Eastern Europe 1990: A March Day in Moscow

March 21, 1990 began with an overcast sky. After breakfast we went to the GUM, which turned out to be closed, so we signed up for the Kremlin tour, which included a walk around the grounds and into two of the six ancient Russian Orthodox cathedrals inside the formidable walls of the fort which is the seat of the Russian government.

The golden domes of the Cathedral of the Annunciation.
Completed in 1489,it is one of six churches inside the Kremlin walls.

That government, by the way, was officially atheist; nevertheless, the churches and cathedrals are magnificently preserved as museums of Russian art and history. As part of our tour we were able to enter the Cathedral of the Assumption, completed in 1479, and the Cathedral of Michael the Archangel, completed in 1508. Both were filled with priceless works of religious art. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to photograph inside the churches.

GUM. the state-operated department store,

is across Red Square from the Kremlin.

After the tour we went across Red Square to the GUM, where a line of people wound around the building. Louise had been hoping to buy a Russian fur hat, so she got in line while I photographed my way back to the hotel. Unfortunately, she got there before I did -- she had been kicked out of the line at the door because she did not have the proper pass.

She never did get that hat.

By this time, it was 2:30 and the sky had cleared a bit. Louise decided to take a nap, so I took off on foot for the Arpatskaya, which I walked both ways looking for faces and interactions. The street was thronged with people enjoying the uncharacteristically fine March afternoon.
 

People enjoying a warm Mid-March

afternoon in the Arpatskaya.

As always, many young Russians found the
Arpatskaya a great place to hang out.

This Seventh-Day Adventist lady had posted the

Ten Commandments and was speaking to a small crowd.

When I came back a little later, two members of the

militia were politely closing her down. Maybe not as

much freedom of speech in the Arpat as Paul thought.

These two young women, obviously friends, were

together in the Arpat. One looked as if she had just arrived

on the latest flight from Paris; the other, with a perfect

Slavic face, was dressed in the latest Soviet Worker chic.
Go figure.

 

The young woman on the left was watching a street

artist create a pencil portrait of the woman seated

on the right. When she saw me, she smiled and signed

that I should pay her for making her picture!

(Photographs made with Olympus OM cameras and lenses. I used the Tamron 100-300mm f4 zoom lens on an Olympus OM2s camera for the portraits. Fujichrome 100D and 400D films.) 

Eastern Europe 1990: Moving on to Moscow

Welcome to Moscow!

The customs line at the Moscow airport was long and slow, as the inspectors were going through a succession of very large suitcases piece by piece. We however, were waved on through with hardly a glance, even though we were carrying bags of photo and video equipment. Our taxi was a Volga, which somewhat resembled a '62 Chevy Nova, and we were shortly deposited at the Intourist Hotel, only three blocks from Red Square. We learned that all foreigners were parked at the Intourist so they could more easily keep an eye on us.

Three Russian soldiers, going off duty, probably

from guarding Lenin's Tomb, head across

Red Square toward the GUM department Store.

The temperature was in the mid-fifties, very warm for March in Moscow, and there was still some daylight, so we went over to Red Square and through the GUM department store. Back at the hotel we ate an unidentifiable substance purported to be beef and went to bed.

The next morning I was out early to photograph. We met Paul Lauster at 9 a.m. for a breakfast which was at least identifiable as boiled eggs. The breakfast is included in the price of the room. Instant coffee (all that's available) is an extra 25 kopecks. Paul's lost jar of Instant Nescafe was sadly missed.

A hundred kopecks make a ruble, and the average worker's salary is 200-300 rubles a month. Rubles are six to a dollar at the official rate, but 13 to a dollar on the black market. Any taxi driver can supply black market rubles for dollars, but it's risky. You never know who might be an informer.

Standing in line for the basic necessities was

a normal way of life in Soviet Russia,

as in all the Iron Curtain countries.

In the afternoon, Louise and I went out and photographed around Red Square. Later, Paul joined us and we took a cab to the new McDonald's. The line was two blocks long, with people two and three abreast. We didn't stay. Instead, we got hot beef sausage sandwiches and Pepsis at a little booth near the hotel. Best food we'd had so far!

The new Moscow McDonald's. The line

was more than two blocks long.

In the late afternoon we went to a place Paul had told us about, a street called the Arpatskaya (Arpat Street), which has been converted to a pedestrian mall; about three-quarters of a mile long and lined with artists selling their work and little booths selling ice cream and other goodies. There were also many Russian young people hanging out. We had some of the ice cream, and it was good.

An artist displays his paintings for sale in the Arpatskaya.

Russian young people hanging out. The Arpatskaya

was a very popular gathering place for them.

I'm proud to say that photographers appear to be in the vanguard of free enterprise in Russia. They were everywhere, making and selling photographs of people at various attractions. Red Square, with the Kremlin and Lenin's Tomb, is apparently quite the tourist mecca for Russians, and photographers were busy making photographs of tour groups in front of the tomb with the Kremlin in the background.

Photographers were busy photographing

tour groups in Red Square.

It was nearly dark by the time we worked our way to the end of the Arpatskaya. Louise decided to do a bit of shopping, and I went to Red Square to make some night photos of the Kremlin and St. Peter's Basilica. It had been a long day, and when I came back to the hotel Louise was already asleep. She is a great travel companion and a real trouper, always ready for the next challenge.

Red Square and the Kremlin at night.

