Or..."The Coronation of Spring," or, I don't know, "Коронация весной," but in any case, Russian spring, which is like almost no other spring that I've ever seen.
Russian spring is legendary. It comes on with a crash. Winter lasts six months here in Russia. The first snow usually falls in October, the last at some time in April.
But when it's spring, you know it.
And it's spring.
The sun shines nearly 18 hours a day, high in the sky. At 5:30 a.m. it's broad daylight. At 9:00 p.m. it's still broad daylight. This will get even better later on. I know, I've been here in the spring and summer before. It takes on an unreal quality, this Moscow equinoctal-solsticial light. Many years ago when I worked at the American embassy here in Moscow, I remember leaving my office at midnight in July, and there was still twilight lingering.
I was in Yaroslavl years ago, one early June night with my Russian friend Nadya. Yaroslavl is about 200 miles northeast of Moscow, on the Volga River. We stayed with relatives of hers that night. After supper, around 10:30 p.m., we all went for a walk along the river. 10:30 p.m. and it was still afternoon.
Everyone began petering out shortly after midnight. It was more-or-less dark by one a.m. I fell asleep.
But I awoke 90 minutes later. It was 2:30 a.m. and the sky was already blue again.
Now, I have not seen St. Petersburg's legendary White Nights, those few days before, during and after the summer solstice when it doesn't get dark at all. Around midnight, they say, the sun dips below the horizon, then comes back up again. 24 hours of daylight.
I'm going to see it this time around. It's a promise I've made to myself.
Spring rituals in Moscow. I went out to the store the other day, and on my way spied a guy who had obviously fallen off his bicycle and was being questioned by a couple of cops. "Drunken cyclist hits tree," I thought. Why not? Public drunkenness is the Russian version of baseball.
But nobody's riding bikes in the winter. Not here. You can't. Come spring, bikes are in evidence everywhere. Just this afternoon I was walking back to the Metro after visiting a cafe down near Kuznetski Most. I encountered a girl with a big, balloon-tired Schwinn. Such bicycles are regaining popularity after decades of road-and-mountain-bike supremacy: people want comfort again (and my generation is getting older; we NEED comfort again if we're going to cycle.)
I asked her where she got the bike. Oh, she bought it in Moscow, but neither of us had a pen or pencil so she couldn't write down the place. She merely advised me to go online and Google "Buy a bicycle in Moscow."
I bought a bicycle in China last year. It was stolen in China, even though I had it locked. Before I buy a bicycle here, I'm going to make damn sure I have a safe place to keep it.
Speaking of bicycles, my boss here in Moscow, Robert Dingwall, took me along with his family on a boat ride along the Moscow River last Friday. Although I have lived in Moscow before, it was the first time I'd ever done the boat-tour thing. As we cruised along enjoying the scenery from the river, which included Red Square, the Cathedral of Christ the Savior and who knows how many other Muscovian visual delights, we also saw...a bicycle race. Yep, a fast-moving peloton was racing up and down along the banks of the river. You had to look fast or you'd miss it. Even the stragglers were moving along at a pretty good clip.
Today was very warm here, by Moscow standards. All last weekend we saw nothing but gray skies, chill and drizzle. But Moscow in the spring will surprise you: after a string of dismal days, all of a sudden the sun will come out and it's dreamland...everything looks like it's in technicolor. I could not stay indoors on such a fine day. I got on the Metro and went back down to Kuznetski Most, one of my favorite Moscow neighborhoods. It's a short walk from K.M. to Red Square, but Red Square was closed today. Tomorrow, May 9, is Russia's biggest holiday: Victory Day. It was on May 9, 1945 that Germany surrendered to the Allies and World War II came to an end. Russia celebrates every May 9 with a huge parade on Red Square. No doubt that's why no one was being allowed down there this afternoon--they were getting ready for the big parade tomorrow.
No matter. I know what Red Square looks like. So I sauntered back up to Kuznetski Most, shucking my denim jacket because it was too warm for it, sat down in a cafe, had a cold beer and thought, damn, isn't it wonderful to experience another Russian spring? At my age, no less.
