Technical drama & tantrums

I sometimes think I have a gypsy curse on me, when it applies to living in Moscow. The city is a hard bitch, that often plays dirty. As a result, a blog is the perfect place to offload a pile of frustrations to an invisible audience. A blog can be therapeutic in getting it all out, like bursting a huge spot on the bathroom mirror. I will burst my spot with you dear reader. See Russia beyond the headlines.

last week, I had my Samsung Ace phone stolen from my teaching bag, while taking the Moscow metro. Sleep deprivation, caused by a new baby, can blunt the senses and I did not notice my phone being taken from my book bag. A few days later, our home computer internet connection died and a few days later, our combination baby pram (stroller) broke and snapped like a twig in the wind. After my phone was taken, I sent my phone a message to say "If you find this phone please call me or text me, I will buy you a coffee, thanks" of course no one replied but like a blind fool, I thought there may be some hope that it would fall into the hands of an honest person. Not so. Our lives are held on a phone and contain those private bedroom photos dressed in our batman outfits, private addresses, missile launch code numbers, shopping lists to buy more anchovies and diary meeting dates with women from Brazil. When a phone is lost, we are lost.

I went to a phone shop, with most of my weeks pay to buy a new one. After ten minutes, I was sold a Samsung "Bada". It's last years modal and aimed at Russians and lives up to it's name in being a bad comparative to the word bad or "badest". It has Yandex, a shitty navigation system and a load of functions that I'll never use. It is not an Android phone. The next day, I decided to go back and change it, I went back, with the phone in it's new box, took my shop receipt and went into the shop. I had more money in my pocket and thought I would buy an iPhone, (not the recent iPhone version) and at last have a decent phone, that most of the world now has. Not so, the manager refused, saying there was nothing wrong with the phone, I begged and I pleaded with him, saying that he was not being logical and that I wanted to give the new phone back and replace it for a more expensive phone, paying him more money. Red faced, he grabbed an old book from his pocket on Russian "law", thrust it into my face and told me that under "Russian law", they don't have to replace anything if it's not damaged and I can't have my money back or change the phone. He was telling the truth, in Russia, anything electrical or medical, cannot be refunded or replaced once you have paid your money. My baby started crying, as I had a mini tantrum with the man in the shop. People looked on at us, as if were the entertainment at a bad Russian circus and I could feel all my tension returning, that had been erased the week before from a glorious trip to the mountains in Austria.

Our home computer has had constant Internet problems and we have changed provider twice since moving to Moscow. We decided to change provider again and booked the installation. On the phone, the company seemed professional (Beeline) and arranged for the men to come on Sunday morning. We chose their TV and web package and paid them over 700 Rubles to Beeline for a months subscription. On Sunday, two rough looking guys arrived, holding a thick, long length of cable. We asked them if they would attach it to the wall etc as you would normally expect in any other country. Not so, they told us, that to attach it to the wall and to do a tidy job, rather than by their preferred method of just connecting it to the computer and leaving metres of cable laying on the floor, would be a "special installation" at 3,000 Rubles. We told then to take their cable and put it where the sun does not shine. We are now stuck with our temperamental Internet provider and no TV. To get a refund back from Beeline, we will have to send our flat owner, with his passport, to their office to get the money back as the Internet is in his name, probably because he does not pay tax on our rent money. Nothing is fast or easy in Moscow.

To end of these problems, our pram that had lasted the first kid and was a combination pram, broke last week. It was excellent, as it could be folded and came with different seats for travel, for the car and for sleeping. It could be taken onto the plane and was strong and practical.  We have one other pram a Phil & Ted, that is solid, heavy and prefect for a bigger kid and for Moscow but can't be taken onto a plane. I go jogging with the baby, as I have to exercise when I can, so we had to buy two new prams! We got one pram for travel, from a kids market in Sushevski, building 9, Moscow,  for 6,000 Rubles, its called Jetem Tokyo. You can also choose Paris, Nevada and a host of other locational themes. It comes in different colours, it's light weight, fold-able and it can be taken onto a plane. It's no good for rough ground and can only be used on a flat surface. Despite its awful name, it's not bad, looks good and is not heavy to use. We got another pram for jogging, second hand for 5,000 Rubles form a Russian website called Avito.ru. The pram has three wheels, it's bulky and no good at all for travel but can, just about be used for jogging on flat surfaces. I took it today, for test run by the river, it makes a funny squeaking noise but works. A man jogging with a baby here, is a freak show for many to observe. I digress.

