay big money for a luxury standard or have a shitty standard where the hospital will kill you and not the disease.

The moral is that in Russia, if you have a serious medical problem, pay up and take the financial pain as you have no choice, if you have insurance you may be able to claim some or all of it back. If you drive here, you will need winter and summer tyres and will have to go through the changing game every year in or around November. I will have to go back again to a private medical centre to try and cure my kid. The fun, games and worry continues.

I need a good duck

I need a good duck, she must be big, with plump juicy breasts that can be covered in sauce and stuffed. That's not a euphemism dear reader.

Christmas will be here, sooner than is realized. Russians don't celebrate Christmas as we do or when we do, but this year I hope to put on my apron, roll my sleeves up and roast a duck in my small Moscow kitchen. Last year, I got a frozen duck that was the runt of the litter and rather on the small side. I got it  from Auchan, that big supermarket chain that is all over Moscow. I was ill after eating it. I am not so sure that Russians follow strict food safety regulations when unloading trucks at the supermarkets and they may let them defrost and then freeze them again for sale. I hope to find a butchers here in Moscow and cook a good meal that Jamie Oliver would be proud of. I plan to stuff the duck, make roast potatoes and make a tasty meal for my family and friends. This will be our second Christmas in Russia.

Our oven is white and an old gas one, that would have looked new in the 1970's. It takes ages to heat up and cooks very slowly. I also hope to buy a real Christmas tree this year but have yet to find out where to buy one. I am sure my kid will end up under it when he tries to climb up it, but it would be it feel more like Christmas here. Last year, I worked at a school in Moscow. They asked me to teach on Christmas day and I stupidly agreed. One student turned up, I got home at ten. I left the school two months later, it was an unpleasant experience teaching English in Moscow, but that is the subject of another post, at another time dear reader.

Hall of horror gallery

I thought it only fair to share with you dear reader, a select choice of the bad, the very bad and the really awful, in choice of flats for renting in Moscow. These photos are were just randomly selected from a website of apartments for rent to foreigners and others in Moscow Russia.

I have mentioned renting flats here in Moscow before, so I thought I should show you an example of the quality you can expect unless you choose the central areas and don't mind paying upwards from 2,000 euro to 5,000 or more per month, as priced at today's date. Some people reading this may actually like some of the flats and say whats is all the fuss about and they really don't look so bad. That's fine for me, since one mans meat is another mans poison, as they say and we all have our own taste. I totally respect that. If you like these flats no problem. If you don't like them well, be afraid, be very afraid! Take a walk through the flat horror gallery. See hall of horror below:

Note: There is a wide choice of flats for rent in Moscow, some beautiful some not so beautiful depending on how deep your pockets are or how generous your employer is in willing to pay your monthly rent. It all depends on your bling power and on your taste. If you like gold sofas, mirrors on the ceilings and gold taps (faucets), you will have a wide choice to look at in Moscow. If you like high rise living, you will not be disappointed. There is a wide choice for your "western needs" to quote an advert for renting.

Warning note: Sit down and make sure you have an empty stomach. Removal of false teeth is strongly recommended before viewing! Sample photos, there are worse and many more than those shown here! P.S I will not advertise real estate companies here out of a respect for all that is decent and fair. A Google search will bring up the main three big fish in Moscow. See renting tips.

Click below for.....

! Hall of horror !

* If you cannot see the above slide show click Horror album

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Ikea hell

We went to Ikea today in Moscow in 'Teplay Stan'. I used to live in Bratislava and a trip to Ikea (without a child I might add), was a pleasant, almost therapeutic experience. You could push your trolley (cart) around the isles, casually looking at cushions and lamps, admiring a nice bottom or two of a Slovak girl as she walked past, while you listened to soft easy music playing in the background of the store. You could take your time, have a coffee and pay for your items and leave relaxed and in tune with the world. Not so in Moscow.

We arrived at 2 pm, the car park was not full since it was a week day, however inside Ikea, people pushed past you, one almost knocking my wife over as he walked by with a mobile phone glued to one ear, people everywhere. My wife took her time, while I fought and battled with my off spring as he jumped up and down in an Ikea shopping trolley, grabbing everything off the shelves as we passed. I just wanted to get what we went for and leave pronto. My wife had all the time in the world while my nerves reached fever pitch. At the checkout, a Russian woman pushed in front of us, as is the custom in Moscow and went to pay for her stuff. My wife protested speaking in Russian to the rude woman but she carried on shouting at my wife. In Russia it's all about who shouts loudest to get what you want.  The other shoppers in front of us, gave us both dark looks and seemed to be on the woman's side, had we broken an unspoken holy Russian rule when waiting in line? Maybe! Russians have their own unique system for queuing. It involves jumping in, queuing in two or even three lines to reach one checkout. You have to be fast and to be awake to prevent queue jumping or don't fight it at all and let it wash over you. This maybe the best policy to avoid a bloody nose or frayed nerves. I left the store sweating and gasping for air, as if running naked into the sea, free from my Ikea chains of shopping misery. Moscow is like a sardine can with too many fish.

The journey home to the center was tough, crawling along the highway in thick truck smoke, sandwiched between old trucks and antique buses. It really is a living hell here when it comes to shopping and driving. The locals and some long term expats, take it as normal and accept it. Not me sir. I hate it. Only go to Ikea when you have to and only go once a year dear reader.

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