Beginning of the fifth journal entry
For this entry, I'm going to go back to my traditional style, and we'll just fly by the work days when nothing especially exciting happened. But before we get back to the regularly schedule diary update, a side note from a concerned reader. Carolyn suggested I use a blog to post all my ramblings and then I can also put some pictures in a central location and not clutter up the network lines by sending out the images to everyone on the distribution list. Sounded like a good idea, and Carolyn was even kind enough to set-up the blog for me. Didn't seem like I had all that much more to do other than put some appends out there. Followed the link to the web-page, and she even put my first note out there! What a pal!
Unfortunately, the hosting program, in an attempt to be accommodating to all users, displays the text on the action keys in what it thinks is your native language. Not sure exactly how it makes this determination, but for some reason, the blog program thinks I am in Germany. Until I get back to the States (or possibly during my layover in London) when I hope those keys will display in English, I'll keep sending out notes as normal. However, be prepared - at some point, you'll just get a little note to remind you to go check the blog for an update...
Back to the journal. As I said before, work was/is work, with nothing of particular interest for the first few days. That jumps us from Monday right to Thursday night, when I went to my first concert. Moscow is a city of over 11 million people, which means there are tons of options available for evening entertainment, and there is a fantastic web site ( http://msk.afisha.ru/ ) that lists all the possibilities. For my first attempt at an after-work mid-week outing, I opted for a classical concert. Thanks to Afisha, I found the location of the venue (St. Andrew's Anglican Church), and it even listed the closest metro station.
The concert that night was a selection of work from Handel, Bach and Haydn for organ, voice and some woodwind. Even though I was only about 10 rows back and I thought I could identify most instruments, this one had me puzzled; I was torn between oboe and bassoon. Then it dawned on me to look at the program outline, and thankfully my little pocket dictionary had the translation for - oboe. I hope that even without the dictionary I would have figured it out eventually as the Russian word габой sounds more like oboe than bassoon.
I enjoy listening to some classical music (even though I am not an "informed consumer", as evidenced by my inability to identify the oboe), and one of the very nice features of listening to a performance in Russia is that before the players begin, an announcer takes to the stage and gives some information about the pieces on the agenda for that night. This is one of many situations where I wish I had studied more earnestly before coming back to Moscow. All I could get was this composers were not fully understood until the 20th century, blah, blah, blah (or should that be blah-ski, blah-ski, blah-ski?). One last comment about this concert: again, this just might be my untrained ear, but I really think they need to tune the organ at St. Andrew's!
Friday - work. (See, I told you these few journal entries would just fly by).
Saturday - the weekend, time to hit the streets and explore! Since my last visit to the Kremlin was a bit rushed and we didn't get to go inside any of the churches/museums, I opted to return to the heart of Russia and take it all in again. Off to an early start in an attempt to beat the crowds, and I had to make my way across Alexandrovsky Gardens to the ticket window. The snow had been falling gently all night, and the soldiers were out in force shoveling all the paths. With all the army units stationed in the capital, there is no lack of cheap manual labor. To make matters worse, the shovels these guys (not being sexists here, only men serve in the military here, and in theory, service is compulsory for all men, but many guys get exemptions for educational reasons) use are just planks of plywood with a pole attached as a handle. No nice curved metal scoopers or molded plastic models for these guys; just plywood and a broom stick, and most of the poles were not long enough (in my opinion) as every guy had to hunch over to use his shovel; talk about back breaking work!
Anyway, the ticket window opened about 30 minutes before the gates to the grounds, and I secured my entry pass and went to queue up at the main gate. It felt great to nudge out a tour group from Paris and get first in line! (Didn't know about that competitive side of me, did you?)
Passed through the security gate (as if boarding a plane; these security gates guard most tourist attractions and gathering spots, including shopping centers and malls) and headed straight for Успенский Собор (Assumption Cathedral). No one managed to pass me en-route, so I had the entire place to myself (excluding the women who check for the proper tickets on entry to the "museum" and who man the souvenir stalls). Times like these highlight my poor command of the English language as I find it difficult to locate the words to sufficiently describe the beauty of the place and moment. Fr. Alex, while commenting on the decorations of another church we had visited together a few years ago, noted the Russians "fear of empty space," as they just can't leave any portion of a wall unadorned. As you would except, Assumption Cathedral is a prime example of this form of decoration. Indeed, every piece of wall, pillar and ceiling was covered with icons, and there is the iconostasis itself (the wall that separates the nave from the altar). Upon entry to the Cathedral, the sense of amazement is overwhelming, and even though I'm not sure how it could be any more ornate, somehow in this setting it seemed fitting.
The Tsars were coronated in this cathedral and while I'm not a royalist (by no means do I advocate the re-institution of the monarchy and I might get ex-communicated for this, but I don't think Nicholas II and family should have been canonized since he was a weak ruler whose inept administration lead to the rise of the Communist), but to stand in that solemn place and in solitude for about 10 or 15 minutes (not sure what took all the others so long to get here; they must have stopped at some of the outside attractions before coming here), it was almost mystical.
But then the tours started to arrive and the somewhat hushed tones of the various guides in several language dispelled the tranquility of the moment and I took this as a cue to move on. The audio guide I rented (I love these things!) suggested I follow the coronation route of the Tsars, and so I did. After the official crowning ceremony at Assumption Cathedral, the procession moved to Архангельский Собор (Archangel Cathedral). All but one of the Tsars who ruled while Moscow was the capital (Peter the Great moved the capital from Moscow to St. Petersburg, his "window on the West", in 1712) are buried here, and the newly installed monarch would pay tribute to his ancestors here.
This cathedral was not as crowded (all the tour books indicate, and rightly so, that if you are pressed for time and can only visit one site within the Kremlin, it should be Assumption Cathedral, so I guess most people are pressed for time), and while it was almost uplifting to stand in Assumption Cathedral, something about all the tombs in Archangel Cathedral lent the space a more medieval and eerie atmosphere.
While I wandered from tomb to icon to tomb, I noticed a man remove the hat from his head (as custom warrants), but then he proceed to tell his girlfriend she should do the same (contrary to the custom; in working churches, women traditionally keep their heads covered with either a dainty napkin or they go for the full-blown babushka look with the massive shawl tied around the head). Even though this is not a working church, I didn't want the couple to incur the wrath of the babushka later on during their stay in Moscow, so I tried to politely inform them of the custom. Rather quickly determined they were Italian, and they didn't speak any English. Didn't seem like the time for the only phrase I can say in Italian ("mi piace il dolci" which means "I like desserts"), so I managed to grunt in very basic French - "Man - without hat. Woman - with hat."
Hoping I didn't offend them, I continue to wander around and as I gawked at another tomb, this group of 5 people dressed all in black glided past me and took up position in front of the iconostasis. Before I could figure out what was going on, one of them gave the pitch, and they began to sing "Our Father". What was a cold and foreboding surrounding was transformed into a spiritual and uplifting environment; I couldn't ask for more. Once they finished, they returned to a little table near the entrance, where they had a set of CDs for sale. How convenient - my first souvenir from this trip to Moscow.
After paying his respects to his ancestors, the new Tsar (and the rest of the gang) would then make one more (and final) stop in the royal procession - Благовещенский Собор (Annunciation Cathedral). Unfortunately for me (by maybe lucky for you?), that one was closed for renovations.
Since my ticket allowed it, I popped into Патриарший Дворец (Patriarch Palace), which for many years was the largest room in Russia without supporting columns and then into Церковь Ризоположения (Church of the Deposition of the Robe), where I latched onto a guide talking about the Holy Trinity icon to a group of Russians.
In theory, my time within the Kremlin was limited to two hours (the duration of the audio guide rental agreement), and I didn't want to see what penalties were levied for violating that contract. After the in-door sites, I only had a few minutes to wonder around the portion of the grounds open to tourists, and I soaked in a few more minutes of snow gently falling on the Kremlin before returning to the modern world.
Talking of the modern world, that was the next stop on the agenda. A woman at work highly recommended an exhibit at the Museum of Private Collections (Музей Личных Коллекций). During her description, she indicated the exhibit was closing this weekend and that it was extremely popular. However, I am fairly certain she did not mention the style of this artist's work. Anyway, while wondering from the Kremlin towards the museum, I overtook a group of three American girls and I overheard them talking about the Pushkin Museum, which was in the same general area. It wasn't as if i was eavesdropping, but when they seemed to be a bit lost, I figured I should stop and help them get their bearings. The Pushkin is a slightly larger museum and they found their destination quite a bit sooner than I did mine.
Wondering up and down Volkhonka Street, I keep missing the entrance. Eventually asked a set of guards in front of some museum if that was the Museum of Private Collections, and one said yes and the other said no. I felt like I was talking to the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz! I guess my accent through the yes-man off, as I was definitely in the wrong spot. My destination was on the other side of the Pushkin, but off the main road just a bit. The line of people should have been my clue, but I was not functioning on all cylinders, I guess.
Queued up for a while and watched the two workers clear snow from plaza in front of the main door. The exhibit was indeed so popular they only let a finite number of people in at a time, and we had to wait for some folks to leave before being allowed to enter. A few minutes later, the lines shuffled forward and 15 of us were permitted to enter. Down to the cloak room to shed the outer wear ("Your coat is HEAVY!" exclaimed the attendant in another nice application of IK5 - a camera, small tripod, little tour book, pocket dictionary and a few snacks will do that) and then back to the main floor to secure a ticket and an audio guide. Once again, there's a price to pay for being a foreigner as the guides in English are about 50 rubles more than Russian (OK, so that is only about $1.50 or so, but it is the principle of the matter. I guess I should just be thankful they even had English and stop my whining.)
