Moscow

This is very weird; I swear I wrote 'capitalization'.... I'm well aware of your careful omission in daily missives. And I'm also a fan of your diligent punctuation. Also, that you're seldom late.

 

Thanks for the links. I just may hit Amazon!

 

i committed a cardinal sin and did not shoot anywhere enough footage but... i'll throw this out there anyway.



pretty sure there will be many many more return trips. time to apply for global entry...

 

Wow, just read this thread! You guys are amazing parents and thank you for sharing this adventure and will keep following....

 

awesome experience for you and your daughter. Also great pics of the country.

 

Great pics! Moscow looks fantastic! Thanks for sharing them!!

 

the adventure continues. headed back next tues to pick up roxy and bring her home for the holidays. switching things up and taking my trusty old hasselblad, one lens, a couple of film backs, and about 10 rolls of film. right now, i'm leaning towards just taking b&w.

 

I can't wait to see the pictures, as well as Roxy. I can't imagine how much she has change in 1 year, but that's what they do grow and learn...

 

X2

 

Where are pictures of bear playing balalayka in the streets?

 

i'll try to find one next week...

 

return journey in progress. for now, here’s the moscow river...

 

Safe travels Sean.

 

It must be a cultural thing. In German, it would have been her meat. 'You know that if you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?'

One hell of an opportunity for her though. It's hard to top the Bolshoi Ballet on a resume or portfolio.

 

Outbound

DIA is a zoo. Always is these days. The construction and the recent addition of the Uber/Lyft pickup/dropoff island do not make it easier. Check-in, money exchange and security. Lufthansa didn't have my TSA number but the lines were short so I didn't mind. Besides, I was early and traveling light. Onto the train, terminal B for a stop at Jamba Juice, back on the train to terminal A then, people watching. Mental photographs.

The gate slowly started to fill. The usual announcements of packed flight, not enough overhead space, check a bag floated over the waiting area. For all the German efficiency, Lufthansa always seems a few steps behind. Boarding started then my name rang out through the PA. The gate agent handed me a business class upgrade. A smile, a thank you and off I went.

I've never had a problem sleeping on planes. Having a seat that folded all the way flat only made it easier.

Sun started to rise just after we passed London. Most of northern Europe was covered in gray and out my window we were drag racing another airliner. Barely a bump when the massive A350-900 touched down. German perfectionism.

Through the maze of stairs, escalators and trains of the Munich airport. Gleaming. White. Clean. Sanitary.

Waiting at the Moscow gate. Russian drifts into my ears. I'm starting to recognize words, at least the easy ones. The pace of the conversations is insanely fast and it always sounds like an argument. Then there's laughter. Munich to Moscow is a quick flight, just over 2 hours.

Customs at Domodedovo. All of the agents are female. It's the only place in the world where I have seen this. Passport handed over. Intense stare. Taps on the keyboard. Passport scans. Intense stare. More taps. Another scan. Stamp. Stamp.

Outside the main terminal I'm trying to figure out if I want to try the train or just get a cab. It's an express into Moscow where I'll have to change onto the Metro to head back out of city center a bit to Frunzenskaya which is where my hotel and Roxy are located. Someone calls out, "Taxi?" I look over to see a bear of a man with a friendly smile. What the hell, "Da", I say and he leads me to the parking garage and his very clean Toyota Camry. It's white so I almost tell him no but I roll with it.

I start to get in the back but shakes his head and motions me to the front. The airport is about 60km from the hotel and at 5:00pm, the traffic is going to be bad. Moscow traffic is always bad but the evening commute is really bad. As we're driving away he bring up Google Translate and begins to pepper me with questions. How many times have I visited Moscow? Why am I here? Will I vote for Trump?

We pass his phone back and forth. I tell him about Roxy and the Bolshoi. He is very surprised especially once I tell him her age. "14?", he says to me, "She is but a child. How can she already know what she wants?" I agree with him completely. He's been driving a taxi in Moscow for 37 years. He doesn't like the traffic or how expensive things have gotten. I say, "I'm sure you have seen more changes than just traffic and money over those years." He just smiles and nods. I can only imagine the changes he and his family had been through, good and bad.

