Birthday Cakes for the Gods

St. Petersburg, Russia is kind of a frilly place. When a person with tremendous power (a Tsar) & vision (based on the new, westernized ideas of The Enlightenment) is flush with the victory of war (with Sweden) & visits Europe a lot in the 1700s, when hardly any of his countrymen have ever been there, the result is a giddy city full of palaces that look like birthday cakes made for the gods.

                                               Powder blue is a popular color

             This is more Moscow-style, but nevertheless takes up quite a bit of real estate

  Many of these palaces (now apartments & office buildings) are yellow. This was Tsar Peter the Great's acknowledgement that the sun rarely appeared & spots of yellow could be a relief the 290 days a year that are gray, gray, gray.

                                     Lots of smiling angels in St. Petersburg 

These pastel colors are likely most evident in summer, when the sun deigns to make a lazy appearance the other 75 days a year. In winter, these birthday cakes look a little stale, like they stayed at the party too long.

  St. Petersburg is called "The Venice of the North" for its canals, bridges & European architecture.

                                 This building is pink when the sun shows up

This woman seems annoyed it's overcast yet again

       A black building fits right in with the winter ambiance. 

Still, my hotel, with the extravagant name of The Magestic Boutique Hotel Deluxe, is quite decorative & on the main drag, for $43/night.

                                         A little cafe/bar right in the lobby

                                            My room, muted colors but velvet & suede & gold

My very progressive & daring glass bathroom, right in the bedroom. Hint: one does not necessarily expect to encounter a very clean, completely invisible bathroom door. One could, let's just say theoretically, give oneself a nasty crack by smartly meeting such a door with one's forehead. How do I know this? Ask not.

Perceptions of Soviet Times

Disclaimer 1: I was one of the generation of American school children who hid under their desks as a safety drill due to the clear & present danger that the Soviet Union was about to bomb or nuke us. What do I remember of that? Pervasive, incomprehensible fear, dirty knees, & an astounding amount of chewing gum adhered to the bottom of the desk. There was an archeology of time under there...ancient gray calcified chewing gum with a thumbprint in the center...jaunty daubs of recent pink gum, black tar blobs from the adventurous few who chewed black jack licorice gum. 

Disclaimer 2: My knowledge of Soviet Times (as it seems to be called here in Russia) is extremely limited. Therefore I offer no political, sociocultural, military, or historical commentary. Only a story I heard.

My lovely Moscow guide Olga was born in a middle-sized town outside Moscow. She is of an age where she remembers very clearly being a child raised in Soviet Times, before the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991. She is a student of history & culture & a very thoughtful person as well, so her observations go beyond the personal. 

                             These are some of Olga's keepsakes that mean so much to her

Olga says that, from a Russian point of view, Soviet Times were extremely peaceful & happy times. Everyone was equal & provided for equally. A Party leader's child went to same schools, wore the same clothes, vacationed in the same places, ate the same food, received the same free medical care, lived in the same free State-provided apartments, & believed in the same Good of the People. To work was the highest social order. Chemists & cowhands, firefighters & farmers, schoolteachers & seamstresses -- all lived on the same plane, which was one of safety, security, freedom from fear, & most of all, a strong & joyful belief that all they did was in service of a New World, a better world. There was a lot of laughing & dancing & eating. These beliefs were glorified in the artwork of the Moscow Metro system underground hallways.

Her description of those times has a wistful quality. She does not use the word "communism." I'm sure she has her reasons. She speaks of the five terrible years after 1991...of mass starvation, economic confusion & chaos, complete loss being taken care of. I guess it would be as if you had an all-powerful, much-loved daddy who always took care of everything suddenly say "You're on your own kid. Good luck with that." 

She also speaks of a long period of shame after that about being Russian, shame because the eyes of a world could now see the Oz behind the curtain.

