11 February 2013


The Bolshoi Theater. Probably one of the most important ballet theaters in the world.
How amazing is it to live in a city? Where everywhere you go, there is a new adventure, a new photograph, a new person to wonder about? I am so in awe of Moscow constantly, if I were to really photograph everything I saw and loved on a daily basis, I would never get anywhere. I took these iPhone pictures over the course of our Saturday/Sunday nights. 

Moscow is a strange bird to meet. It doesn't want--or need-- your love. It's a stable and confident city that feels no need to point out it's good qualities or accomplishments. It does not brag. It remains understated and only shows it's good side to those willing to look for it. There are no signs for magical and historic places. You just stumble upon them, leaving a bar, trying to catch a train for work, wandering through a street you saw once through a window and thought worth exploring...
and that is the magic between living somewhere and visiting somewhere. 

We ran into The Bolshoi leaving Moloko the other night. Ben grabbed my hand as we passed it and told me what it was. I stopped. I couldn't believe it. The Bolshoi. The world's most famous dancers and choreographers and opera singers and directors have created and performed here. It is no secret I love ballet. It is no secret that I have wondered where the magical Bolshoi was, but to just fall into it's lap? Oh, how easily my heart is charmed by surprises like these. 

The next morning, well afternoon, when Ben and I finally decided to drag ourselves from Sergei's beautiful flat and find ourselves a cheap breakfast (our bar tab was quite... impressive. We will not be going out until our next paycheck, that's for sure), we wandered onto a street with a McDonalds and a marvelous red church with blue and gold domes. Munching on french fries and a chocolate croissant, the pads of my feet burning from my four-inch wedges, Ben and I continued down the red brick road towards the church, pushed forward by our curiosity and the mystical church bells that we seemed to be the only ones hearing. 

The street was quiet with Muscovites and water drizzled effortlessly from the sky. Ben and I dipped our heads into small shops and found a garden gypsies were selling silk scarves and traditional Russian clothes out of small, wooden stands. Circus music played throughout the square. More rain came down and my feet grew angrier. I felt so easy, twenty-free, and free until Ben reminded me we had to return home to work on our lesson plans. My heart is always sad when it has to go home and live "in the real world" that is my full-time job, but relaxed when I remind it we have just begun to explore. More days of Moscow will come.  

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