Moscow

The night train to Moscow was a much cleaner and more modern affair than that from Warsaw. It was also our first opportunity to share our compartment with a stranger. The train from Warsaw had been the only one in my reservations which had offered 3 person compartments, all the rest being for 4. Our partner for this journey was a later-middle-aged Russian lady with no English and a very little German. It turns out that in spite of many hours doing an online Russian course my few phrases are virtually incomprehensible to natives. Our friend soon expressed her desire to settle down for the night. Although Madame had reserved one of the top bunks she asked if Helix would swap with her, which of course he did. Top bunks are cheaper than bottom ones and clearly rather impractical for a lady of our friend's age and proportions. My cynical nature casued me to wonder if perhaps this was a regular tactic on her part, for who would refuse to swap their bottom berth with a grandmother?

i am a late adopter as far as smart devices and those "app" things are concerned. My first experience with Uber was excellent but subsequent ones have proved less satisfactory. Leaving Kiev I asked for a pick up from the hostel but as far as I could tell from the map the driver was headed for a location a hundred yards away. We set out to find it but from the geolocaion it appeared to be in the middle of a wall rising to the next level of the city via a staircase. I assumed that this must be the way to go but when I got the notification that the driver had arrived he was nowhere to be seen, either at the top or bottom of the stairs. After much running here and there I found the car parked outside the hostel, with a rather grumpy driver telling me firmly to get in. It did not imporve his mood tolearn that my kids were a hundred yards away and up two flights of stairs. In the end both the driver and Lila seemed to be convinced this had all been my fault. Perhaps it had, I am frequently confused by the modern world. Much the same thing happened in Moscow but this time the driver specified a pick-up point which I was totally unable to locate in spite of upwards of 7 satellies tracking my every move (according to my tablet). We eventually found each other using the comfortably 20th century methos of text-messaging. I am not sure how much I shall be using Uber from now on.

Much to the disbelief of nearly everyone we met in Moscow we were not there for the football. In fact when I srated booking accomodation back in January Iwas unaware it was even worldcup year and only realised because of the fact that beds were already selling out. Since then I have regarded the event as little more than an inconvenience. The hostel wechecked into was full of the youth of many nations, all there for the football who soon reminded me to stop being such a cantankerous old git and that many people enjoy football without necessarily being entirely devoid of wit. I went for a walk with Helix to look for options for dinner where we were regularly accosted by bar owners peddling their establidhments' large TV screens. I casually waved them all off, professing a complete lack of interest in football. An enthusiastic man serving at the supermarket counter was the one to start me re-examining my attitude, informing me that the match that evening happened to be Columbia vs; England.. Thinking that there was likely to be some sort of gathering place with giant screens and some kind of "atmosphere" I hit the internet and found that indeed there was and that our hostel was right by a stop on Line 1 of the Metro, which took us right there. It seemed foolish to turn down the opportunity.
The "Fifa Fanzone" was quite a walk from the tube station but I had confused my12 and 24 hour clocks to get us there a full two hours early, so there was no danger of missing kick-off. We had planty of time to admire the Stoicism of the thousands of police and soldiers who had evidently been instructed to look as impassively deterring as possible as they stood in their positions ignoring the various colourful passers by. They well matched a large number of people sporting the Swiss flag and walking in the other direction, who seemed just as little inclined to gay abandon.
The Fanzone was impressivley situated, the entrance overlooking a motorway which seemingly lead straight up to the far glealming domes of St. Basil's qnd chosen perhaps for the propect it afforded of Moscow as the thoroughly modern metropolis it surely is. Inside it was ablaze with the banners of Fifa and its corporatesponsors. The screens were indeed enormous and we were greated with the sound of a rather good Russan hip-hop band playing on the stage. In fact all the musical acts were pretty good and I managed to thoroughly ashame my daughterby getting my groove on.
One of the gifts of middle age has been the freedom to no longer even have to pretend to care about sport. The spectacle of world-class athletes performoing amazing feats of strength and skill is always interesting of itself but although as a younger man I have foud it possible to work myself up into some reemblance of tribal feeling I have always beenaware that it was at base a pretence. When the players took the field I realised that I could no longer recognise a single name or face of the national side, so long had it been since I had followed the game, even vaguely. It is perhas true that to get the most out of a being a spectator it is necessary to favour one team over the other, so Idecided that on the basis of geographical accident of birth and a certain nostalgic idea of a shared culture I would invest what little desire I could muster into the idea of an English victory. The Columbians in the audience seemed to be much better at this than even the most entusiatic of the George cross brigade. My allegiance started to waiver even at the start towards the peoplefor whom the result seemed to matter the most. The first part of the game was enjoyable enough, with the english team seeming to have much the better of it. My sympathies started to turn after Mr. Kan was awarded his penalty, giving England the lead. Watching the replay it seemed to me the man deserved everything he got and had been goaing his opponent into an ill-considered action. I don't know what Fifa make of this sort of thing but I do not consider it very sporting and it is a dishonourable way to wina match qnd where there is no honour there can be no victory. The reaction from the England fans in the Fanzone was decidedly muted and I felt quite embaressed by the whole affair. After this I had my eye on Kane and must say that I do not like the way he plays. The whole thing started to get very scrappy after that and I found myself losing any interest I had in the outcome. The Colombian goal in the last minutes of injury time was well merited and it was nice to see their fans so happy. I was a little disappointed though as I had underdressed and was looking forward to the end of the game. We did not stay for extra time, penalties and all the rest as we were tired, cold, a little damp and football is really not all that interesting.Read more