MOSCOW

Moscow

I have been trying, in vain, for the past week to write about the experience in Moscow. For some reason, I seriously couldn’t pop out a single word to describe the four days I spent there, and I still can’t explain why I am blocked when it comes to this city.

Moscow is very different from London, London being my first trip outside of South Africa ever. London, however, has very many similarities to home and I might as well have been another city in South Africa, one that I hadn’t yet managed to visit in my 22 years. Of course there are definite differences and those differences give both Britain and SA character that belongs only to each. Moscow, then, was technically and in a way I hope to be able to explain, my first experience outside my home country. The cultural differences made quite an impact. I had so much to absorb, so much to take in, so much to think about, so much to analyse, so much to accept, so much I didn’t understand. It was in many ways a humbling experience, this whole year is going to be a humbling year with a lot to take in and I guess I realised this in Russia. I might have been overwhelmed.
At this very moment, I still haven’t actually figured out how exactly I feel about it.

So I’m half way down the page and I still haven’t really said much. It seems I am trying to avoid this blog even though I have started, funny. It really is difficult to put down or even express my thoughts and feelings towards Moscow. It is a whole other world and I haven’t quite put my finger on what it is all about. So far, I don’t think I have had this many mixed feelings about a place. I’m a naturally indecisive person and it usually takes me a while absorb and analyse new things. I like to take my time. Sometimes I just want to be sure that I make the right choice, yet here, there is no right or wrong. The way you feel is the way you feel, what you think is exactly that - your thoughts and opinions. (I wonder - does a thought only become an opinion once expressed?)

What might have had me even more lost was the fact that the Moscow I saw and the Moscow I had imagined were nothing alike. It was as though I had imagined the most extreme north and what I actually experienced was an extreme south. There were no similarities at all. I wish I knew how my mind let me go so far from the truth?

What I thought I would see in Moscow, as I have mentioned, is the opposite of what I actually did see. In a way, I was a bit sceptical that we were being taken there in the first place, what on earth were we supposed to do there? Wouldn’t it be dead? Oh well, you find originality in the most unexpected places and what one expects might not be the case, as I found out, so the point is to do everything with an open mind and never stop seeking originality, seek the unusual and make the most out of even the simple.

To begin, the next few sentences are jam-packed with pure ignorance, ignorance I am ashamed to admit, however, I will continue. Moscow and probably the whole of Russia in my mind was a place that for the most part was covered in pure white snow, weather so cold that the breathe coming out of my nostrils would freeze, and made to succumb to the all powerful force of gravity and fall to the ground, a soft pillow of snow. I wonder if I considered hypothermia and losing my body parts due to the low temperature. That would have been a funny story…

My image of Russia was of a war torn country, a country ravaged by brutality that was fuelled by the patriotism of people loyal to their country. Images of aged tanks; larger than life, parked on the side of a quiet street for all of eternity, soldiers carrying firearms patrolling fenced areas and dark streets. I thought I was would see a nation of sad and broken people with no life in their eyes, probably old women covering their unconditioned hair with autumn pallet scarves, dressed in layers upon layers of dreary grey clothing.

So I was in Moscow, a city I knew very little about except for the fact that it is in Russia, one of the biggest countries in the world. Was it a war-ridden country of angry gun-wielding beings who were stuck in a system they could not escape? Would I see buildings that no longer looked the way they were made to look. Would the military trucks, left to rot, be parked on the side of the road or the middle? At this point I will admit that I really knew nothing about the city we were about to attend an original party in, a city where the story of Smirnoff journey began.


What I did see was the centre of Moscow, the heart of the city so to speak, a vibrant place, rich in colour and screaming wealth and the need to be prestigious. I saw beautiful women, with confidence second to none I had ever seen before, with delicate mannerisms, gorgeous well-dressed bodies. There were developments happening, business districts, high rise buildings, plush hotels, bustling shopping areas and some of the worlds biggest and priciest cars, concept and luxury vehicles. The architecture was detailed and expressive in ways I had never been exposed to before.
I was exposed to a history so majestic I was embarrassed to think about the little or non-existent knowledge I had of this city. I was surprised and enjoyed the first day before the initial novelty wore off and I began to notice things below the surface.

The party scene was an interesting experience. During the limited time we were able to visit a club called Vodka Bar. Wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly where it is in Moscow, but it is somewhere there. The club itself was easy on the eye, not too much going on in terms of décor, but comfortably so. After coat check, you walk into a jaw dropping show of choreographed dancers on a raised platform above the bar area. The first of the dancers was a group of three people; two tall and very well built men, with a short and very energetic woman. Every muscle on each of their bodies was so well defined, they seemed to have been sculpted. Their show was crazy, the guys throwing this miniature lady up on the air followed by a couple somersaults and moves that would probably leave me paralysed. The next dancer we saw was a tall blonde woman with legs that go from here to Timbuktu, dressed in leather and chain getup with neck breaking high heels. As she was jiving out of beat to the music, the barmen started their entertaining thing of juggling bottles Tom Cruise style, ending off with an amazing fire blowing stunt which lit up the edges of the raised platform where the tall blonde was trying to find the rhythm. At first I was a bit scared that we would all burn alive in this club, after a short while realised that this was all part of the act and it helped to put less focus on the blondes two left feet antics.

All in all, Moscow surprised me in many ways, one of them being their general sense that they weren’t a people that were very open to letting outsiders in. Seemed as though the people were set in their ways, liked things just the way they were used to and those that were not part of it.

I would like to visit again, see the hidden parts of the city, experience more of the nightlife and enjoy being a celebrity.