A few nights ago I had a date with my ex here in Moscow, Nadya.
She had a couple of hours free, and we hadn't seen each other in over a month, so we agreed to meet.
In Moscow, that's easier said than done.
She told me to meet her at the Arbatskaya Metro station. That's down near the Kremlin.
But when you're dealing with the Moscow Metro, you have to factor in some variables. (1) Sometimes there are two stations with the same name, and (2) Just about every Metro station has more than one entrance and more than one exit.
Factor in a daily patronage of 10 million or so, and you have a formula for....well, not meeting.
In fairness to me, I was dubious about this arrangement. If I'm going to meet someone in Moscow, I prefer to take the guesswork out of it and meet them in a definite place whose location I know. Hence, I suggested that we meet on Kuznetski Most, specifically at a cafe called Kamchatka, which is right across the street from Цум (pronounced "Tsum") one of Moscow's largest and most well-known department stores.
But Nadya felt that meeting me there would be too time-consuming; she only had a couple of hours and Arbatskaya was closer to where she was working.
So she said, "Meet me at the Arbatskaya Metro. The one on the dark blue line." (There is another Arbatskaya Metro on the light blue line.) Well, okay. I know the difference between light blue and dark blue, and I can read a map, so I duly got myself to the dark blue Arbatskaya station, around 7:30 in the evening, as per our arrangement.
Then I had to negotiate the labyrinth of passageways that gets you to the sign reading Выход в город, "Exit to the city."
Well, if you give me any kind of choice of directions, I'll always go the wrong way. That's a given. Next thing I knew I was standing just outside the Kremlin wall, on a large square, with the ticket office for the Kremlin museums in front of me. No sign of Nadya anywhere. I got out my cellphone, but there was no point in trying to call her. Nadya is the most technology-challenged person I know. Worse than me even. She has a cellphone, but never carries it and refuses to use it. She also has a notebook computer, but again, never uses it. Never even powers it up. It just sits in her apartment collecting dust. If I want to get in touch with her, I have to call her old-fashioned land-line, and I knew she wasn't home. She was somewhere on the streets of Moscow, looking for me. But since she refuses to carry her cellphone, she could not call me up on mine and ask the $4 question "Where are you?"
Well, we never found each other. I walked around for about 30 minutes, then went back to my apartment. A couple of nights later, on the telephone, Nadya claimed testily that she had waited 45 minutes for me, then she, too, went home.
The lonely crowd. City of 12 million strangers. At least two of them lost. Unable to find each other. At least I had the excuse of being a relative newcomer; Nadya has lived here all her life.
Turn on your cellphone, girl. It's 2013.
And next time, we meet at Kamchatka, like I suggested.
She had a couple of hours free, and we hadn't seen each other in over a month, so we agreed to meet.
In Moscow, that's easier said than done.
She told me to meet her at the Arbatskaya Metro station. That's down near the Kremlin.
 |
| YOU just try to find somebody in this mess. |
But when you're dealing with the Moscow Metro, you have to factor in some variables. (1) Sometimes there are two stations with the same name, and (2) Just about every Metro station has more than one entrance and more than one exit.
Factor in a daily patronage of 10 million or so, and you have a formula for....well, not meeting.
In fairness to me, I was dubious about this arrangement. If I'm going to meet someone in Moscow, I prefer to take the guesswork out of it and meet them in a definite place whose location I know. Hence, I suggested that we meet on Kuznetski Most, specifically at a cafe called Kamchatka, which is right across the street from Цум (pronounced "Tsum") one of Moscow's largest and most well-known department stores.
But Nadya felt that meeting me there would be too time-consuming; she only had a couple of hours and Arbatskaya was closer to where she was working.
So she said, "Meet me at the Arbatskaya Metro. The one on the dark blue line." (There is another Arbatskaya Metro on the light blue line.) Well, okay. I know the difference between light blue and dark blue, and I can read a map, so I duly got myself to the dark blue Arbatskaya station, around 7:30 in the evening, as per our arrangement.
Then I had to negotiate the labyrinth of passageways that gets you to the sign reading Выход в город, "Exit to the city."
Well, if you give me any kind of choice of directions, I'll always go the wrong way. That's a given. Next thing I knew I was standing just outside the Kremlin wall, on a large square, with the ticket office for the Kremlin museums in front of me. No sign of Nadya anywhere. I got out my cellphone, but there was no point in trying to call her. Nadya is the most technology-challenged person I know. Worse than me even. She has a cellphone, but never carries it and refuses to use it. She also has a notebook computer, but again, never uses it. Never even powers it up. It just sits in her apartment collecting dust. If I want to get in touch with her, I have to call her old-fashioned land-line, and I knew she wasn't home. She was somewhere on the streets of Moscow, looking for me. But since she refuses to carry her cellphone, she could not call me up on mine and ask the $4 question "Where are you?"
Well, we never found each other. I walked around for about 30 minutes, then went back to my apartment. A couple of nights later, on the telephone, Nadya claimed testily that she had waited 45 minutes for me, then she, too, went home.
The lonely crowd. City of 12 million strangers. At least two of them lost. Unable to find each other. At least I had the excuse of being a relative newcomer; Nadya has lived here all her life.
Turn on your cellphone, girl. It's 2013.
And next time, we meet at Kamchatka, like I suggested.
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