This is my door on the fourth floor of my apartment building on Goda Street. Actually, behind this door is a small vestibule inside which are two more doors. One is my apartment, one is someone else's. I've never met the neighbors but I do know they have a cobaka (dog); I've heard him barking.In any case, leaving the building one can either take the stairs or the elevator -- the one with no light.
The building I'm in is one of the many Kruschev built in his determination to insure everyone had a place to live. Admirable impulse. Lousy architecture.
As I mentioned earlier, I work in a former sugar factory. It's now called "The Sugar Factory". Below is the front gate.
Russia's anachronisms are so deep they seem forward.
In spite of the weather, I find that the easy perception of Russia and Russians as being gray and humorless to be -- at the very least -- out of date. At least everyone I am around laughs all the time. Is there a Seasonal Affective Disorder here? Maybe the long polar nights bred it out of them. Or perhaps it's generational. From my limited encounters, the young are interested in the sun more than the clouds.
2 comments:
Your street name? What does it mean....or is it a persons name?
Actually, the street name is Mantylinskaya. I don't know yet what it means, but I'll find out.
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