Beginning of the fourth journal entry
For this journal entry, I am going to use a slightly different format. Instead of a diary where I record happenings and impressions on a day by day basis, today I am just going to string together a series of small stories and observations. Why the difference? Because there are only so many ways I can say "got up, looked for a job, hung out at the drugstore". (OK - that was a rather obscure reference to somebody's comedy routine; of course, I can't remember whose right now.)
The Morning Ritual
When I'm away from home, I usually establish a daily ritual that consists of some aerobic exercise (running, riding the stationary bike or some laps in the pool) followed by, hopefully a steam bath or sauna. I prefer to complete this in the morning since you never quite know how the day is going to progress and what time you'll make it back to the hotel.
Russia is famous for its banya (basically a sauna) so I was full of confidence I would be able to establish my "regular" regime. On the first day, I expected the sauna to be attached to the men's locker so I came to the gym just with my workout clothes, a towel and a bath robe (courtesy of the hotel). Much to my disappointment, the banya was not physically attached to the locker room; instead, it was out by the pool. I didn't feel like schlepping back upstairs for the proper attire, so I simply showered and returned to the room.
The next attempt at solidifying the routine was the following day, a Sunday. This time, I came prepared with my bathing suit . As an added bonus, on the way to the health club, I passed through the lobby, where they were not only serving few coffee and tea (which I didn't feel like having before working out), but they also offered complimentary cookies! Needless to say, until the beginning of Lent, the first part of the routine consisted of snagging a few cookies for a light post-workout breakfast of tea and biscuits back in the room.
Back to the health club. After an hour or so on the treadmill followed by a thorough shower, it was on with the bathing suit and out to the pool. And then some. Turns out the sauna was up one flight of stairs and just past the massage room, at which point there were actually two sets of rooms: one for women and the other for men. Ah - I thought it was a unisex unit since it was outside of the locker rooms; that's why I brought my bathing suit. I entered the men's suite, which consisted of a few rooms: first the outer room, which housed the water cooler/heater (the same unit provides both cold and boiling hot water, from different spigots - why don't we have these back home?). To the left of the outer room were the showers, and just past the showers the sauna. Back into the outer room and through the other door brings you into the "post-sauna" room (or "relaxing room"), which housed a total of 7 chaise lounges, with 4 along one wall and 3 along the other, along with a table with tea and little jars of honey and jam.
As it was fairly early on a Sunday morning, no one else was around and I had the whole place to myself. I left my solitary towel on the bench outside the sauna, popped into the sauna to get the bucket, filled it to the rim with some cold water and dashed back into the sweat box. After ladling a few helpings of water onto the hot stones, started the timer on my watch and sat down on the bench to let the hot steam settle down on me. Aaah...
Several minutes later, it was time to add a bit more water and let the hot air overtake me again. Aaah...
In a traditional banya, at some point during the sweat phase, you would perform self-flagellation with a set of wet young birch twigs. This sounds a bit masochistic and painful, and I must admit I never actually quite performed this part of the process. The theory behind the birch beating is it helps to improve the circulation by bringing more blood to the surface of the skin. However, this last winter in New York, my eldest sister treated the siblings to a session at a Russian-style banya in NYC and they offered a similar treatment; in that version, the therapists used branches of an oak tree (with the leaves still attached) and lightly dusted the client for about 3 minutes on a side, and strangely enough, it felt wonderful. Maybe the birch branches would produce a similar sensation - I still have a couple of days left - maybe I'll got birch branch hunting tonight.
You can only stay in the sauna for so long, and after ten minutes, I was ready for phase two: a rinse in cold water. (In a "traditional" Russian, and I think Scandinavian version, too, the second phase is usually a run into a snow bank; I was extremely grateful this sauna was on the second floor without an egress to the outside!) As I think I mentioned before, this temperature shock is supposedly very beneficial to the one's health (assuming you don't have a pre-existing heart condition.)
Finally onto the last phase: the resting. Prepared a cup of green tea and plopped down onto a chaise lounge to allow my body to come back down to room temperature, which took about twenty minutes or so. If I had enough time, I would have repeated the whole process again, but I had plans to meet Alexey at 10am, so I needed to return to my room to get ready.
On Monday, I started my ritual as normal (this time only 30 minutes on the bike as I had to leave the hotel by 9am to start my trek into work and you know I wasn't cutting the sauna portion short) and then walked up to the sauna suite in my bathing suit with my towel in hand. This time, it turns out I was not the only occupant, and this is when I discovered the proper "attire" for the sauna. Since the units were segregated by gender, all the other partakers were "au natural" and sitting on towels. Since I only had 1 towel, I could not quite do this, so I kept my bathing suit on (just to have something between me and the hot boards). Most of the other guys also had something on their heads (either a special "banya hat" or simply a towel wrapped around the head) because the steam from the water can get a bit overpowering when the water is first ladled onto the stones and it really hits you in the crown. Again, not something I could do with just one towel.
My timer popped and I exited the sauna, performed the pulse-quickening cold water rinse and entered the "relaxing" room. Now I really suffered from towel envy! Here I was with my single towel where all the other guys had four or five towels each. Seems like the norm consisted of at least two towels to cover the chaise lounge. Once you settled onto the chair, you then draped one more towel over your lower portion with the fourth draped around your shoulders and chest, and a couple of guys even used a fifth piece to cover their heads so by the end, they were covered in a towel cocoon. And here I was with a single towel!
Not much I could do to remedy the situation as the towels were all the way downstairs and back in the check-in counter. Slightly embarrassed and very aware of the lack of towels under and around me, I completely my cool down and calmly returned to the locker room.
By Tuesday, I had the routine down pat. Following the work-out, I wondered up to the sauna suite with my towels and bath robe; in a very minor attempt at being green, I only used 3 large towels and 2 small ones: 1 small one to sit on, the other small one to cover my head, 2 to line the chaise lounge and 1 to cover myself with during the cool down. After a few days, I seemed to notice a pattern: the older the person, the more towels he used - maybe that was my true motivation for cutting down to 3 large and 2 small. Also noticed the younger kids (based on my large sample size of two) didn't quite get the routine and were almost as towel challenged as I was on my first foray into sauna.
My Sweettooth is Genetic!
As you probably already know, I have a bit of a sweettooth (is that the understatement of the year or what?). From what I can tell, all Russians enjoy their sweets. During my first visit back in 1982, I figured the Russians consumed so much sugar (in tea, chocolates, cakes, ...) because they had to prop up the Cuban economy. However, maybe it was the other way around and they exerted their influence into that country to secure a sugar source for their population.
Even now, the Russians are incredibly proud of their chocolate. Since I knew they enjoyed chocolate and tea, I decided to bring over some Ghirardelli chocolate and Harney and Sons tea (their shop is in Millerton and is worth the 30 minute drive from Hopewell) as a gift for the group. Yesterday I finally brought the goods into work and set them up on the cabinet near my work station in this open floor plan office. The person next to me took a piece of the dark chocolate, and without even sampling it, asked me, "Don't you like Russian chocolates?" While this struck me as incredibly rude, I'm writing it off to lack of fluency in English. By the end of the day, all the chocolate was gone, so I guess they were acceptable.
Back to the banya. In the "relaxing room", the occupants enjoy a cup of tea (the selection consists of only decaf varieties) and some sweets. The table is decked with little jars of honey and jam. Some guys put the contents of the jar (or two!) into the little paper cup with their tea. Other guys just eat the honey or jam straight out of the jar! OK - these are little jars (the individual size you sometime see in restaurants), but they don't consume the contents of just one. The normal serving size (again, this is based on a sample size of 5 or 6 regulars, so maybe I just sweat with the sweetest) is 2 or 3 jars.
What a relief - now I know it is not my fault I have such a craving for sweets - it is in my genes!
Banya Talk
On a slightly related topic, there seem to be basically two categories of banya goers: those who talk and those who are silent. Regardless of which one you are, you still utter the customary greetings when you enter the sauna (something along the lines of "Greetings - have a good sweat") and once you leave the relaxing room, you utter the normal departing phrase ("Congratulations on your sweat" or "Have a good one"). Some guys actually take a nap while in the relaxing room, where most guys engage in some small talk. However, there is one guy, we'll call him The Judge, who acts almost like a sauna arbitrator. I can't really follow the conversations, but I can catch bits and pieces, and it seems as if The Judge is always offering his advice on the problems and predicaments of his follower banya-goers.
Just a couple of days ago, there were only three of us in the relaxing room: The Judge was in the middle with me on one side and some guy fast asleep (well, at least snoring) on the other side. By the way The Judge fidgeted around, I could tell it was killing him not having anyone to talk to! Eventually, he resorted to waking up the snorer just to fulfill his need to pontificate.
