On the way to the metro station in Kuzminki, the leafy district where I stayed with the wonderful Eugene and Olga - hosts extraordinaire - there were two kiosks. One cut keys and did shoe repairs and seemed to be manned permanently. Maybe the door was stuck, but there were always the same two sad-faced men in there, doing nothing but looking out. Next to it, there was a similar kiosk that sold fresh fruit and vegetables. I never saw anyone inside as the window was full of fruit, but it was occasionally possible to glimpse a hand passing goods out or taking in money. Again, maybe the people that worked there were trapped and had to live inside.
On the day I left, May 9, a very drunken man, mid-20s, wearing a leather jacket, new jeans, pointy-toed shoes and clutching a bottle of beer with one hand and leaning against the fruit and veg kiosk with the other, was having what looked like a much-needed piss up the side of the metal wall. I suppose the people inside assumed it was raining. Is this the new Russia that people talk about? Or is this just the product of a society that switched to producing beer on a large scale, so much so that almost every single male - and many females - seem to be permanently attached to a bottle or can of some kind? From eight or nine in the morning onwards this is a common sight. I don't know why it bothers me, it just does.
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