Waze keeps trying to route him around the traffic but there is no escape. Some of the roads I recognize and eventually we wind up on a street with landmarks that I do recognize. A monastery. A small cafe where Bec and I had dinner one night last January. The Metro station. Then, around the corner, the hotel.

I get checked in, put my bag down and make a pit stop. I let Roxy know I'm here and to tell me when she's done. Wednesdays are a long day for her and eventually, I hear back from her.

The evening weather isn't bad. The dead winter chill has not yet set in and it felt much like Denver. The evening commute is still in full force. Traffic jams. Honking. Sirens wailing. Delivery guys on their bicycles.

The walk to the Bolshoi Academy from the hotel is a quick one. Maybe 15 minutes.



I walk into the Bolshoi, smile and nod at the stern faced security guard then wait for Roxy. I can hear her running down the hall well before I actually I see her. She comes bounding around the corner and jumps at me for a hug.

 

Gorky Park and an Errand

The time change doesn't bother me too much. The difficult thing for me is the shortness of daylight hours. The sun rises at 9 and it's dark by 4. However, when the sun is up and visible, the quality of the light is something special. The sun is so far to the south that the light is warm and the shadows are long all day. As someone whose work is based around light, I really can't get enough of it.

When I saw Roxy last night, she mentioned that she needed to go to the Grishko store for some new pointe shoes. I told her I would come by about 3:30 to pick her up. We'd run over there then grab some dinner. I had some time to kill in the morning and decided to talk a walk. Last time I was here, Bec and I took the Metro everywhere. I really wanted to get my bearings above ground and find Gorky Park. I knew it had to be close because Roxy had mentioned they used to walk over there in the warmer months. A quick check of the map before leaving the hotel showed me just how close it was.

I headed off towards the Academy. The day was gray with low, heavy clouds and the wind was ripping. It didn't take long for me to get to the Academy. Shortly after that, I was on the Moscow River.



Across the bridge was Gorky Park. Crossing it would put me in about the center of the park. It stretched in front of me for about a kilometer and almost as far behind. In the summer, it must be a beautiful escape from the city.

The bridge was an amazing piece of architecture. Old and new, much like the rest of the city. It was also a nice momentary escape from the wind.



I descended down from the bridge and into the park not totally sure which direction I wanted to walk. Through the trees I saw a massive tower. I couldn't quite figure it out but decided to head that way to check it out. I headed down river. The park was very quiet. Maintenance crews. A jogger. A man on skates with XC poles.

Across the river, I spotted the Russian White House. It is the primary governmental building and is where the Prime Minister works. In 1993, it was also the site of the deadliest street fighting in Russian history since the Russian Revolution. Yeltsin had tried to dismantle the Supreme Soviet. Parliament decided he was starting a coup and moved to impeach him. Demonstrators took over a tv station then blockaded the White House. Clashes in the streets began. Parliament ordered the Army to do one thing and Yeltsin ordered another. In the end, the generals took Yeltsin's side and tanks began to shell the White House. Special forces then stormed the building. Yeltsin then began to consolidate his power and another crazy chapter of Russian history closed.



Continuing my walk, I kept seeing glimpses of the tower through the trees. About a half a kilometer later, it began to take shape. My first thought, pirate ship, didn't quite make sense but that was definitely what it looked like.

I passed an outdoor art fair. Covered stalls where people were hanging their paintings. Behind them stood the New Tretyakov Gallery. I did not make stop but put it on my list for another trip.



Now, I could fully see the statue. It was definitely a ship or, multiple ships, and standing in front was a man holding a golden scroll. I still kept thinking pirates but had no idea how a pirate would be commemorated like this in the middle of the Moscow River. I looked it up when I returned the hotel and it's actually Peter the Great.



I crossed the river to start making my way back to the hotel. I caught one last view of the White House as the sun was making a valiant effort to break through the clouds.



I still had a couple of hours before meeting Roxy so I kicked off my shoes and started reading. Next thing I knew, I was sleeping. Oh my god. A nap. I took a nap. I have no idea when I last took a nap.

I walked back over to the Academy, picked up Roxy and we made our way to the Metro. I love the Metro. The architecture is amazing and every station is different. Two tickets and 110 rubles later, we descended to the trains with the masses making their evening commute.



