I was beginning to feel a little foolish for some of the warm clothing I had brought, as the temperture was in the mid-teens every day (Celcius, of course). I needn't have worried. May 1st dawned cool and overcast, near freezing.

May 1st was a big holiday in Soviet days. Nina was excited to show me the celebration, although it had wained in pupularity in recent years. She arrived in the morning, and with her usual high octane energy level, began hurrying us along. "Lil, bistriy! bistriy!" She finally succeeded in hearding us out the door, and then realized she had left the small flags back in the apartment. To my surprise, she went back for them. Going back for something you have forgotten is considered bad luck in Russia. As it turned out, we arrived about 15 minutes too late, and there was nobody left.

Nina knew there would be a communist rally at another place in town, so she rushed off, with Lilia and I in tow. When we arrived, there was a small crowd of people with red flags and assorted banners, outnumbered by curious onlookers and police.

There was one rather unique individual vying for attention. He had a sign around his neck, and was more than happy to post for pictures. The second word on the sign is 'Gomasyeskualeezm', so I figured he was either passionately for or against gay rights. It turned out he was against, but nobody was paying much attention. Until recently, homosexuality was a punishible crime in the Soviet Union.

It didn't take long for us to get our fill of standing around in the cold wind listening to people make speeches about the good old days. We decided to visit a new museum in the area. On the way, we passed a new New-Russian home. That is, a home being built for Russian 'mafia'. Mansions would be more like it. Russia has one of the highest levels of disparity of wealth in the world.

When Nina's company privatized after the fall of the U.S.S.R. all employees received shares in the company. One of the directors told them to give him their shares or they would lose their jobs. After 70 years of being told what to do by party officials, following centuries of being told what to do by the Tsar- they did as they were told.

The museum was interesting, but still only partly set up. There was a display of artwork by local shool children. When Lilia told me the ages of some of the children, my jaw dropped. Works that I would expect to be done by 17 or 18 year olds were in fact created by 11 and 12 year olds. I only wish they allowed pictures inside the museum.

On the way home, we stopped by the park to see more celebrations. Outside, there was a small group of musicians playing trumpet, trombone, and tuba. It would be hard to do justice to just how bad they were! Anyone from Victoria who knows the Jamaican trumpet playing busker- they were just as bad, but there were more of them!

Inside the park, there were games and songs for kids, and various other activities. At one point, the grabbed a couple of 'volunteers' out of the audience to do a sort of Karioke, except that the singer had headphones on. At various points, the speakers would be shut off, and the poor victim would be singing away on their own, to the howls of laughter from the audience. It was all good natured, and one of the more emphatic singers went home with a small prize.

We were in time for a noon children's concert in the theatre. Kids of all ages in various costumes danced and sang to Country and Wester, and to Russian Classics.

Sting, you don't need to worry. The Russians love their children too, they're just worried about how to feed them.

Part 5

Trip 2 Index

Part 7