Crime and Punishment - An Account of Transportation in Moscow

Moscow, March 2017

I hoped this would turn into one of those fancy top 10-things lists you see in every travel blog there is. I can't say that I subscribe to the classic backpacker/globetrotter/journal/blog format, especially not their typical clichés. I can't pretend to be that happy and carefree on social media.
I won't deny that I would love to do a top 10 list on life in Moscow, it would be a blast. But the truth is that you can find that on Google. Better written and with sharper photos.

Instead I'd rather do a piece on how we get around in metropolis. It may sound flat and dull, but commuting in a city with 12 million citizens, who all, judging from previous experience, seemingly decides to travel to the same destination at the same time, is a thrill.

To cut the story short and start out at square one: we walk. There. Simple.

To elaborate on that: it is a damn field study every day. The relative short walk to work takes us through beautiful surroundings, astonishing architecture and near-death experiences. The risk of getting splattered by psychopaths armed with German engineering is just a part of the daily commute.

Death and destruction aside, walking is a refreshing mean of transportation in the large boulevards of Moscow with the chance to really experience Russia.
Nonsense and clichés aside, the traffic of Moscow is a dysfunctional labyrinth of death, causing arousal among Neo-Darwinists and angst to pedestrians.

The average 9-5 citizen prefers the metro and for a good reason. I could write a whole novel courting the Moscow metro in all it's beauty and simplicity. See, the metro here in Moscow isn't just a way to get from A to B, it's cultural institution. It seems like it's always been around as if the very foundation of the city was build upon the tremendous network of tunnels, stations and escalators leading down into the depths.
The halls of the stations are for the most part ornamented with sculptures, mosaics and even chandeliers. All this is done according to the dictates of socialistic realism, a memory of the past hidden away deep under the modern and ever-changing city.
But down in the metro the song remains the same. The tickets are dirt cheap and the trains run smoother than the vodka.

The metro in all it's glory

It may sound like the metro is a sanctuary of peace and harmony, but claiming that would be offensive to the truth. While the metro is a comfortable ride during the evening and midday, it transforms into a hellish pit in the morning when the Muscovites go in to the city.
People force themselves into already full wagons by more or less running through the doors into the mass of passengers. This creates a very unpleasant situation where you find yourself becoming a part of someone else's personal space.
The best you can do is avoiding eye contact and pray to all deities that you'll get out at the right station so you won't have to redo the whole process of boarding what mainly resembles a loaded animal transport.
While the sheer amount of people is overwhelming, the most suspicious part this whole arrangement is, however, the apparent silence.
A blind man going through the metro wouldn't know whether anyone was there if it weren't for the nonconsensual psychical contact. It's all quiet on the Eastern Front when down in the metro, a strange yet comfortable break from the hectic life above.


The glory quickly evaporates when getting involuntarily friendly with the people of Moscow

 But when the clock strikes 4am and you find yourself in a dubious establishment not being in full control of your senses, there is but one medium for your safe return homewards. The taxi.
Riding a cab in Moscow is a quite affordable pleasure, running you something like $8/60kr for going from one side of the city to another.
There are Apps making the whole hailing procedure a little more easy, especially when your evening has been heavily sponsored by the Russian alcohol industry.
There is really no excuse for not taking a cab. Gliding through Moscow in the night is simply enchanting, especially when going past all the iconic landmarks and riding across one of the many bridges. The alcohol also contributes to the overall experience of course.

However, waiting the 5-10 minutes it takes for the taxi to find you (No, not for the app to find one, there is always a cab) can seem like a lifetime in the freezing cold after a long night of "cultural exploration".
Now, pirate taxi has such a negative ring to it in the western part of the world, but in Russia it's just another friendly driver you haven't met yet. (Yes, I am aware that I earlier called Russian drivers psychopaths armed with German engineering, but the great people constituting the pirate taxi drivers are definitely not a part of this murderous crowd. After all, they rarely possess German engineering.)

All you do is go out to the road, and if someone haven't already offered you a spot in their homemade little transportation venture, just hold your hand out 30 degrees down and surely you will be solicited.
Now comes the exciting part! You'll open the door (Assuming you have the guts) and say your destination, assuming you're even braver you'll also state a sum you're willing to pay. Now either he will agree or name his own proposition. From here you can either haggle, find another cab or just jump in.

I would appear as if we just jumped in

Speaking Russian will surely grant you a favorable discount since you can.. well, actually haggle. Also, the knowledge of the native tongue will unlock the possibilities of communicating with your driver. This can really go both ways depending on your choice of subject or the level of your driver's candidness.
The pirate taxi is also cheaper in theory, but from personal experiences I always end up tipping my driver to the point where I might as well could've taken a normal cab. This is usually caused by my drunk alter ego's relief and immediate euphoria of surviving yet another day in the treacherous traffic of Moscow.

In general getting through Moscow is a choice of preference. There is something for everyone, just pick your poison. Buy the ticket, take the ride and avoid eye contact.

Living in the Evil Empire

Moscow, Russia  - February 2017

When most people think about Russia they envision a cold, dark and grey place defined by a troubled history. This is possibly caused by horrible self-branding as well as more complex and morose factors.
However, as anywhere else, there is more to it than what the news and Hollywood make of it.

Me and a handful of compatriots have travelled here to what was once known as the capital of the Evil Empire, the fortress of communism. A lot have clearly changed. Work has summoned us here and we have now taken up the dubious roles as expats. We share an apartment located right in the middle of the city, provided to us by the grace of our workplace.

All of us hail from Denmark, a country only two and a half hours away with plane, nevertheless we feel like we have entered a new dimension. The language, however similar, appears like an incomprehensible caricature of normal words. The supermarkets are stocked with goods that makes us marvel, both in delight and disgust judging from the conservation method.

While the others are innocent in their experience with Russian culture, people and general behavior, I come armed to the teeth with a bachelor's degree in Russian studies. That makes me the translator of both language and customs in our little ragtag entourage. This is a vital role in a span of interesting situations ranging from paying the phone bill to getting a cab at 4am in the morning (Without being ripped off, or killed and not necessarily in that order).
So far everything has run smoothly. Our work keeps us occupied in the week days, confining us to realize ourselves and explore the largest city in Europe only in the weekends.

Moscow offers cheap thrills, mainly thanks to the low oil prices. Running a western budget in an eastern state has its voluminous advantages. We eat good, especially when we buy the right things in the jungle of Russian food products. Just the trip to the grocery store over here is really an adventure in itself. The vast shelves of exotic products are awe-inspiring and just buying everyday products usually ends up in a surprise (For example when we learned that our hotdog sausages were wrapped in plastic - after we had fried them).


This short post has only been meant as an introduction to the new life I have started. I am planning to add more concrete descriptions of my adventures over here when I get the time for it.
A month has already passed without me really noticing it, which is only a testament to how easy it is get used to a completely new life.

I will continue to ramble on here in the city that never sleeps and hopefully write something coherent and entertaining about it that resembles the truth in a morally responsible way.