Yes, you did read the title correctly. The chronicles of the musing traveller is back and this time, it's all about movement in Russia.Let me get straight to the point: I got lost again. This is not the least bit shocking considering I have the map reading skills of a five-year-old and quite frankly, I am surprised it didn't happen sooner (cue congratulatory pat on the back). In this case, my incident of misfortune occurred whilst I tried to locate a specific bank in the center of Moscow. For some reason that day, I was in a deluded state of bravery and after turning down help from a friend who is a local resident (and obviously forgetting my inability to locate the simplest of things) I decided to brave the search alone. It took a whole of 10 minutes to realise that I had made the wrong choice, by which time it was too late to call my friend back. The rest was inevitably history. Despite my unrealistic efforts of becoming the next Christopher Columbus, in this incident of getting lost, I don't feel as guilty. One has to consider the fact that I was in a completely different country with a completely different language. This put asking for directions in a world of its own. Sorry that would be an understatement; a universe of its own. Why is this so' Well, apart from the obvious language barrier, it seemed some locals possessed a 'lost-foreigner-who-is-going-to-waste-my-time' sensor which was on full alert that day and before I had even finished the word 'isvinitye' (excuse me), they had already apologised for saying no to whatever they thought I was going to inquire (I would probably do the same if I saw a confused looking lady with a bundle of maps, wildly storming towards me). A few locals looked utterly confused as to why I was even insisting on asking them for help in the first place and simply said 'I don't understand' halfway through my sentence of misconstrued and badly pronounced Russian. But here is what shocked me the most; other locals, after hearing my plea for help, actually confessed to not knowing where the bank was. Now you are probably thinking that getting lost in the middle of Moscow with no passer-by being able to help was my idea of a nightmare. Nevertheless, cast your minds back to 'Movement Musings 2' where I touched on the issue of people being adamant to give you directions, whether they knew your desired destination or not. After being a victim of such criminality, this subject will always have a special place of indignation in my heart. Therefore, you can imagine my utmost delight when in this situation; I was greeted with actual honesty instead. Call me strange, but nothing beats knowing that although you spent your evening vainly scouring the streets of Moscow, you did it because you couldn't read Russian directions and not because some sadist had told you to take 'two turns to the left' for the fun of it. I think the best part of my 'adventure', however, was when after two and a half hours of utter confusion, one local told me that in actual fact, the bank I had been searching for 'did not exist'. That dear readers, is the reason why I will never go looking for anything by myself again.
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