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This is a family of folk-singers.
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Fairy-tale palaces, castles, even churches…. is it Disney-World?
No—it’s “Vernissage”—an amazing outdoor market in Moscow. Here you can find just about anything, from fur coats to icons to antiques….
And of course, the ubiquitous souvenirs: matryoshka dolls, fur hats, icons painted on eggs….
(Above: Colorful ladies collecting a 10-rouble entrance fee to the market)
It’s getting near Christmas (Orthodox, of course) and I have to find some presents. Also, have to get some warm gloves, since I lose a pair every year some time in early spring…. so off to Vernissage I go….
After having been a balmy 45 degrees Fahrenheit out for a couple of weeks or so, the weather finally decided to become more seasonably Russian, and today it was only 23 degrees out.
(Yes, these people are eating outdoors in 23-degree weather—Russians love the outdoors!)
I was dressed warmly enough with my heavy woolen coat with fur collar, and my goat-fur-lined gloves, but after only about a half an hour outside my feet suddenly felt in danger of frostbite: I had worn my waterproof but not very warm rain boots instead of my sheepskin-lined snow boots....
What to do?! Here I might lose my toes, while the hawkers in their stalls were standing there all day like it was nothing. What was their secret? Aside from the sheepskin boots, I decided it must be anti-freeze--Russian anti-freeze, that is: vodka. But where to get some here? Providentially, a man came along with a cart just then, peddling hot food and hot drinks. I looked at the drinks section--it looked just like the cart they bring down the aisle in airplanes. Amidst the coffee, tea, and juice, I thought I saw the tops of little bottles. I asked the man if he had any vodka. "Of course," he replied, smiling a great big smile adorned with the traditional Russian gold teeth. "Vodka or cognac?" Hmmmm.... I remembered that I got sick on cognac once, so I ordered vodka. "How much would you like--100 grams? -- 50 roubles," he added. I told him I couldn't think in grams... He started pouring vodka into a plastic glass and when he reached the contents of a shot glass (or less) I said "khvatit." "20 roubles," he announced. Happy that I got my quota for less than 50 roubles, I downed the vodka in a flash, and then began running down the long outdoor "aisles" to get my blood circulating.
Within about 10 minutes I could feel the magic start
to work: my feet began to feel warm again and the rest of me felt fine, too--slava Bogu! Was I relieved!
Right after the man with the vodka and hot food, I saw a tiny little old lady painstakingly shuffling along. She had no gloves and walked with one hand held out cupped, as if she were begging. I marvelled at how she could go without gloves in this cold, and as she looked up I saw that there was absolutely no eye in one of her eye sockets--just skin and a hollow hole. These are the Lazaruses you will never see in warm, cozy America.....
Here is one of the large niches to either side of the main altar, with a Nativity scene. They look and are meant to look quite 3-D--you feel as if you are stepping into the Holy Land, back into time....
(More to come. Sign up to be alerted when new posts are added, so you can follow my (very) erratic schedule :)
Well, here I am again…I apologize for the long delay--was looking for something to help me create a blog entry faster, but so far to no avail.So… back to Christmas Day... At about 2:30 my iconographer friend from St. Nicholas Church on Maroseika Street called and said, "The Patriarch is serving Nativity Vespers today at 4 PM—if you leave now you'll have just about enough time to get there by Metro." Talk about having to make quick decisions! I sort of wanted to stay home, but I hadn't seen Christ the Saviour Cathedral yet, and of course, it would be rather neat to see the Patriarch again (maybe a better view this time?), so I decided to go. I just about literally threw on my clothes, ran out the door, down the elevator, and down the street to catch a bus to the nearest Metro station.
When I emerged from the Metro station on the other end, there it was: unbelievably large and imposing. (Those are people at the bottom of the picture, and they are actually quite a long way from the church.) I looked at my watch: I had made pretty good time—it was only 4:20. So, I started to walk towards the cathedral. You couldn't just go straight up the main path; they had it blocked off so that you had to queue up in a round-about sort of way. I started walking through the narrow way formed by barriers and hadn't gotten too far when, to my surprise, an officer appeared who stopped me. "Wait here," he said. Pretty soon, several other people had come along and joined me. After about 10 minutes, there was a crowd of 50 people or so, pushing and crowding. No one asked "why" we were waiting (except me), nor was there an answer to the question. In the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd was a short, little woman all of about 4'10" or so, who couldn't even see over anyone's shoulders. I felt sorry for her, but she was very chipper and friendly. "You would think," I thought to myself, "that they would at least let people in one by one: one comes out of the church, one goes in. But no, we waited in a growing crowd just like cars held up at a Big Dig construction site. ("Big Dig": a hole in the ground in Boston into which tons of money was poured...)
After about half an hour in the 25-degree weather, the crowd was getting really antsy. They began saying things to the guards, who replied politely but still wouldn't let us through. I was afraid I'd miss the whole service… Finally, the guards said something, and the crowd, like a great tsunami wave, pushed past the barriers, past the guards, and down the path towards the Cathedral. I couldn't tell whether the guards had let us through or had simply not fought us when the crowd pushed through. But finally, there I was, on my way in.
Almost. First, in the middle of the square in front of the Cathedral you had to walk through an airport-type metal detector and put your purse, keys and stuff in a little bin. Considering that the Patriarch and lots of other high-level people come here, I guess it isn't an unreasonable thing as far as security goes.
When I got by this barrier, there before me on the path/square in front of the cathedral was an enormous Christmas tree—a kind of cross between the Nutcracker Suite and Las Vegas. I started to hurry by it when I realized I had dropped one of my gloves. I turned around and looked on the ground, but it wasn't there. It had to be by the guards at the metal detector. The last thing I wanted to do was get anywhere near guards again for another half-hour wait, but I got up my courage and asked in my best Russian if they had seen a glove like my other one, which I held up. One of them looked, found it, and politely gave it to me. Whew, I thought, and ran up the Cathedral steps.

Tremendous bas-relief sculptures by the doors stared majestically down, -- it definitely makes an impression on you... (The photo on the left is not mine, but from the Саthedral web site.)
(Правый угол Храма. Многофигурная композиция "Давид в собрании вельмож передает Соломону чертежи Храма". Автор воссоздания Ю.В. Александров.)
I successfully merged with the crowd and passed through the right-hand arched door. I was in--and what a sight!
To be continued...