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sabotabbyA few entries; eventually I'll start updating about current events again.
Friday, April 21
We went to the Old Tretyakov Gallery, which features a phenomenal array of art by various Russian masters (none of whom I've heard of. I'm starting to think that my art history courses were a bit narrow in scope.). We'd aimed to make the Pushkin Gallery as well, but alas, it was closed. The nearby Ilya Glazunov Gallery, however, was open, and I now have a new artistic obsession. This guy is incredible.
To Your Health! (1977)
[There's not much about Glazunov in English, alas. Here is his website. Even if you don't read Russian, you can click through it and see some cool shit.]
For some reason, Dima and Natasha had decided that we all needed to go to a Uzbek restaurant located way in the middle of nowhere. Getting there, eating, and getting back took a total of five hours. There was also a phone theme in the restaurant and appalling and loud karaoke. Our reward for going through all of that was a trip to the local booze store.
I should explain—almost every store in Russia seems to sell several varieties of vodka. There are also stands in the street that sell it, although I've been warned that the vodka they sell is frequently fatal. And then, there is a special store with more types of vodka than you have ever seen in your life, including some that comes in AK-47-shaped bottles. I now have more booze than I know what to do with, which should make my parties back home a bit more fun than they'd ordinarily be.
P.S. I almost forgot to mention the most disturbing thing I saw today—half a guy. He was begging in the subway station. He seemed to end part-way down the ribcage—I don't know how that's even physically possible. He grossed Anya out, and she's seen countless corpses.
I drew a picture. How is this guy still alive? I don't know.
Saturday, April 22
Natasha got it in her head that Anya and I should go to the Kremlin Armoury and see some sort of military parade, but we found the whole process needlessly confusing and bureaucratic, so we skipped off and went to the Chaliapin Museum instead. I think it was more up both of our alleys anyway—we got to listen to opera and Anya played a chord on a piano that Rachmaninoff used to play.
Then we went to the Izmaylovskiy Market, which was tons of fun until Dima made us take off for an outlet mall so he could buy Anya a new coat. Have I mentioned, by the way, that Moscow is a terrible place to buy clothes? Everything is overpriced and most of it is hideous. [Not the coat, I should add. She looks fabulous in it.]
Tonight, we're going to a performance of Eugene Onegin by the Bolshoi Opera Company at the Kremlin, which should just about be the coolest thing ever. And then we're off on the overnight train to St. Petersburg.
[The following day...]
Eugene Onegin was great, and on top of it, performed in the auditorium where the Communist Party used to hold meetings.
Pictures!
The entrance to the auditorium.
Haha, nice decor.
Me being all commie and shit. At the opera.
Inside the auditorium. I guess if Communist Party meetings were really long, you could secretly read a book or something.
Goodbye, Kremlin! Goodbye, Moscow!
Friday, April 21
We went to the Old Tretyakov Gallery, which features a phenomenal array of art by various Russian masters (none of whom I've heard of. I'm starting to think that my art history courses were a bit narrow in scope.). We'd aimed to make the Pushkin Gallery as well, but alas, it was closed. The nearby Ilya Glazunov Gallery, however, was open, and I now have a new artistic obsession. This guy is incredible.
To Your Health! (1977)
[There's not much about Glazunov in English, alas. Here is his website. Even if you don't read Russian, you can click through it and see some cool shit.]
For some reason, Dima and Natasha had decided that we all needed to go to a Uzbek restaurant located way in the middle of nowhere. Getting there, eating, and getting back took a total of five hours. There was also a phone theme in the restaurant and appalling and loud karaoke. Our reward for going through all of that was a trip to the local booze store.
I should explain—almost every store in Russia seems to sell several varieties of vodka. There are also stands in the street that sell it, although I've been warned that the vodka they sell is frequently fatal. And then, there is a special store with more types of vodka than you have ever seen in your life, including some that comes in AK-47-shaped bottles. I now have more booze than I know what to do with, which should make my parties back home a bit more fun than they'd ordinarily be.
P.S. I almost forgot to mention the most disturbing thing I saw today—half a guy. He was begging in the subway station. He seemed to end part-way down the ribcage—I don't know how that's even physically possible. He grossed Anya out, and she's seen countless corpses.
I drew a picture. How is this guy still alive? I don't know.
Saturday, April 22
Natasha got it in her head that Anya and I should go to the Kremlin Armoury and see some sort of military parade, but we found the whole process needlessly confusing and bureaucratic, so we skipped off and went to the Chaliapin Museum instead. I think it was more up both of our alleys anyway—we got to listen to opera and Anya played a chord on a piano that Rachmaninoff used to play.
Then we went to the Izmaylovskiy Market, which was tons of fun until Dima made us take off for an outlet mall so he could buy Anya a new coat. Have I mentioned, by the way, that Moscow is a terrible place to buy clothes? Everything is overpriced and most of it is hideous. [Not the coat, I should add. She looks fabulous in it.]
Tonight, we're going to a performance of Eugene Onegin by the Bolshoi Opera Company at the Kremlin, which should just about be the coolest thing ever. And then we're off on the overnight train to St. Petersburg.
[The following day...]
Eugene Onegin was great, and on top of it, performed in the auditorium where the Communist Party used to hold meetings.
Pictures!
The entrance to the auditorium.
Haha, nice decor.
Me being all commie and shit. At the opera.
Inside the auditorium. I guess if Communist Party meetings were really long, you could secretly read a book or something.
Goodbye, Kremlin! Goodbye, Moscow!
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-08 01:37 pm (UTC)Lamb butt fat kebab!
And many other tasty things, but most importantly:
Lamb butt fat kebab!
no subject
Date: 2006-05-08 01:52 pm (UTC)Also, I found some funny euphemisms on menus, generally.
"Bulls' eggs kebab? But bulls are mammals; they don't lay..."
*pause*
"Ewww."