So, the much-anticipated Indian summer (or бабье лето, as everyone
seems to love reminding us it’s called here) has finally arrived and Yaroslavl
has become a different city entirely. The streets are alive with couples,
teenagers and young families, and opportunistic ice-cream sellers spontaneously
setting up shop on street corners, in parks, on the bustling boulevard along
the Volga. If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I would soon be sunbathing
in Russia in the middle of September, I would have laughed at their naïve
optimism. Turns out, I’m the one who’s been naïve for believing I would be
spending the next four months in a constant struggle to stay warm.
When the weather is so beautiful it’s impossible for me to
stay indoors. Yesterday Ben and I wandered around the smaller back streets of
town to a couple of markets before meeting the others for lunch outside Bristol
café, where we sat with drinks, food and shisha. The heat seemed surreal and
somehow out of place in this city I’d already branded as categorically grey and
cold, so suddenly the day seemed full of opportunities. In the mid-afternoon we
broke off into smaller groups and some of us climbed up the belfry of the
Kremlin, where we saw stunning views of the city, the rivers and golden tops of
the cathedrals glistening blissfully in the sun. I took a different route home,
meandering through the suburban streets along the Volga and cutting through the
small park near Волжская Набережая until finally conceding that the day was at an end.
That evening, I had been tempted to have a night in, but as
there was an African-jazz fusion concert taking place in the concert hall two
minutes’ walk from my flat and a group of people were already going, it seemed ridiculous
to pass up the opportunity. The group was called the New City Band and was
supposed to feature a bass player from Cameroon, but a dep had had to be called
in at the last minute as the original player hadn’t managed to secure a visa. The
concert was fantastic nevertheless, with two African vocalists, electric piano,
drum kit, bongos, bass guitar, soprano/tenor sax and (randomly) a DJ. The whole
place had a great vibe to it and was as modern as you’d expect to see in any
cosmopolitan European city. Everyone enjoyed it, but particularly Pavel, who surprised
us all by making a spectacular show of salsa dancing in the first half. After complimenting
him during the interval, I should have seen it coming that in the next set he
would get me up to join him in the most energetic salsa dance I’ve ever attempted
(which admittedly doesn’t amount to much) – with dips, lifts and everything. At
one point I thought he might even attempt the Dirty Dancing lift, but he obviously realised I value my life and
limbs a bit too much for that.
As we were leaving I spotted the saxophonist from the band
and complimented him on his playing. We got a conversation going and soon a
little group of us had gathered, everyone wanting to try out their Russian. He told
us about another arts club in Yaroslavl where modern musicians and artists get
together to share their work. It seems there’s a lot of culture going on here
if you know the right people and know where to look.
After the concert we decided to go on to Your Бар, where we joined some
others who hadn’t wanted to see the jazz. Somehow, Rob arranged for the group
of eighteen of us to have the whole back section of the bar to ourselves, with
free food, drinks and cigarettes all night, for 4000 roubles (£80), which for a
group that size is nothing. Within a few minutes champagne had arrived and
despite the interesting mix of music, everyone was up for a dance and a laugh. With
lessons starting at the usual 9.15 the next day, most people left at around
3am, but it had been a great night.
Today was another warm, sunny day so we ate lunch outside at
another of the cafes along Кирова. With a bit of time to myself before it would
be cool enough to take a jog, I dozed in the square in front of the council
offices. By 4.30 the sun was dying down and there was a cool breeze, so I was
able to run for almost an hour, trying out new routes. When I returned home I
felt energised and ready for another night out.
I phoned Yana to arrange collecting tickets for the ice hockey
match on Sunday, but they are already sold out, it being the first game of the
season as well as the long-awaited return of the famous Locomotive team after the catastrophe in 2011. I was quite proud
that I had managed a second phone call in Russian, having also phoned up to
book tickets for the concert the day before. I’m getting there slowly.
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