A few stops later, we were at Lubyanka station. Another piece of fascinating Russian history. Lubyanka is the headquarters for the FSB (KGB in the past) and has been the building for the secret police since the Bolshevik Revolution. We changed lines from the #5 red line to the #7 purple line. A few more stops put us at the Proletarskaya station. Up to street level, around the corner and we were at Grishko.

It's really something to listen to Roxy converse in Russian. She handled everything. Getting the right shoes. Trying them on. Paying for them. Is she still my 14 year old little girl? Yes and no. It's amazing to watch her grow in the way she has. I will continue to do whatever it takes to keep her here. In this place where she is thriving.



We took the Metro back to Frunzenskaya. On the way from the station to the Academy is a small cafe. Roxy loves to eat there because of their cakes. We stop in for dinner. Roxy orders for me which is weird but it's fun to listen to her.

I drop her at the Academy. Tomorrow is a full day for her and she doesn't end until 6:30 so I'll have the day to myself.

 

Again, I slept fine but am having a hard time getting moving to vertical. Almost 9am and pre-dawn light is just beginning to light the sky. It is the hardest thing for me to adjust to when I’m here. Looking through the skylight of my room, I see no clouds. Just wide open sky. It’s going to be a nice day.

Roxy has class all day. Since she will not be done until around 6:30pm, I have the day to myself. I grab five rolls of 120, the light meter and my little Leica X2. I have no particular destination. I just want to walk and learn the city a bit more.



I headed back to the river, took a left on Frunzenskaya Naberezhnaya and headed towards Red Square. Lots of people out on the river walk. People with dogs. Parents with kids on scooters (they were everywhere this trip). Joggers.

The temperature was hovering right about 0C but the sun was out and the sky was bright blue. I had the quiet calm of the slow moving river on one side while on the other, the hectic mass of Moscow traffic. Once past the White House, the traffic intensity went to 11.

After the Garden Ring bridge, not a single car was moving. Horns blared. Sirens wailed. A convoy of black 7 series BMW’s with blue flashing gumballs sat just as stuck as everyone else. No one moved. A man was casually fishing off the embankment. A woman and her dog were feeding the pigeons. People sat in their cars staring straight ahead or at their phones. All of this enveloped in some of the most amazing winter light.

I really can’t get enough of this light. Does anyone else notice? It can’t just be me. Maybe it is.



When we dropped Roxy off last January, we had just missed the height of the holiday decorations. Even then, what was still up was incredible. This time, seeing all of the decorations was amazing. I was nearing the Patriarshiy Bridge and all the way across were giant Santa hats. I wish I could come back and see them lit up at night.

Next to the bridge is the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. An enormous, all white, imposing building. The rooftops gleaming gold in the morning sun. Most of the lower half of the building was wrapped in scaffolding for what looked like major renovations. I kept walking.



The red brick walls of the Kremlin came into view. Traffic on both sides of the river was going nowhere. I stayed along the river until I reached the end of the wall and the cobblestones of Red Square. I crossed the street and headed up to St. Basil’s.

The winter market was in full force in the Square. Bounded by the Cathedral, Lenin’s tomb, the State Historical Museum and the GUM, it just doesn’t seem to fit. Food stalls. Crafts. Ice skating. A carnival ride. Selfie sticks almost everywhere. This scene could be anywhere in the world. Everyone was in a holiday mood and laughter drifted to me from every corner.

My wife had told me to go find the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier but she couldn’t remember exactly where it was located. I wandered the Square for a bit longer then followed the wall of the Kremlin around a corner. Again, the winter light. Long shadows. Bare trees. A slight chill creeping in along the edge of the shadows.



Up against the wall, a small group of people gathered. Slowly more joined the crowd. The Tomb with three soldiers standing guard. Bec has said the changing of the guard happened every hour. I had no idea if it was at the top of the hour, on the half or somewhere in between. So, I waited. Heads turned and coming up the path along the wall were three soldiers marching in unison. Silence descended over Tomb. The soldiers on duty stepped from their alcoves. A ceremonial exchange was made. Fresh soldiers retreated to the alcoves while the off-duty ones marched back down the path.



I turned and wandered up towards Independence Gate where another Christmas market was in full swing. So many people. So many separate lives. All of them moving. At the root of it, politics and borders really don’t matter. No place is perfect and there are issues everywhere. I watch all the small moments. The details. No matter where I am, or where I’ve been, all of those moments and details are the same. The only things that change are faces and language. Sometimes the weather. The sameness. The differences. I find it all fascinating.

