Being on the metro so much is giving me a new understanding of Moscow life. Before I moved out to Строгино (Strogino), I could walk to the language school from my apartment in 5 minutes, and only took the metro (such a pain) to go out at night, do touristy things, or visit Blueberry or Kiwi. Now, just to get to the metro stop, it's a 20-minute marshrutka ride.

I've taken on some private students, two from my old morning class (the guy who replaced me, according to Holly, is "batshit crazy"...Катя (Katya) and Роман (Roman) would probably agree if they had the vocabulary, but they just went with "awful"), and one from the class I'm still teaching, Михайл (Mikhail). I meet them in the center a couple mornings a week, when I'm not at the oil and gas magazine.

The entire length of the platform of my metro stop, Щуткинская (Shchutkinskaya), is about five-deep with with people waiting for trains, which come every minute or two. I usually have to wait for a couple trains to pass before I can squeeze myself on. The ride from Щуткинская to the circle line in the city center is 15 minutes, packed so tightly that I'm practically lifted off the ground. Each successive stop I think no one else can possibly fit, then another five or so people shove their way on. Usually I read on the metro, but in the morning it's so crowded that either I can't lift my arms or my book would just be pressed against my face.

When we get to the circle line, half the passengers pour chaotically out like air from a let-go balloon. People waiting on the platform are lucky if they can get on before the doors slam shut. There are no sensors and "Please stand clear of the doors" like on the Washington metro, if the Moscow metro's doors close on you, you frantically tug your limbs either into or out of the train before it starts moving. I broke a flip-flop that way a few months ago.

My first few commutes like that left my nerves on edge for hours. Наташа (Natasha), my flatmate, does it every day and says you get used to it. People indeed seem to acquire a remarkable obliviousness to each other, the tighter they're packed. (A couple days ago as I was getting off the train, by accident I pretty much stuck my finger in the ear of an elderly guy who was sitting down. "Oh sorry!" I said because it came out of my mouth before "простите," and he kept staring straight ahead like nothing had happened.)

Not acknowledging strangers definitely alleviates the wierdness of being 3 inches from each others' faces. Plus, if you were polite to everyone you'd never have mental space for anything else. The metro mentality must involve some sort of dampening of the sense of others' humanity, which is maybe even necessary in a city like this not to go crazy from lack of space. It gives new context to peoples' general rudeness.

So many people come to Moscow because it's where the money is, and get stuck in the to/at/from cycle of work hoping for a job that pays well enough to both offset the expensiveness of the city and leave them with something to bring home. I can feel the treadmillness of the lifestyle starting to wear on me, and I'm even in the unique position of having an out.