A long walk

This morning I got up early, for the purpose of being the first to the communal washing machine at the AH. By the time my wash was dry (a little after noon, as our dryer is decidedly slow), the day had somehow turned into yet another stunningly gorgeous day. It's weird; every time I think that certainly the last days of beautiful warm weather are over, Mother Nature slips in yet another surprise for us. I went back to my apartment, dropped off my laundry, and took the trolleybus back into the center of town to begin yet another afternoon of exploration and photography.

I disembarked from the trolley at the Golden Gates / Theater Square bus stop, and decided to explore the center from just north of the main street, Bolshaya Moscovskaya. I've been up and down the south side numerous times (after all, the bus lets one off on that side, and the AH is located on that side... I haven't had much of a need to go north).

Directly across from Theater Square, on the northern side of Bolshaya Moscovskaya is some sort of bizarre sculpture park, featuring various strange modern-art sculptures in various stages of decay. I found them quite unusual, as well as unlabeled. There was nothing to give me any sort of hint as to who made these sculptures or why they were there. But, I photographed them and went on my way.

I took Oktyabrskii Prospekt north one block, then began to head east along Nikolskaya Ulitsa, which runs parallel to Bolshaya Moskovskaya. After about three blocks, I came upon a small park on my left, containing at its center a giant bust of the Russian writer Gogol. Of course, I only knew that it was Gogol because I recognized him from other photographs and busts which I have seen; this bust, like the modern-art sculptures, was not labeled in the slightest.

From behind Gogol, I could make out the shape of an old church, so I cut through the park and came out on Knyaginskaya Ulitsa. In front of me stood yet another old Russian church. This one was (unusually) painted a nice green color (you know how I'm somewhat partial to the color green...), although like many of the old churches in this city, it has fallen into disrepair. [I checked my map upon returning home. It's labeled the Nikitskaya Church, and it was built in 1762. The map says that this building is currently an "administrative building." I should probably note that my map was published in 1999, so who knows if it is still operating as such...]

As I was taking my pictures, I was approached by an elderly babushka, who asked me if I knew anything about this church. I answered "no" and she told me that it used to be part of the women's monastery. [In Russian, instead of using the words "convent" and "monastery," they simply say "monastery" and "women's monastery."] Had I been to the monastery? No? Well, it's a block that way, on your left. I thanked her. It is so unusual for strangers to stop you on the street and be so helpful. I kind of wondered if I looked as though I might be in need of a women's monastery. Anyhow, I took Knyaginskaya Ulitsa a block to the east, and there on my left was what was obviously a monastery. However, as most monasteries over here tend to be, it was walled off from the general public. There was a small, open entrance for pedestrians, although as there were some nuns milling about near the gateway, I didn't think I should go sticking my head (and camera) in through the door. Instead I decided to find a back way in. I found a small, unlabeled street, lined with houses built in the same old-school style of pre-Soviet wooden architecture as those I photographed last week, which wound back behind the monastery. The back side of the monastery, like the front, was fenced off from the general populace; however, instead of a high brick wall, the back was sealed off by means of a wrought-iron fence. Photographs can be taken through wrought-iron fences. After snapping several shots (from behind the monastery, it was easy to see its proximity to the Nikitskaya Church; it was obvious that they had once been part of the same complex), I retraced my steps back to Knyaginskaya and continued east. [Upon consulting with my map, I learned that the Knyagina Monastery was established in the 13th century!]

Knyaginskaya turned into Manezhnyi, which turned into Volodarskovo, before ending at an intersection with Kremlevskaya. The entire Manezhni-Volodarskovo-Kremlevskaya area was filled with old wooden homes. The streets were narrow, traffic was virtually nonexistent, and even though I was still in the center of town, I felt as though I were out in the country. I took Kremlevskaya a block north, and then noticed the spires of yet another old Russian church off to my right. So, I began to head back west, this time following Podbelskovo Ulitsa. After only one block, I found my quarry at the corner of Podbelskovo and Muzeinaya: another seemingly abandoned Russian church. [According to my map, it's the Svyato-Troitskaya (Holy Trinity) Church, built in 1740. The map also says that it is currently an operational Orthodox church, although it looked to me to be disused.]

After photographing the Svyato-Troitskaya, I continued south on Muzeinaya, and came out on Bolshaya Moscovskaya, where I turned east. I walked an incredibly long way down Bolshaya Moscovskaya (which later turned into Bolshaya Nizhegorodskaya), until I came close to the city limits. There wasn't much to see along the north side of the street. (I didn't explore any further side streets at this point; I just strolled along Bolshaya Moscovskaya/Nizhegorodshaya.) I decided to turn around when I came to the giant factory, VLADALCO. Yep, that's the Vladimir Alcohol factory.