On another occasion during Maselnitsa (the week before Lent), I could follow along with the conversion, which not surprisingly, eventually turned to religion and customs. The Judge informed everyone that Maselnitsa was originally a pagan customer (which is true as many Christianity adopted many local customs to ease the introduction of the faith), and then they started to talk about faith, in general. Everyone agreed that some faith was needed, and I was aching to ask how they acted upon that faith during the communist era, but I didn't want to seem like a rude foreigner. Then they started to debate the date when Prince Vladimir brought Christianity to his land (called Rus at the time) and since they were off by a few hundred years, I finally chimed in with the date I remembered from school: 988.
Then the conversation took an unexpected turn. Before I knew it, The Judge commented on the composition of Lenin's Politburo and Central Committee (inner circle). Over 90% of the members were Jewish, maybe as much as 95%, and even Lenin himself was at least a quarter Jewish. And no one explicitly stated it, but you knew they were all thinking it. Which leads to the next topic...
To be PC or not be PC
Being Politically Correct isn't quite a necessity here. As we heard in the banya, anti-Semitism is still alive and well here in Russia. I'm not saying all Russian are anti-Semites as I am only working with a sample size of 6 and only one person made the comment, however, I was just surprised to hear it all (especially in the presence of an obvious foreigner). Xenophobia is fairly strong, too. The Duma passed some laws recently that limit the number of foreigners that are allowed to operate stalls in markets and kiosks along the street (from what I remembered, the limit was dropped to a maximum of 50% allotted for non-Russians and that number is going to be lowered later in the year). Furthermore, I've heard cases of, and was witness to a few incidents, where the police harass a person for his papers (every one needs to carry proper papers with them at all times, including foreigners; usually I lock my passport in the room safe, but this was the one place where I always have my passport with me).
At first I thought maybe I was over-reacting and projecting my preconceived notions onto a situation that might have other possible explanations. However, one day in the The Moscow Times (the English language daily newspaper delivered to the room every weekday), I came across an article about a Newsweek reported based in Moscow. One night, just about midnight, a bunch of hooligans approached the reporter and asked (I am paraphrasing here), "Don't you know Russia is only for Russians?" I'm not sure what made the reported stand out so readily (and from what I remember, his name sounded somewhat Russian), and I am not such what prompted him to respond as he did, but the reporter took a somewhat confrontation tone. I am not saying this justified the hooligan's behavior, but I think it isn't too surprising the verbal exchange progressed to a physical encounter. Don't worry - I'm not usually on the metro that late at night, and you can rest assured I won't strike a confrontational tone with drunken thugs.
In today's paper, there was another interesting article. A government official from Ingushetia was in town for a conference on energy tariffs. Before the event, he decided to visit his brother in northern Moscow, but he never made it that far; during the middle of the day, he was attacked outside of metro station Sukharevskaya and bludgeoned to death. Since all his valuables were still on him and he has an Asiatic appearance, the officials are treating this as another potential hate crime. The scary part is that this metro stop is one stop before mine, and I've walked around that neighborhood in search of Chinese and Japanese food.
On a more humorous non-PC note, almost every day I walked past an Italian restaurant called Il Patio. The first few days I was here, they were running a promotional campaign for some specials, and they called it The Mafia Grill.
Along similar lines, a couple of nights ago I ventured into a supermarket with a supposed large Asian section (it was on the second floor and I never made it up there), and the name of the place was Jappo.
I can't wait to see what they call a soul-food restaurant.
OK - I think I've rambled on enough for now.
End of the fourth entry.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Moscow Journal #03: 2/5/2007
Beginning of the third journal entry.
Monday, February 5th - the first day of work! On Sunday, Alexey told me there were two options for getting to Krasnopresnenskaya Naberezhnaya Building Number 18 Floor 19 (also known as "the IBM building" from here on out): first, after walking to the closest metro station to the hotel (Prospekt Mira), I could take the Circle Line 3 stops to Krasnopresnenskaya Station and then look for the free shuttle bus for a 10 minute ride to the IBM building; second, I could take the metro one additional stop to Kievskaya Station and transfer to the Filyoskaya line and take the second train another 2 stops to the end of the line, at which point the IBM building would be just a few minutes by foot. Since I wasn't exactly sure where the shuttle bus would be outside the metro station, I opted for the second option.
After the morning ritual (tread mill or stationary bike followed by a sauna, cold rinse and then 20 minute rest of a chaise lounge, but you'll more about that in the next note), I got dressed for work. I knew to pack good boots and I also brought a few sweaters with me figuring I needed to prepare for a Russian winter; it might have defeated Napoleon and Hitler, but I was determined to survive. All geared up for the elements, I set off for the metro station. Within a few minutes, as the sweat started to drip down my back, it was apparent I was a bit over dressed for these conditions. Turns out, just like back home, Russia (well, at least Moscow) was in the middle of an abnormally warm winter. Alexey said it even rained on New Year's Day this year, and no one remembers that happening before - ever. Once I got to work, I checked the forecast for Poughkeepsie, and for my first few days in Russia, New York had colder temperatures than Moscow. But I jumped a little ahead of myself here. Back to the metro.
Years ago when I studied Russian, one of the aspects of the languages we learned was called "intonation constructions". In Russian, there are basically 5 patterns for the pitch within a sentence, and for the most part, they are very similar to patterns we use in English. For example, IK1 (intonation construction 1) is used for a simple statement of fact: I am going to the store. Russian is more constant in pitch than English, and you stay on one level until you get to the word you want to stress, and then you drop a bit and stay at that level for the remainder of the sentence. IK2 is used for questions that start with a question word: where are you going? You stress the question word a little more than in IK1 and then you go lower. IK3 is used for re-asking questions or expressing disbelief (similar to asking, "You are going WHERE?" in English). When listing items in a sentence, you can use IK4, which almost sounds a bit like the Valley Girls (I went to the STORE, and then met my FRIEND and then we went to the MALL), where you rise in pitch towards the end of each phrase. The last one IK5, is used almost exclusively by women, or maybe more accurately, more expressively by women, and it used to convey extreme emotions. You start low, then go as high as you can, and just kept going. The example I remember hearing when we learned these was someone commenting on the number of people in GUM (Government Universal Store - the huge shopping area on Red Square) around New Years, "In the store THERE WERE PEOPLE!"
For some reason, that always stuck in my head. Well, IK5 definitely came to mind when I had to transfer from the Circle Line to the Filyoskaya Line at Kievskaya Station. Three metro lines meet at that locale, and above ground is one of the 9 major inter-city train stations. As the people burst forth from my metro car, I joined the swarm of commuters in the rush to make the transfer between lines. It wasn't quite like being a sardine in a can as we were all moving; it was more like being a blood cell squeezing through a blocked artery. (OK, I do subscribe to the National Geographic, and yes, I did bring the February 2007 edition with me and indeed, I did just finish the title article "Healing the Heart".)
To complicate matters (at least in an American's eyes), the Russians, like most Europeans, don't really queue (line-up). As we bumped our away along, gently swaying from side to side in a shuffle, surging ever closer and closer to the escalator, people would swing along the outside of the mass and just squeeze their way into the pack. While there might not be rules about queueing up, once you step onto the escalator, you better stay to the right if you plan on standing (and allow those who want to walk to pass freely on the left-hand side). One of the few "rules" Russians willingly obey, and there are even escalator monitors, one at the top and one at the bottom of each long stretch, and their little booths contain multiple monitors for them to keep tabs of the people on the moving stairs. If a particular behavior needs correcting, they announce the infraction over the PA and remind the transgressor to conduct himself in a more appropriate manner.
Don't remember how long I was part of the mob (I think I was just so shocked, I completely lost track of time), but eventually I located the platform for my second train. Most of the trains in the system runs extremely frequently (every 2 minutes during rush hour and every 4 minutes off-peak), but this line is much less frequent as it is so short. According to the sign board, I had a 15 minute wait until my train arrived in the station. Retrieved the complimentary copy of The Moscow Times from my computer bag and started to catch up on the local and international news. A couple of minutes later, a train pulled into the station, and according to the board, it was bound for the other destination (this platform was the splitting point for a line that serves two different end points). However, I just caught over the PA the announcement that this train, contrary to what was posted on the board, was indeed bound for Mezhdynarodnaya - my destination! I quickly headed for the doors, just as the onboard taped announcement chimed out. "Watch out - the doors are closing! The next stop is Delovoi Tsenter. " Well, those doors close with some force, I can tell you! Didn't quite make it into the car by the time the doors slammed shut, and I got a bit pinched. Not quite the graceful entry into the train I had hoped for. Luckily someone inside the train helped pull open the door to let me in, and I must admit I was a bit afraid I was going to become a statistic of the Moscow Metro System!
