Ice Skating in Moscow
Pedestrian area in the center of Moscow, near the Kremlin.
February (2015)
Two silver blades, sharpened. A subway map. Ski pants and faux-fur boots. I had a travel mission: to skate on the ice rinks of Moscow. The mission would take me across Red Square, Gorky Park, the 'ВДНХ', old falcon hunting grounds of Sokolniki Park, and I'd glide across Patriarch’s Ponds.
A neighborhood church
Winter is a wonderful time to visit Moscow. Purple skies and silent snowfalls illuminate the city's dark facades. Pensive strollers wander along the city's wide boulevards. Neoclassical buildings evoke a beauty akin to that of Russia’s ballerinas. Everything is real, but seemingly more unreal.
My base was the Grand Marriot Hotel on Tverskaya Street, across from a flat that I rented back in 2011. I remember there was an old phone back in that flat with a hammer and sickle in the center of the dial. It used to ring at odd hours. I’d pick up and hear no one on the line. But since it had a dialing mechanism, I knew it wasn't a 'vertushka' (the Soviet one-way phones that called people from the Kremlin).
The ringing phone
To ease back into the city this time, I strolled down Tverskaya Street (Moscow's 5th Avenue ). How is Russia handling the crisis? I stopped in a grocery store to check what was being shelved. To counter the sanctions, Putin banned most EU food imports. No more salmon from Norway, risotto from Italy or cheese from France. The store was stocked, but with local products. Meats regressed to Soviet-style bologna. The fish were salted paddles a grandma could use to give a good beating.
But some of my old Russian favorites, like buns filled with wild mushrooms, stirred my appetite. Russians know how to adapt to changing times. They make tasty soups out of an onion, a few other ingredients and the frozen fish paddles. Their blini and sweets are also made from a simple list of ingredients.
Along Tverskaya, Russian women did not flaunt the kinds of stiletto-style boots and exquisite furs they are stereotyped for. The general atmosphere was more modest and utilitarian. In the famous food luxury story, Yeliseev’s Gastronom, some foreign products were actually available. I think a loophole in the new laws were allowing for some goods to sneak in through Belarus.
Further down Tverskaya, kiosks loomed in corridors, flashing exchange rates. The ruble was down half its value against the dollar, hitting its worst exchange rate in over a decade. Retail stores looked empty. I exchanged a hundred bucks with an old plump woman who wrote me a handwritten receipt. I placed the wad of rubles and receipt in my pocket and continued though a subdued atmosphere to Red Square.
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[All photographs by Charlene Caprio, except for the image of the Russian painting. Parts of this essay are still being finalized.]