241205 (on Eve)

looking out over the volga (Nizhniy on the Eve)

nizhniy is a pretty city; all of that was reaffirmed again today (on Eve) when the skies cleared and the sun woke us; though the air was brisk (-15° C) the town was busy with people walking, shopping, drinking coffee in cafés, chatting on the treacherously icy streets, parading new boots, coats, hats, and lovers.

the sun rises, makes a shallow arc, and then succumbs to the winter dark by 16:30; at its apex it still hovers low to the earth what seems a scant 20° above the horizon, measured by the squinting distance between my two fingers as i photographed it:

low winter sun

afterwards we walked along the promenade, looking out over the valley of the frozen river delta (the mighty Volga and the Oka) from atop the steep hills that buttress its southern bank. then freezing and shivering, with hands and cheeks so cold they burned, we caught a tram back into town, up the hills, to the local outdoor market (рынок); there in the hundreds of small stalls stood vendors swaddled in winter clothes like beets from a field: rounded by layered brown jackets with a small sprouting head and muddy shoes. in a covered area of the market we found cardamon, cinnamon sticks, pickled garlic shoots, all manner of fresh vegetables (except chili peppers), and even kimchee (well, close enough). next to the vegetables were the fish vendors; their vitrines filled with various local fish: dried, cured, smoked, frozen, fresh, large, small, bloody and clean; then 愷寧 valorously entered the meat market with me where we found fresh lamb for our Christmas stew, and i secured this lovely picture:

basket, meat, mouth (Christmas at the butcher in Nizhniy)

then at home i struggled with the meat, improvising anatomy, cutting along the bone, peeling back the skin with its hair, crushing at the joints to produce smaller pieces, slicing off the sinuous tissue; it’s good, i said, there is no distance between our food and our bodies (though in this case its only my food and my body), no styrofoam to sterilize the experience, no pleasantly cut pieces to erase the signs of mortality: mortality stew on the Eve of this day.

tomorrow is Christmas. we celebrated all week long: the most delicious caviar (at low low prices from the рынок), champagne, and the best chocolate truffles we’ve ever tasted (with a pistachio filling); a gorgeous freshly made cherry torte (US$8), czech beer, and a cornucopia of закуски (little edibles served with your choice of drinks).

we’ll return to dreary moscow early monday morning and close out the apartment. i’ll depart on the trans-Siberian the following day, stocked with some of the dried fish mentioned above.