Just two stops later, out of the train, up the escalator and onto the street. There was a sign indicating my street was just outside this door, but once I exited the metro station, there were no more signs. I had an address: 18, and I knew I was looking for a building that was at least 19 floors tall. However, surveying the surroundings, all the buildings in the immediate proximity were only 2 or 3 stories tall and all the taller buildings were under construction. A few blocks to the left (east) there appeared to be a building of sufficient height and fully built, so I made my way in that direction. Unfortunately, that building didn't have the right number. From here, I spied a few more possibilities now on my right (south from the metro), and off I went.
Along the way, I asked an old-man sweeping snow off the sidewalk in front on an office for directions, and he sent me along in the same direction. A couple of blocks away, I consulted with a policeman for further instructions. Turns out, I was headed in the wrong direction; instead of continuing straight, I needed to talk another right (now heading west from the metro). A few minutes later, I finally hit the river, which was a good sign as Naberezhnaya means river bank. As it turns out, from the metro, the IBM building is located behind two buildings that are under construction, and I made a huge circle in getting there.
IBM is not the only occupant of the building (actually, I don't think IBM even occupies the largest number of floors in the building as Proctor and Gamble has more entries on the directory board) and I had to get a building pass from the security desk in the lobby. The interesting thing about this building, and I've never seen this in any other building, was the method for separating the destinations for the elevators. While I've seen elevator banks segregated based on the floors they serve, they take that method one step further here. Once you get to the proper bank, you then have to select your target floor on a number pad outside the elevators. Then the pad tells you which of the 4 available elevators will take you to your floor, and on the way up, the buttons in the elevator don't work. This way you can get all the people headed for same floor (or limited number of floors) into one car, and the car makes fewer stops along the way. Quite innovative!
Up to floor 19, and luckily Alexey happened to step off one of the other elevators just about the same time. Since I did not have a valid IBM badge, yet, he let me into the IBM secured door, and into the clock room. I think all offices, museums, theatres, concert halls and most restaurants have a clock room. In most of them, it is just a place to shed your coat and hat while you enjoy the services inside. For the office (and in the vestibule of someone's house), it is also a place to remove your wet, dirty footwear and change into "indoor" shoes or slippers. This way, you don't track mud, dirt and grime across all the floors; again, quite practical, and luckily I knew to pack a pair of dress shoes in my backpack so I could conform to the local custom.
We'll skip the details of the actual work portion of the day. Work is work, after all, The only interesting item was the exchange I had with the folks I work with about the various options for the commute. When I told them I made the transfer at Kievskaya, they all looked a little shocked and asked me for my impressions. IK5 to the rescue - "In Kievskaya THERE WERE PEOPLE!" And they were duly impressed.
Luckily they told me where to wait for the shuttle bus from the IBM Building back to the metro, and from that I was able to determine where to wait for the shuttle bus the next (and most every other) day.
Looks like this note is lengthy enough, so I sign off here for now. I promise the next few entries won't drag for quite so long (especially since I don't have quite as many notes and I'm not sure how much I am going to recall once I actually get down to composing the next entry).
End of the third entry.
Monday, February 5th - the first day of work! On Sunday, Alexey told me there were two options for getting to Krasnopresnenskaya Naberezhnaya Building Number 18 Floor 19 (also known as "the IBM building" from here on out): first, after walking to the closest metro station to the hotel (Prospekt Mira), I could take the Circle Line 3 stops to Krasnopresnenskaya Station and then look for the free shuttle bus for a 10 minute ride to the IBM building; second, I could take the metro one additional stop to Kievskaya Station and transfer to the Filyoskaya line and take the second train another 2 stops to the end of the line, at which point the IBM building would be just a few minutes by foot. Since I wasn't exactly sure where the shuttle bus would be outside the metro station, I opted for the second option.
After the morning ritual (tread mill or stationary bike followed by a sauna, cold rinse and then 20 minute rest of a chaise lounge, but you'll more about that in the next note), I got dressed for work. I knew to pack good boots and I also brought a few sweaters with me figuring I needed to prepare for a Russian winter; it might have defeated Napoleon and Hitler, but I was determined to survive. All geared up for the elements, I set off for the metro station. Within a few minutes, as the sweat started to drip down my back, it was apparent I was a bit over dressed for these conditions. Turns out, just like back home, Russia (well, at least Moscow) was in the middle of an abnormally warm winter. Alexey said it even rained on New Year's Day this year, and no one remembers that happening before - ever. Once I got to work, I checked the forecast for Poughkeepsie, and for my first few days in Russia, New York had colder temperatures than Moscow. But I jumped a little ahead of myself here. Back to the metro.
Years ago when I studied Russian, one of the aspects of the languages we learned was called "intonation constructions". In Russian, there are basically 5 patterns for the pitch within a sentence, and for the most part, they are very similar to patterns we use in English. For example, IK1 (intonation construction 1) is used for a simple statement of fact: I am going to the store. Russian is more constant in pitch than English, and you stay on one level until you get to the word you want to stress, and then you drop a bit and stay at that level for the remainder of the sentence. IK2 is used for questions that start with a question word: where are you going? You stress the question word a little more than in IK1 and then you go lower. IK3 is used for re-asking questions or expressing disbelief (similar to asking, "You are going WHERE?" in English). When listing items in a sentence, you can use IK4, which almost sounds a bit like the Valley Girls (I went to the STORE, and then met my FRIEND and then we went to the MALL), where you rise in pitch towards the end of each phrase. The last one IK5, is used almost exclusively by women, or maybe more accurately, more expressively by women, and it used to convey extreme emotions. You start low, then go as high as you can, and just kept going. The example I remember hearing when we learned these was someone commenting on the number of people in GUM (Government Universal Store - the huge shopping area on Red Square) around New Years, "In the store THERE WERE PEOPLE!"
For some reason, that always stuck in my head. Well, IK5 definitely came to mind when I had to transfer from the Circle Line to the Filyoskaya Line at Kievskaya Station. Three metro lines meet at that locale, and above ground is one of the 9 major inter-city train stations. As the people burst forth from my metro car, I joined the swarm of commuters in the rush to make the transfer between lines. It wasn't quite like being a sardine in a can as we were all moving; it was more like being a blood cell squeezing through a blocked artery. (OK, I do subscribe to the National Geographic, and yes, I did bring the February 2007 edition with me and indeed, I did just finish the title article "Healing the Heart".)
To complicate matters (at least in an American's eyes), the Russians, like most Europeans, don't really queue (line-up). As we bumped our away along, gently swaying from side to side in a shuffle, surging ever closer and closer to the escalator, people would swing along the outside of the mass and just squeeze their way into the pack. While there might not be rules about queueing up, once you step onto the escalator, you better stay to the right if you plan on standing (and allow those who want to walk to pass freely on the left-hand side). One of the few "rules" Russians willingly obey, and there are even escalator monitors, one at the top and one at the bottom of each long stretch, and their little booths contain multiple monitors for them to keep tabs of the people on the moving stairs. If a particular behavior needs correcting, they announce the infraction over the PA and remind the transgressor to conduct himself in a more appropriate manner.
Don't remember how long I was part of the mob (I think I was just so shocked, I completely lost track of time), but eventually I located the platform for my second train. Most of the trains in the system runs extremely frequently (every 2 minutes during rush hour and every 4 minutes off-peak), but this line is much less frequent as it is so short. According to the sign board, I had a 15 minute wait until my train arrived in the station. Retrieved the complimentary copy of The Moscow Times from my computer bag and started to catch up on the local and international news. A couple of minutes later, a train pulled into the station, and according to the board, it was bound for the other destination (this platform was the splitting point for a line that serves two different end points). However, I just caught over the PA the announcement that this train, contrary to what was posted on the board, was indeed bound for Mezhdynarodnaya - my destination! I quickly headed for the doors, just as the onboard taped announcement chimed out. "Watch out - the doors are closing! The next stop is Delovoi Tsenter. " Well, those doors close with some force, I can tell you! Didn't quite make it into the car by the time the doors slammed shut, and I got a bit pinched. Not quite the graceful entry into the train I had hoped for. Luckily someone inside the train helped pull open the door to let me in, and I must admit I was a bit afraid I was going to become a statistic of the Moscow Metro System!
Just two stops later, out of the train, up the escalator and onto the street. There was a sign indicating my street was just outside this door, but once I exited the metro station, there were no more signs. I had an address: 18, and I knew I was looking for a building that was at least 19 floors tall. However, surveying the surroundings, all the buildings in the immediate proximity were only 2 or 3 stories tall and all the taller buildings were under construction. A few blocks to the left (east) there appeared to be a building of sufficient height and fully built, so I made my way in that direction. Unfortunately, that building didn't have the right number. From here, I spied a few more possibilities now on my right (south from the metro), and off I went.
