The Footwear Malfunction Conundrum

Picture this...Moscow, October 2011, 4 friends, a black VW Jetta and a quiet Sunday afternoon field trip to Ashan (psycho-huge grocery store that is a car ride away).  Naturally, I dress for the occasion (as does every self-respecting woman in Moscow) and don my red, high-heeled boots.  Since we're not going to be walking around town, I figure that I can stand the mild discomfort caused by the thin soles of the shoes treading on the cement floors of the mall -a small sacrifice to make in order to 'blend in'.  Or so I think...

About half-way though our trip through the mall I came to the shocking realization that my boots had failed me completely.  The floor was polished to a shine and as such, the heels of my boots were slipping backwards at an alarming angle.  As the floor surface provided no traction, being lovingly buffed to a high gloss, my bootheels were compromised and the structural integrity of my well-loved and well worn boots collapsed in a heap of blazing glory.  Like a trooper, however, I persevered silently through the awkward negotiations of locomotion.

That was when Mr. Unmentionable noticed that I was 'walking funny'.  He graciously pointed out the fact that I was showing the world a glorious rendition of a developmentally delayed duck.  I was not amused, nor was I a happy camper.  Each step was more painful than the last, my entire center of gravity being instantly shifted and my compensation for this was proving to be rather unsuccessful.  Every time I stepped forward the heel would slide back and almost flatten itself to the ground.  (It is important to know that the boots were at least 3 inches high.) So imagine, if you will, my gait: step, slide, lurch, step slide, luch.  This, of course, became the source of much amusement and not, I have to say, a little bit of pity.

I continued to step, slide and lurch through the entire store -which was as busy as Christmas Eve during a 50% off sale at Walmart- until we reached the cash.  At that point I could barely stand and since crouching on the balls of my swollen and very painful feet wasn't an option, I gave up and went to sit on the bench outside of the store, leaving Mr. Unmentionable to pack and pay for the groceries.  I played the petulant child.

I barely made it back to the car and once miraculously there, I was grateful for the chance to sit quietly in the back seat and continued to pout.  The minute we arrived home, the offending boots were sent down the garbage chute to 'the great beyond' with not so much as a goodbye and good luck.  Frankly, I didn't have the heart to even take a photo of what can only be described as a gruesome crime scene.  They were good boots and served their purpose well but now they are somewhere in a Moscow landfill, providing nesting material for oddly-plumed raven/crow-like birds.

Which brings us to the next part of the Footwear Malfunction Conundrum.  This has left me bereft of appropriate footwear as it is unacceptable to wear gym trainers out in public.  The days of cute sandals had long since passed and aside from a pair of sky-high heels that are good for show but not the daily commute, I had run out of options and I needed to sort this out, ASAP.

Luckily, close by there was a great little shoe shop that I had been coveting/eyeballing since our arrival.  Off I went with a girlfriend by my side for moral support in case things went awry.  (We both speak Russian like 2 year-olds so together we equalled a 4 year-old, right? Wrong.)  I was afraid it would be one of those "Pretty Woman" scenes where the sales staff don't give you the time of day because you don't look like you belong there.  I couldn't have been more mistaken, thankfully.  The staff there were happy to run back and forth and cater to my every whim and they were able to speak English!  I must have tried on 15 different pairs of shoes and finally settled on one pair of short, black, butter-soft leather, slightly heeled boots.  As soon as my foot slipped into them I knew they'd be coming home with me.  These boots were made for walking!  Of course I tried on impractical models and after taking three steps and my right ankle giving out, I decided to err on the side of fashion-conscious yet cautious.  Cost was also a factor.  The price of the boots that I had been coveting in the window display was equivalent to a month's rent (what can I say, I have great taste) so I decided to not even bother trying them on.  I know they would have fit perfectly, looked great and as such it would have been a heart-wrenching experience to have to say that I couldn't take them home with me.  I would have been thrown off the 5th floor balcony had I come home with them.

7150 руб later I was on my way, happy as a clam, having made my very first footwear purchase in what was about to be a long line of footwear revamping.  Mr. Unmentionable's face just about peeled off when I came home with the new boots but he took the news fairly calmly and once his pulse returned to normal and the colour drained from his face he admitted to liking the style.  At that point he did remind me that I would probably need at least one more pair of shoes otherwise I'd wear these out in no time.  I promised I'd make an effort to be more thrifty for my next purchases.

Blisters on my big and little toes later...WTH?!  (I've never had blisters there before!), my feet are healing and I look and sound like a Muscovite from the ankles down when I walk.  It is nearly impossible to buy a pair of shoes here that doesn't 'click' loudly when you walk.  I think it is a conspiracy and there are built in devices in shoes here to attract intentional attention to footwear.  That could just be my personal paranoia, though.

