Dmitri led us into the chrome and glass lobby of the Vega, and took care of the reservations (most of the staff were not very fluent in English). He even paid the 5 rouble registration fee for us, since we had not had a chance to change currency. "Don't change it here; their exchange rate is terrible. Wait till you get downtown," he informed us. Meanwhile, Alexy brought all of our luggage from the car, and placed it in front of the elevatots, as if it was made of balsa wood. We thanked them both profusely (and, of course, gave them a good tip in US Dollars). The two of them certainly made our arrival pleasant enough.
Our room was on the 26th-Floor, at the top of the hotel. The large window (thankfully could be opened enough to let in the air) overlooked a vast southeastern panorama, of the city -- the great forest of Izmailovo Park (once one of Peter the Great's estates), the apartment blocks stretching toward the city proper, and on the far horizon, several spires of the famous Stalin-Gothic buildings of the 50s (known collectively as the Seven Sisters) -- a truly spectacular vista. It more-than-made-up-for the smallness of the room, and the smallness of the 3-stars rating it claimed. (The beds were too low, the tub too high, and the closets were as big as the bathroom.) But I remembered the old adage: "A tourist goes to another land and complains that it's not like home. A traveler goes to another land and marvels how it is different from home.) I decided to be a traveler.
And so we had a marvelous sleep.
We woke in the same pale soft light that we'd fallen asleep in...In late spring, here, darkness comes late and leaves early. (Don't ask about Winter!) Today we were on our own (until 11 AM when we would meet our private guide at the Kremlin.) The plan was to catch the Metro at Partizanskaya and get-off at Arbatskaya on the purple line. I cashed a 20 dollar at the hotel's terrible rate, and we took off in the cool morning air to find the Metro Station (which the map called Izmailovo Park).
That tuned out to be more difficult than the map indicated, what with the stray-dogs and beggars and cigarette-smoke and kiosks and arguing cab drivers virtually hiding the place. But there was the square yellow building with the red 'M' in front. It was crowded even on this bright Sunday morning, but once inside, we were taken by the size of the entrance hall and the marble floors and the bronze statuary, this particular station commemorating the rural resistance to Nazi occupation in WWII. It was so much cleaner here, than outside, and the trains roared in every minute or so. We were soon heading downtown, counting the stations; the cars even have a lighted scheme above the doors showing which station you are entering. We arrived at Arbatskaya, its decor different but just as impressive as our origin station. (Each one has its own thematic style.) This is the largest and most efficient mass transit system in the world; it was begun in the 1930s and is still being expanded today.
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As we exited the station to the street, there was the famous Morozova House (known in Soviet times as the 'House of Friendship') directly across the street. This magnificent
Style Modern (or Art Noveau) mansion is something out of the Arthurian Legends.
I managed to get someone to point out the direction to the 'Kreml' and we headed south. "How far is where we're going?" asked my wife, hopefully. "Just a few blocks" I answered, just as hopefully...