Along the way, I asked an old-man sweeping snow off the sidewalk in front on an office for directions, and he sent me along in the same direction. A couple of blocks away, I consulted with a policeman for further instructions. Turns out, I was headed in the wrong direction; instead of continuing straight, I needed to talk another right (now heading west from the metro). A few minutes later, I finally hit the river, which was a good sign as Naberezhnaya means river bank. As it turns out, from the metro, the IBM building is located behind two buildings that are under construction, and I made a huge circle in getting there.
IBM is not the only occupant of the building (actually, I don't think IBM even occupies the largest number of floors in the building as Proctor and Gamble has more entries on the directory board) and I had to get a building pass from the security desk in the lobby. The interesting thing about this building, and I've never seen this in any other building, was the method for separating the destinations for the elevators. While I've seen elevator banks segregated based on the floors they serve, they take that method one step further here. Once you get to the proper bank, you then have to select your target floor on a number pad outside the elevators. Then the pad tells you which of the 4 available elevators will take you to your floor, and on the way up, the buttons in the elevator don't work. This way you can get all the people headed for same floor (or limited number of floors) into one car, and the car makes fewer stops along the way. Quite innovative!
Up to floor 19, and luckily Alexey happened to step off one of the other elevators just about the same time. Since I did not have a valid IBM badge, yet, he let me into the IBM secured door, and into the clock room. I think all offices, museums, theatres, concert halls and most restaurants have a clock room. In most of them, it is just a place to shed your coat and hat while you enjoy the services inside. For the office (and in the vestibule of someone's house), it is also a place to remove your wet, dirty footwear and change into "indoor" shoes or slippers. This way, you don't track mud, dirt and grime across all the floors; again, quite practical, and luckily I knew to pack a pair of dress shoes in my backpack so I could conform to the local custom.
We'll skip the details of the actual work portion of the day. Work is work, after all, The only interesting item was the exchange I had with the folks I work with about the various options for the commute. When I told them I made the transfer at Kievskaya, they all looked a little shocked and asked me for my impressions. IK5 to the rescue - "In Kievskaya THERE WERE PEOPLE!" And they were duly impressed.
Luckily they told me where to wait for the shuttle bus from the IBM Building back to the metro, and from that I was able to determine where to wait for the shuttle bus the next (and most every other) day.
Looks like this note is lengthy enough, so I sign off here for now. I promise the next few entries won't drag for quite so long (especially since I don't have quite as many notes and I'm not sure how much I am going to recall once I actually get down to composing the next entry).
End of the third entry.
Moscow Journal #02: 2/3/2007 - 2/4/2007
Start of the second journal entry.
After the rather long day's (or was it days'?) journey to reach Moscow, I didn't feel the need to start off at the crack of dawn with my sightseeing. Even more justification for sleeping in was I had already made plans with a colleague from work to hit some of the sights on Sunday. I am not even sure what time I woke up on Saturday, but at some point I did pull myself out from under the blanket and I made my way down to the gym - after all, I needed to establish the regime for my morning ritual! I had great expectations of taking a nice relaxing sauna after riding a stationary bike or plodding along on a treadmill. Managed to fulfill the prerequisite physical activity, but didn't quite meet with success with the sauna. Turns out the sauna was not in the men's locker room, but out by the pool and I didn't bring my bathing suit with me. What a disappointment!
I generally avoid eating in the hotel and choose to find sustenance outside, but I was already quite hungry (since I managed to miss dinner the night before - believe it or not!), and I opted to dine "in". It was quite a nice buffet: an assortment of cold meats and cheeses, cereals, fruit, pastries, and blini (Russian form of crepes) with a nice assortment of juices along with tea (with water from a samovar!). To be honest, I think the real reason I tend to avoid eating breakfast in the hotel is most establishments have buffets for the morning meal, and I find it very difficult to stop eating!
Even though I was here 25 years ago, it is surprising how little I remember of the city so it is extremely fortunate I armed myself back in Poughkeepsie with my reliable tourbook - The Lonely Planet Guide to Moscow. Given my arrangements to tour the Kremlin and Novodevichy Cemetery on Sunday with Alexey, I opted to follow one of the LP's recommended walks for my first foray around Moscow. First I had to find the metro, and I have no rules against getting help from the hotel's concierge. Turns out, it is just a 10-minute walk with only 2 turns; even after a long haul and who knows how much (or more accurately, little) sleep, I managed to find the entrance.
I checked the Lonely Planet guide for some information on the metro, trying to figure out what would be the most economic option for buying metro tickets given I am going to be here for just about a month. LP listed some multi-ticket packages, but it didn't mention the monthly special I remember getting when I was a student here. This "one pass" ticket was good on all forms of transportation (metro, trolleybus, tram and bus) and was quite a bargain. Checked around the ticket window, and eventually I found the list of options, and my little "one pass" was still there! Not quite as unlimited now as it only allows for 70 trips on the metro, but still the best buy.
The metro has aged a bit since I was last here (but then again, so have I), and the station's could use with some refreshing, particularly around the entrances and exits. However the metro still outshines the NYC subway system. One afternoon, I'll have to make a project of just photographing all the interesting art-work and decorations in the system. And within two minutes, I was on a train towards the center of town.
Just a few stops down the line, I was in Kitai Gorod, which from modern Russian translates into English as "China City", but there's no General's Tso Chicken here! Actually, the Russian word has an older root from the word for "waddle", which refers to an early fortification. This is an older section of town (right off of Red Square, so I had to be careful to not accidentally wander into Lenin's resting place since I was saving that for Sunday).
Usually when I head out of town and I'm going to be away for a while, I try to find an Orthodox church at my destination. If I remember, I ask the local priest for a recommendation, or if I forget to do that, I check the phone book. However, during just this little 2 hour walk around a rather small section of Moscow, I managed to visit 3 Orthodox churches, and I didn't even go into all the possibilities! Shouldn't have any problems fulfilling my spiritual needs during this trip.
Another big change from my previous visit was the lack of the Hotel Rossiya, which used to be one of the largest hotels in the world (from what I remember). Years ago it could use with some renovations, and I guess they finally decided to do something about it. However, instead of simply giving it a face lift, they decided to complete raze the building and construct several smaller facilities on the same foot print.
With the first tour complete, I started to circumnavigate around Red Square and the outside wall of the Kremlin and came across the Central Exhibition Hall, which housed the exhibit "Light to the World" - a display of various icons and other religious articles. Sounded interesting to me, so I popped in. Much to my surprise, I caught the end of speech by Patriarch Alexey of All Russia. Had no idea what he was saying, but the rest of the crowd seemed captivated.
After finishing with the exhibit, I zipped back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. Back in December, I met Tanya (the niece of a friend from church), and Tanya works at the Anglo-American School here in Moscow. Before I left New York, we made plans to hook up for dinner and it sounded like it was going to be quite an evening. Our destination - Old Havana, a Cuban restaurant on the other side of town. The agreement was I would join her group of 5 all female co-workers from school if they didn't mind if my head hit the table during the meal. As it turns out, didn't have to worry about going face down in Old Havana, and not because I got a good night's sleep. Turns out dinner included a show, and what a show it was! A fairly large number of performers (both male and female) performing various Latin flavored dance numbers, and it seemed as the night went on, the amount of clothing on the performers grew less and less. There were several acts and during the intermissions, some women worked the diners hawking their goods; first round was some overly priced maracas; second round, some Che Guevera-style hats. That saleswoman was quite persistent that I needed such head gear, and even though I could use additional hats, that one was just not my style. And I had to be quite forceful in stating my position before she finally decided to leave our table.
Before the dancers shed all their clothes, our group decided it was time to leave. And who was at the exit bidding the departing guests good-bye? The hat lady! I thought for sure I was not going to get my coat out of the coat-check, but her stern demeanor softened enough to allow me to depart unscathed and fully decked in my outerwear.
A quick car ride back to the hotel, and the first full day in Moscow came to a close.
On Sunday morning, I made my way down to the gym with my bathing suit tucked under my arm for the post-work out schvitz. Turns out not only is the sauna not attached to the work-out room or the men's locker room, it isn't quite attached to the pool either. It's located up a staircase, past the massage room, where it separates into the men's and women's room. As I walked past the pool, I noticed a sign board with the average air and water temperatures of 27 and 28 degrees centigrade respectively (leaving the conversion as an exercise for the reader) along with a warning that there was no life guard on duty and people entered the pool at their own risk. Surprising - those messages were only in English! I guess only the American are litigious enough to require a lifeguard at every pool.
