fluff-drifts again

I remember a conversation in my early days here, where I was extolling the beauties of a freezing cold but beautifully bright winter's day and V said 'nothing is ever exactly right in Moscow; it is either to hot or too cold, we are  very unlucky' - which I took as stereotypical Russian fatalism (something as which V excels, although mainly humorously.)


But it is that time of year again, when there is tree fluff everywhere - pollen spread by the many poplar trees. The weather is again beautiful - this time clear spring skies, sunny and warm (almost too warm). And, as if to support V's argument, it is somehow turned a little weird, as the ubiquitous fluff floats by, coating every surface both inside and out and gets in your throat and nose. 

springing

The 1st of March is considered to mark the first day of Spring here, and everyone I talk to seems suddenly optimistic. A surprising amount of smiling going on. Might be also because we are again having beautiful weather, bright, clear, cold and very sunny. So what else to do but go and see that extraordinary, ridiculous building that is St. Basil's cathedral, glinting in the sunlight.

How can I not love Moscow!

How can I not love a city that paints so many of its buildings ochre and pink and mint green and turquoise blue, and then tops them off with roofs of glittering gold and white? That provides blankets in cafes so you can sit outside, even as the ice begins to rim the puddles? Where people just park anywhere and anyhow?

It makes a great pair with London; if only I could afford to live in both simultaneously!

Still summer

Everyone here says that when the cold weather comes it comes very quickly. Walking the streets in brilliant sunshine, strong shadows, with bright blue skies and glinting gold from the domes, is a just a lovely way to spend the weekend, and everyone clearly wants to enjoy it whilst they can. Today, the first Saturday of September, is Moscow day and all over the city bandstands and seating are being set up for parades and events. I still haven’t managed to get into Red Square because of these preparations, but every day I have seen new groups turn up to practice, including a Buddhist group in saffron robes and an Indian (mainly Sikh) regiment.

Of course instead I got distracted and ended up shopping in Zara in GUM, the main department store, that I remember from 30 years ago as a nearly derelict place like an Asian bazaar but with very few shops, and hardly anything on sale. I don’t know whether Lenin is revolving in his tomb over there in his mausoleum or laughing his head off.