However, it took a little longer than expected to procure the audio guide. A sign on display case for the guides indicated the attendant would be back in five minutes. I guess she was on island time as 15 minutes later, she finally arrived to resume her duties.
Armed with my personal narrator, I entered the exhibition hall only to discover that Filonov (the artist on display) is of the modern variety - and I'm not much for modern art. I much admit I can see how some pieces provoke or invoke certain reactions, but for the most part, I just don't appreciate the items. My favorite piece was the first one on display, and like a good "student" I turned on the audio guide to get the inside scoop on this painting. Hey - this is the same guy who told me all about the Kremlin! It is a good thing I had the guide to give me the inside scoop on these pieces as I would never have seen most of what was being described on my own (and of course, if I see the pictures again, I'm sure I won't remember a thing about them). Even better it was in English because I could barely follow the commentary in my native tongue, I would have been completely lost in Russian.
The woman from work was definitely correct - the exhibit was tremendously popular, so popular the engagement was extended by a month (or possibly two). And not only that, a week or so later, the BBC ran a segment on the display, mentioning the importance of such an exhibit and of Filonov's work in general.
I lasted for almost 2 hours, at which point I was saturated. Returned the audio guide (and this time, the attendant was still at her post so I didn't have to wait a 15 minute version of a 5 minute break), got my coat (which was still heavy, and I was informed of that again) and on the road again. Next stop - Храм Христоса Спасителя (Cathedral of Christ the Savior). As I walked past the Pushkin Museum, the three American girls were making their way in the opposite direction. We exchanged a brief nod and greeting, and I hope they didn't think I was stalking them.
A few minutes of walking brought me to the Cathedral. From 1839 to 1883, the original cathedral was constructed on this site in commemoration of Russia's victory over Napoleon. Stalin demolished that one (probably not personally, but I wouldn't be surprised if he took a swing or two with a sledgehammer) during his reign and intended to replace it with a 900 foot "Palace of Soviets" including a 300 foot statue of Lenin. That building never came to fruition, and in it's place, the Soviets constructed the world's largest outdoor swimming pool.
With the fall of communism and in celebration of Moscow's 850th birthday, this version of the cathedral was completed in just two years at a cost of $350 million. While the structure is immense and beautiful with its huge marble pillars and marbled walls with icons in the Romantic style, even with the enormous iconostasis, the Romanesque architecture just didn't give me the feel of an Orthodox church (or cathedral) to me. I know St. Isaac's in St. Petersburg is off a similar design, but I felt as if I were in St. Paul's in London and not in Moscow. Turns out, I am not alone in my assessment, and most people either love the place or hate it. I wouldn't go so far as to say I hate, but I don't plan on coming here for Sunday services.
After wandering around the upstairs, I could hear the sound of a choir coming from a door leading downstairs. A sign indicated there was church down there (just like there are often many chapels in a Catholic cathedral) and nothing said I couldn't go downstairs, so down I went. I can't remember the name of the church (and I can't believe this, but my Lonely Planet guide doesn't list it either - horrors! My favorite tour book is letting me down), but this had the look and feel of an Orthodox church to me. The choir must have been off in a side room practicing because I couldn't find them in the church. Content with my little discovery, I felt I could resume my wanderings outside.
A bridge on the far side of the cathedral grounds crossed the Moscow River, which gave me another chance to stroll along the back side of the Kremlin and take in one of my favorite views of the city. Continued circumnavigating the Kremlin by crossing the river again and making my way past St. Basil's and Red Square, which brought Saturday to a close. (Well, I know I ate dinner, but I didn't put anything in my notes about where, so it must not have been anything noteworthy! Just didn't want you to think I skipped a meal.)
On Sunday, Tania and her daughter picked me up at the hotel to take me to their church (the Orthodox Church of St. Andrew, not the same place that had the organ concert earlier in the week). Luckily I had the bilingual outline for the service (prepared by Tanya's aunt Olga, who is a fellow parishioner at St. Gregory's in Wappingers Falls). It was a clear sunny day, the first in many weeks I was later told, and the chiming bells seemed to rejoice in the good weather as we left the ground after Divine Liturgy.
Part of their normal routine for Sunday includes a stop at the diner after services. Yes, Veronica, there is a diner in Moscow. Actually, there are two, both run by the same person. I couldn't pass up a chance to have pancakes with maple syrup (or maple-flavored syrup to be more accurate, not that I am a maple syrup snob) in Moscow, and it was tough finishing up the remains of Sophia's milk shake (milk cocktail, in Russian), but I was up to the challenge.
