Transportation

Last week we went to the Russian version of the DMV to get our drivers’ licenses. I was told to expect a long day so I did. I left my house just before lunch to catch a bus to get me to the Metro. At about 1pm, I arrived at the Embassy to catch up with my hubby and take a transport out to the boondocks to sign a form. Two weeks ago, we filed all of our paperwork and now we had to show up in person to prove our identity. Makes sense right?

We hopped into the van with three other Americans. The ride out there took 90 minutes, which is not too unusual for Moscow. We parked in front of what looked like a shack and followed our Russian translator/guide.

This brings me to discuss tile. Apparently, they are very confused in Moscow about what tile is intended for indoors and what is intended for outdoors. At many places around town, they have used indoor tile on outdoor steps and the effects are, well----slippery. One of our neighbors has a sign posted on her front porch that says, “Don’t slip on your ice.” It’s true.

So we navigated our way up some very slippery steps into a shack about the size of a closet. It was only big enough to house the metal detector we walked through and then right out the backdoor we slipped again. We walked across another clearing and came to the building where we were told to wait in line in the hallway. This was funny because there were doors about every 3 feet. So how do five Americans line up amidst all these doors? Every time we re-adjusted, somebody would open another door. It was really quite funny as we would lean against one wall, door open, lean against the other wall, and so on.

This game of Musical Wall went on for about ten minutes as we all got a chance to prove our identity and sign our licenses. Mission complete.

Back in the van, we began calculating how much time it would take to get back home via highway. We figured around 3-4 hours. The obvious choice then was the Metro. We asked our driver to stop at the nearest station so we could head home. This is seemingly commonplace; we ride the metro all the time. We hopped on board and found a seat (or bar to hold on to). What was different about this day was that there was a man who had found his happy hour specials a little early on this Wednesday afternoon.

As the train began to brake, people inched toward the door. This particular man stood up and before his feet even found the floor, gravity pulled his face downward. He did a sudden fall/slide down the aisle of the car. My husband, well meaning, reached for the man’s hand and tried to help him up. He had no idea which way was up at all. He stood up and waited a few stops before getting off.

Once we were back to our station, it was poor timing to wait for the bus that goes to our home so we decided to share a cab with some neighbors. We negotiated a cab and immediately regretted it. You know how seniors in high school drive a piece of crap car, but they’re proud because it’s theirs? That was this guy.

Anyway, as soon as we got in, he started getting after us in Russian that my husband closed the door too hard. Then, the back of the car was shaking and he attributed it to all of our weight in the back seat. His fee was 250 rubles. Our neighbors had the 200 and were asking us for 50. I had 3 10 bills and was getting out some coins. Then the driver got mad saying “I don’t want your coins.” We gave him 300 and thanked him.

When we got out of the car, I imagined if that situation had happened in the States. No way. Thankfully, my dependence on taxis is coming to an end as soon I will have my own set of hot wheels.