Finding the seller to buy the second hand pram was hard, we had to negotiate vast Moscow roads using my Yandex map, that does not speak to you to tell you the way, on my new phone, that can't be exchanged! Eventually, we found the flat that was selling a second hand pram. The flat that we wanted, was a huge monolith block, on about 30 floors, it was nestled among about ten other huge blocks, of similar size, that were nestled within about thirty other huge blocks, that rose up to the sky, like giant erections to the socialist dream, of free, communal rabbit box living. We parked the car and went to the flat. The seller met us downstairs and the pram seemed OK, the owner seemed normal, had all his teeth and looked relatively sane, so we paid the money and left. When we got outside his block, my first kid wanted an ice cream, so I found supermarket near by. It had most things in it but I noticed that alcohol was the main item of sale. There were shelves, from floor to ceiling, selling every type of Vodka, wine and beer. I waited in line behind three people, at four o'clock in the afternoon, all of them were buying Vodka, I felt kind of foolish paying for an ice cream, maybe you can buy a Vodka ice cream? 

So I now have a phone of some description (a bada phone) that I hate, three prams and TV that does not work. Maybe I need to collect the tears of a thousand virgins, to lift this Moscow gypsy curse or think positively and improve my inner karma. Maybe then, good fortune will come my way? I don't know. One thing is for sure, I need a long break from Moscow, this city saps all your energy and joie de vivre, leaving you feeling like a squeezed out sponge.

My spot has been burst and just writing about these frustrations, I feel slightly better, so thank you for listening dear reader and for offering me some light creative mental relief.

Related stories: Best Posts

© All Rights Reserved.

Airports, tax and sausages

Family and I have just escaped the iron clutches of smoky Moscow and had a wonderful break in the land of sausages, lederhosen and the birth place of its most famous mass murderer, Mr Adolf Hitler . Of course, you won't see that mentioned on any tourist pack advertising Austria. I have a soft spot for Austria, not because of Adolf but in my opinion it has the most beautiful nature in all of Europe. You can walk by pure clear streams, smell pure fresh oxygen and not see a dumped plastic bottle, SUV or oligarch anywhere, unless you visit a top five star bling hotel. We walked up mountain paths, under blue skis and Moscow felt like a life time ago to me. We woke up to birds singing, we enjoyed unhealthy foods, ate sausages with fries, huge apple strudel deserts with whipped cream and met smiling waiters and waitress. Austrian cooking is very tasty but you will leave a lot fatter than when you arrived. After a few days, my foot skin had become soft again and my nose was clear of all snot. (long story, see Best Posts)

Returning to Moscow, is a bit like going to the dentist, you hate going but know you have to. I hate living in Moscow but it puts food on our table and money in our pockets, so we accept it, Moscow is one ugly bitch but she won't yet sign the divorce papers so we are stuck with her for now. When you live in Moscow for any period of time, it is vital that you get out of Moscow at least every three to four months, to breath clean air, see green nature and experience normal prices. If you don't, you will either go mad or be absorbed into the living mechanism of Moscow, like the Borg in a Star Trek movie. I have given up trying to be politically correct and polite about Moscow, in case any Russians read this blog but after two years of living here, I am past caring who I offend and frankly I don't give a shit anymore. However and much to my surprise, some expatriates love Moscow, as the saying goes, "one mans meat is another mans poison".