I cross the street in front of the Bolshoi Theatre. It’s massive. Dominating. A beautiful building outside and in. On the next corner, I follow the crowds into the Okhotny Ryad Metro station to head back to the hotel.



Around 6, I walked over to the Academy to pick Roxy up and bring her back to the hotel. Tomorrow morning was going to be a kind of early to catch our flight home.

 

Great story OP .! Loved it!
I was in Moscow 20 years ago in 2000 visiting my uncle who lives there and i can say even 1 week of being there is not enough to enjoy all the history and scenery.
Btw your last name sounds familiar. Are you of Slavic descend?

 

it's a great city. quickly becoming one of my favorites in the world.

wife and i lived in kirkland for awhile right after we were married. i was working for some ex-microsofties. used to race at the velodrome in redmond. as far as i know, last name is lithuanian in origin.

 

4am. Ding. Ding. Ding. Roxy is texting me from a few blocks away at the Academy. “Dad. Dad. You awake? I woke up like an hour ago and can’t get back to sleep.” The jet lag is strong with this one...

 

Congrats for Roxy being selected and thanks for sharing all your wonderful experience and photographs!

 

Great stories and pictures Sean. Roxy is rocking it there! Congratulations again.

 

Awesome photos thanks for sharing! Wishing Roxy the best.

 

i just took roxy back from her holiday break so, more stories and pictures coming from my being there the past few days. just need to get the film developed and scanned.



i only made 22 digital images. felt great to just be primarily working with film. there’s something more conscious about. more present. thoughtful. a slow down. planning on using it a lot more.

 

just downloaded the film scans. made a few mistakes playing with pushing the high speed (3200) film but they were correctable in post. some of the ones i had hoped had worked, didn't but, overall pretty happy. latest round of stories and images coming soon.

 

Wait. Wasn’t I just here? I feel like I was just here. Oh. Right. That’s because I was just here.

The flight feels like a standard commute now. Overnight Denver to Munich. Quick layover. Munich to Moscow. Domodedovo is no longer confusing. Customs is easy and I finally have the taxi situation dialed.

Traffic here is insane but hit or miss on the delays much like anywhere else in the world. Last night felt quicker than past trips and we made the run from the airport to the Academy in Frunsenskaya in about 45 minutes.

Walked Roxy in and waited while she made a quick check-in with the Academy doctor. A few minutes later she was back with an all clear. Dinner was ending soon in the cafeteria so, we made a quick goodbye. She didn’t sleep much on the plane but I’m hoping she gets to sleep later.

Ding.
Ding.
Ding.

4 am. Someone is texting me. Groggily, I reach for the phone.

"Dad?”
“Are you awake?”

It’s Roxy. Jet lagging and wide awake. We chat a bit then I send her back to bed.



7 am. I can hear the neighborhood outside starting to come alive. It is still pitch black out. First light is about 8 and sunrise is at 9. The street below my window slowly begins to fill with morning commuters on their way to the Metro.

I head out about 9 for my first stop of the day, the Tele2 store, to top off Roxy’s phone for the next few months. The guys at the store were helpful and incredibly patient in helping me find my way through the kiosk menus. They thought I was a little nuts for wanting to pay so far in advance. Google Translate failed to get the point across. Her unlimited phone plan costs 400RUB a month. That’s about $6.50. I can pay the entire year for what it costs me to have her line on AT&T for a month in the States.

“Spasibo,” with a smile and a handshake and I headed back out onto the wet, gray morning.



Back through the neighborhood, past the hotel, over to Komsomol’skiy Prospekt. Past the Academy then the river. Cross the river and into Gorky Park. Christmas was officially celebrated here on January 7th and most of the decorations are still up.

I have only a loose idea of where I am headed but that’s okay. Wandering and exploration. I want to get my bearings, learn the city, feel it.



I come up on the pirate statue, I mean, Peter the Great. Even after knowing who it is, my first thought is always pirate. I did not get this close on my last visit. Wow. It is massive. Imposing. Monumental.

I stay on the river walk, passing office workers on their morning smoke break, until I reach Yakimanskiy Proyezd. I head onto some side streets to get over to Ulista Pyatnitskaya. More foot traffic here but I can’t figure out where everyone is going. The morning commute hour is long gone.



