The Cluttered Pantry

Friday morning in Moscow—mellow breakfast in the room, immense enjoyment of the non-American tv coverage of the olympics, and so forth. Sean and Mark hit the bank to buy the rubles we need for today’s medical exams (36,000 per couple). Bank near the hotel resembles a peep-show establishment….tiny room, about 8 doors, each with a number. One at a time we went in, encountered a busty blond behind the glass and we handed her lots of cash (sound familiar?). But in the end all we got back was lots of 1000-ruble notes. Then it was back to the hotel, with a detour thru The Park Of Drunkards And Litter to the market, then back to hotel to collect the womenfolk.

The drive across town was long, then to the hospital for the exams. Two by two we appeared before a group of six lady doctors, and sat as they asked us questions and tested our reflexes and tone. Bobbi and i were asked to remove our shirts for further looks, and the lead doc examined all my tattoos with a bemused look on her face and then asked if they were real. I told her they were, at which point she shrugged and shook her head, so i told her that my mother had the same reaction. Anyway, the 6-doctor, 10-minute exam completed, we waited for the exam paperwork to be complete. And then more waiting, with the other couples (2 Spanish, 2 german, and a few more American couples). Then we went in for the narcological exam…any history of mental illness in the family, or substance abuse, when did we have our first drink of alcohol, etc. Sandi and Sean were asked what they thought of the weather (its hot by moscow standards) and if it was affecting them. Then a bit more waiting, and 3 hours after we walked in we walked out with our paperwork–sandi got her receipt–and now Alexander is driving like the wind back to the hotel as I blog in the back seat. But…blood suger low, so blogging stop for now.

Since last I blogged….we asked to be dropped back at Arbat Street, and we walked due west, dead into the hot hot sun, looking for food. 1st place didnt feel right to me, 2nd place was beyond the far end of Arbat and invisible, so hot, tired and cranky we settled on, yes that’s right, Hard Rock Cafe. Oh well—the beverages were cold, the food was plentiful, the waitress had lots of pieces of flair and no pants. Then it was into the souvenir shoppe for some trinkets, and on to the local version of Whole Foods—Bobbi says it’s more schmancy, a la Fox & Obel (except no valet parking, but they DO have 20oz cans of pre-mixed gin and tonics, which are Sandi’s new love besides her boys). After the 3km stroll back to the hotel it’s slow-down time whilst we watch weightlifting and prep for sleepytime.

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