Since my footwear so desperately needed companionship and Mr. Unmentionable was out of town this week, I decided that a foray to the 'other mall' was in order.  To get to this one you have to ride the metro one stop but it is totally worth it -the mall is calm, quiet and has an H&M store in it where I can find clothes that fit!  I plucked up my courage, collected exact change and bought a 10 trip metro pass at the wicket all by myself.  This is a small personal victory.  Mr. U won't let me do it because he claims that I would take too much time and the lineups are fast and furious.  It is kind of like a roller derby with people jostling in a crowd rather than queuing up in an orderly fashion.  See the shot, take the shot is the mentality here.  At any rate, I had learned the proper ettiquette for buying a metro pass in class this week so I thought I'd try it out.  It turns out it works! You walk up to the wicket, shove your money through the hole and say "На десять" (for me, 10).  With a terse, "Спасибо" and metro card in hand, I was on my way.  Thankfully, the mall is on the light blue line and it is not one of the deep, underground-to-hell stations.

A quick exploration of the 2nd floor shops led me to H&M where a 'little, black dress', two tops and a couple of hair accessories felt the need to come home with me.  Fear not, H&M is really, really reasonably priced and I meant to get an outfit for a Monday evening function so this shopping trip was sanctioned.  As a follow up to this new ensemble, I thought to myself..."Doesn't every girl need party shoes?"  Thus, off I went in search of the Payless Shoe store that was on the 1st floor, remembering my promise to attempt frugality extracted (extorted?) by Mr. U.  It really was really challenging to bear that in mind as I passed store upon store peddling the most exquisite footwear imaginable.

Rounding the last corner of the 1st floor and about to give up/give in to temptation I spotted the store I was searching for.  If only I had veered left instead of right I would have seen it first instead of last.  They say that all good things come to those who wait.  Below is the iPhone photo essay of my little shopping spree.  I had a blast since I was left to my own devices in my shoe size section.

Once you get past the fact that Grover gave his life for these, you notice the gold heel on the shoe.

These were actually comfortable despite the awkward angle of the photo.  The open toe was a deal-breaker.

Raccoon fur, anyone?  Maybe squirrel?  Yuck.

I couldn't even stand up, let alone walk in these.

They looked great but too bad they were crippling.

Not so much.

Naughty school-marm, anyone?

Despite being my favourite colour, these didn't make the cut.  Suede ruffles?? WTH?

These did make the cut!  -comfy, stylish and sky-high.  Just what the doctor ordered.

Well, as you can see, a few pair followed me home yesterday.  Note that the entire price of 2 pair of shoes and 2 pair of boots were the equivalent of 2/3 of "the great boot purchase of 2011".  Mr. Unmentionable is sure to be proud of me when he finds out.  He's not home from his business trip yet so you all are getting this info before he does.  I figure there is safety in numbers and you can provide backup if I need it!

Pictured here is the line up of footwear that should last me until spring...or until you-know-who decides to leave town again and throw cash at me to keep me busy.  See?  I didn't REALLY spend all that much, I swear it.  Go ahead, check my math.

Динамо! Динамо! Динамо!

When one thinks of Russia, thoughts naturally turn to vodka, caviar, amber, troïkas, art, winter and...HOCKEY!

September 23rd saw us sitting in section C2, row 8, seats 55 & 57 for the Moscow Dynamo vs Sverdlovsk Avtomobilists game played out in the Малая спортивная Лужники "little sports arena of Luzhniki".  This KHL game was, sadly, not very well attended but we had a blast, truly.  The fun stated at the point of entry to the arena where the guard had to ask me 4 times to fetch a plastic cup for my water (an obvious communication breakdown as I tried to process what he was telling me and just couldn't wrap my brain around it).  I chugged the contents of my water bottle instead as the guard looked on in shock and surprise at my actions.  He waved me on without making me go back -I'm sure he thought I was just nuts.  We found out seats and settled in just prior to game time while two mini blimps puttered around the arena and a group of die-hard Динамо fans chanted to the beat of a large drum and waved a flag the size of my flat.

Without further ado, a stirring version of the Russian national anthem filled the air as the players lined up on the ice, adrenalised and ready for action.  The puck dropped and the boys started to chase it furiously, tripping and shoving and pushing and...holy crap, what are those?!!!  Hey, Mr. U!  Check out the...

You can see for yourself what sights await your eyes at a KHL game...back in Ottawa you just get an overgrown, shaggy, hotdog shooting kitty cat.  Here in Moscow we get...well,
you fill in the blanks.

Seriously though, the hockey was fast-paced and skillfully played.  The cheerleaders had 3 wardrobe changes throughout the game and kept us all stimulated with their gyrating enthusiasm.  Moscow beat Sverdlovsk 2-0.  Go team!

