by Mandy Hsu
The beautiful golden round lamps beside the escalator glowed, as I descended deeper into a magical world, one I’d never experienced before in my life. Upon my arrival in Moscow I headed for the metro, which serves as the pivot of this great city. For foreigners, taking the metro is a daunting task. There are no English signs to be found anywhere as everything is in Russian. Moreover, it is impossible to communicate with the locals, because Russian is all they know. To make matters worse, I was afraid of being overwhelmed by the vast network of underground railways. It is like a spider web with lines intersecting in all directions. I sat down on a marble bench and waited for the train. I was astonished by the architecture of Komsomolskaya station. Different types of marble that were brought in from the old Soviet regime still gleamed in their striated glory, accompanied by famous sculptures, mosaics, and paintings. I raised my head up to look at the fabulous Baroque ceiling, its color an imposing yellow. Divided into eight mosaics, it contained themes that showcased the country’s fight for freedom and independence. A few other mosaics were made of gilded cobalt glass depicting various scenes of weaponry and armor, surrounded by white-colored friezes. Chandeliers stood imposingly in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating the entire platform. Between two escalators, a row of striped lights shone brightly, with advertisements of clothing stores such as H&M, and MANGO. Such a strong contrast to the Baroque style of the metro station. I felt like I had been transported from the modern world back in time to a historical Russia. In this fantasy world, I was an explorer filled with the excitement of adventure. With a flash of light, the train zoomed to the platform with a deafening sound. I met it’s arrival with a faint smile of excitement. But after I stepped onto the train, the door immediately slammed shut right behind me. I was shocked to see how fast the doors close without warning. There was a young woman dressed in a miniskirt, leather jacket, and high heels who struggled to pull in her handbag that was stuck between the doors. They miraculously opened again as she pulled with all her strength. I found a place to stand and began to observe the people in the train. Everyone seemed to have a poker face, a big difference between Russia and Taiwan. As a Taiwanese, I am used to seeing people laughing and chatting on the metro, making the journey livelier. Here they read books, used their smart phones, or simply stared into space. Sometimes I felt a barrier between myself and other people, especially when they stared at me for no apparent reason. I did not feel like I belonged. Moscow didn’t embrace me. I felt lonely and started missing the friendly faces that were thousands of miles away. Rush hour came, people were pushing to get onto despite the fact that the train was already full. A fat woman shoved me aside and I fell, but she continued to squeeze past me. I felt suffocated and could not bear to stay there any longer. She did not apologize and kept talking to her grandson, not even turning to see that I was unhurt. My spirits were suddenly dampened. People stepped on my new white shoes, hit my shoulders without apologizing, and pretended like I was not there. It seemed that time and their destination were the most important things in the world. I wondered why they had to panic when another train would arrive in just one minute. Feeling depressed by people and nervous about getting lost, I repeatedly asked myself if I was headed in the right direction. I counted how many stations had already passed and desperately tried to find an indication of where I was, by looking at the station’s name on the wall through the windows. Finally, I arrived at my destination, “Sportinvnaya.” Walking out from the station, I took a breath of fresh air and headed towards the church, Novodevichy monastyr, with its traditional golden Orthodox dome. A Russian man who looked like a villain from a James Bond movie walked towards me. Our eyes met and I smiled at him out of politeness. He smiled back and walked on by. After a while, he turned around and said: “It has been a long time since I have seen girls on the street smiling. Thank you.” I was touched by his words and my impression of the Russian people started to change for the better. The cold feeling that I initially felt had started to disappear. Maybe it was due to historical reasons that they did not display their friendliness, but I knew that in their hearts they still cared about the power of a simple smile. a
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May 2024
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