Tracey and I were pretty good about making our plans for our trip but we decided to change them when we were there and boy, was that a mistake!
We’d divided our time in Russia equally between St. Petersburg and Moscow, but after being in St. P for 4 days decided that we’d like to spend more time in Moscow. On checking out the train situation we also changed the plan to go on an overnight train to a day train. It arrived at 11.30pm but was first class, much quicker and not too much more expensive. It seemed like a good idea.
Uh huh. Since we were arriving early, we needed to arrange two extra nights accommodation. Upon ringing the hostel that we were booked into, they informed us that there wasn’t any room for us. So we tried the other Moscow hostel, and then the third. No room. Bugger.
Our Russian wasn’t good enough to ask for a room for the night over the phone, so we were limited to asking at hotels where they spoke English. Guidebooks are heavy and when you carry them you wonder why they put in so many accommodation options. Tracey and I were begging for more. All the affordable hotels were full. No room. Not a single bed. It was rather upsetting. Very, very bloody stressful.
We eventually found out that the reason there were no beds (not even in the hotel that apparently had 3000 rooms) was that the peat fires meant that no planes could fly out so all the business people were stuck. On top of that there were a couple of major national exhibitions on that drew in lots of people from around the country.
We’d spent all day phoning around and had come up with the Holiday Inn. The problems with it being a) it was way way out of town and b) it was really not in our price range. But we were desperate. It’s only money after all.
There was a shuttle bus that left from Tverskaya Prospect at midnight and we told them that we’d be there. Our directions for the bus stop were cut off when the phone card ran out (for about the fourth time). Should we buy another phone card and ring back to get exact directions? I honestly don’t know what possessed us when we decided that we would be fine. Where did this rush of confidence come from? Perhaps our terrible day so far had deluded us into thinking that something would have to go right for us. Ha. That’s not the way it works.
With calmness that I still feel proud of we boarded our train to Moscow and six hours later we arrived. It was dark (of couse! it was almost midnight!), it was rainy, the station was full of dodgy geezers swigging their beer from two litre plastic bottles.
We caught the Metro and emerged onto Tverskaya. Hmmm. It’s an enormous bloody huge street. Huge. Left? Right? We chose right and in doing so broke one of my temporarily forgotten ‘Life Rules’ – “When In Doubt, Go Left”. We walked to the end of the street and didn’t see anything that looked like a ‘cab’ shop. Bugger. It was so close to midnight that it was clear that there was no way we were going to get on that bus. We were soaked, unhappy, and tired. Yet still we managed to remain calm.
The Marriott was a little way back so we asked if they had any rooms. Money had really come to mean nothing if we were prepared to pay over US$500 for a bed. Other options were to find a 24 hour caf̩, or to go to a club Рneither of which I particularly liked. Unfortunately, the snooty receptionist informed us that there were no rooms.
In desperation, we asked if we could leave our bags there. He asked if we had been previous guests of the Marriott. I’m not much good at lying in those situations but I said that I had been in Australia. I’m sure it didn’t look very believable considering our soaking sweatshirts, pants with loads of pockets and backpacks. He rang security and asked if we could leave them there (or we assume that it what he was asking) but of course the snotty answer was no, definitely not. Not happy Jan.
Still remarkably calm we asked the bellboy to call us a cab as we decided that we’d just have to go out to the Holiday Inn. After about ten minutes he returned and said he couldn’t find one. I couldn’t believe it. Moscow is a city of nine million people.
BB: I’m sorry. Would you like me to keep trying? Have you got time?
Tracey: Yeah, we’ve got all night…
Eventually he came back with news that he had found a ‘private man’. In Russia it is common for people with private cars to give rides to those that need them. You just stand on the side of the road with you arm out and your palm down. Soon enough a driver will pull over and ask where you want to go. You then negotiate a price. Either party can back out at any time. It sounds a bit dodgy but it seems pretty safe and the mafia runs the official taxis anyway. Apparently some 80% of Russian businesses have some mafia involvement – whether they want it or not.
So Mr Bellboy tells us he has found a good private man that will take us where we want to go for 1000 roubles (about €35 and a bit steep but we weren’t in any position to argue). Mr Private Man couldn’t speak English but he did know where we were going, and the Bellboy said that we could trust him.
He could have played a role in the Incredible Hulk, but there were two of us. We’d be alright, right? We could take him if we needed to, right? Nervously, we got into his car. Tracey and I hardly spoke through the tense 30 minute drive. Mr Enormous Private Man said nothing.
His driving skills weren’t as bad as they could have been and we eventually arrived safe and sound. The relief was overwhelming. I gave him the money and thanked him profusely in Russian and English. “No problem”, he said in an Arnie voice.
The hotel was 7 times more expensive than what we were used to paying, but the bed was ultra comfy, the shower was hot and hard, and the large buffet breakfast was ‘free’. It was all good. Except the next day we almost got left behind because the man who drove the shuttle bus didn’t think that we had stayed at the hotel – presumably because of our backpacks. The snobbery in this country!
The second unplanned Moscow night was spent at the hostel that we’d earlier booked in to for the rest of the stay. We later found out that there were actually beds for the previous night as well. (seething anger…)
Glenn told us that two American men were sitting in the office whilst we were in St. P. on the phone to them and they had said to the woman that there were beds in their room but she had just told them to be quiet. I think perhaps that she had a problem with men and women being in the same room. On the other hand, perhaps she was just being difficult. They had rotating staff and luckily we had a much more accommodating woman answer the phone for the second night.
The whole experience made me question my backpackability. I survived for sure but a “real” backpacker-adventurer would have slept on the streets instead of resorting to their credit card. So I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not as adventurous as I once may have thought, but I’m not bothered by it. Comfort is good.
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