2nd Week of Work + Pictures

So I'm into my second week at work, and although I like it, I am already coming to realize just how much bureaucracy can stifle progress. I am making some friends here, which is nice! Anyway, I don't have much to report but I did take a few pictures that I thought I'd pass along:

An old man with a Communist flag stands outside the entrance to the Red Square. He is part of a group of elderly Communists that have gathered there (as they do every Sunday) to protest the removal of Lenin's body from the museum.

This little old lady is a fervent communist and part of the same ordeal. She talked to me for about 20 minutes and in the end, I had no clue what she had said. Her disjointed logic and explanations of how things were and how they ought to be, reflected the general feeling of Russia today. People remember what they had, they don't know what they want, but they know that Russia still has a long way to go. After inviting me to next week's protest and promising me that she'd have a Communist flag and pin ready for me, she asked me to say hello to my parents and grandparents, as if they were part of a bigger alliance. It's sad to see what comes of people--people who fought in the war and have lived such long lives--people who have nothing to stand for now, except the decaying body of a leader that harks back to a "better" time.

Red Square on Russia's first day of snow this year. By this time of the year, the city is usually completely covered, but this year, I guess I brought the Miami heat with me.

As the first snow covers the ground, the last bits of color and life try, relentlessly, to ward off the coming winter.

Just outside the arch that leads to the Red Square, three young guys were making money by charging people to take pictures with monkeys and eagles. The monkeys were dressed in children's attire and judging by their lack of movement and their glossy eyes, I came to teh conclusion that they were definitely sedated. These budding entrepenuers threw the animals around like innanimate objects. The real tragedy is that people find this enjoyable, cute, amusing. They laugh, take pictures with the cell phones and teach their children that these animals exist only for our pleasure. Just what I needed to ruin a beautiful day in Moscow. I asked the guys if they thought that exploiting animals wasn't a crime, to which they retorted with a mocking laugh: "Where did you come here from? A Russian would never say something like that."

Even more tragic, perhaps, than the drugged monkeys, was the massive winged creature tied to a perch with a thick blue rope. It reminded me of the Roman myth in which Tantalus, who in punishment for stealing something from the Gods, was condemned to eternal thirst in hell. He stands in a pool of water, but everytime he tries to drink, the water receded out of reach. The eagle is much the same: He is surrounded by the sky which is his home...he can see it, and yet when he tries to fly he is jerked back into his eternal hell. I witnessed one such attempt, and when the winged beast fell to the ground, the crowd around him laughed and pointed, much like children on a playground, when one of their classmates falls of the monkeybars. As I stood there, trying to lull the tears that were gathering inside of me, I wondered what crime they had commited that has earned them this life sentence in hell.

A park.