My age. Who cares? Spring is rejuvenating, as anyone who lives this far north will tell you. Na z'dorovye!
More to come...
Russian spring is legendary. It comes on with a crash. Winter lasts six months here in Russia. The first snow usually falls in October, the last at some time in April.
 |
| Moscow in May...Just a nice, bright day |
And it's spring.
The sun shines nearly 18 hours a day, high in the sky. At 5:30 a.m. it's broad daylight. At 9:00 p.m. it's still broad daylight. This will get even better later on. I know, I've been here in the spring and summer before. It takes on an unreal quality, this Moscow equinoctal-solsticial light. Many years ago when I worked at the American embassy here in Moscow, I remember leaving my office at midnight in July, and there was still twilight lingering.
I was in Yaroslavl years ago, one early June night with my Russian friend Nadya. Yaroslavl is about 200 miles northeast of Moscow, on the Volga River. We stayed with relatives of hers that night. After supper, around 10:30 p.m., we all went for a walk along the river. 10:30 p.m. and it was still afternoon.
Everyone began petering out shortly after midnight. It was more-or-less dark by one a.m. I fell asleep.
But I awoke 90 minutes later. It was 2:30 a.m. and the sky was already blue again.
Now, I have not seen St. Petersburg's legendary White Nights, those few days before, during and after the summer solstice when it doesn't get dark at all. Around midnight, they say, the sun dips below the horizon, then comes back up again. 24 hours of daylight.
I'm going to see it this time around. It's a promise I've made to myself.
Spring rituals in Moscow. I went out to the store the other day, and on my way spied a guy who had obviously fallen off his bicycle and was being questioned by a couple of cops. "Drunken cyclist hits tree," I thought. Why not? Public drunkenness is the Russian version of baseball.
But nobody's riding bikes in the winter. Not here. You can't. Come spring, bikes are in evidence everywhere. Just this afternoon I was walking back to the Metro after visiting a cafe down near Kuznetski Most. I encountered a girl with a big, balloon-tired Schwinn. Such bicycles are regaining popularity after decades of road-and-mountain-bike supremacy: people want comfort again (and my generation is getting older; we NEED comfort again if we're going to cycle.)
I asked her where she got the bike. Oh, she bought it in Moscow, but neither of us had a pen or pencil so she couldn't write down the place. She merely advised me to go online and Google "Buy a bicycle in Moscow."
I bought a bicycle in China last year. It was stolen in China, even though I had it locked. Before I buy a bicycle here, I'm going to make damn sure I have a safe place to keep it.
 |
| Who knows but that some of these guys might have been among the crowd we watched race past as we sailed up the Moscow River on a tour boat? |
Today was very warm here, by Moscow standards. All last weekend we saw nothing but gray skies, chill and drizzle. But Moscow in the spring will surprise you: after a string of dismal days, all of a sudden the sun will come out and it's dreamland...everything looks like it's in technicolor. I could not stay indoors on such a fine day. I got on the Metro and went back down to Kuznetski Most, one of my favorite Moscow neighborhoods. It's a short walk from K.M. to Red Square, but Red Square was closed today. Tomorrow, May 9, is Russia's biggest holiday: Victory Day. It was on May 9, 1945 that Germany surrendered to the Allies and World War II came to an end. Russia celebrates every May 9 with a huge parade on Red Square. No doubt that's why no one was being allowed down there this afternoon--they were getting ready for the big parade tomorrow.
No matter. I know what Red Square looks like. So I sauntered back up to Kuznetski Most, shucking my denim jacket because it was too warm for it, sat down in a cafe, had a cold beer and thought, damn, isn't it wonderful to experience another Russian spring? At my age, no less.
My age. Who cares? Spring is rejuvenating, as anyone who lives this far north will tell you. Na z'dorovye!
More to come...
A real "homecoming" to a place with so many good memories. I am so glad you finally made it back there.
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