I sit at Olga's table for a beautiful, traditional Russian meal she & her husband have prepared for me. Because it is Thanksgiving in America, she bakes a pumpkin pie. This is not regular fare for Russians. There are shadows everywhere -- the girl under the schooldesk...the girl in her state-sponsored life.

                                           Olga's living room

                                                        And kitchen

                                 Red caviar & rich country bread are a treat

I wish Putin & Obama & Recep Tayyip Erdogan of Turkey & Bashar al-Assad of Syria could sit at Olga's table to eat red caviar & pickle soup & country black bread & pelmeni dumplings &  pickled cabbage & mushroom & onion salad & a pumpkin pie made of sheer cross-national love. Call me a sap, but I believe in the power of Olga's pumpkin pie.

Cracking the Code on Moscow

1.  Don't read maps.

                 Do not be beguiled by all the pretty colors.

2. Don't ask directions.

                  Not everyone's in the mood to tell you how to get where you want to go

3. Don't bother trying to figure out north, south, east, west

                                         Even the strong find this confusing

4. Keep your sense of humor at the ready.

                                   A Russian cosmonaut peed here. So can you!

5.  Seek out the sublime.

And why shouldn't there be a gigantic metal pirate ship in a downtown park?

6. Look for wonders of space & geometry.

               9 million people a day ride the metro

7. Find people you can relate to.

                                                    He could be my friend

8. Remember the beauty in things.

    There's always time to read a book & dream dreams

Groundhog Day

Moscow, to a stranger, is a labyrinth. Five people & three maps can point you toward a certain place you want to go, all indicating different directions. You never can find what you're looking for & you end up back around, passing now-familiar landmarks, & realize you have gone in the same large circle more than once. Places in my labyrinth:

                                                       The Bolshoi Ballet 

                                                   Red Square

   This fellow & I are becoming quite chummy

             The last phone booth on earth?

                                         Classic spires, shiny & bright even when it's overcast

                        Store where you can buy a Maserati & Ferrari on the second floor

      A huge mall, lavishly decorated for Christmas 

                                                      Lush fashions

                                         Moody child manikins are tired of Christmas already

Today is Thanksgiving in America. A war I have fought with my boots, which have been giving me all sorts of trouble, has been won. I am thankful for new boots & for the joy of dumping the offenders in the trash.

                                             R.I.P. you good-for-nothing boots

Fifty Shades of Gray

I can't get a feeling about Moscow. Big, overcast, cold but not a clean bracing crystalline cold. The concrete sidewalks seem extra hard & punishing on the feet; the air makes skin dry, with a thirst that moisturizers don't solve.

Everyone rushing, rushing, rushing. The subway, which is extensive & highly efficient, has long LONG vertiginous escalators filled with people dressed in black streaming past, looking very homogenous, with no break or end. It reminded me a little of the great silent futuristic movie "Metropolis," by Fritz Lang.

Walking around town, I have the sense of going in circles. Certain places I would find interesting, though right there on maps & websites, no longer exist, which I discovered only after much seeking & wandering & not finding -- the Gulag Museum, the Museum of Communism. Apparently Putin had them shut down. As the doorman of an upscale hotel told me about the Gulag Museum (with a slicing motion across his throat), "Kaput."

The Kremlin, with its many churches & treasures...they feel empty somehow.

                                            Religion & war are always a dynamic duo

There's a lot of posh in Moscow, both in its history & present. The monarchs of the past were quite ostentatious & flamboyant in their lives, their accoutrements & monuments.

In more modern times, Russian art encompassed many of the movements going on elsewhere -- cubism, expressionism, abstraction, free use of color.

Then, a shocking change in Soviet times -- stark, no-frills, all in support of the forming of a new society. Olga, my dear Moscow guide, said that these works were not created as social or political critiques....they believed & supported the totality of communism, which artistically meant dictated subject matter, glorification of collective labor & athletic achievement.

         Olga, excellent Moscow guide & all-around angelic person (wearing one of my Underground Beads necklaces)