So...I am here. If by here, we mean not New York. But more precisely, MasterGote is in Atlanta, GA. And from the approximately 51 minutes he has spent in this city, he has decided that he likes it. At least more than New York. At least more than New York understood through the hermeneutic lens of John F. Kennedy Airport. But first things first. For those of you worrying and keeping score: leg 1 is completed. There will not be internet at the Moscow Gotery for a couple of days, so don't freak out if you don't hear from me until Friday. But the first leg is a-done.
For those of you interested in why it is only now, and not yesterday at 10:11 pm, that you are hearing from me. Let me tell a mini-saga with a Travel Tip at the end as a reward. Here we go: Turned out 1) my bags were 5 and 13lbs too heavy and 2) they could not be checked through because the layover in ATL was like 15 hours long. Sooo, as those of you keeping up on current baggage
taxes allowances, domestic bags must be under 50 lbs and you can only have one. (Internationals get two.) In this case, I would have had to pay double baggage fees, meaning like 180$ on the domestic, and then who knows how much on the international. Poopyheads!
But, despite the 10,000 angry New Yorkers queuing up behind me and threatening to press me right into the check-in counter, and the fact that he was the ONLY check-in agent there, the infinitely patient and shockingly cheerful Delta guy let me reschedule for this morning, which made my flights close enough together to check through and gave me the night to repack. Given that I refused to throw out my newly acquired hot sauce, my shampoo, or any of my other absolutely essential items I will need to not go crazy in this city, my carry-on rolly and backpack are now 18 lbs heavier than they were before (and I thought I'd packed them to capacity!), and I spent the night at JFK.
Have I mentioned how much JFK sucks? It is full of angry, pushy people crammed into a tiny tiny space, trying to run each other over and hoping against hope that the random line they just got into is the right one, cause there ain't no welcome signs and good luck finding anyone to tell you where's what. ("Back in the USSR" should be playing on the loudspeakers. If there were loudspeakers. Which is not guaranteed, cause JFK does not want to please or placate you, no matter how close you are to a raging melt-down. Get it straight, people: there are no amenities here for you! Don't even ask.)
But! I'm here in Atlanta, enjoying the cheap wifi, the Southern hospitality of the bookstore employees, and a Diet Coke. The actual flight to Moscow is at 3:30 today, getting in around 10am tomorrow. I've stocked up on: the Rough Guide to Moscow, The Souls of Black Folk, Into the Wild, and In Defense of Food.
Thanks to the numerous tv screens in the airport (for once, useful) my thoughts are with the people of New Orleans and all the other Gulf Coast evacuees. Let's hope this one's easier than the last, and that this time we'll get it right.
*Oh, travel tip: If you've got your bag exactly at 50lbs, and still some stuff to stuff in there, just take out a bunch of hoodies and sneakers and stuff, and attach it to your backpack using carabiners like, "It's fine, I can just carry all this stuff on my person. Cause I'm a wanderer, an adventurer, a self-reliant man who is not fazed by Doing It Yourself." If you don't flinch or complain, the check-in person will likely let you stuff it all back in your checked suitcase before it disappears, 5lbs overweight, down the conveyor belt of doom! Awesome.
Ilya Kabakov, Toilet, 1992, reinstallation in Moscow 2008.
It is quite large (at least 1 meter across?), and the text appears to be a sheet of grammar exercises. The questions in parentheses are meant to test the student's knowledge of Russian case endings, but end up sounding vaguely poetic.
All of these are from the series "Susie and Others" from the 1960s-70s. Apart from that first one with the text, these were all small images, perhaps the size you might find in an old photo-album, not quite as big as the 5x7" we're used to now, perhaps 4x5"? There were also many many more of these than I'm posting here, and looking over my "catch," I am realizing just how odd many of the ones I did not photograph actually were. There were a lot more bulgy, manic nudes like pencil-belly and melon-boobs up there, as well as more odd little things like that furry clump of a hat on the red table-cloth. For some reason, I think my self-defense mechanism against this onslaught of the unheimlich was to photograph the more classically-composed, comfortably genre-specific images.
*"Architectural," according to NMB. But looking at this picture, just the big gaping hole in a sideways loaf is creepy.
Isn't it beautiful? I have been asked to mention that the above-pictured shed is NOT part of the dacha we visited, but belongs to the neighbor. The shed that was on the property we were visiting was in fact dismantled many years ago to make way for...
This!
This is our lovely host and my mom's best friend. She is a wizard at maximizing flower growth while minimizing time spent mucking around the garden. She is also a very funny lady with a well-developed sense of irony. I can tell why she and MomGote have been friends for so long.
Here I am picking them out of their little cocoons:
