Visiting a shopping mall after a fashion event…
Literature, Music, Moscow
A very dear friend was fluent in Russian; he spoke the language, wrote it, read it, and could rhyme off a long list of Russian authors and composers, all of whom he had read and studied and from which he could either quote passages or recall performance details of their works. It was through him that I was introduced to some of the world’s greatest classical music and translated works of Russian literature. And so it was that I was very pleasantly surprised when we entered a restaurant situated in the basement of yet another massive building. The atmosphere was comfortable and relaxing, and the food, well, the food was Russian of the early 1990s. But what caught my ear was the sound of a piano being played in another area of the restaurant. I certainly couldn’t place the piece, and although pagers and some very expensive cell-phones existed, there was no such thing as smart phones and apps such as Shazam that could help me identify the piece, so I had to resort to the next best thing, ask the pianist as he finished what exactly it was that he had played. Rachmaninoff, was the reply, the Second Piano Concerto. Needless to say, the food was not memorable, but the music stayed with me; a happy memory of a different time. This was well before Rachmaninoff’s 3rd was popularized by an Australian film (Shine) and I heard a version performed by Martha Argerich (still the best performance I know of). The piano performance led to a serious hunt over the next few days for something to take back with me, something Russian, something that I could possibly surprise the unsurprisable with (of course there were all the usual trinkets and gifts to browse through including the Matryoshka dolls, wood replicas of St. Basil’s and much more,) but I needed something unique, and after much hunting and searching, I found the perfect CD of Russian etudes recorded at the Moscow Conservatory.
Subway decoration – works of art in their own right.
The Weird, Weirder, and Weirdest
The remainder of the trip in Moscow was a whirlwind of activity; we had come to find potential performers to invite to Thailand for our television program, on top of which we had to produce a number of segments to justify our excursion. One of those segments was quite easily done and nearly produced itself by simply visiting various subway stations along Moscow’s extensive network. Opened in 1935, the system is certainly one of the most visually appealing subway systems, with different stations completed in different styles and with different themes, the opulence (one might say) of Komsomolskaya station, or the Revolution Square station with its bronze sculptures, or Novoslobodskaya station with its stained glass panels is unparalleled anywhere else I have traveled, although any one who wishes to prove me wrong is most welcome to send me a tip. The stations lent themselves to being filmed, and as we made our way along the various routes to our appointments, we would take footage of the interiors and add the odd segment of a talking head, and soon we had our 6-minute tale.
St. Basils Cathedral, Red Square, Moscow – a wood replica that is more than a quarter century old
One of the trips brought us to an apartment block where we had to interview a psychic, and within a few minutes of having been led into his living room we knew that he just had to come to Thailand to amaze our viewers. For the life of me I cannot remember his name, although Anton or Fyodor, Nikolai or Ilya come to mind, but he had some amazing tricks, including bending of spoons, moving objects without touching them, reading minds, and group hypnosis – I know, I know, you don’t believe in all that stuff; even if you don’t, it’s still entertaining to watch. We brought him to Bangkok, and true to his word, he put on a great show, and managed to hypnotize a group of people on the stage – they stood frozen on stage, with one leg bent slightly and an arm out to the side, and could not move (don’t ask, I don’t know how it was done, all I can say is that I tried to pull people to the side or shove them forward, but could not), so it was well worth it.
The dolls everyone brings home
The Moscow Circus
Another subway ride brought us to another station and the representative office for the Guinness Book of World Records, which led us to ‘staple and metal man’ and as you can probably guess from the description, this man was impervious to pain and could bend nails with his mouth. He too visited Thailand, and it was probably (aside from live snakes on the stage and a woman living with a few hundred scorpions) one of the most yuck-inducing shows we aired; he stood, torso bared, at the center of the stage while someone else grabbed a staple gun, and simply started shooting staples into the man’s back, and as if that was not enough, the addition of a few fish hooks completed the performance – I can still hear the gasps of the audience, and still cringe when I think about it. I cannot remember what other people we were introduced to at the Guinness meeting, but it was good to know that Russia too had its fair share of ‘intriguing’ and ‘interestingly different’ people. Obviously ‘staple man’ was not part of the Moscow Circus (although in a different era he might well have been a major attraction at another tent), what was part of the circus, however, were some great performances by acrobats, contortionists, jugglers, and of course clowns. We have all seen how children’s eyes light up when they see the wonders unfold in the ring, and there truly is no greater form of entertainment than to sit and enjoy the performances put on by the men and women of companies such as the Moscow State Circus, or if in North America, by companies such as Cirque du Soleil, they are thrilling and visually pure delights, and I defy anyone who attends a performance to tell me that they didn’t revert back to childhood wonderment during the show.
Samovar, something without which a Russian home is simply not complete
Spasibo, do svidanija
As with all things wonderful, however, the show did have to come to an end, and after a quick morning tour around St. Basil’s in Red Square with four Russian models (part of another story), a visit to the famous Arbat shopping area and a quiet afternoon on my own to listen to a piano recital at the Moscow Conservatory, it was time to pack our bags and make our way back to the airport and leave behind the cold of Moscow. As I packed the last of my clothes in my bag, I took a look around the cavernous room that had been mine for a few wonderful days. I opened the door and stepped outside. I was about to turn back and try another hair-in-the-door act, but realized it was useless, and as I turned and headed down the hall, I saw there, standing, stolid and solid, the floor matron, skirt starched, shirt perfectly ironed with not a crease anywhere in sight, except that, for the first time, I saw a small smile play around her lips, and with a soft voice she wished me a warm do svidanija До свидания.
