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☼ ○ ▬
Cockroaches and palmetto bugs everywhere. They’re crawling inside every room in the house. Other characters in the dream each have their own unique story and appearance. It’s not such a dramatic event but it was expected, as if it was something that happens occasionally. Even though it’s hardly scary for me it’s irritating nonetheless.
▬ ○ ☼
12:30 p.m. Awakening from a hard slumber. We’re late for an engagement with Yana and Tristan at the Moscow Conservatory. We hurry as fast as we can. While marching along the icy sidewalk I talk to Tristan about the understood rule of always walking on the right side of the sidewalk, the purpose being to avoid collisions with other pedestrians.
Me: “But not everybody does this and it’s those few people that screw it up. That’s the reason we can’t ever achieve a perfect utopia...because of people like this.”
†
We arrive at the conservatory. We have to split off into pairs. Yana and Tristan take first floor seats, and Ays and I resign to what I expected to be nosebleeds but actually are the best seats in the auditorium in my opinion. This hall is absolutely beautiful in a neoclassical way: giant portraits of Russian composers and white columns mounted along the sidewalls, and an ominous pipe organ built into the backdrop of the stage. Watching the individual performances by boys and girls of all ages playing select classical pieces on the piano, the flute, the harp, the clarinet, the marimba, and the violin. While sitting reverently I point out a picture on the camera that she secretly took of me sleeping this morning.
“Cause I like you,” she explains.
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Afterwards, Tristan, Ays, and I return to the Japanese noodle shop we went to yesterday. I had to get a second helping.
Noodle Soup with Egg, Eggplant Tempura, and Seaweed Salad.
Now it’s time to do the most touristy thing we can possibly think of: visit Red Square and St. Basil’s Cathedral. We spend just enough time there to snap a few photos because the freezing temperature is unbearable.
†
Retreating to a mall nearby. Sipping on a Cappuccino with Ays in a café.
I’ve got a show booked at Harat’s Irish Pub in Old Arbat with Tim, the guy I met on www.couchsurfing.org. This place has a strange setup as there is a first floor bar and a second floor bar but there is a middle stage where the performers play. The place is packed with locals. I open up the evening with an hour-long set. There’s a happiness and carefree attitude I take on while playing. It’s almost hard to believe I’m really here in Moscow doing what I’m doing. Tim goes on after me and entertains the bar with an aggressive gypsy folk punk sound on the accordion and guitar. He’s a wild soul with a beard and a presence that can’t be ignored.
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This whole vacation here in Moscow has constituted a lot of walking and metro transport. It becomes a part of you. It’s like any big city with public transport I guess. You don’t even think about it after a while.
Snacking on Salt n Vinegar Chips and a Cream Cheese Pastry I picked up from an outside market earlier today.
It seemed we were running a little behind schedule but fortunately we make it on time to catch the train to St. Petersburg. With Tristan, Aysena, and Aina, all settled in our little dorm cabin complete with two small bunks to fit four people. Another friend of ours, Lena, joins us from another part of the train.
†
We’re fed a boxed meal. Tristan and I explore the rest of the territory. We discover an old hot water machine and are given two old silver mug containers for Tea. We engage in a humorous debate on the cultural differences in social behaviors. We also make fun of one another – of how Ays is so animated and how Tristan is so vague. While looking through the menu the caretaker of our train car gave us we compose a little photo story. We just couldn’t resist. The photos we were taking started taking on a narrative of their own...
† “Tristan, what would you like to eat?”
† “Ummm...”
† “How bout the fish?”
† “Hmmm. Maybe.”
† “It’s really good!”
† “Okay! I’ll have the fish.”
† “So you want the fish. Coming right up.”
† Unfortunately the fish was never served. And this is what happens when you don't bring a black man his fish.
We’re approached by a neighbor passenger who warns us that we might be too loud and should keep quiet. And so we transition to lights out around 3 a.m.
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* Image by Tristan.
† Images by me.
‡ Images by Aysena.
§ Images by Valery P.
† Images by me.
‡ Images by Aysena.
§ Images by Valery P.
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