Moscow has sucked me in and isn’t letting me go. Recently I’ve been leaving the house at 7 am and coming back at 9 pm. I barely even noticed that the festive season has begun. I don’t write, but I keep my eyes open an take out the camera more frequently than it would seem. There’s a lot of work in progress that hopefully I will soon share with the Readers, and, for now, let me present you with yet another instalment of The Metro Chronicles.
Author: Marta
Folk singers. Sound postcard.
Posted onLong walks around Moscow are like a treasure hunt. In a city so big you can always find something extraordinary. Your chances grow exponentially after dusk – little pieces of Moscow gold twinkle in the dark. Many of the treasures you find are of musical kind, as Russians are a very musical nation. One October evening, on the steps to the Historical Museum, I saw these two ladies:
In the meantime
Posted onIn the meantime, yet another scene noticed in the streets of Moscow.
I had a KFC lunch on Sunday. The place was crowded, everyone around me was angry and sweaty, wearing too many layers as the day turned out to be unexpectedly warm. However, the lady serving me was genuinely nice and happy. Yet another joyful person within the same week. It seems that Moscow is finally smiling back at me: she has clearly decided that, since I didn’t run away screaming yet, I deserve some common courtesy. It seems that I passed the test.
The Metro Chronicles
Posted onMy metro people-watching continues. Here is yet another instalment of the Metro Chronicles.
Moscow metro. Sound postcard.
Posted onSounds are of extreme importance in Russia. The country’s public space is populated with sounds that do no allow you to confuse it with any other place. Many spots look as if they could be located anywhere in the world, but they sound distinctively Russian (and not only because of the language). I would like the Readers to see Moscow as I see it and, paradoxically, I see Moscow through its sounds. Therefore, I will be sending the Readers a sound postcard every now and then.
The Metro Chronicles
Posted onThe metro plays an absolutely crucial role in Moscow. Millions of people spend long hours there every day – and now I am one of them. Multiple rides constitute perfect circumstances in which to indulge in of my favourite hobbies – people watching. In this newly established series of articles, I will share with the dearest readers whatever I happen to notice and deem worth sharing.
Moscow – first impressions
Posted onI will remember my first week in Moscow as a crazy sequence of random streets, metro stations, hippie post-soviet apartments to-share-maybe-with-me, and running around from one hotel to another. Now, however, all my problems have been solved and I can truly say that I live in Moscow. Here you have a couple of first impressions of the city.
A postcard from Poland
Posted onI’m in Moscow now. My first week here has been great, more details to follow very soon. For now – a postcard from my holiday in Poland.
Hello, goodbye.
Posted onI have just moved out of Edinburgh. Forever. I don’t think it has fully hit me yet. Edinburgh has been the first stop in my independent, almost grown-up life. This is where I’ve learnt that moving to a foreign country is not as easy as it seems (and that, quite frankly, it’s a rather traumatic experience), but that it is worth every single minute it; and that you cannot really run away from yourself, no matter how far you go or how hard you try; and that the world is full of so many different people that you don’t have to try to fit in anywhere, as there will always be someone compatibly quirky; and that the more diverse your closest circle, the better; and all sorts of other truisms that you are aware of, but don’t fully realise when you’re nineteen and freshly out of a small town in Poland (no matter how well-travelled and well-read you are then).
A Hundred Miles of Solitude
Posted onI spend too much time on facebook. I scroll up and down when I can’t sleep, when I want to delay getting out of bed, when I eat out by myself – not to seem to be a maniac with nothing to do. I open articles I want to read in new tabs never to come back to them, and sometimes I scroll through profiles of people I haven’t seen for years. Going through the den of walls of old friends who all seem to have their shit much more together than me, I once went through the wall of my very own. To my surprise, the person I saw there was very much not the person in whose head I live and who I would sometimes like to run away from.