Pyatnitskaya is a beautiful street, even in the dull gray morning. More old and new. Classic architectures. Bright yellows, blues, pinks and purples on the walls of the buildings. McDonalds. KFC. Anachronisms everywhere.



I am now headed back towards the river and Red Square. The Christmas Market is still going but the mass of people is much smaller than when I was here a few weeks ago. I make a lap of the square. Make a few images. People watch. I try to ask the guard in front of Lenin’s Tomb for a photograph. A stern shake of the head and she walks away leaving me with an image of an empty, dark entrance.





I turn the corner at GUM and wander up Nikolstaya Street to Lubyanka Square. A little drizzle starts up. Hoods come up. People bury themselves in their parkas.



On the corner, I stop for a moment, staring across the street to take in the Lubyanka Building. I’m staring at history. So much history. Much of it horrific. So many stories. Dark. Unpleasant. You can feel them. There are ghosts here too.

Down the stairs to the underground to cross the street. Up onto Myasnitskaya Ulitsa. The crowd thickens and the neighborhood becomes older. Colors and architecture becomes more traditional. Much like Pyatnitskaya. I zig zag around taking in the old shops and bookstores until I reach the Church of the Archangel Gabriel. Incredible building hiding behind others. It peeks out through alleyways and above roof lines. Its gold dome glinting in the wet light.



Just past the church is Chistyye Purdy park. People. Kids. Dogs. Everyday life. The weather here doesn’t slow anyone down. Snow melt drips off the buildings. Pedestrians hug the curb between crazy traffic and falling snow.

I switch to color film. Even thought the light is flat and gray, there is something in the color of the buildings and the parkas swirling around me. It’s attention grabbing and I cannot let it go.

The rain picks up. Turns to sleet. An occasional wet snowflake. I am no hurry. It feels great to be moving through the city. Figuring it out. Learning it. Finding its pulse.



I pass Lubyanka. Red Square. Resurrection Gate. One frame left of color film. Crossing the street to the Bolshoi Theatre. Click. Clunk. Wind. Then, the Metro and back to the hotel.

I am at the hotel for all of 15 minutes when I get a text from Roxy. All done with class and I can come get her whenever. We need to make a trip over to Grishko for another pair of shoes and a class leotard. I load a roll of Delta 3200 then make the quick walk to the Academy.



We have about 8 stops on two different metro lines. Number 1 from Frunzenskaya to Lubyanka. Change to number 7 then head up to Proletarskaya. The afternoon commute has started and the trains are packed. It is really amazing to watch Roxy here. So grown up and independent but still small flashes of a little girl. Her hand reaches out and grabs mine in the crowded train.



I don’t know how to describe the process of selecting a ballet shoe. For me, it is view only but I love the process.

Roxy handles the whole thing in Russian. A woman brings her the shoes, steps back and resumes her conversation with the other saleswoman. Roxy slips on the shoes. Steps to the barre. The women fall silent and watch. Not watch. Study. They study every little move Roxy makes while trying the shoes. They nod their heads in unison. It’s a look I am beginning to recognize. One of knowing what they are seeing. Understanding. Quiet approval. Satisfaction. No, not satisfaction. Appreciation. Yes, it’s appreciation that comes from the presence and grace that flows from Roxy even though she’s just trying on shoes.

Back at the Metro, the crowds have thinned. Roxy sits while I stand. I look down to see that she has nodded off like so many of the other passengers. She has become a part of this city.

We grab dinner at her favorite spot. A small cafe near the Academy, Shokoladnitsa. Of course, there is cake afterwards. We can’t ever come here without getting cake. Roxy goes for the Honey Cake while I try the Muskova. I had been seeing it in every bakery window I passed all day. I didn’t really have a choice and it didn’t disappoint.

We pop into Daily Market for a few groceries so Roxy can start making morning smoothies for breakfast. Tatiana, who I had met a year ago, is working and gives Roxy a big smile and warm hello. She didn’t recognize me and asked Roxy if I was her papa. She points at our eyes, says something and Roxy lets out a chuckle.

I drop her at the Academy, give her a hug goodnight and wander back to the hotel. I covered some ground today and I’m starting to drag.

 

Love it Sean!! Always a great read. Keep them coming.....