There are two main airports in Moscow, Sheremetyevo and Domodedovo. Both are fairly ugly sisters but one is less ugly than the other. If I had to choose between the two, at a forced college dance and only after I had drunk several beers, I would choose Sheremetyevo. We went from Domodedovo airport and she is the sister with a wire brace, buck teeth and an eccentric personality to match. The airport is a big glass building, that looks good from the outside but has the chaos of Lagos airport outside. Police bully and harass anyone who tries to drop off a passenger at the terminal and battered luggage trolleys, lay abandoned all over the place. The luggage check in desk at Transaero was a scene of chaos. People formed lines, like four small streams joining a large river, rather than waiting in an orderly polite line. British men like me, hate improper queuing and I could feel my nervous twitch returning and I began to experience queue rage. Women wearing sun glasses inside the airport, holding Louis Vuitton luggage wrapped up in 30 kilometres of plastic, pushed and shoved in front of us at the check in desk that served multiple destinations. We went by an airline called Transaero. This was not an airline that I had heard of before and I hate flying, so took my bottle of Valium pills that serves as my long term travelling companion on all flights. The plane looked twenty years old but took off OK and got us to Vienna with all our body parts intact. Although I was with the fairies after taking three Valium tablets, I clapped for joy with all the Russians, when the plane landed and kissed my ass hello rather than goodbye, just thankful to not be another Russian air crash statistic.

Leaving Vienna, is almost as stressful as leaving Sheremetyevo. When you buy anything in Austria, you can get the tax back at the airport when you leave. Don't buy any clothes in Moscow, save money and buy them in Austria or anywhere else in Europe. The shops give you a form and stamp it to claim your tax back. When you get through the luggage check in at Vienna, go through the first set of security checks, you can join a long queue, that winds round the corner to get your tax back. They have three windows but had only one person taking the forms, refunds are usually in dollars. On seeing this queue, I thought it must have been managed by the Russians as it was so badly organized. I left my wife to get her money back and shot off with my kid and baby. I found an old office chair in a quite area of the airport and sat down to feed the baby milk while my older kid pushed me around at high speed in the chair as I fed the baby. People looked on at us in disbelief, shock and amusement. It was not easy and my stress levels began to return to Moscow levels, even before I had set foot back in Moscow. One book I did read on holiday, was called the "The well behaved child" by John Rosemond. I made a note to myself, to get tough with kid number one, when returning to Moscow. When you have a pushchair (stroller) you have to take it to bits and put it through the x-ray machine, carry the baby in one arm and hold onto a kid who wants to run through the x-ray machine. You dump all your keys, drugs, guns and money into a tray, take off your trouser belt and walk through the metal detector, with your trousers (pants) down round your ankles while carrying two tormented kids. Thanks terrorists, I think you have your revenge on us father infidels!

Sheremetyevo, is a depressing airport to arrive back in. It has improved a lot since I was in Moscow ten years ago but is still a dark gloomy place to be. You walk down the ramp off the plane, down some stairs and into a dimly lit passport control area, that reminds me of how a prison visiting centre may look. Dark skinned men from some Azerbaijan style country, looking as if they had just left their sheep on the hill side to take a plane, shuffled about in lines wearing scruffy, badly fitting sports clothes and looking moody. At the customs window, a man examines your passport as if it had the meaning of life written inside, he bashes keyboard, tears off bits paper from a pad and stamps bits of paper several times, because he enjoys rubber stamping. Relieved not to be put into handcuffs and bussed of to a remote prison, in deepest Siberia, you go through the customs gate with great relief. I did and then remembered I was back in Moscow. Next stop, is to collect your luggage. People push and shove at the baggage belt to grab their bags that are wrapped up in 50 kilometres of plastic. I could not find a bag trolley, so carried three bags on each shoulder and pushed our suitcase on wheels, with my kid riding on top. After the baggage reclaim, there are two last goals to get past. The "nothing to declare" gate and the taxi men that lay in wait for you like vipers in a bed. We walked through the nothing to declare gate and I felt as guilty as a man with a kilo of crack up is Jackson. I could see piles of confiscated vegetables, scattered about all over the airport floor, it looked like a Moscow Auchan supermarket. I find it hard to believe that people board planes carrying vegetables but I suppose I should not be surprised, maybe vegetables can be dried, smoked and are now as valuable as some drugs? Once past that gate and thankful not to have been blown up, I was asked many times, "taxi", "taxi", "taxi" but by the 6th man that asked it, I said "piss off", as my Valium pills had worn off and I just wanted to get out into the smoky Moscow air. We got home and I am now dreaming of my next trip out of Moscow and counting the days to go.

Related stories: Best Posts

© All Rights Reserved.