I was the only person up early enough to enjoy the heat, so I had the whole place to myself. In the traditional enjoyment of a banya (Russian sauna), the occupant takes a plunge in a snow bank after exiting the sauna. If you don't have a pre-existing heart condition, this sudden change in temperatures supposedly enhances one's constitution. Luckily this banya does not have an external access, so we have to replace the snow bank with a quick rinse in a shower stall. Two things I find amazing about this whole process: first, how long it takes to cool down after just a 10-minute stay in the heat (even after the cold water rinse), and second, how fast your heart starts to pump as a result of the cold water rinse!
With the foundation for my morning ritual established, popped back upstairs for a quick breakfast of tea and the complimentary cookies housekeeping leaves every day and then rushed back down to the lobby by 10am to hook up with Alexey. I got there a few minutes early and stood by the door reading my Lonely Planet Guide. There was a guy sitting on the couch by the door, but he didn't resemble the picture of Alexey in the internal IBM directory. I stood for a while, he sat for a while, and as you probably already figured out, we were indeed waiting for each other. Looks like I might have to update my picture in the directory as he thought I didn't resemble my current entry. (OK, I wasn't in a wet suit with a scuba mask around my neck, but I am still bald and bearded - fairly good parameters for a match!)
As promised, Alexey took me to the Armory within the Kremlin, where there are rooms filled with some of the treasures from the Tsars. This is where (25 years ago), I saw my first Faberge egg, and from what I remember, there was a large display of Faberge items. However, part of the collection must be on loan or traveling as there were a rather limited supply of those gorgeous works of art this time.
Unfortunately, the ticket to the Armory only allows you to visit the Armory; you can't wander around anywhere else. Once we finished with that session (you only get 90 minutes), it was back online for another ticket that allowed us access to the Kremlin grounds. Turns out there are different tickets for that portion of the Kremlin, too, and the ones we got only allowed us onto the grounds and not into the churches and museums within the Kremlin. Didn't feel like exiting the Kremlin to wait online (again) for yet another ticket, so for this first visit, I had to settle for just walking around the outside of the building and strolling around the grounds (while ensuring I didn't stray off any designated path, in which case one of the many militsioners would inform me of my transgression with a shrill call of a the whistle).
Several times already in these notes, I've mentioned a previous trip to Moscow I made back in 1982. As it turns out, there was one more brief visit to Moscow in 1993. In the summer of that year, I participated in an EarthWatch trip to St. Petersburg where I counted dead trees in various forests around St. Petersburg. (If you want more details on that, I'll send them in a separate note). After the EarthWatch project, I popped down to Moscow for a weekend before returning home. On that trip, I once again visited the Kremlin, and the most striking thing I remember was the dual pricing scheme for tickets to the Kremlin. Locals and residents of the former republics of the Soviet Union paid one price, and all foreigners paid a much higher price (from what I remember, it was about 10 times more expensive).
This time, every one pays the same price. However, foreigner still get dinged when it comes to renting the audio guides as the Russian version is always cheaper than all the other languages.
After the Kremlin, we strolled around Red Square, then across the Moscow River for a slightly different view of St. Basil's, the Kremlin and Red Square. On my previous trip, if, for some reason (as if being surrounded by people speaking Russian wasn't enough), I needed a reminder that I was actually in Moscow, I would head to Red Square to gawk at St. Basil's and the Kremlin wall. I have a feeling I'll be repeating that journey many times during this stay, too.
Alexey had to leave around 6pm to hook-up with some friends, so I made my way over to a Georgian restaurant for a quick dinner. (Service is rather quick when you are the only diner in the establishment; looks like the Russians usually eat a bit later in the evening). By the time the check came, jet-lag caught up to me and I was ready to head back to the hotel for some rest.
End of the second journal entry.
After the rather long day's (or was it days'?) journey to reach Moscow, I didn't feel the need to start off at the crack of dawn with my sightseeing. Even more justification for sleeping in was I had already made plans with a colleague from work to hit some of the sights on Sunday. I am not even sure what time I woke up on Saturday, but at some point I did pull myself out from under the blanket and I made my way down to the gym - after all, I needed to establish the regime for my morning ritual! I had great expectations of taking a nice relaxing sauna after riding a stationary bike or plodding along on a treadmill. Managed to fulfill the prerequisite physical activity, but didn't quite meet with success with the sauna. Turns out the sauna was not in the men's locker room, but out by the pool and I didn't bring my bathing suit with me. What a disappointment!
I generally avoid eating in the hotel and choose to find sustenance outside, but I was already quite hungry (since I managed to miss dinner the night before - believe it or not!), and I opted to dine "in". It was quite a nice buffet: an assortment of cold meats and cheeses, cereals, fruit, pastries, and blini (Russian form of crepes) with a nice assortment of juices along with tea (with water from a samovar!). To be honest, I think the real reason I tend to avoid eating breakfast in the hotel is most establishments have buffets for the morning meal, and I find it very difficult to stop eating!
Even though I was here 25 years ago, it is surprising how little I remember of the city so it is extremely fortunate I armed myself back in Poughkeepsie with my reliable tourbook - The Lonely Planet Guide to Moscow. Given my arrangements to tour the Kremlin and Novodevichy Cemetery on Sunday with Alexey, I opted to follow one of the LP's recommended walks for my first foray around Moscow. First I had to find the metro, and I have no rules against getting help from the hotel's concierge. Turns out, it is just a 10-minute walk with only 2 turns; even after a long haul and who knows how much (or more accurately, little) sleep, I managed to find the entrance.
I checked the Lonely Planet guide for some information on the metro, trying to figure out what would be the most economic option for buying metro tickets given I am going to be here for just about a month. LP listed some multi-ticket packages, but it didn't mention the monthly special I remember getting when I was a student here. This "one pass" ticket was good on all forms of transportation (metro, trolleybus, tram and bus) and was quite a bargain. Checked around the ticket window, and eventually I found the list of options, and my little "one pass" was still there! Not quite as unlimited now as it only allows for 70 trips on the metro, but still the best buy.
The metro has aged a bit since I was last here (but then again, so have I), and the station's could use with some refreshing, particularly around the entrances and exits. However the metro still outshines the NYC subway system. One afternoon, I'll have to make a project of just photographing all the interesting art-work and decorations in the system. And within two minutes, I was on a train towards the center of town.
Just a few stops down the line, I was in Kitai Gorod, which from modern Russian translates into English as "China City", but there's no General's Tso Chicken here! Actually, the Russian word has an older root from the word for "waddle", which refers to an early fortification. This is an older section of town (right off of Red Square, so I had to be careful to not accidentally wander into Lenin's resting place since I was saving that for Sunday).
Usually when I head out of town and I'm going to be away for a while, I try to find an Orthodox church at my destination. If I remember, I ask the local priest for a recommendation, or if I forget to do that, I check the phone book. However, during just this little 2 hour walk around a rather small section of Moscow, I managed to visit 3 Orthodox churches, and I didn't even go into all the possibilities! Shouldn't have any problems fulfilling my spiritual needs during this trip.
Another big change from my previous visit was the lack of the Hotel Rossiya, which used to be one of the largest hotels in the world (from what I remember). Years ago it could use with some renovations, and I guess they finally decided to do something about it. However, instead of simply giving it a face lift, they decided to complete raze the building and construct several smaller facilities on the same foot print.
With the first tour complete, I started to circumnavigate around Red Square and the outside wall of the Kremlin and came across the Central Exhibition Hall, which housed the exhibit "Light to the World" - a display of various icons and other religious articles. Sounded interesting to me, so I popped in. Much to my surprise, I caught the end of speech by Patriarch Alexey of All Russia. Had no idea what he was saying, but the rest of the crowd seemed captivated.
After finishing with the exhibit, I zipped back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. Back in December, I met Tanya (the niece of a friend from church), and Tanya works at the Anglo-American School here in Moscow. Before I left New York, we made plans to hook up for dinner and it sounded like it was going to be quite an evening. Our destination - Old Havana, a Cuban restaurant on the other side of town. The agreement was I would join her group of 5 all female co-workers from school if they didn't mind if my head hit the table during the meal. As it turns out, didn't have to worry about going face down in Old Havana, and not because I got a good night's sleep. Turns out dinner included a show, and what a show it was! A fairly large number of performers (both male and female) performing various Latin flavored dance numbers, and it seemed as the night went on, the amount of clothing on the performers grew less and less. There were several acts and during the intermissions, some women worked the diners hawking their goods; first round was some overly priced maracas; second round, some Che Guevera-style hats. That saleswoman was quite persistent that I needed such head gear, and even though I could use additional hats, that one was just not my style. And I had to be quite forceful in stating my position before she finally decided to leave our table.
Before the dancers shed all their clothes, our group decided it was time to leave. And who was at the exit bidding the departing guests good-bye? The hat lady! I thought for sure I was not going to get my coat out of the coat-check, but her stern demeanor softened enough to allow me to depart unscathed and fully decked in my outerwear.
A quick car ride back to the hotel, and the first full day in Moscow came to a close.
