The few blocks turned out to take a lot longer than we expected. First off the blocks were not a minute apart like they were in NYC when we were young. Secondly, it was impossible to cross the street at ground level, and we hadn't yet figured out that you used the subway entrances to get across the wide NASCAR tracks that were called Boulevards. The traffic signals were far apart, and the Militsa only watched the mad rush with faint amusement, rather than attempting to regulate it. Not only that, the signals were far enough apart that the cars could get up to 50 or 60 mph between the lights. But then you reached the magnificent Kremlin -- truly one of the marvels of our world. And it was worth it. The sheer size of the Kremlin and Red Square was definitely overwhelming. On the map, it looked quite simple to find the Diamond Fund museum; but we couldn't tell the Spassky Tower from the Troitsky Tower from the Borovitskaya Tower; by the time we found the steps to enter the Kremlin for that museum, we were exhausted. But the view from the top of the stairway was spectacular.
Overlooking the Kremlin entrance stood the marvelous 18th century Pashkov House. On the upper terrace of this famed mansion, Mikhail Bulgakov had pictured St. Matthew meeting with Satan to discuss the fate of the writer in his famous novel
The Master and Margarita. I don't think we saw them there on this beautiful Sunday morning; probably just as well...
The Diamond Fund was not overly-crowded, which was good for us because we were running late. This is only a small part of Catherine's incredibly-crafted jewelry collection; the Orlov Diamond alone is worth enough to buy yourself an island. We left the museum about ten after 11 AM. I'd told our private guide,
Yelena, to meet us at the Borovitskaya tower at 11. We scanned the people in the park, but didn't see anyone approaching us that looked like her picture. Had we missed her? Would we be able to re-trace our steps back to the Metro and the Vega? Ten minutes later, there she was -- tall and beautiful, like so many young Russian women (another nice surprise, since during the Cold War Russian women were portrayed in the US as linebackers in kerchiefs). She apologized for being late; her fiance had let her off on the wrong side of the Square because an event had closed-off some of the roads. In a few minutes, after resting on a park bench with a Coke, we walked into Red Square. And the event was impossible to miss -- a huge throng of soccer fans, celebrating the Euro Cup to be played that night at Lenin Stadium. Filled with people, the square pulsated with life. This was Red Square,
Krasnoe Ploschad The Russian word 'Krasnoe' means 'Red', but can mean 'Beautiful' as well. Beautiful, it certainly was!...