 

No 4 am texts from Roxy. She must be back on schedule.

I have another long walk mapped out for today. Different section of the city with a couple of place I am really interested in seeing. One is Old Arbat Street and the other is Dorongomilovsky Market. The former is part of the tourist radar. The latter, not so much. I’ve had a thing for photographing community markets ever since I wandered through Queen Victoria’s Market in Melbourne. Excited to see this one.

But, first. Smoke.

As I was packing film for the day, Bec sends a text, “Roxy was making a smoothie and the blender started smoking. Can you find her a new one?” Apparently, the blender we had gotten her to bring over was not dual voltage. Not sure when I last saw a piece of electronics that was not dual voltage. Maybe it was just the Target special.

It took awhile to track down an electronics/appliance store but I eventually found a local chain, M.Video. Bonus, there was a store along my walking route. Double bonus, they had small personal blenders in stock. I reorganized my route so that I would wind up at M.Video at the end, right before the Metro where I could catch a train back to the hotel.

I walked out into the gray morning. Mild and dry. Just no sun. I am surprised at the lack of snow compared to last year at the same time. Climate change knows no politics or borders. Everyone is affected. It’s a human problem that will require a collective human solution.



I stuck to the quiet neighborhood streets to get to Frunzenskaya Station then made my way onto Komsomol’skiy Prospekt. Eight lanes of traffic moving at light speed. Massive Cold War era apartment blocks look down on it all. I recognize the back side of the Russian White House. A small Orthodox church presides over an absolute mess of an intersection. How I do not see more accidents in this city I’ll never understand.



Past the church is the Park Kultury Metro station. Another piece of the landscape puzzle moves from underground to aboveground. I head downstairs to cross the Garden Ring and everything changes.

The buildings get older. The colors come back. Every other shop is service coffee, pastries, bread or all three. Side street stretch away into much older neighborhoods. Peeking around rooftops is another something massive and imposing. It dominates the skyline and doesn’t fit in with the neighborhood. I have no idea what it is but I start zigzagging in that direction.



The zig zags take me past Mansion Kekosleva, Moscow Photography Museum (should have taken the time to stop there but didn’t), museums for Pushkin and Tolstoy. Then, the building. The scale was almost unreal. The only other time I’ve felt that was at the cathedral in Köln. I had no idea about the building but made a mental note to look it up.

The building houses the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It is part of a group of seven skyscrapers built between 1947 to ’53. They are known as Stalin’s Seven Sisters. At the time, they were the tallest buildings in Europe. It is an amazing feat of architecture, design and human effort. A collective effort. Unknowningly, I walked past another of the Sisters later in the day that currently houses the Radisson.



Continuing on from the Ministry, I made my way onto Old Arbat Street. It is a massive, beautiful pedestrian mall. Small shops, classic architecture. Under the heavy gray of winter, it was relatively empty. I can only imagine the hustle and bustle during the warmer months. Music, blasting from the open doors of every souvenir shop, bounced off the cobblestones and swirled together in a mad cacophony of sound. Someone dressed in a nesting doll costume danced.



A backpacker kid trailed me asking for money. Said he was from Kazakhstan. If that were true, I can only imagine what he may have seen. Two hard looking men in blue military fatigues lean on a wall, chatting, smoking. People out front of the restaurants vainly trying to entice passerby for lunch. Others wearing sandwich boards hand out flyers. At the end of the street, near the Arbatskaya Metro station, life size cutouts of Lenin, Stalin, Kim Jog-Un and Trump.



Again, the underground crosswalk takes me over to the Metro station. A single Metro ticket costs 55RUB or about 90 cents. I’m planning on saving a little time by using the Metro to jump over to Kiyevsky station. The Dorongomilovsky Market is just a short walk from the station.

I am completely enamored with the Moscow Metro. The stations are amazingly beautiful. Each one different from the last and all with their own personalities. The Moscovites are incredibly proud and respectful of the Metro. There is no trash. No graffiti. I need a minute every time I enter a new station to just stop and appreciate all the details.



I walk out of Kiyevsky, head left and make my way through a small industrial area. Then, it hits me. The smell of the market. Rounding a corner, loading docks come into view. Crates of fruit and vegetables are stacked everywhere. The kinetic energy jumps up a couple of notches.



