A Gray Day

Svetlana hasn't had a day off since I arrived. That's 20 days in a row. She's been making omelets and flipping blinis every morning... basically alone. She speaks no English but manages to keep it all straight while our hungry NBC crew, Russian TV and corporate VIPs jockeys for position at her station. Sometimes she has three omelets and four blinis going at once.

I think she likes me. I stumble through my college Russian with her every day. Day 1 she watched anxiously as I dumped a giant spoonful of hot chillis in the omelet pan. She now knows me for the maniac I am. This morning I showed her this picture and she blushed like a little girl. The blinis are excellent . . not cakey like our American pancakes. I'll get her recipe before  I leave.

I think Svetlana scares Uncle Big Al because she has bowls brimming with forbidden vegetal ingredients in front of her. Even though she could cook up his favorite "bullseye" eggs to order, he won't go near her station. She has real attitude and she may simply forget UBA's order.

Anyone who knows UBA understands his food fears. His genome is hunter . . . not gatherer, Anything green on his plate (even a garnish will send him into a frenzy. He does get a bit scary.

He goes for the pre-cooked scrambled eggs of questionable origin. His breakfast is compartmentalized. It looks like Mondrian painting. Perfect scoop of eggs, two pieces of herring, two pieces of salmon, one slice cheese, two sausage links and a dollop of ketchup. All laid out in perfect symmetry. Everything is precisely cut into small pieces before it is consumed. He has a rule for every morsel. It's laid out squares and line

We always laugh when we eat together.

Did we really grow up in the same house????

After breakfast I had my favorite quadrennial meeting with the International Skating Union. Every Olympics I look forward to this day. They outline their production plan for the Skating Exhibition which follows the Ladies Final. When I take that meeting I know the end is near.

I headed over to the Russian Olympic Superstore to see if the 45 minute line to get in the place had dissipated. It hadn't. But all of a sudden there was a new odor in the air as the breeze came in from the Black Sea

The sweet smell of fir and pine was a strange sensory experience amid the giant of mass of asphalt in Olympic Park. This morning I followed my nose to a remote corner near the Olympic Stadium where there is an oasis of greenery. The trees form an impermeable outer perimeter. My hopes to catch a glimpse inside were impossible as a high opaque glass fence blocked my view. Crowds of people are streaming in to watch the Olympics in the distance. Suddenly I’m alone . . . at least until I round a corner and find 2 soldiers standing guard.

It’s the entrance to a cemetery. And it’s also a staging area for the military. A large troop transport truck is just down the road. There is obviously no entry for me.

It's a cemetery for a Russian Orthodox sect known as Old Believers. It has been there for 100 years. Generations of villagers who once lived on the Olympic Park site are buried there. Three thousand of their ancestors were displaced and hundreds of acres of farmland was appropriated when the government selected this location for Olympic Park.

But no one, not even Putin and the Olympic organizers could move the cemetery. The CEO of the Olympics said it was impossible under Russian law.

Although the village which stood here was bulldozed to build Olympic Park, the cemetery remains. For the casual visitor it looks like a simple a row of trees. It took a little while but I made a map with a screenshot and photoshop.

The bright sunshine has disappeared. It's been gray and gloomy for the past two days with only occasional bursts of sun. A cold wind blows off the sea.

Experience tells me that in the rhythm of an Olympic Games, these first few days of the final week are the most difficult. Adrenalin production drops off. Fatigue sets in. The end is in sight but it's probably like mile 18 of a marathon. You just have to keep pushing. The most exciting event, the Ladies Free skate is on the horizon. I wish it was tonight.

After the beautiful weekend, the crowds in Olympic Park have thinned.

The boys in black kevlar with automatic rifles are more visible. There's a bit of a weird vibe. But I'm not sure if it's just in my head.

My love/hate relationship with this country continues. Just when I start to believe that it's not the old Russia, something comes up which perplexes me.

Readers of this blog may remember my post about the Circassian genocide last week. I visited the Circassian House museum here in Olympic Park and I became suspicious because it had been sanitized to make no mention of the genocide. The people at the museum talked about how Russia had changed and the Circassians were able to live in peace.

But on Friday night a prominent leader of the Circassian community was arrested not far from here after he tried to organize a protest against the Olympics. According to CNN, Asker Sokht is widely perceived as a moderate who often defended Russian government policy.

Yesterday I wrote about the Russian protest tradition and how it seems to be coming alive again. But if you don't watch out, you could be headed for Siberia. Swept up in the euphoria of the Olympics we must not forget that this is not a free country no matter what image they are trying to sell the world.

The vibe was definitely not right. It was time to leave the doom and gloom of the cemetery no matter how sweet the smell of this island in the asphalt. 

Around here it's easy to have a mood change. There's just too many happy smiling people around. Luckily, joy is contagious. Five minutes later I was back in HappyLand again.

Cathy Michaels, the President of my Fan Club, wants more pictures of people so I'm willing to oblige.

 

Oh . . . I need to correct a mistake in yesterday's post. I actually found a Hot Dog Stand in Olympic Park over by the Speed Skating venue.

Nearby was perhaps the only high-heeled female drum corps in the World.

I passed on the white Pork dogs.

In other news tonight was the best Ice Dance competition ever. The USA took the Gold but I fell in love with the Russians who skated to Romeo and Juliet.

I'm so schizophrenic about this place.