So I went out last Sunday to a gallery show, and took some pictures of some pictures I wanted to share with you. Now, all of a sudden, it’s Saturday. Where did the week go? Well, where they’ve all gone: into a haze of long days peppered with documents to review, notes to give, meetings to attend, and then more documents to review for the next day’s merry-go-round — leavened, thank God, with the occasional expats’ poker game. I’m not complaining — still not complaining! — every day is a workaholic’s holiday in Moscow. But I did mean to post these pictures before now. Anyway, now it’s now, and here they are, some examples of contemporary Russian and European art, currently on sale near the Kremlin at prices that beggar imagination.
And then this is me, stopping at a shopping center on the way home to try on the latest in Russian adventure-wear.
And finally some buskers, following the internationally honored tradition of singing to people who just don’t care.
It’s getting cold down there in those underpasses now. After last week’s record high temperatures, the mercury has plummeted through cold and too cold, all the way down to stupid cold. I don’t mind. I’m heading home to California in ten days, where “cold” means maybe I won’t wear shorts today. And yes, I’ve re-upped — I’ll take another shift at the mine from late January until March first. But, again, I don’t mind. After all, I work indoors, don’t have to walk anywhere I don’t choose to, and since I have a driver, I never have to get into a cold car. That’s huge if you hate winter. The weird thing is, I’m not even hating it. Could it be that I’ve thickened my California blood with Moscow borscht? No, not possible. I don’t eat borscht.
Okay, well, time to dive back into my week. Workaholic’s holiday, la la la.
More later, -jv