This past week we had the rare privilege to meet Vladislav Tretiak, one of the greatest goal-tenders in the history of hockey.  He was invited to the Canadian Embassy to receive a donation for his foundation and he gave a speech and signed some hockey jerseys with his #20.  We, of course, bought a red one.  Mr. Tretiak's foundation supports a huge amount of programs including: Children's Hospitals, Social Shelters for Children and Teenagers, Orphanages, Special Olympic Committee, Indigenous Saami community Kildin, and Ronald McDonald House Charities, Saint-Petersburg Amputee Ice Hockey Federation, All-Russia Society of People with Hearing Impairments, senior homes, and social centers in Saratov, Siberia, Tver, Irkutsk and other regions of Russia.

Владисла́в Алекса́ндрович Третья́к

Unfortunately the photo I took with him didn't turn out, but here is a picture of the big man himself, signing a jersey.  I wonder what would happen if I were to wear it to a Sens game?  Would I get 'cred' or crap for it?

Уважаемиые пассажиры...

I have learned that staying up until past midnight when one has to awaken at 0430 in the morning to catch a train is... well... no fun.  Happily, the taxi we ordered the day before for a 0530 pickup was on-time (actually a bit early and dispatch called us to tell us it would be arriving shortly and to notify us of the car number).  Would that Blue Line could ever be so efficient.

Moscow traffic (we'll never complain about Ottawa again) was light at the hour... except around the train station.  There it was pure Serengetti watering hole in the dry season.  It took almost as long for the cab to wend its way through to our train station (there were three in the cluster) as it did to cross half of Moscow.  Plus the crowds huddled about the entrance to the Metro awaiting its 6am opening didn't help flows any.  Oh yeah, I should mention we took a cab because the metro wasn't open yet.  Mr. Unmentionable was worried about the cab not showing up because the metro was not a viable option at that hour.  (Rightfully so, curses be upon him.)

A quick scan through metal detectors (us) and x-ray machines (bags) found us on the Сапсан platform staring blearily at one another.  Quiet as a whisper, our bullet train to St. Petersburg pulled up to platform 7 right on time for the 45 minute pre-board.  Aside from my last minute document search that held up the boarding process (In my defence, taking out my camera to document the trip had jostled my passport to the bottom of my bag making it awkward to extricate.  Neither Mr. U nor the boarding agent were amused.), things went smoothly and, at precisely 0645 hours, the train pulled out of the station.  We were soon clipping along at a comfortable 200km/h.

To the sound of double chimes and an enthusiastic "Уважаемые пассажиры" (Dear passengers...) we were regaled with 13 successive bilingual announcements (Russian and English), each one beginning with the same chimes and warm greeting.  We were informed about such things as smoking rules, the law enforcement presence on the train, the location of the bar car, the toilets, stops along the way, taxi reservation at destination from within the train, purchasing train tickets, loyalty cards for train ticket purchases, welcome aboard, souvenirs are available in carriage #6...you get the picture.  I am pretty good at saying 'dear passengers' now. 

I shall endeavour to poetically describe the scenery.  Trees.  Water-filled ditches.  Little houses.  Trees.  A river.  Trees.  A few more little houses.  Trees.  Trees.  There might have been some trees.  As you can see, I've used a bit of artistic licence.  The sun didn't come up for the first little while so what we could really see were our faces reflected in the window.  We're skipping that part because... well... you remember the bleary part earlier.  Actually, the landscape is very familiar -Canada in the fall is akin to Russia in the fall.  The leaves on the trees were changing colour, the grasses were golden and ready for winter and the skies grey and cloudy (or maybe that was just the dust in my eyeballs -have I mentioned that it was really, really early and I had only 4 hours sleep?). 

We could have been on a train going to Sudbury until we pulled into the St. Petersburg station.  At that point there was no mistaking where we were.  To the rousing sounds of a Russian march we disembarked and were funneled towards the exit and the city center by the rushing crowds.  Four hours on the high-speed train and we emerged into a bustling city center which can only be described as Russia meets Western Europe.  The best of both worlds come together here in a celebration of culture, heritage and history.  Following the directions from the hotel email, we immediately turned left out of the train station and walked for about 2 km before crossing a canal and realising that we weren't in such a nice part of town anymore.  It is incredible how quickly one gets that feeling of being not-quite-in-the-right-spot.  You know, when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and the wind blows just a bit colder and people are not dressed quite as smartly as they were 3 blocks ago...and there are fewer people out and about.  We turned back and once we reached the train station once again, we cabbed it.

