Underground Beauty

Each city has its hidden gems and Moscow is no exception to the rule.  Every day millions of people commute under the city streets through passageways and tunnels, rushing to go somewhere.  Everyone is very busy and very important and I wonder to myself just how many actually take the time to stop and notice their surroundings.  For those who do, the Moscow underground system offers a brief respite from the daily grind.

So often we take our surroundings for granted and I must admit that after two and a half years, I find myself all too often guilty of the very same crime.  I now make a concerted effort to not take my exquisite surroundings for granted.  After all, upon my return to Canada I will no longer have unfettered access to what I (and millions of others) consider a free, underground museum and archive of the past.  I do my best to take the time to stop and really see the world around me.

So much of the iconic imagery on display recounts the history and glorious past of the Soviet era.  I can access much of the visual narrative from my own knowledge of history but there is so much more to be learned from each of the carefully planned tableaux and the flawlessly executed decor.  Not only do the images themselves speak of the pride and glory days but upon closer inspection, the craftsmanship and artistry that goes into planning and creating the stunning displays speaks of the pride and skill of the men and women who lovingly produced all of the elements that have come together to form each individual station.

An afternoon spent in the company of a knowledgeable tour guide and group of like-minded individuals who craved to learn and hear more personal tales of the Moscow underground system allowed me to access information and cultivate a much deeper appreciation of my environment.

The most poignant take away for me is that there are hidden gems hiding in plain sight.

I can not do justice to the colourful stories shared by our tour guide but I can share some "visual soundbites" that caught my attention.  I present to you a glimpse of the Moscow underground through the eyes of a keen observer who promises to never again take for granted the beauty and splendour on display every day for the common person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm In

I’ve discovered that if by some misfortune one falls ill and needs immediate medical attention, private healthcare in Moscow is, indeed, the way to go.  The details are not important (suffice it to say that all is now well) but the journey was, well, eye-opening.

After a medical issue cropped up this fall, I found myself in a doctor’s office on a Tuesday and in the operating theatre on Thursday.  Tuesday’s appointment was filled with tests and immediate results which led to the scheduling of a procedure for the following Thursday morning - yes, that is right, two days later.  Wednesday saw an appointment with the anaesthesiologist whereby I was permitted to keep my nail polish (both finger and toes because I am a princess, don’t you know) and instructed to take nothing by mouth as of midnight.  Thursday morning my appointment was delayed by two hours but that was no big deal since I was still half asleep that early in the morning.

Arriving at the EMC, I was swiftly escorted upstairs by the English-speaking receptionist to the pre-op floor where I was handed off to the care of three lovely nurses.  I was ushered into a private room along a quiet corridor where I was told to change into hospital garments.  The room had a locked closet and a bathroom that was better equipped than a few hotels I have stayed at.  The view wasn’t much to look at but at least there was a window.  To my surprise, the bed had a duvet and the most comfortable sheets.  It didn’t seem like a hospital at all.

 

 

 

Before I knew it, a pair of nurses came in to prep me for my procedure, ensured that I was comfortable and had everything that I could possibly need.  They even helped me into the (not-so-sexy) thigh-high pressure stockings that I was meant to wear in order to avoid circulation issues!

not-so-sexy pressure stockings - I may need a pair for plane rides

Safely tucked under the duvet after receiving a sedative injection in the gluteus maximus (not my favourite part of the prep), I gently  drifted off to sleep, blissfully unaware of my surroundings and what was about to be done to my indoor plumbing. 

That was the best sleep I’d had in months, I must admit.

I woke up, groggy and content, back in the same room where I last knew of my surroundings, unsure as to whether or not everything was over and done with.  The nurse bustling into the room, checking my vitals and disconnecting my various IVs and wires told me that all was over and (as I had hoped) had proceeded quite successfully.  Drifting in and out of a warm, fuzzy state for I’m not entirely sure how long, I was surprised and pleased to suddenly find Mr. U fussing by my bedside.

The ladies at the counter were most impressed that Mr. U had come to pick me up and twittered at him while I was trying to get my thoughts together.  Apparently it is not common practice for husbands to fetch their wives after a surgical procedure.  Who knew?  I think Mr. U liked the attention.  Who wouldn’t want three nurses in their cute, little outfits batting their eyes at him?  It was like being on the set of Mad Men.  The question is was I Betty, Megan, Joan or Peggy in this little scenario?

All kidding aside, the experience was topped off with being required to eat a freshly-prepared, hot meal before they would even dream of discharging me.  They even offered to feed Mr. U but he declined politely as he just wanted to get us both home after a long day’s work and worry about my welfare.

almond chicken schnitzel with spaghetti

Thankfully we have medical insurance to cover the cost of the day’s adventure but truthfully, if we hadn’t, it would have been worth every копейка and рубль to experience the professionalism and efficiency of the private healthcare system available here in Moscow.

I know where I’m going next time, without any hesitation or trepidation.  Hopefully I will not have to avail myself of their wonderful services ever again but should I need to, I’m in.