On Sunday morning, I made my way down to the gym with my bathing suit tucked under my arm for the post-work out schvitz. Turns out not only is the sauna not attached to the work-out room or the men's locker room, it isn't quite attached to the pool either. It's located up a staircase, past the massage room, where it separates into the men's and women's room. As I walked past the pool, I noticed a sign board with the average air and water temperatures of 27 and 28 degrees centigrade respectively (leaving the conversion as an exercise for the reader) along with a warning that there was no life guard on duty and people entered the pool at their own risk. Surprising - those messages were only in English! I guess only the American are litigious enough to require a lifeguard at every pool.
I was the only person up early enough to enjoy the heat, so I had the whole place to myself. In the traditional enjoyment of a banya (Russian sauna), the occupant takes a plunge in a snow bank after exiting the sauna. If you don't have a pre-existing heart condition, this sudden change in temperatures supposedly enhances one's constitution. Luckily this banya does not have an external access, so we have to replace the snow bank with a quick rinse in a shower stall. Two things I find amazing about this whole process: first, how long it takes to cool down after just a 10-minute stay in the heat (even after the cold water rinse), and second, how fast your heart starts to pump as a result of the cold water rinse!
With the foundation for my morning ritual established, popped back upstairs for a quick breakfast of tea and the complimentary cookies housekeeping leaves every day and then rushed back down to the lobby by 10am to hook up with Alexey. I got there a few minutes early and stood by the door reading my Lonely Planet Guide. There was a guy sitting on the couch by the door, but he didn't resemble the picture of Alexey in the internal IBM directory. I stood for a while, he sat for a while, and as you probably already figured out, we were indeed waiting for each other. Looks like I might have to update my picture in the directory as he thought I didn't resemble my current entry. (OK, I wasn't in a wet suit with a scuba mask around my neck, but I am still bald and bearded - fairly good parameters for a match!)
As promised, Alexey took me to the Armory within the Kremlin, where there are rooms filled with some of the treasures from the Tsars. This is where (25 years ago), I saw my first Faberge egg, and from what I remember, there was a large display of Faberge items. However, part of the collection must be on loan or traveling as there were a rather limited supply of those gorgeous works of art this time.
Unfortunately, the ticket to the Armory only allows you to visit the Armory; you can't wander around anywhere else. Once we finished with that session (you only get 90 minutes), it was back online for another ticket that allowed us access to the Kremlin grounds. Turns out there are different tickets for that portion of the Kremlin, too, and the ones we got only allowed us onto the grounds and not into the churches and museums within the Kremlin. Didn't feel like exiting the Kremlin to wait online (again) for yet another ticket, so for this first visit, I had to settle for just walking around the outside of the building and strolling around the grounds (while ensuring I didn't stray off any designated path, in which case one of the many militsioners would inform me of my transgression with a shrill call of a the whistle).
Several times already in these notes, I've mentioned a previous trip to Moscow I made back in 1982. As it turns out, there was one more brief visit to Moscow in 1993. In the summer of that year, I participated in an EarthWatch trip to St. Petersburg where I counted dead trees in various forests around St. Petersburg. (If you want more details on that, I'll send them in a separate note). After the EarthWatch project, I popped down to Moscow for a weekend before returning home. On that trip, I once again visited the Kremlin, and the most striking thing I remember was the dual pricing scheme for tickets to the Kremlin. Locals and residents of the former republics of the Soviet Union paid one price, and all foreigners paid a much higher price (from what I remember, it was about 10 times more expensive).
This time, every one pays the same price. However, foreigner still get dinged when it comes to renting the audio guides as the Russian version is always cheaper than all the other languages.
After the Kremlin, we strolled around Red Square, then across the Moscow River for a slightly different view of St. Basil's, the Kremlin and Red Square. On my previous trip, if, for some reason (as if being surrounded by people speaking Russian wasn't enough), I needed a reminder that I was actually in Moscow, I would head to Red Square to gawk at St. Basil's and the Kremlin wall. I have a feeling I'll be repeating that journey many times during this stay, too.
Alexey had to leave around 6pm to hook-up with some friends, so I made my way over to a Georgian restaurant for a quick dinner. (Service is rather quick when you are the only diner in the establishment; looks like the Russians usually eat a bit later in the evening). By the time the check came, jet-lag caught up to me and I was ready to head back to the hotel for some rest.
End of the second journal entry.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
First Journal Entry
Well, it's been a while since I put out one of these travel journals. That is not to say I've been sitting home since the last entry, quite to the contrary. In particular, 2006 was a spectacular year for travel both for work and pleasure. I've grown a bit lazy as the gray has started to take hold of my beard. However, a few people prodded me enough when I told them I was bound for Moscow, I figured I should get my butt in gear and write up some reports.
Back in the beginning of 2006, IBM opened a development lab (called the RSTL) in Moscow. Even though my department was not sending any work over, with my background in development and interest in spending time in Moscow, the lab director offered me a position to help get the new folks on board.
Just as I started to make plans for the first stint of the overseas assignment, all organizations across IBM were hit with a "budget challenge" and the RSTL reduced its costs by eliminating the funding for the International Assignee, which put an end to my plans. As it turns out, in the last part of 2006, my department decided to move some work over to the RSTL, and my manager asked if I would be interested in spending 4 weeks in Moscow to help train the people who will work with us. Four weeks in Russia in February, how could I say no? Restraining my excitement about returning to Moscow, I decided not to advertise my impending departure given how suddenly the trip to Russia in 2006 was cancelled. However, I still needed to start the paper work to obtain my visa. Communism might have been swept away, but Bureaucracy is alive and thriving in Russia. Before you can even begin to apply for a visa, you first have to obtain a Letter of Invitation (LOI) from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Moscow.
Unfortunately, we didn't settle on the dates for this trip until the beginning of 2007, and the Russians were on holiday until January 9th. Plans called for me to be in Moscow for work on February 5th, and I was already cutting it close!
Faxed over the necessary forms to our contact at American Express in Moscow who know how to work the system, and much to my surprise, the Letter of Invitation was en-route to my house by January 12th and arrived several days later on January 17th. (I guess that's why we use American Express in Moscow to get those document for us!). I didn't want to lose any time due to courier delays, so I decided to take off the next day from work and hand delivered my application (including the Letter of Invitation and a list of all the countries I visited in the last 10 years) to a company we use in NYC to handle these requests. CIBT is familiar with the various consulates' peculiarities and quirks, and I figured it would be easier for them to rush the request through the Russian Consulate. As they promised, my passport had the required visa attached by Monday, January 29th and they UPS'ed my passport back to me that afternoon. Things were looking good for my scheduled departure on Thursday, February 1st.
On Tuesday, I tracked the progress of my package, and that afternoon I decided to work from home just in case the document required a signature. The web-site indicated an expected delivery date of January 30th and it also indicated all deliveries are complete by 7pm. At 8pm, I was still without my passport, and the web-site changed the expected delivery date to January 31st. And we had snow in the forecast for that day! Oh, noo!
I had to head into work on Wednesday for some meetings in the morning, but I confirmed with CIBT that the parcel did not require a signature. Just in case, I left a piece of paper taped to my home door asking UPS to accept the sheet as authorization to leave the package without a signature. By noon, I was able to check the web-site from work, and with great relief, learned that UPS made the drop. I also learned why the delivery took so long! I am not making this up; even though CIBT is in NYC across the street from Grand Central Station and I was in Hopewell Junction (about 70 miles almost directly due north), the package took the following path: Manhattan to Long Island City (in Queens), back to Manhattan (where it overnighted), over to Secaucus, NJ, down to Philadelphia, PA up to Kingston, NY to finally make it to my house on Wednesday at 11:30 am! You would think the package was trying to rack up some frequent flier miles.
True to form, even though I knew for weeks I was leaving on Thursday, I waited until Wednesday night to start packing. In my defense, I did have a fair amount of stuff laid out on the bed in the spare room; I just I consider it unlucky to pack too early (yeah, that's my story and I am sticking with it).
Thursday morning finally arrived, and I anxiously awaited the arrival of the driver. Driver? Yes, driver! Since I was going to be out of town for a month, it didn't make sense to leave my car at the airport. And while I'm on the topic of the trip logistics, when booking the flights, the only direct flight I could find was on Aeroflot; not too keen on taking a ride on that airline, the travel agent offered me two other choices: bounce in London or bounce in Helsinki. Trying to save the company some money, I booked a coach ticket, and I thought it would be easier to survive two segments more equal in length then a really long leg and then a short leg. So JFK to LHR it was.
Or almost was. This is another aspect of our arrangements with American Express that baffles me. According to the agent, the lowest airfare she could find was almost $1000. I started poking around and found the same flight for $600 on American Airline's web-site. Even more astounding, I found a similar routing starting from Stewart for the same $600!