It turns out we went too far to the left.  Had we followed the street that was slightly to the left of the train station we would have had an entirely different experience.  Here was the grand boulevard we originally expected to see with its upscale shops and monumental architecture.  The beautiful people were walking along the sunny side of the street and everything was right and proper in the world once again.  Our cabbie had some difficulty locating our hotel as it is fairly new and didn't have a huge shingle hanging from the building to identify it.  This gave us an impromptu tour of the surrounding area though so we did not mind in the least bit.

Once we found the place, we checked in (the room was ready, thankfully) and figured out what we were going to do for the day.  A walking tour around the area and a few photos later, my camera battery died and silly girl that I am, hadn't anticipated this would happen on day one so I did not have a back up or my battery charger with me (it has a North American plug anyways so it wouldn't work in the wall even though I later found out they had adapters in the hotel *sigh*).  That was pretty much it for 'real' photos.  My iPhone has a camera and I was able to capture a few images with it as a back up but nothing beats a real camera as you will see.

Hermitage seen from across the square

Hermitage facade

Hermitage entry gates

 

Church of the Spilt Blood

 

 

We hadn't eaten yet and were ravenous so we walked to the main street and found a nice, little Italian/Sushi place (DON'T ask) to sate our hunger and quench our thirst.  By this point it was too late to visit the Hermitage so we elected to retreat to the comfort and safety of our room and we both passed out for a late afternoon nap.  I guess 4 hours of sleep and a 5km walk with luggage is reason enough to have a kip.  Late night room service served as dinner and we fell asleep in our king-size bed that was more like a cloud made of crisp, white linens and goose-down duvet.  It was sheer heaven.  There is a reason I love the W Hotel chain.

Sunday morning saw the sun come out despite the forecast predicting otherwise.  We woke, broke our fast at a cute bakery cafe around the corner -Mr. U had a strudel and cafe  americano and I had a cinnamon bun and tiny demi-tasse of drinking chocolate (They didn't serve decaf so someone *cough*Mr.U*cough* thought this would be a better option, forgetting that sugar is equally as stimulating as caffeine - I just went with it.) before setting out to explore the Hermitage.

Exterior of the Hermitage

Stairwell inside the Hermitage

You might remember my gushing about the Pushkin here in Moscow...well I can't even begin to describe what happened to me in an entire HALL of Peter Paul Reubens tableaux.  My head was spinning and the experience was simply surreal.  Moving from hall to hall, standing in the presence of so many monumental master works is an indescribable privilege. That is just the beginning of it all.  I won't bore you with details but suffice it to say that the collection they have on display is phenomenal and reads like an art history who's who.  The collection on display is like none other in the world and I cannot even dare to imagine what must be housed in storage.  We were able to view the better part of one floor and will have to return another few times in order to visit all of the public galleries.  Mondays there is no admission to the Hermitage so we were out of luck for future visits this time around.

Carriage for hire outside the Hermitage

A lunch of Korean fare followed our museum experience where we dined on kimchee dumplings and other traditional dishes.  Not long after we sat down, two French couples came in to the restaurant and sat close to us.  It seemed that they were a few hours behind us in their tourism schedule, having arrived on an overnight train from Moscow and just stopping for lunch after their trip to the Hermitage.  I only know this because my ears perked up at the sound of French and they were speaking fairly loudly, especially as one couple had called their kids back home (wherever that was) to tell them they were fine and to do their homework (I had to laugh).  We left the restaurant and walked around town some more, visiting The Church of the Spilt Blood (not quite as gruesome as it sounds, though -it was founded on the site where Alexander II was mortally wounded) and walking the streets once again, getting a feel for the greatness of the city.

Church of Spilt Blood (Not bad for an iPhone shot!)

A few early evening drinks at the hotel bar and then a foray out for Indian food for dinner brought us to a small place on the corner.  It was surprisingly busy for 9PM on a Sunday night.  There were 3 other tables occupied when we entered and halfway through our meal, in walked 2 couples together.  I had to laugh as they were the same 4 from lunch at the Korean place.  What are the odds?  They were just as surprised as we were because I heard one of the men whisper to his friends, "I think they were at the Korean place during lunch."  Upon leaving, I stopped by their table to wish them a "Bon appétit et bonne soirée...On se voit demain, alors?".  There was surprised laughter and a rousing chorus of 'goodnights'.  Honestly, what are the odds?!!!!

For your viewing pleasure, here is some of the local wildlife as shot 'from the hip'.

Monday AM saw another walk around the neighbourhood, this time along the river.

We checked out of the hotel at noon and took a cab to the train station to start our journey back home.  Four and a half hours on the train followed by a crazy metro ride home (rush hour is a nightmare at best, let alone traveling with a suitcase, carry-on bag and never-used umbrella) we arrived back at our flat travel-weary and happy.  I would say money more than well-spent.

We have found a sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Lorem revertentur

(*today's post was brought to you by the collaborative efforts of Our Girl in Moscow and Mr. Unmentionable)