More on summer in the city

Summer in Moscow is when you start to think the Russians have it right.

The city imperceptibly slows its pace from March and April onwards: until it finally grinds to a halt at the beginning of May. Everyone who can takes about 12 days off at that point, merging the May first holiday into the 9th May Victory Day holiday and dragging in any stray weekends that land anywhere near either of them. And when they finally get back to work from those holidays they are usually working at around 50% capacity. Urgent meetings turn into long meandering conversations on the nature of life and politics, popping out for a carton of milk turns into a day sitting in a square people watching and a day off becomes half a week of feigned illness and half baked excuses.

And the place turns green: when people first come to Moscow in the summer they are astounded at the trees everywhere, at that and at the strolling. The entire population of the city seems to start strolling, meandering around the place aimlessly, or resting on park benches and in pavement cafes, it goes all European. Granted, sometimes the place overdoes it, and gets so hot that life is close to unbearable unless you simply become a lizard. Or now and then the country outside of the capital catches fire, and the smoke from burning peat turns the place into a post apocalyptic hellscape as the people hang wet sheets over their windows and climb into a cold bath with that book they’ve been meaning to read since 1996. But that’s rare, as are the demented tropical thunder storms that can happen here too.

The world beyond those straggling borders carries on with its business of making and doing: here they just check the crude oil tap is turned on and then set about getting steadily drunk and having barbecues. And why wouldn’t they? They have just had 8 months of winter and another 8 months is round the corner, why in god’s name would you stay in an office 60 hours a week and work? That would be foolishness. So from Mayday get lazy and wander around half soaked, just take care not to sit on anything until may the 9th, because the armies of Uzbeks have painted everything with garishly colored gloss paint and sitting down ruins 1 suit or pair of jeans per year. Green stripes on the ass of my best black suit this year. I can only use it for ecologists funerals from now on.