One of the most impressive buildings in Krasnoyarsk is the monolithic,
many-columned ‘Legislative Hall’. I guess it’s probably where a lot of the
local government decisions get made. It looms over Swing Square and the Central
Park, and, in combination, these three places manage to feel like a bit of a centre
in Krasnoyarsk’s generous urban sprawl. On Saturday, the front of this building
was lined with tall, dark green fir trees. But as my bus passed the Legislative
Hall on Sunday, I noticed a huge, industrious team of workers, gear, and
vehicles pulling these dark green firs up, and putting blue-green firs in their
place. It was a distressing sight.
A veritable army of workers in bright orange jumpsuits were working
ever so diligently. On the left-hand side of the row, you could see the blue-green
firs newly planted in their plots of fresh earth. In the middle of the row, cranes
mounted on trucks were lowering yet more blue-green firs into newly emptied beds,
guided by workers yelling instructions back to the operators. On the right-hand
side, more heavy machinery was being used to hoist the stumps of the old trees
out of their plots, and the very furthest trees on the right were still being
hacked down by men with chainsaws, making room for their successors. It was
like a well-oiled human conveyor belt – a system so well thought-out and so efficient that the task would certainly be completed by the end of the morning.
Those who drove past the Legislative Hall on Saturday evening would see an
entirely different row of fir trees to those who drove past it at midday on
Sunday. I just don’t see what was wrong with the old fir trees. I mean the
blue-green is a slightly nicer colour than the dark green of the old trees, and
it’s certainly more Christmassy, but… why? Maybe the old trees were diseased or
something, or else the risk of them falling down on pedestrians was considered
a greater risk than the groups of hungry wild dogs who you sometimes see on the
streets. Go figure.
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| *Sighs* |
I was on my way to see Emmanuelle, who studies at the same
uni as me, and who is doing her Year Abroad in the neighbouring city of
Novosibirsk (well, four hundred miles away). She and some friends from
Novosibirsk were over here for the weekend, and I’d met up with them briefly
the evening before. Although we both study Russian and French, Emmanuelle and I
hadn’t really crossed paths much at uni, so it was slightly surreal (and very
reassuring) to meet up in Krasnoyarsk and bond over our shared experience of life
in a Siberian city. The friends who she was travelling with were from all over
the place – France, Sweden, Brazil. That group alone probably doubled the
international population of Krasnoyarsk.
Novosibirsk has a metro, which makes me feel well hardcore in
comparison, but apparently the tap water in their uni halls isn’t drinkable, so
I can’t claim to have had a harder ride in all aspects of life. We chatted
about the Russian shawarma craze and how insanely cheap the prices round here are.
Emmanuelle and her friends were much more observant than me, and they pointed
out all sorts of truisms about Siberian life which I’d never even consciously
registered. They also recommended Russian ballet to me. It sounds like they’ve
been making the most out of the cheap ballet tickets in Novosibirsk, which is a
great idea. I’ve added it to my list of things to do.
We walked along the river to the museum. Being in such a
large group of fluent English and French speakers in Krasnoyarsk was unreal. Suddenly
the town felt completely different. It was like I was just visiting for the
day, and all the landmarks I saw on my daily commute took on a new light. That
evening we all went to a kind of Russian fast food restaurant for comfort food
and discussed why the French language makes no sense. I’m going to have to make
a return trip to Novosibirsk, if not for the tourism, then for the comfort of speaking
English again and reminding myself that I can speak a language.

"why the French language makes no sense" : tu peux développer ?!
ReplyDeleteWe were talking about pronunciation: son, sans, sont, cent, s'en, sent, and sang all sound pretty much the same... I rest my case!
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