Our guidebook informed us that most train stations in Russia only accepted cash as payment for tickets, so when were arrived at Moscow Central Station we made a B-line for the ATM. Four machines attempted, four machines either rejected our cards or were out of cash. Hm.
Then I noticed a sign on one of the teller windows that Visa cards were accepted. “Thank God,” I thought as I hopped into line.
Our ticket situation was a little complicated; we were hoping to purchase tickets for our entire Trans-Siberian journey and needed nine separate tickets to accommodate all the stops we wanted to make.
Not speaking the language I had written out exactly the tickets we needed in Russian – this class of ticket, leaving on such-and-such day, the specific train number and the time of departure, please. I thought it would make the process fool-proof. (Fool = me).
After about a 20 minute wait in line (people cutting right to the front the entire time), I handed over the written instructions and my Visa card. “Net,” the teller responded casually as she handed my Visa back. I pointed to the Visa sign. “Net.”
I tried three different windows that had a Visa sign and they all refused my card and told me to go to a different window number. Talk about the run-around. Finally we were directed to the Station Master, “Fantastic, they surely will be able to help us!”
“Net.” She ignored us standing at her window for about five minutes and then told us to try window ten, a window we had already been rejected from. Super.
We counted our cash and determined we only had enough to purchase the first three legs of trip. At least it would get us started. So back to window ten we went. I wish I could have captured the teller’s face when she saw us standing in front of her again – she was not amused.
We gave her the instructions, flashed our cash and she begrudgingly started to process our tickets. By chance, there was a middle-aged couple behind us who spoke enough English to help the teller when she had questions. They were wonderful and adorably shy about their “no good English.”
Tickets finally in hand, we emerged from the station, exhausted and frustrated, nearly three hours after entering. It just shouldn’t be that hard!
Tickets finally in hand!
*Sidebar – I was astounded that in Moscow, the Russian capital city, the center of culture, progressive thought and government, the most westernized city in the Federation, not a single ticket seller spoke English. We encountered English everywhere we went in Moscow, from restaurants to street vendors, but the one place that it would be really beneficial, net.