My trip back west, along the south side of Bolshaya Moscovskaya/Nizhegorodshaya was substantially more interesting. I found several older buildings with interesting archways to photograph (I love archways), and I found a rather embellished version of the OFR graffiti that litters this city, which I photographed as well.

Further to the west, I encountered my best find of the day. Behind a run-down office building, marked with little more than a tiny metal plaque, was the Bogoroditskaya-Uspensky Church, now the Uspensky Church for Russian Orthodox Old Believers [which according to my map was built in 1644]. I have mentioned before how absolutely astonishing it is that when tourists come to Vladimir they are directed to the Cathedral of St. Dmitry, the Uspensky Cathedral and the Golden Gates, and virtually nothing else. Again, I realize that those three monuments to Russian architecture pre-date the Old Believer's church by about 500 years, but nonetheless, the architecture of this building was incredible! Despite the fact that its exterior has not been well-maintained, it was still stunning to look at, and to photograph. Why don't they promote this as an asset to the city? Perhaps the capitalist in me is showing. Anyhow, as I said, this church was hidden behind a run-down office building, and you can only reach it by going through a rather sketchy looking alley. As I neared the building I heard laughter and singing. I encountered a group of Old Believers celebrating something in front of the church. The women especially were easily distinguished from the average Russian, as they were all dressed modestly, with scarves over their heads, long skirts and loose, concealing blouses. As soon as they noticed me, the boisterous festivities paused, as they all turned to look warily at me. However, once they realized that I was obviously just there to photograph the architecture, they resumed where they had left off. I wonder if the Old Believers are still persecuted? [For those of you who don't know: A couple centuries or so ago (sorry, they date eludes me), Russian political and religious leaders decided that the Russian Orthodox church had evolved away from the Byzantine Orthodox church in several ways (not being a religious historian, I'm afraid I'm rather lacking in the details here), and decided to reform the church to bring it back in line with the Byzantine church. Most Russians went along with the changes, although there were those who did not. They were given the name "Old Believers" and many were exiled and/or otherwise persecuted.] 

After photographing the Old Believer's church, I decided that my legs were tired and it was time to go home. Now, we get to go back in time a bit, so that I can relate the other rather bizarre occurrence of my day. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I returned home after doing my laundry, so as not to be exploring the city with a gargantuan backpack containing most of my clothes. When I had left for the AH in the morning, it had been cold, but while my laundry was laundering, the weather had transformed. As I trekked home in my coat, I was sweltering. Upon arriving in my apartment, I immediately stripped off not only the coat, but my sweater, leaving me wearing just a t-shirt. I suppose now would be a good time to mention the heating system. Most Russian apartments are equipped with giant radiators in each room. These radiators do not have any knobs or switches attached to them; one cannot control the output of one's radiator. These radiators are ALL connected to a government operated water heating system, which at some point each year decides to turn on the heat. The heat has been on for about two weeks now. And it is really, really hot. While I expect that I will be very glad of this heat come the Russian Winter, as it is, I feel as though I live in an oven. So, after stripping down to my t-shirt, I opened the window in my room. Well, Nina M wasn't too pleased. She had the balcony door open - now we were having a skvoznyak, or cross-breeze! Oh no! I, for one, am all for cross-ventilation; however, Russians seem to be categorically opposed to such things. Nina M. closed the balcony door. She said the skvoznyak was going to make me get sick again. So much for my ventilation. Anyhow, a few minutes later, she came back into my room and asked me if I had anything warm. Now, that's an ambiguous question if ever I heard one. Did she mean anything warm to put on then, as I was only in my t-shirt? Did she mean anything warm to wear when I went outside, where even though the weather was beautiful, it was not t-shirt weather? Did she mean anything warm in general? I may have stuttered at her something along the lines of, "Uhh… anything warm?" She came back with an odd looking coat. Apparently, someone had given it to someone, who didn't need a coat. That person had given it to Nina M. to give to her granddaughter, whom it didn't fit, so she figured she would give it to me because, I didn't "have anything warm." I pointed to the full length wool coat in my closet, the one I wore all Russian winter back in 2000. Nope, not warm enough to satisfy Nina M. So, I got the coat. (The buttons are all in a baggie in the pocket, so I suppose I should sew them on.) It's an odd coat. It is definitely thicker than my wool coat, and thereby perhaps it is warmer. And it has a hood. But it is not exactly the color or pattern I would have chosen. But hey, free warm coat: Woohoo!