Friday, August 16th Gorky Park, the Garage Museum and the New Tretyakov Gallery
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| Wonerful French pastries in the Arbat district of Moscow |
We’ve settled into a morning routine of having breakfast at a stylish French bakery cafe near the metro station. I have a croque Madame and Art orders a set breakfast plate of eggs, croissant and juice. Fully caffeinated after a cappuccino and espresso, we descend into the metro in the direction of Gorky Park.
Saturday, August 17th – Our last day in Moscow.
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| Art mapping out our day |
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| Cappuccino and espresso |
Often our final travel day is one of stress but our flight tonight between Moscow and London doesn’t depart until 6:11 P.M. and we have the luxury of not setting our alarm. We wake shortly before 8:00 A.M to the sound of light rain upon tin roofs. I take the two steps required to reach our tiny bathroom. The Lonely Planet Guide Book recommended Hotel Bukalow in the Arbat district of Moscow. Admittedly it is a bargain at $65 a night and the high ceilings and location to a Metro station make it desirable but there is no elevator and three flights of stairs leaves me breathless. The hotels black cat always seems to be waiting for our return with glowing eyes. After showering and doing a preliminary pack, Art and I head out for a repeat breakfast at the French Bakery two blocks away. A double cappuccino and espresso later we dip into the Metro and Art navigates us flawlessly to the Modern Art Museum.
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| The sound of water – Jaume Plensa |
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| William Blake – Jaume Plensa |
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| Jaume Plensa |
Although the temporary exhibit is painfully amateurish there is an engaging show of Jaume Plensa, a Barcelona artist. His meditative installations of wood, water, steel and sound are lovely.
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| Exterior door at the Arbat station metro |
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| Long escalators down to the platforms |
We have a few metro stops to tick off our list and with an hour to spare, Art navigates us along the circle line and we pop on and off to admire more Soviet era Metro Art.
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| Beautiful stained glass at the Novoslobodskaya station |
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| Novoslobodskaya station |
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| Komsomolskay – ceiling mosiac |
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| Komsomolskay station |
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| Komsomolskay station |
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| Pink Floyd anyone? |
We take a taxi to the Moscow airport which with traffic takes considerably longer than the $17 meter price. An hour later, Art gives our driver $20 and we check in and breeze through security with ease. With just a few Rubles remaining we have diluted drinks at an airport bar and board the 4 hour flight to Heathrow. We arrive in Heathrow, London after 10:00 P.M. and shuttle to our nearby airport hotel to wait for our flight to San Francisco in the morning.
Art and I do a movie marathon between our London to Phoenix flight, sleeping just a little. We pick up our bags, go through U.S. immigration and dawdle some before checking through security in Phoenix. We have re-entered the U.S.A. and all seems good. Art breezes through security with his carryon’s and my computer but I am pulled aside. As a frequent traveler, I am used to an occasional snafu but this security check is intense. The expression on the face of the TSA agent who scans my passport changes dramatically and he looks at me intently and calls for a supervisor. They pull me aside and it is several minutes before a woman agent arrives and interrogates me. She asks where I have been traveling and inquires if I wish a private room for a body search that will be done by a female TSA agent. I am now nervous about missing our Phoenix to SFO flight and Art is standing on the far side of security watching me anxiously. Although the search will be intimate, I will not need to undress so I tell them that I don’t need a private room and stand awkwardly, legs apart as the woman pats me down and runs her hands under the waist band of my leggings over my breasts and most everywhere else. In the meantime, the supervisor has disappeared with my phone, drivers license and passport. When they first pulled me aside, they asked for all my electronics and I was grateful that Art had carried my computer through ahead of me. I don’t know what she did with my phone but I imagine that my sim card was examined. She returns 15 minutes later with my identification and phone but there is sill the explosive wand test to do on all my carry on baggage. I am curious why I have been flagged and with the exception of missing our connecting flight, I am not at all anxious. I chat to the supervisor as they wand my belongings. I surmise that it is the Russia leg of our trip that has caused the flagging and she tells me that the Russians are not our friends and asks me why we choose to travel to Russia? I tell her about the many world class Art museums and how beautiful Moscow and St Petersburg were and that the people we encountered were friendly and that traveling in Russia felt no different than traveling elsewhere in Europe. By the time they release me, we are all smiling and chatting about family and international travel destinations.
