Due to a combination of reasons – I am a bit of a Luddite, my self-worth used to be tied to how often my work Blackberry buzzed, I can be stupidly cheap when it comes to certain basics – at the moment I have a very primitive cell phone, one without a built-in digital camera. I regret the absence of such a camera every time I pass by something note-worthy, especially anything that could be interesting for this blog – something which, lately, has been happening with increasing frequency. I also have an excellent new, and very compact, digital camera, which I vow to take with me ‘tomorrow’ after every missed opportunity. I have done this the last four days in a row.
Today I had a REALLY reasonable excuse for leaving the camera at home: after work I was going to pick up my sister from the train station. She was coming up to Moscow from an 18-month excursion down south, with 20 pieces of luggage in tow. We hired some movers and a van to take us from the Kursky Vokzal to our apartment, and I knew that I was going to have to do some literal heavy (and dirty and dusty) lifting myself. Not exactly a great photo-op.
What I could not foresee was that, for reasons of efficiency and expediency, I would be making the journey home down potholed Moscow roads in the back of a rickety old truck with canvas walls held up by wooden planks, some rope and pieces of cardboard, surrounded by a dress and shoe collection that would put Jennifer Lopez to shame, and hugging a crate of wild steppe honey with one hand and a box of smoked fish from the Caspian with another.
Surely a sight to behold – and to share.