my friend, I hope you found food again
places of untold stories
derelict beauty
grey spring metropolis
19/4/2007
Memories from Moscow (draft script accompanying short film, not shown here)
Coming back from Moscow, I felt really quite exhausted but inspired – and not so negative as I had been before I left. I think I need to be busy to feel good.
Anyway. Moscow was great. I enjoyed the whole trip, from beginning to end. It was great travelling alone; I always enjoy the buzz it gives me. No strings attached. The flight was good; 4 hrs, so a bit long, but I had all reading and research to do so this was a good opportunity I couldn’t ‘escape’. I did that, slept a bit and woke up in a very cold Moscow. Well, it was only –10°C or so but seemed such a difference to London, where a heat wave was going on when I left.
I took a yellow cab from the airport with a very nice man who played music for me - and after a 40-minute journey, listening to Russian music and filming the passing landscape, I arrived at Belgrad Hotel. I didn’t know what to expect so all I hoped for was a warm room and a decent shower. I was indeed pleasantly surprised when I saw the hotel. It was so me! I had butterflies and felt like I always do at the beginning of a great adventure. It was 70’s worn retro, 25 floors or so and a fantastic chandelier greeting me as I walked into the lobby/reception area. People mingling, drinking vodkas in the back ‘bar’ area and immaculate receptionists smiling politely at this tired looking foreigner with the yellow suitcase..
My room was on the 11th floor with breathtaking views over this ‘wedding cake architecture’ Stalinist building (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) right opposite my window. This became a good and faithful friend throughout my stay. We had many moments together amidst its dancing sweeping neon shadows.
I arrived at night so the city was lit up in the whole spectrum of colours, advertising, street lighting, cars and whatever else could be lit up, was. It was a real culture shock. I had expected a lot less ‘Las Vegas’.. As I later found out on my regular midnight walks, there were casinos everywhere, Prada, Dior, Hummer, Mercedes, Audi – you name it. So – throughout the week I was searching for ‘real Russia’ or rather ‘real Moscow’, but couldn’t find it. It was there in the Metro – architecture, echoes; traces of the past.. I will return to this topic later, in a different story.
My room was basic but great. Worn carpet and furniture, but I like that. I like to see life through objects/space that have been used. I could re-trace the movements of long gone footsteps. I felt at home. Who else has been looking in the room’s central smoky mirror? I could not help talking to myself, the mirror acted like a roommate. We had many good conversations.. I thought about all the past guests… Dreams; people have slept here, just like me, in this bed, under this blanket, on top of this mattress..
What did they look like? Who were they? There have been conversations in this room; there has been business and love here too, no doubt. Perhaps betrayal and fear.. But there was a good vibe overall.
It really was the perfect setting for anything – high enough up above the ‘street life’. I washed in the small but adequate bathroom with a beautiful sit/stand bathtub. The shower was really good. I have always struggled having a decent shower on my travels, either something is wrong with the temperature or the water pressure – this shower was fabulous. I could have had a shower all day it was that good! Who else has been enjoying the water pressure and temperature here?
So, anyway. I woke up to sunshine and the bluest skies one could imagine. Great colours, even the drabbest Russian pavestones looked amazing in this light. I had the breakfast buffet – all sorts, really good and tasty stuff. Cereal, hot and cold breakfasts, fruit, veg, juices of many kinds, coffee etc. Really impressive, and marionette-like waiters running around everywhere cleaning every last little breadcrumb from the tables as guests left and arrived. That in itself was amusingly entertaining. They were moving around in a chaotic choreography, trying hard to appear calm.
So – back to reality. I set off to go to work on the project. Felt weird, but I did feel ‘at home’ in some bizarre way. It took a while to work out the Metro as no signage is in English and few people speak English. The Metro by the way, is amazing. Beautiful, majestic and stylish. Each station has its own ‘theme’ with bronze figures showing ‘the people’ on the farm, working etc. Most stations had chandeliers of some kind, carvings and signs and images of Lenin etc. It was really beautiful. London Underground is like the pits in comparison. It was extremely busy in the morning and at night when all the masses returned from their jobs (which mostly pay very little apparently). I couldn’t believe the amount of people coming out of there each day. I filmed people on the escalators – they looked great, real characters.
The last day I was off and spent running around with the camera, camcorder and audio recorder (!). I felt like a spy with all this recording equipment, but had decided to do a Moscow audio/visual piece afterwards. We’ll see how this will happen as now I have so much footage I need about three weeks solid on that.
I saw Chekhov’s house (where a really grumpy old woman eventually scared me away as all she did was speak Russian to me although she must have realised I didn’t understand a word and kept saying ‘money, money’ pointing at my camera. I had already understood that photography cost extra everywhere and I weren’t going to take any bloody photos there anyway. She just kept following me ‘money, money..’. So I left. I wanted to see where Ivanov was written.
I visited this other amazing house, Gorky House Museum (1900), where I was greeted with much more warmth. I took lots of pictures and really enjoyed the visit. It had this enormous polished limestone staircase. I also spent some time with the stray cats that sneaked about in the house gardens. Outside, by the railings, I photographed shadows.
The night before I left my colleagues took me out for a meal. We then walked around the Red Square, Kremlin, Lenin’s tomb and all the tourist stuff. (I only looked at it from the outside. I had no time to go inside to any attractions). It was really beautiful, St Basil/Red Square at night in the rain with all the lights everywhere. Red Square was empty and deserted, snow had been falling. I went back the following day as I was checking out something else in the area – and it was full of tourists and not quite as beautiful as the night before.
I tried to find something Russian to take home but that was almost impossible. Everything was over the top and could easily be found in London (well, most things). So I ended up buying very little. I bought a very small bottle of vodka, which I have now almost finished. I had a few last night, and a bit of a headache this morning..
So – then I had to leave the lovely hotel that I had so enjoyed going back to in the evenings. I had a coffee in the bar and left for the train. It was interesting to travel through the suburbs and see all the social housing in the outskirts next to large industrial estates and other development.
When I arrived back in London, I felt a complete sense of displacement. I had so enjoyed the freedom of travelling, walking and moving around in that really alien and odd place that Moscow is. I loved the strangeness the place offers, I love the risk it also involves; the fact that you are not understood, you have to learn to become understood, by learning the language or some crucial words. It is big place and I have travelled to many places. This one, I cannot quite put my finger on. I think there is no communal sense of ‘place’; there is history and contemporary politics adding to the every day scene, and to the backstage too, I am sure.
So when back in London, waiting for the bus, someone immediately approached me, asking me to ‘spare a fag’ or ‘some change’. I knew I had arrived back in London..
Link to short observation in the Metro
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