Fortified with a hearty brunch, we swung by my hotel, where I quickly changed into "play" clothes (do you remember doing that as a kid? When I was in elementary and middle school, we had school clothes, and as soon as you got home, you stripped off the school clothes, put on the play clothes and ran back outside to keep busy with your friends until dinner time, which was 6:00 pm SHARP, but I digress, again) including a pair of snow pants over my jeans, and then it was over to their house so Tanya could pick-up Sophia's winter gear. All dressed for a Moscow winter, we headed off to Silver Island Park (Серебряний Бор). Tanya is an assistant principle at the Anglo-American School in Moscow, and since the primary mission of the school is to serve the children of the staffs of the Canadian, British and American Embassies, Tanya gets certain "diplomatic" privileges, including a red diplomatic license plate on the car. It is good to have a red plate! The park is located in the area of Embassy dachas (recreational homes outside the city center), and with the red plate just you past the barricade guarding the compound. The police also tend not to stop red plates and try to extort fines (bribes) from their drivers...
On the way out to the park, we passed a few ominous looking towers. To me, they appeared to be cooling towards for a nuclear power plant. I commented as such to Tanya, and she assured me (as she posed the same question to locals), that these are strictly for the steam plants that are used to power Moscow and they are not affiliated with an nuclear process. I didn't see the typical dome structure that usually accompanies the cooling towers, so I took her word for it; I hope she is right. (But why should this concern me so much when back home I live within 30 or 40 miles of the Indian Head facility near Peekskill, which just happens to sit on the fault line that runs up the Hudson River.)
At the park, they constructed a tower that housed two slides: a little one and slightly higher one. On each track, a few ramps help raise the level of excitement for the sliders. This type of operation would never exist (at least not in an organized fashion where have to pay a small fee to use the facilities, like here in Moscow) back home. You didn't have to sign any waivers, parents didn't have to escort the children, and if you were stupid (or unattentive) enough to stand in the path of oncoming sliders and got knocked over, well, that is just your own fault.
While this park in particular might not be accessible to the "average" Russian, I am sure the typical Russian participates in similar activities all over the country. (One day, I did see a little boy sledding down the hill next to the Kremlin; if you can sled there, I'm sure you can sled anywhere).
By this time in my trip, the temperatures in Moscow finally dropped below those in New York, and after an hour or two, the kids got a bit chilled (and I think Tanya even more so). It was back home for Tanya, Sophia and one of Sophia's friends who happened to be at the park, too, while I hit the road again and made my way over to Sport Complex Luch (Спортивний Комплекс Луч). It was just a few metro stops away followed by a half-mile or so walk.
This was not a major match, and this sports club, while a nice facility, is not a well known venue. According to the map, it looked like it was actually closer to metro stop Perovo (Перово), but Afisha told me to get off one stop earlier at Enthusiasts Avenue (Шоссе Энтусиастов). This part was even chillier, and wind picked up a bit to make it even that much colder. I was very glad to still have my snow pants, and I decided then and there to continue wearing them every single day for the rest of my stay in Moscow. Not only do they help to keep the wind off your legs, but they help keep the grime off the bottom of your pants. I have no clue how the Russians managed to not get their cuffs soiled while walking around these mushy, slushy streets.
Anyway, just a couple of hundred meters from the metro station, a young woman came up to me and asked which station was closer: the one I just got out of or Perovo. I told her the one I just got out of, and what did she do? She turned around and headed AWAY from the station and towards the other one. Now I know I didn't screw up this one and accidentally but in a "not"; did she my accent and then decide I must not know what I was talking about? No clue.
A few minutes later, turned off the main street and down the appropriate side street. Blocks in Moscow are huge, and as such, there are often building behind the ones on that face the street. Supposedly the naming convention used in the address helps you figure this out, but I am not quite tuned into that system. While I was looking for address 10, another guy came up to me and asked where Luch was. I told him I was searching, too, and then I fell in behind him. It took a few more stops for directions (and I am not sure if I would have made it without him), but eventually we found the venue. And just in time, too.
We barely had time to sit down, when all of the sudden, the play began. I turned to the woman sitting next to me and asked, "Where was the national anthem?" She responded that in the old days, we sang and nowadays we drink. (The verbs for sing and drink are very similar in Russian, so it sounds much more witty in Russian).
Spartak (the team associated with the Army, which would account for all the uniforms in the audience), defeated their opponents (whose name I can't recall right now - sorry) in 3 games (should have been only two, but Spartak fell apart in the second game), and before I knew it, it was time to leave the venue. I lingered around a bit trying to figure out if there were ever any pick-up games in the facility, but was disappointed to find out they only conducted league games in this gym. Oh, well - so much for trying to get in some vball during this stay - guess I schlepped the court shoes over for no reason.
Back to the hotel and then another uneventful (or unrecorded) dinner, which brings the weekend to a close.
End of the fifth entry.
