At least he was straightforward.

So I'm in Kievskaya Stantsia metro waiting for someone to go on a boat tour of Moscow. I'm early for a change, and I sit down on a bench. The young man (henceforth MCh) sitting next to me turns to me and says,

MCh: What time is it please?

I've been thinking in English all day and I'm not feeling very good, so I just take the lazy way out and hold up my watch so he can see the face. Note: It's 6:40. I'm meeting Ksenia at 7.

[Pause.]

MCh: Tell me, please, what metro is this?

Me: This one?

MCh: Yes.

Dude, are you serious? You're sitting here in a metro station that's well marked and where there are actually three connected stations all with the same name and you're asking me what its name is? I'm still processing kind of slowly and having none of this.

Me: I don't know.

[Pause.]

MCh: Where are you from?

Me: From America.

MCh: America?

Me: Yes.

[Pause.]

MCh: Do you have a morsh?

Me: A what?

MCh: A morsh, do you have a morsh?

Oh man, is my Russian really this bad? What the heck is a morsh?

Me: And what's that?

MCh: Morsh, morsh, morsh. You don't have a morsh?

He seems to think this is a really obvious word. Wait, is he saying muzh? Oh my, that's direct. I start laughing, which is the wrong thing to do. He probably thinks I'm flattered rather than flabbergasted.

Me: No, I don't have a husband.

MCh: Would you like to meet one?

Me: What?

MCh: Would you like to meet one?

Man I KNEW there was something I wanted to do in Moscow. I can't believe I almost came back home without a Russian husband!

Me: I'm sorry, I don't understand you.

MCh: Would you like to meet one?

Me (Shouting over the train): I can't hear you! I don't understand you! I don't speak Russian very well! [All previous protestations to the contrary aside.]

MCh: ...

Me: I'm sorry! I don't understand!

The conversation ends there, but I'll be darned if I'm giving up my primo seat on the bench to avoid this guy. So I sit there stubbornly for the next 15 minutes until my friend texts me.

In retrospect, I would kind of liked to have seen him in action with a Russian woman. I wonder if he just hangs out at Kievskaya asking women in they're married, like the Dan Hammond of the circle line. On another note, the other day when I was standing in line at the Kremlin ticket office, I heard some overaged frat boys asking the Russian woman in front of them where her wedding ring was. I thought at the time that it was a ham-handed, language barrier-inspired pick-up line specific to Americans. Dear overaged frat boys: my apologies. Also, dear man I spurned: I bet you feel silly for approaching possibly the only woman in the whole station who didn't understand the word "muzh."

If you get through this post, I will show you the best song

So Sunday I went out to ВДНХ/VDNKh with someone I met at Ira Glass' lecture. Some clarifications are in order.

1. VDNKh is the All Russian Exhibition Center; it's a large chunk of land with gardens, various monuments, a small souvenir mall, and a fairgrounds (or at least a ferris wheel). My guidebook says that "No other place sums up the rise and fall of the Soviet dream quite as well." That's quite a tagline. Let's see how it did, shall we?


Pamyatnik to Soviet space efforts. That's a rocket ship at the end of it.































Giant statue of Lenin.





I guess our evaluation has to end there, because it was raining, so I myself didn't see much more of it than that.









2. "Someone I met" is the Russian who sat behind me and talked during the lecture to his companion/on his cell phone. Yes, he answered his cell phone and carried on conversations. Maybe three or four times; honestly, I lost count. Anyway, he SOMEHOW sussed out that I was an American and asked for my number because he likes to practice his English, which I'll admit is quite good. The correct answer was, «I don't have a Russian cell» (seriously, can you imagine another time when you can legitimately pretend that you just don't have a phone?), but I'm here to try new things…like becoming acquainted with be-mulleted, insistent men.




Here's me; that grim line my mouth is making = "How did I get myself into this, and what are we supposed to do now that it's raining?"





3. Answer: we huddled together under my umbrella, wandered across the fairgrounds, and then sat down at McDonald's, where he attempted to pay for our lunches. I would call it a date, if not for my antipathy and his condescension.

I wasn't offensively eager to end the afternoon (hell, I wasn't offensively eager to start it), but that's more a reflection of my diplomatic nature than my true feelings. Why? Let me give you a few sample exchanges that run the gamut from awkward to openly racist:


him: "I have trouble understanding your English because of your accent. You're Southern, right?"
me: "…"

[Prerequisite knowledge: he is shorter than I am.]
him: "So what do you think, are Russians taller or shorter than Americans?"
me: "…"

him: "No, Russians don't really like Michelle [Obama] as a woman. Because she's black, and tall, and also big."
me: "… ..."


[Sidenotes: First, no ellipses can properly convey my emotions. Use your imagination/experience with my indignation/knowledge of Michelle-crush/your own indignation as guides. Second, I don't know why you guys all give me so much grief for being quiet. Sometimes it's best to just let other people's comments speak for themselves. Sometimes there's no way to respond to something. And sometimes, you just can't say something nice.]


But the best part was when we got on a metro car that was decorated with quotations about authors (for example, “the writer’s job is to tell people the truth.” Right, until Stalin has them killed), and illustrations aimed at children – bright, colorful, simple.

him: “Can I call this… 'bling-bling’?”
me: “No.”



And that about sums up the afternoon.



You need something to wash that taste out of your mouth, don’t you? Did I mention that it's been rainy? Well as a result, I’ve been thinking a lot about a movie we watched last summer. And a particular song from that movie. It’s not especially relevant, but it a). mentions summer rain, b). shows the Moscow metro escalators in action, and c). is suuuuper catchy. It was the only thing that could lift my spirits on Sunday afternoon, and I’ve been humming it ever since. I promise you won't regret it.