Ninth of May (Victory Day) Photo

Alexander Belinky, the St. Petersburg Times staff photographer, gave me some of his best photos from over the years, which I will be putting up time to time on Eagle and the Bear. I’m leaving St. Petersburg in two weeks after a solid year here, and what better way to say goodbye to this city of light and darkness, neo-Classicism and “Sovok” (any form of the massive, quietly decaying body of detritus the Soviet Union left behind) than with photos like this one, taken on the elegant Palace Square during a Victory Day celebration in the early 1990′s. The regal, 18th-century General Headquarters building and the turquoise Winter Palace, where the Bolsheviks came to power by overthrowing the provisional government in October (November by the Western calendar) 1917, is obscured by a giant billboard of Marx, Engels and Lenin.

Voga Boatman Episode 7: Moscow

Moscow (“Moskva” in Russian).  The onion-domed, haphazard old Russian counterpoint to St. Petersburg’s deliberate, neo-classical facades.  A constant, hectic race-for-survival, as contrasted with a haughty weekend stroll down Nevsky Prospekt.  The motherly homeland to the forward-looking father figure of Petersburg (much has been made of the automated voice on each city’s metro: Male in Petersburg, female in Moscow).

I saw (again) Lenin’s body still intact in his tomb, with Stalin, long since removed from embalmed glory, buried outside, next to the Kremlin wall.  It gave me a guilty thrill, but I have to say it’s time to knock Lenin down a peg or two.  Forget this nonsense about letting him “rest in peace”; it’s a pile of chemically preserved flesh.  Nonetheless, this pile of flesh is still far too revered.  Stalin was discredited in the ’60s and has at least become a controversial figure (the very least he should be after destroying millions of his countrymen), but Lenin still remains a goodly hero in the mass mentality.  It was this glittering golden god, however, who set the standard for ritualized destruction of innocent peasants, declaring “Merciless mass terror against the kulaks … Death to them!”

So I’m with Gorbachev on this one.  But now that my rant’s over, I can say it was a nice little trip, in all.

Old ladies (the more polite Russian term can be loosely translated as "well-lived") in Russia often wear their hair purple. This is on account of the cheap shampoo their pensions afford.

The Slava ("Glory") watch company, which used to sell parts to Swiss watchmakers.

A small bit of nature in the middle of the big city.

Volga Boatman Episode 3: Kazan and Ulyanovsk

Next up on the Volga trip was Kazan, the almost equal-parts Muslim and Christian capital of Tatarstan, an autonomous republic within Russia.  This even sleepier provincial city (notice a trend here?) features the biggest Mosque in Europe and a local cuisine that’s “spicier” than normal Russian fare, meaning you just might feel a slight tingle on your tongue as whatever greasy portion of meat slides down it.

I tried the “konina,” or barbecued horse, and it was excellent.  It didn’te even seem strange after a local’s simple explanation: “You have a lot of cows, so you eat beef.  We have a lot of horses.”  Then again, you can’t ride a cow, or do much more than poke it with a stick or, in our modern era, cut a hole in its side and get a eyewitness view into the digestion of cud.

The Soyembika Tower in Kazan. Legend has it that after Ivan the Terrible conquered the city, he sought to marry its queen, Soyembika. She agreed -- on the condition he build such a tower in seven days. When Ivan successfully completed this task, Soyembika jumped to her death from the tower.

The next day we headed to Ulyanovsk, birthplace and childhood home of Lenin, who grew up in a provincial-gentry family.

We had a great time checking out the house where Lenin was raised, the school where Lenin studied, the park where Lenin did calisthenics, the secluded grotto where Lenin played his v-card (we can at least speculate) …

Street cleaning, old-school style.

Young cadets (military service is required for anyone who can't muster up a bribe) out for a mid-morning march.

Make a wish to the ghost of Lenin ...

Here's how the young Lenin learned about solar eclipses ...

Volga Boatman Episode 2: Nizhny Novgorod

Nizhny Novgorod.  In this provincial trading center (an old Russian saying called St. Petersburg the head, Moscow the heart, and Nizhny Novgorod the wallet of Russia), everyone seems to rest easier.  And why not, when the worn red bricks of the Kremlin are echoing your name as marshrutkas (buses that look more like glorified vans) careen by?  Here you can fall for the Volga’s simple charm as you stroll along the “Naberezhnaya” promenade, and forget everything but the path of a leaf on the breeze.

I lived in Nizhny all this summer, and a wave of nostalgia hit me along with the scent of the city’s fall glory (a heavy chemical stench soon pushed all other smells aside, as per usual).

A babushka on the bus. Incredible character in the faces of these elders, some of whom remember Lenin.

A busker takes a break on the pedestrian thoroughfare Bol'shaya Pakrovskaya, the most important of Nizhny's many strolling places.

Side-street discovery: An old mental hospital.

Flower market.

So much character in every square foot ...

My Nizhny hosts, Olga and Sergei, at the port station.

Lenin lives!

A proletarian gem in the rough at the Udyel'niy Rinok, the gynormous St. Petersburg flea market.