Russia - Another walkabout...

Last night was a blissfully early night... only 2 am or so... I'm on night watch tonight so I'm happy to have have gone to bed early. The banya made that happen.

Have I told you what the banya is? I mean I remember blazing through it yesterday... but in essence you're talking about a super heated sweedish sauna, its dry, but there's a large tub of water near the oven that you can throw onto the coals to create steam and get that place super heated. I think its around 140 degrees F. in there. But let me back up...

The banya is on Dostoyevskaya st. number 11. Its four stories of banyas with a mens on the 2nd floor, women's on the 4th and private rooms with billiard tables etc. on the 3rd. Two hours is 300 rubles, going for less than that doesn't make any sense. There's a store on the bottom floor that sells all your spa needs, e.g. birch branches tied and bundled, machalkas (loofahs) natural and synthetic, soap, sandals etc. I wore my leather sandlas so I rented a pair from the desk. The man behind the desk looks like an ex-con, the consus amongst Parker, Burke and myself was that he was an excon and most of the guys in there had spent time in the pen. But man, these boys take their banya seriously and for that I respect them to no end. You pay your money, 900 rubles for the three of us. Then its another 98 rubles for 3 sheets and one pair of slippers for me. The birch ran about 8 - 12 rubles per bunch, we bought two. Another 60 rubles at the "opteka" for eucalyptus oil and were set. We were taken to a private changing room that had soft cushy benches, a couple tables, ash trays and places to hang our clothing. It was a large room and we stripped down there, tying the sheets around us like roman togas. No one brought more than 600 rubles or so and we left our wallets and watches at the hotel so we had blessedly little to steal.

From there one proceeds to the showers for a quick wet and to pour hot water into the large tubs that are all around and soak the birch and dump the eucalyptus oil into the water. After a good quick soak we went and sat in the sauna, none of us could take it for more than five minutes. It was that hot!!! I've sat in normal saunas for long periods of time, but I've never been in one that is this damn hot! Out the door of the "parilka" and into a pool of very very very cold water, just dump yourself in there. It stops the wooziness and refreshes you. After a minute or two in the pool, we went and got the birch and brought it into the sauna for another round.

What do you do with the birch yuo ask? Well yuo bloody flog yourself and you enjoy it! its a midl form of exfoliation and aromatherapy combined. Its quite nice. You stand there flogging yourself from sole to crown and smelling the rich thick eucalyptus scent which goes everywhere. Your sweat pours out in buckets. After about ten minutes in there we went for another dunk in the pool and back to our changing room where we ordered Kvas. This is by far the best kvas I have ever had. It was the perfect smoothness, the perfect viscosity, it was cold as all hell, it was in a word wonderful!!!

This continues until you get tired and feel fully relaxed munching on drie salted squid and drinknig kvas by the half liter and water in our case. Then a hot shower and you feel like a million bucks. There was a fine eatery around the corner, "stalovaya" that had all kinds of meats and kotletas (small meat patties that range in substance from pork to chicken to mixtures of lamb and pork). From there it was the long walk back to the hotel, we had no money for a cab at this point, not even a glass of kompot which looked damn good but at 20 rubles each it was a bit out of our league.

Today I woke and did laundry, dawning my only pair of shorts and set out for a walkabout. I headed down Kazanaskaya and then over past the Marinsky to a russian orthodox church. I must say that I'm getting tired of these orthodox. I don't mean to sound harsh, but they take their church going very seriously, even when its more museum than working church! They didn't let me in, so I took pictures outside and stood in the doorway to piss them off. I like the catholics, come on in, its about buts in the seats... shorts, no problem, pictures, no problem... you are all welcome! Same thing with the synagogue which I went to next. The synagogue is 100+ years old. Its made from a rose colored stone and strped like an old mosque almost. It openned in 1903 but construction had begun in the 19th century. The interior is gorgeous with complicated patterns of intertwinning stars of david. I was given free righn and I went around taking pictures from the floor and the balcony. It was woefully dark in there so I had to find interseting places to rest my camera and let the timer take the pic because at those slow exposures my hands would've fudged it. Its a lovely nikon, but doesn't have the leic shutter that is so smooth and seamless that yuo can shoot at 1/15 of a second hand held.

