A day in the sun

Tomorrow night I board the 77 hour train to Irkutsk. Tonight, I'm at home, listening to Carla Bruni and Stina Nordenstam, and enjoying the stasis.

This morning I slept late. Teresa went to work and I had a leisurely torpedo melon breakfast before updating my journal. We met near her office and had shwarma for lunch before taking a trolleybus to a stop near the Garage for Contemporary Culture, opened by Daria Zhukova in the Bakhmetevsky Bus Garage.

Disembarking on the ring road, we wandered the neighborhood around the Garage looking for it, passing an armament museum and a small Japanese noodle shop. We soon found the garage, nestled between two Jewish centers, and marveled at the size and space.

Inside, a gallery had been erected in the rear of the building. The shade of lighting had been chosen for each room to complement the paintings; it left slightly hazy impressions of the rooms themselves. Winding our way through the paintings, we emerged into the garage proper, which showed how enormous the space is, and also demonstrated the possibilities for the future.

We looked through the bookstore and used the well-designed facilities before leaving. We wandered the quiet, elegant streets of the neighborhood and found our way back to the Japanese noodle shop. It was still crowded; two of the tables had not yet cleared from when we had first seen the place.

We ordered and found a seat in the corner by the windows. We ate our udon soups next to a table of Russians, arguing about this and that. I remarked to Teresa how surprising it was to be eating udon in a Japanese restaurant next to Russians, and she said, "This is Russia." I smiled and sipped my soup.

Walking back to the ring road, we passed a small bakery cafe with outdoor benches and ordered coffee and mousse. The day was the warmest I had experienced in Moscow, and the skies were clear. A group of goth kids walked past, and then walked past again. Teresa remarked that it was the day I experienced Moscow like any other Muscovite.

On the way home, we stopped in a supermarket for sundries. We bought some caviar and black bread and ate that along with cheese and eggplant spread for dinner. For dessert we had some torpedo melon. Teresa lent me a copy of The Master and Margarita and I began to re-read it, thinking about how I might pack for the train.
Posted by eku at September 21, 2008 1:57 PM