First impressions of Moscow

My first impression of Moscow is that it is dirty, ugly and underwhelming. Granted, that was before I saw the local drunk pissing in the Metro tunnel (and what he didn't see was the Russian cop approaching slowly with a smile, casually swinging his stungun like a baton).

The train ride from Irkutsk wasn't so bad except for the part where I vomited on myself. I had what my girlfriend calls temperature confusion (hot and cold night chills) so I stepped in the foyer outside the bathroom for some fresh air, only it was full of stale cigarette smoke, and immediately thereafter, my vomit. Unfortunately it's tough to have perfect aim on a shaky Russian train. But then I settled in for the remaining 60-something hours and life was grand. I shared third-class living space with an ex-con (at least that's what I gathered from the prison tattoos) named Albert, who was sincerely one of the friendliest Russians I've met. We spoke maybe four words in three days, but somehow we bonded, and he woke me up at about five in the morning today to shake my hand and nod goodbye.