This is nothing special but an interesting observation.
Its 9am and the metro is packed. We scurry around seeking our station, fighting for a spot in line. This is the St. Petersburg metro station. Missions travel through here a day, including myself. I ride the metro at 9am and 4pm, the times I finish teaching class. Rarely have I ever seen the same person. With so many people it’s fun to people watch. Every kind of person is here. They all have their own identities but still seem like drones. No one talks, smiles, or wonders. They keep to themselves – why should they talk to a stranger? Smile? What is there to smile about? You must walk with a purpose, anything but that, and the militias have you in a headlock. You may ask me what makes all this so special, it’s not this, but rather but what this produces. The one simple action that spawns from the anonymity of using the metro. The kiss. A kiss can be defined as when lips from two people touch in an affectionate way. I stand there in amazement as I watch two lovers go at it as if it’s their last day together. Her arms around his waist. With one hand he might hold on to a bar to stabilize himself on the shaking metro. With the other hand, he holds her tight, maybe even a little fondling. Their eyes never part, locked together for all eternity. Furthermore, this is no ordinary kiss. This is the kiss, where you must take a break to breathe. Pause…smooch, smooch some more, pause…take a deep breath, smooch some more. They might wiggle their noses and play around a bit. He might start kissing her neck up and down, as she bites his ear. Why do they do this? Because they can. With such anonymity one can practically do anything, and no one will ever see you again or even remember. However, an interesting point that I must make is not about the lovers themselves, but rather the emotions that show themselves so clearly on each and every face around the lovers. I have found it fascinating to observe people’s reactions to such a kiss. From what I have seen the average Russian will hide his/her emotions to the common stranger. When you inject a small piece of emotional passion and love, the human body cannot help but react. Let’s first take the middle aged women. She seems to be unmarried yet very sophisticated. A little overweight, but that’s understandable as one grows older. From a few feet away her eyes bounce back and forth between her exit and the lovers. She looks at them out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes focus on their intimate love. She almost seems jealous and full of hatred as she scowls at them. Her lip quivers as a fist is made and her teeth clench together. She has never had such a feeling. What gives them the right to just flaunt their love? Next to her stands a man with a silly grin on his face. He just stares as his eyes dry out and he misses his stop. His jaw slightly ajar, he is a sight to behold. He simply stands there in appreciation as if he is watching some porno. A small boy sits on the bench nearby with his finger pointing at the lovers. His mother quickly tells him to shut up as he giggles and looks on in anticipation. The innocent anticipation for what might happen next. Where might he kiss her next? Will it be as gross as the last time? He sits there completely immersed in fascination with the unknown. And then there is the young lady. Not too far from where I am standing. She watches with a smile, yet sly smile. She is thinking of her own lover. She is going to him now. She admires this love, and thinks of times when she has done the same. She simply watches in admiration of their love. Lastly is the older man. I don’t know if he is married or not, it doesn’t really matter. He stands there with a solemn face almost as if he admires it. His shoulders relaxed and his toes wiggling, he tries to remember when he did the same. He misses the passion. Maybe his wife has died or that passionate flame has burnt out between them. Nevertheless, as a man, he still misses the touch of a woman’s love, and the invincibility of that relationship. He looks on – happy for the young couple, but at the same time yearning to be like them once more. And then there is me. I watch them kiss, and the reactions to it. I follow people’s eyes, and how they position their body. Is that person really happy? I try to smile, but the scowls are almost stifling. Day by day I see this happen. And day by day I realize how different this culture really is. This isn’t France, Australia, or Brazil, this is Russia. Whatever may happen, just remember….you’re in Russia now.