Walking around the building, looking for the entrance, there is another collision of old and new. Below, in the foreground, market vendor stalls. Fruit, vegetables, bread, drinks, conversations and laughter. Above, in the background, towering monuments of steel and glass. The Moscow International Business Center. It is not on my route today but definitely on another trip.



I enter the market and am smacked in the face with an assault of color. The fruit. The vegetables. Real food. Everyone is speaking at me hawking their food stuffs. Cheese. Bread. Wine. Seafood. Butchers. It is a community just like any other farmer’s market. People are getting lunch. Other are getting groceries for home. Based on the quality of what I see, I imagine there are a number of chefs wandering the aisles as well. I only manage a couple of images is its almost too much to take in. I put it on the list for a return visit.



Leaving the market, I head over to Kutuzovsky Avenue which will take me back to the river. Have I mentioned the insanity of Moscow traffic? The Avenue is eight lanes wide with a bus lane on either side against the curb and basically a freeway. Hiding between two crumbling apartment buildings is a small, one story building of bright white. A Lamborghini dealer. A bright yellow Urus sits in the window.



At the river, I walk past another of the Seven Sisters. A Rolls Royce dealer dominates one corner. Facing the river, the entrance to the Radisson. Across the river, keeping an eye on the Sister, the Russian Federation Government House.

Passing the House, I turn left on Rochdelskaya. A brand new Maybach, no plates, sits idling on the corner. The driver, dressed in a black suit with an ear piece, casually swipes his phone. Every corner brings me a new surprise.

A few more blocks and I turn right onto 1905 Street. The park is packed with people and the neighborhood feel has changed again. One side is new, the other is old. I am off the tourist track. Way off. That makes me happy.



At the end of the park, I head down the hill along Krasnaya Presnya. A massive Benetton store is parked on the corner. The apartment buildings are cracked. Decaying. Wiring from a bygone era strings out from the rooftops. Cables for the electric buses criss cross the street. A couple of blocks down I find M.Video.



I wander around looking for blenders. A salesman come and says something to me in Russian. I bring up Google Translate and ask for the blenders. He show me where they are and I say “Spasibo”. I’ve never been good at languages but as I spend more time here, it makes me want to try and learn.

I grab a blender and have a friendly, halting conversation with the cashier. I’m sure Roxy will be stoked to have a blender that won’t catch fire.



I head back up the hill to the 1905 Metro station. I am taken by the face of an old woman walking alongside me. Deep lines. Piercing eyes, Knowledge. History. The events she has lived through have not been easy. At the corner, it is contrasted with a young, beautiful blond woman dressed in pink fur and buried in her phone. Everywhere I look there are these amazing contrasts and I’m only just on the surface of this city.



Outside the 1905 station is the Monument to the Heroes of the 1905 Revolution. It is an impressive sculpture and it towers over the entrance. The city is filled with monuments. Filled with History. It makes me think about the sacrifices of who they were built for and of the sacrifices of who built them. Will that history be lost? Is it already lost?

I jump on the Metro and head back to the hotel. 1905 to Lubyanka, change to the number 1 line, off at Sportivnaya.

While I wait for Roxy to finish class, I finish up reading Svetlana Alexievich’s ‘Voices from Chernobyl’. The HBO series, Chernobyl, used much of this book as the basis for the show. The book was haunting. The visuals of the show made it even more haunting. The stories in the book are heart wrenching and angry. The book and the show are brilliant glimpses into what used to be the Soviet mindset. Read it. Watch it.

I walk out into the dark, blender tucked under my arm, to grab Roxy from the Academy for our last dinner. Par for the course, we are back at the Shokoladnitsa cafe. The food here is good. The staff is friendly. Roxy translates the menu and orders for both of us. Did I mention that Roxy loves the cakes?

Like her sisters, she never ceases to amaze me. This is her second home and she is beyond comfortable here. She has friends. People that treat her as their own. People that respect her. She’s accomplished so much in the last just like her sisters. Unlike them, we don’t get to see the gradual, incremental changes. It’s just all at once, smack you in the face.

We walk back to the Academy and I give her a long hug goodbye. Next time I see her will be June. She has an amazing six months coming up and I can’t wait to get smacked in the face.

 

Wow........................

 

Took the words right outa my mouth. Awesome report