the dogtrot

Eh, keep it.

A city not worth a shit—scratch that; apparently everything here is worth a shitload. Retardedly expensive.

We’d hoped in a big city, people would have a life, have better things to do than rip people off. That’s usually how it works, escaping tourist traps n such.

Not so here. But the locals just love it. Chatting away in their coffee shops whose prices leave Starbucks flapping in its wake. Russian Barbies with guys more concerned with fashion than any girl I’ve ever known. That’s an actual clothing brand here: Russian Barbie.

Foremost, Russian food sucks. Hands-down, flat-out, ‘nuff sed.

There is no love in it. No spiciness. Bland\\As//Fuck. I didn’t think “limp” was part of the flavor palette. The only herb they use is a garnish of dill. They don’t even salt the goddamn shit! Not even their precious omnipresent potatoes!

Second of all, you pay twice-as-much for half-as-much as compared to the States. The Fucking States! I’m not talking about China, for shit’s sake!

The only place you can get any bang for yer buck are at the kiosks, little sidewalk booths usually run by some curt, miserable bitch, where you can get a pretty filling burger for about a buck-fifty. It’s a microwaved 7/11-style burger, usually still cold in the middle. Until Moscow, we’ve also been able to find these mini-cafeterias called stolovayas, and you can get an okay amount of pretty good slop at an okay price. But the one we saw here was about thrice as expensive as the others (though it was in the ritziest mall i’ve ever seen). We’ve made a vow to eat our meals standing up, meaning, stay the fuck out of the cafes and restaurants and eat at the kiosks.

What can I say? We’re on a tight budget and running out of money fast, even faster since we hit Soviet dirt.

Sadly—and I mean fucking sadly—the best meal Moscow has given us was McDonald’s, and those fucking sad commies cram that craphole like it’s the Apocalypse. Even sharing tables with strangers it takes ten minutes to find a seat. To say nothing of the twenty minutes standing in line. It betrays Moscow as having an absence of quality grub at a decent price. After strolling and eating five days about Moscow, today I said, no wonder they mob the Mickey Deez, look at those poor starving euro-trailer-trashies! No wonder so many are fashionably skinny, ain’t no good food here to tempt them!

And don’t gimmie that megacity bullshit. I lived in New York for years. None of these restaurants, let alone what they call street food, would last a week in New York. [The most popular street food here, BTW, is a wrap filled with chopped chicken, shredded cabbage and ketchup(!?!!)! It’s not worth eating twice.] Nobody there would put up with overpriced tiny lukewarm food, unless it was gourmet, but this is bread, what passes for meat here, boiled potato and cheese. I could get a pizza slice for $1.40 in NYC. Here, a slice will run you $4, to start, and it ain’t NY pizza. I mean, aside from a few bums, nothing is ghetto here, no one—and no one includes restaurants—no one wants to even appear middle-class, unlike stateside cities. No, they’ve all got be, eat and dress fabulous at all times in Moscow!

Oh, but the fabulous Ruskis are a miserable lot. They all look depressed, suicidal, snotty, the way runway models always got that shitty look on their faces. Personalities passed down from the Soviet Era. Even when they’re friendly or helpful or laughing with friends, the eyes man, you dig? no more feeling in them than a crab’s eye at the end of a stalk. The lack of culinary lovin’ definitely plays into that.

Could a society with no love for food ever be considered a jovial one?

Uh, nope.

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