I wanted to stay in the synagogue for a while. I just kind felt at ease there, not sure why, well I do, but I don't want to go into it. The chandeliers were simple and elegant vines of silver dropping from the ceiling as delicate as spiderweb. I eventually tore myself away from the bench where I sat and stared and headed won a small canal for St. Isaac's. What I thought was a relatively direct route turned out to be quite the indirect one and took me to a rather run down part of town. More residuential and the housing was new (well consider post WWII and Stalin era new.) I walked quickly as there were some sketchy corners and I knew between the backpack, jacket, boots and earings I would raise eybrows. I eventually found my way to St. Isaacs and continued to play National Geographic photographer. From St. Isaacs I decided I would head to the Nevya and shoot the Kunst Kamera from across the river but then it snagged me... glory glory glory... an Indian restaraunt!!!! I immediately proceeded inside to one of the best gastronomical experiences I had yet. The man spoke both English and Russian. I had kima samosas with a heavily spiced lamb inide for an apetizer. For the entree it was paneer cheeze marinated in yoghurt and spices, grilled on a skewer with green bell pepers and coated in honey. A generous helping of garlic nan rounded out the meal with a mango lasi to wash it all down. Let me tell you friends, I'm no stranger to Indian eateries at home, but this would give them all a run for their money. DAMN GOOD! The restaraunt was a pleasure to sit in. The walls and celings were painted with oriental patterns and the carpet was a thick rich color matching the dark and deep toned wood of the chairs and bar. The service was friendly beyond expectation. All of this came at a price. I spent $20 there, that's pricey for this town, but I didn't mind... not one bit. I asked them to make it spicey for me complaining who russians don't know what spicey is. I mean I've eaten the spiciest thing they have at the Georgian restaraunts and it hardly tickled my throat. I suppose I need to eat some spice to make myself repellant to the mosquitos that are coming out in force.

Leaving the restaraunt I turned into the park and headed past the admiralty to the Meydnii Sadik (The Bronze Horseman.) He's very regal on his stead atop a rock sitting right on the banks of the Nevya river. I took his protrait and then asked a kindly german man "Kanst du mir photographieren?" "Ja, kein problem" "Vielen danke." "Du sprichst Deutsch?" "Ein bissien, ich habe vier jahr gelernen, aber es war ein langes zeit in die zuruck." Up the Nevya I headed taking pictures until the roll was done. Then it was back down Nevsky for the cafe, but not before I ran into trouble: the small fast handed kind that go by way of Gypsies! A pack of small girls were working the street along Nevsky. They spotted me right away. I had a lens bag styrapped to my belt and my Nikon around my neck and shoulder. I shoved one of my hands in the pocket with my wallet and the other wrapped around my lens case and went into my other pocket to protect my mobile phone. They swarmed around me saying "kusat kusat kusat" with outstretched palms. I continued to move on and rudely bumped a couple. What I can only assume was there mother was in the middle getting closer and finall I felt a hand coming into my left pocket which I smacked quit hard away, it belonged to a small girl with the saddest puppy dog eyes you ever saw. I had enough. I stopped turned around and yelled in my sternest voice "Edity ot zudivah pa haroshimu!!!!" (Get out of here right now if you know what's good for you.) At this point they backed off. I don't think anyone on the street was phased by this, it happens, maybe by the fact that I could bellow in their language, but taht was about it. I crossed the Moyka canal and stopped to check my back and see if it had been cut open or any zippers tampered with. Everything was in order and my wallet and all belongings still belonged to me. Its sad and if they weren't such bloody thieves I would feel obliged to give them something, but as they practice pick pocketing for a living well the only obligation I feel is tossing them into a canal. Last year they took Brenda for her wallet I believe.

When I came upon the internet cafe I saw her, my saddest begger woman. I sat down on the curbe behind a kiosk and changed out lenses. I had the big dog with me and I loaded some b/w. I snapped two pictures of her, crouching and hiding, keeping an eye for passerbys who might be caught in the frame and most importantly cops. One walked by and I packed up and left myself, but not before dropping some change in her box.

Tonight is the Kenyan reading that will feature fiction and poetry from Kenya. After that I'm on night watch with Anna. Happily, the entire gang should be the golden brick so I won't have to shelp to that unsavory of bars, Datcha. I think most people learned their lesson after Billy's run in and he's been spreading the word. He was very apologetic yesterday and thanked me profusely for saving his ass.

I'm going to head to the university and take a picture of a wonderfully dilapdated wall. I think its gorgeous. I think that's what I want to take pictures of this time, the way this city is run down and how it couldn't even be restored in time for its 300th anniversary in 2003. As gorgeous as it is, as wonderfully grand, its frayed at every edge. Michael Epstein wrote about the heavy iron doors taht are the porticulus to every russian domicile and stairwell as being the only way the soviet could define his space and keep out that world, at the same time, keeping in his world. These doors fascinate me when contrasted to the more ellegant but disintegrating wood and glass doors of the university buildings, There are iron doors there too, don't get me wrong, iron and concrete, marble and granite seem to be the load stones upon which this city is built, but the forgotten places, those taht are still functional, are left to the erosion of the elements, and that to me seems like an irreproduceable beauty....

udatchey vsem!