Thrilled to not have to drive to and from the city, I thought the extra bounce in Chicago (yeah, I know, the WRONG way) was worth it. It was the same price after all. And transfers costs from my house to Stewart are much lower than to JFK.
OK, back to the driver. He called around 10:15 to inform me he was going to be a bit late and would miss the scheduled 10:30 pick-up by 15 minutes. First leg was scheduled to depart at 1:10, and I wanted to get there at 90 minutes early, but 10:45 was still within tolerance; not as if I had much choice anyway.
Driver arrived as promised, and he made fantastic time over to the Stewart. Unloading the car, the driver commented on the amount of luggage I had: a large bag with wheels, a small bag with wheels, a backpack and my computer bag; in my opinion, not too much for a 30 day stint in Moscow in the winter!
Lugged all my gear to the check-in counter, and was horrified to recognize one of the three clerks behind the desk. This older guy was the one who initially handled my attempt to check-in for a flight to Shanghai back in December, and at some point, he managed to convince the airline reservation system I was a Chinese national; that took so long to straighten out I almost missed my flight.
I was all prepared to let the person behind me to go ahead of me just so I would get one of the other agents when the other agents opened up; turns out they were working as a pair as one was training the other. Ah - someone capable of training another should know how to process an international flight! I handed over my passport and they clicked away, and in matter of minutes, my two checked bags had their tags (checked all the way to Moscow) and I had my passport back. Relief. After a nice cup of tea in the waiting area, my two carry-on bags and I boarded the plane to Chicago.
Flight to Chicago was uneventful, and I had enough of a layover to enjoy my favorite dish of meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes at Wolfgang Puck's restaurant.
The flight from Chicago to London was crowded but not packed, and I had the end seat of the row of five, and no one was next to me. Not quite luxurious, but comfortable enough. Dozed on and off during the flight, but didn't really get any solid sleep. When we arrived in London (almost 30 minutes early) at 6:30am, I was feeling a bit tired and was more of a zombie than an alert, attentive traveler.
We arrived at Terminal 3, and my next leg was on British Airlines, which has flights out of all four terminals at Heathrow. I had a tough time reading the board with the list of which flights departed from which airlines (all flight to Europe except ... depart from here, flights to those places depart from there and flights to other continents depart from over there). I stopped one of the attendants and asked where I needed to go to get my flight to Moscow. Terminal 4.
Onto the shuttle bus, and 10 minutes later, I was in Terminal 4 with a long queue in front of me. Turns out Heathrow (and I get the feeling, all of the UK) has instituted a new policy - you are only allowed one piece of carry-on luggage. Period. Full-stop. End of story. It doesn't matter that you are only passing through and want to get on the next flight to Moscow; you can only take one piece of luggage through security. Waited a few minutes on the line to check excess bags only to discover I was in the wrong terminal. I didn't need Terminal 4, I needed Terminal 1!
Back onto another shuttle bus, and 10 minute later I was in my third of the four terminals at Heathrow. However, at this terminal, I couldn't just check-in my excess bag. I had to leave the terminal, proceed through passport control and then clear customs to so I could return to the check-in counters and rid myself of my extra bag. At passport control, the agent seemed a bit perplexed as to what I was doing there. A bit frazzled by this point, I (maybe not quite politely) explained that I didn't intend on entering the UK today and the only reason I was entering the country was due to the UK's sudden change in the carry-on allowance. I explained my destination was Moscow and my flight was scheduled to depart in a little over an hour. She started to look through my passport and commented on all the visas and stamps within; I mentioned that I also worked in England for three months at one point, which was a bad move - she started to look for my British working permit! I had to inform her that trip was back in 1995 and the necessary paperwork was in my expired passport!
She finally allowed me to pass through, and I rushed over to the check-in counter. Of course, there was a line of folks ahead of me. With the clock ticking, I started to get a bit nervous about this flight. I've never done this before, but I started to work my way through the line by explaining to the person in front of me that I was in a bit of a hurry and was attempting to make a flight scheduled to depart in less than 50 minutes. Amazingly enough, all 6 groups of people allowed me to inch ahead of them, and I made it to the counter, where I had to explain to the clerk why I was there. (It's a bit difficult to check-in an additional bag mid-way through your journey!) And just to increase the delay, I had to wait for a supervisor to come over and swipe by boarding pass with some special marker so I could make it through the security checkpoint. Rushed through security and saw on the main board that I was to proceed to the gate, which I promptly did. A few minutes later, I was on board the almost completely empty plane for the final leg to Moscow.
On this last leg of the journey, it finally dawned on my that it was almost 25 years to the day that I first entered Russia (well, then the Soviet Union). My 3 traveling companions and I were part of a larger group of American students en-route to Moscow for a semester abroad at the Pushkin Institute of Russian Language. However, the Soviets initially denied the four of us a visa, and after a bit of a delay, we finally obtained permission to enter the Soviet Union.
Unfortunately, the rest of the group already departed for Helsinki, where they caught the train to Moscow. We managed to meet up with the larger group in Finland, but we had to enter the Soviet Union on our own as our visas were not valid until two days later.
As the lone set of Americans on the overnight train from Helsinki, we became the focus of the boarder guards attention. As the guards with the guns entered our compartment and sealed the door, we could hear the dogs, urged on by more guards, sniffing around the outside of the carriage. They selected one person, me, and went through all my bags looking for contraband.
Luckily, I had nothing suspicious with me (except for a set of bag pipes, but they weren't exactly what the boarder guards were looking for), except when then frisked me, they uncovered my chain and cross. Unfortunately, I forgot to declare that object on my customs form, and that became quite the sore point with them (especially since it was an Orthodox cross). They wouldn't let me add the item to my form, which in theory meant the guards on the way out could prevent me from leaving the country with it (which luckily did not happen).
Anyway, all these memories started to flash back to me, and I began to get a little nervous about entering Russia on a plane with so few passengers. Sounds odd, but I figured with just 10 people on the plane, the boarder guards would have tons of time to devout to each and every person.
Collected my bags from the carousel, and before I knew what happened, I was through passport control And then a few seconds later, I went through the "Nothing to Declare" lane and the next thing I knew, I was in Russia. Quite different from 25 years ago!
The local IBM contact arranged for a taxi to transport me to the hotel, which I was a bit reluctant to accept; I had originally wanted to try taking public transportation into town, but after three flights and loaded with 4 bags, I was relieved to see the little plaque with "IBM" on it.
The ride to the Renaissance was less than an hour, and even though I could have gone out for a little walk in an attempt to stay awake until 9pm, I opted to go on-line and try to catch up on a bit of work (just in case I suddenly conked out, I wanted to do it in the privacy of my own room).
End of the first journal entry.
Thanks, Stephen
Back in the beginning of 2006, IBM opened a development lab (called the RSTL) in Moscow. Even though my department was not sending any work over, with my background in development and interest in spending time in Moscow, the lab director offered me a position to help get the new folks on board.
Just as I started to make plans for the first stint of the overseas assignment, all organizations across IBM were hit with a "budget challenge" and the RSTL reduced its costs by eliminating the funding for the International Assignee, which put an end to my plans. As it turns out, in the last part of 2006, my department decided to move some work over to the RSTL, and my manager asked if I would be interested in spending 4 weeks in Moscow to help train the people who will work with us. Four weeks in Russia in February, how could I say no? Restraining my excitement about returning to Moscow, I decided not to advertise my impending departure given how suddenly the trip to Russia in 2006 was cancelled. However, I still needed to start the paper work to obtain my visa. Communism might have been swept away, but Bureaucracy is alive and thriving in Russia. Before you can even begin to apply for a visa, you first have to obtain a Letter of Invitation (LOI) from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Moscow.
Unfortunately, we didn't settle on the dates for this trip until the beginning of 2007, and the Russians were on holiday until January 9th. Plans called for me to be in Moscow for work on February 5th, and I was already cutting it close!
Faxed over the necessary forms to our contact at American Express in Moscow who know how to work the system, and much to my surprise, the Letter of Invitation was en-route to my house by January 12th and arrived several days later on January 17th. (I guess that's why we use American Express in Moscow to get those document for us!). I didn't want to lose any time due to courier delays, so I decided to take off the next day from work and hand delivered my application (including the Letter of Invitation and a list of all the countries I visited in the last 10 years) to a company we use in NYC to handle these requests. CIBT is familiar with the various consulates' peculiarities and quirks, and I figured it would be easier for them to rush the request through the Russian Consulate. As they promised, my passport had the required visa attached by Monday, January 29th and they UPS'ed my passport back to me that afternoon. Things were looking good for my scheduled departure on Thursday, February 1st.
On Tuesday, I tracked the progress of my package, and that afternoon I decided to work from home just in case the document required a signature. The web-site indicated an expected delivery date of January 30th and it also indicated all deliveries are complete by 7pm. At 8pm, I was still without my passport, and the web-site changed the expected delivery date to January 31st. And we had snow in the forecast for that day! Oh, noo!
I had to head into work on Wednesday for some meetings in the morning, but I confirmed with CIBT that the parcel did not require a signature. Just in case, I left a piece of paper taped to my home door asking UPS to accept the sheet as authorization to leave the package without a signature. By noon, I was able to check the web-site from work, and with great relief, learned that UPS made the drop. I also learned why the delivery took so long! I am not making this up; even though CIBT is in NYC across the street from Grand Central Station and I was in Hopewell Junction (about 70 miles almost directly due north), the package took the following path: Manhattan to Long Island City (in Queens), back to Manhattan (where it overnighted), over to Secaucus, NJ, down to Philadelphia, PA up to Kingston, NY to finally make it to my house on Wednesday at 11:30 am! You would think the package was trying to rack up some frequent flier miles.
True to form, even though I knew for weeks I was leaving on Thursday, I waited until Wednesday night to start packing. In my defense, I did have a fair amount of stuff laid out on the bed in the spare room; I just I consider it unlucky to pack too early (yeah, that's my story and I am sticking with it).
Thursday morning finally arrived, and I anxiously awaited the arrival of the driver. Driver? Yes, driver! Since I was going to be out of town for a month, it didn't make sense to leave my car at the airport. And while I'm on the topic of the trip logistics, when booking the flights, the only direct flight I could find was on Aeroflot; not too keen on taking a ride on that airline, the travel agent offered me two other choices: bounce in London or bounce in Helsinki. Trying to save the company some money, I booked a coach ticket, and I thought it would be easier to survive two segments more equal in length then a really long leg and then a short leg. So JFK to LHR it was.
Or almost was. This is another aspect of our arrangements with American Express that baffles me. According to the agent, the lowest airfare she could find was almost $1000. I started poking around and found the same flight for $600 on American Airline's web-site. Even more astounding, I found a similar routing starting from Stewart for the same $600!
Thrilled to not have to drive to and from the city, I thought the extra bounce in Chicago (yeah, I know, the WRONG way) was worth it. It was the same price after all. And transfers costs from my house to Stewart are much lower than to JFK.
OK, back to the driver. He called around 10:15 to inform me he was going to be a bit late and would miss the scheduled 10:30 pick-up by 15 minutes. First leg was scheduled to depart at 1:10, and I wanted to get there at 90 minutes early, but 10:45 was still within tolerance; not as if I had much choice anyway.
Driver arrived as promised, and he made fantastic time over to the Stewart. Unloading the car, the driver commented on the amount of luggage I had: a large bag with wheels, a small bag with wheels, a backpack and my computer bag; in my opinion, not too much for a 30 day stint in Moscow in the winter!
Lugged all my gear to the check-in counter, and was horrified to recognize one of the three clerks behind the desk. This older guy was the one who initially handled my attempt to check-in for a flight to Shanghai back in December, and at some point, he managed to convince the airline reservation system I was a Chinese national; that took so long to straighten out I almost missed my flight.
I was all prepared to let the person behind me to go ahead of me just so I would get one of the other agents when the other agents opened up; turns out they were working as a pair as one was training the other. Ah - someone capable of training another should know how to process an international flight! I handed over my passport and they clicked away, and in matter of minutes, my two checked bags had their tags (checked all the way to Moscow) and I had my passport back. Relief. After a nice cup of tea in the waiting area, my two carry-on bags and I boarded the plane to Chicago.
Flight to Chicago was uneventful, and I had enough of a layover to enjoy my favorite dish of meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes at Wolfgang Puck's restaurant.
The flight from Chicago to London was crowded but not packed, and I had the end seat of the row of five, and no one was next to me. Not quite luxurious, but comfortable enough. Dozed on and off during the flight, but didn't really get any solid sleep. When we arrived in London (almost 30 minutes early) at 6:30am, I was feeling a bit tired and was more of a zombie than an alert, attentive traveler.
We arrived at Terminal 3, and my next leg was on British Airlines, which has flights out of all four terminals at Heathrow. I had a tough time reading the board with the list of which flights departed from which airlines (all flight to Europe except ... depart from here, flights to those places depart from there and flights to other continents depart from over there). I stopped one of the attendants and asked where I needed to go to get my flight to Moscow. Terminal 4.
Onto the shuttle bus, and 10 minutes later, I was in Terminal 4 with a long queue in front of me. Turns out Heathrow (and I get the feeling, all of the UK) has instituted a new policy - you are only allowed one piece of carry-on luggage. Period. Full-stop. End of story. It doesn't matter that you are only passing through and want to get on the next flight to Moscow; you can only take one piece of luggage through security. Waited a few minutes on the line to check excess bags only to discover I was in the wrong terminal. I didn't need Terminal 4, I needed Terminal 1!
Back onto another shuttle bus, and 10 minute later I was in my third of the four terminals at Heathrow. However, at this terminal, I couldn't just check-in my excess bag. I had to leave the terminal, proceed through passport control and then clear customs to so I could return to the check-in counters and rid myself of my extra bag. At passport control, the agent seemed a bit perplexed as to what I was doing there. A bit frazzled by this point, I (maybe not quite politely) explained that I didn't intend on entering the UK today and the only reason I was entering the country was due to the UK's sudden change in the carry-on allowance. I explained my destination was Moscow and my flight was scheduled to depart in a little over an hour. She started to look through my passport and commented on all the visas and stamps within; I mentioned that I also worked in England for three months at one point, which was a bad move - she started to look for my British working permit! I had to inform her that trip was back in 1995 and the necessary paperwork was in my expired passport!
She finally allowed me to pass through, and I rushed over to the check-in counter. Of course, there was a line of folks ahead of me. With the clock ticking, I started to get a bit nervous about this flight. I've never done this before, but I started to work my way through the line by explaining to the person in front of me that I was in a bit of a hurry and was attempting to make a flight scheduled to depart in less than 50 minutes. Amazingly enough, all 6 groups of people allowed me to inch ahead of them, and I made it to the counter, where I had to explain to the clerk why I was there. (It's a bit difficult to check-in an additional bag mid-way through your journey!) And just to increase the delay, I had to wait for a supervisor to come over and swipe by boarding pass with some special marker so I could make it through the security checkpoint. Rushed through security and saw on the main board that I was to proceed to the gate, which I promptly did. A few minutes later, I was on board the almost completely empty plane for the final leg to Moscow.
On this last leg of the journey, it finally dawned on my that it was almost 25 years to the day that I first entered Russia (well, then the Soviet Union). My 3 traveling companions and I were part of a larger group of American students en-route to Moscow for a semester abroad at the Pushkin Institute of Russian Language. However, the Soviets initially denied the four of us a visa, and after a bit of a delay, we finally obtained permission to enter the Soviet Union.
Unfortunately, the rest of the group already departed for Helsinki, where they caught the train to Moscow. We managed to meet up with the larger group in Finland, but we had to enter the Soviet Union on our own as our visas were not valid until two days later.
As the lone set of Americans on the overnight train from Helsinki, we became the focus of the boarder guards attention. As the guards with the guns entered our compartment and sealed the door, we could hear the dogs, urged on by more guards, sniffing around the outside of the carriage. They selected one person, me, and went through all my bags looking for contraband.
Luckily, I had nothing suspicious with me (except for a set of bag pipes, but they weren't exactly what the boarder guards were looking for), except when then frisked me, they uncovered my chain and cross. Unfortunately, I forgot to declare that object on my customs form, and that became quite the sore point with them (especially since it was an Orthodox cross). They wouldn't let me add the item to my form, which in theory meant the guards on the way out could prevent me from leaving the country with it (which luckily did not happen).
Anyway, all these memories started to flash back to me, and I began to get a little nervous about entering Russia on a plane with so few passengers. Sounds odd, but I figured with just 10 people on the plane, the boarder guards would have tons of time to devout to each and every person.
Collected my bags from the carousel, and before I knew what happened, I was through passport control And then a few seconds later, I went through the "Nothing to Declare" lane and the next thing I knew, I was in Russia. Quite different from 25 years ago!
The local IBM contact arranged for a taxi to transport me to the hotel, which I was a bit reluctant to accept; I had originally wanted to try taking public transportation into town, but after three flights and loaded with 4 bags, I was relieved to see the little plaque with "IBM" on it.
The ride to the Renaissance was less than an hour, and even though I could have gone out for a little walk in an attempt to stay awake until 9pm, I opted to go on-line and try to catch up on a bit of work (just in case I suddenly conked out, I wanted to do it in the privacy of my own room).
End of the first journal entry.
Thanks, Stephen
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