(Photographs made with Olympus OM and Leica M cameras and lenses plus a Tamron 100-400mm f4 zoom lens, Fujichrome 100D and 400D films.) 

Eastern Europe 1990: A Rally in Arad

The Turkish fort in Timisoara was built in 1588, when

southeastern Europe was under the dominance of Islam.

Sunday morning Gelu and his sister Carmen took us on another walk around Timisoara, where we saw, among other things, the old Turkish fort built in 1588. The city was under Turkish rule from 1552 until 1716, as Islam extended its territory into southeastern Europe.

Around 10 a.m. we were taken to a service at Timisoara First Church of God. After a delicious lunch at the church, cooked and served by an immense, red-faced young woman named Kati, we were packed into a Toyota minivan and taken 40 miles through the rolling, northwest Romanian countryside to the city of Arad, where a mass city-wide rally was to be held at the municipal sports arena.

The splendid Roman Catholic church towers above

the peasant's homes in the village of Vinga.

 

Along our way we passed through rural villages such as Vinga, where a Roman Catholic church towers high above the homes of peasants.

A elderly peasant woman at her home in Vinga.

A major cultural and industrial center, Arad is the most important road and rail center in western Romania, connecting western Europe to south-eastern Europe and the Middle East.

Industrial smokestacks and a nuclear reactor at Arad.

The musical groupe "Message" sings to

3,500 people in a mass rally at Arad.

The sports arena was jammed with about 3500 worshipers, of whom about 1000 were standing, for a service that lasted three and a half hours! The featured singers were a group called "Message," and they were seriously good. Their driving, powerful, hauntingly beautiful rendition of the hymn O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus moved me so deeply that it became the recurring theme of the sound track of the audio-visual programs I produced from our trip.

Rapt listeners to the music and preaching at the Arad rally.

"Message" leads the crowd in "Battle Hymn of the Republic."

My ears still tingle at the memory of the finale -- the packed auditorium singing in Romanian "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

After the rally, we went to a pastor's home, where we were served a splendid supper of Eastern European specialties. At 10 p.m. we caught a train back to Bucharest. If we had made the trip by air, the connection for our flight to Moscow would have been so tight that if the plane were late we would have been stuck in Bucharest for two more days.

Apparently, some of the Christians at Arad had connections with the transportation officials, because we were able to get sleeping car berths when none were supposed to be available. This was our first experience in a sleeping car. I took the upper berth and slept well. Louse was in the lower berth, which was a good thing because she was up and down a bit, probably as a result of the supper we had eaten at Arad.

A communal (collective) farm near Bucharest.

Arriving in Bucharest at 8:20 a.m. we hired a taxi and an interpreter to take us out of the city to photograph a communal (collective) farm. Then it was a dash back to the Church of God offices and off to the airport, where we passed through security and customs with no difficulty and on the morning of March 19, 1990, were on a plane to Moscow.

(Photographs were made with Olympus OM and Leica M cameras and lenses, Fujichrome 100D and 400D films.)

Eastern Europe 1990: A Time in Timisoara

A blue Lada wears a bouquet of flowers in honor of spring.

Spring came early  to Eastern Europe that year of 1990, as if nature herself wished to help atone for the sins of winter.

Lovers and fishermen on the banks of the Bega.

In Timisoara, forsythia bloomed in abundance and lovers and fishermen lined the banks of the Bega, while in the bright sun of a March morning worshipers hurried up the steps of the Romanian Orthodox Cathedral, steps where only three months before soldiers under orders from the dictator Ceausescu had fired on children. 

The steps of the Romanian Orthodox Cathedral

where children were fired upon.

I haven't been able to find mention of this in historical accounts of the tragedy, but I was told by the people at Timisoara that 47 children dressed in their finest clothes carried candles up the steps of the cathedral in a memorial service and were fired upon by Ceausescu's men at his command.

A shrine to one of the victims of the massacre.

Flowers and shrines now covered the places where young blood once stained the earth.

Flowers and candles make an impromptu

shrine in front of the cathedral.

But spring had come now, and the taste of freedom was like wine in the air as Timisoarans thronged Victory Plaza, the place where the previous December, they had gathered to protest oppression. Missing on this beautiful day were the ones who had been cut down by cannon and machine gun fire by the army and secret police.

Crowds enjoy the taste of freedom and the

warmth of early spring at Victory Plaza.

On Saturday, March 17, Louise and I were up early and off to the airport, where after much confusion over our boarding passes, we managed to catch our flight to Timisoara, about 300 miles to the west. Paul Lauster remained in Bucharest to take care of some denominational business.

In Timisoara we were met by two Romanian pastors whose faces fell when they learned I was not a preacher from America! They recovered, though, and one of them took us to his home, where we finally had a late but delicious breakfast prepared by his wife. After checking into our hotel, Louise took the afternoon off to catch up on her rest and I set out on foot with Gelu, one of the pastor's sons as my guide.

The university campus at Timisoara.

Crossing the Bega twice on different bridges on our walk, we passed the Romanian Reformed Church, whose pastor, Laszlo Tokes is considered the father of the Romanian revolution, went through the university campus, visited Victory (formerly Opera House) Plaza, and the memorials in front of the Romanian Orthodox Cathedral.

The Romanian Reformed Church, where pastor

Laszlo Tokes, "the Father of the Romanian

Revolution" began the protests that ultimately

brought down the government.

As I wrote in a post several years ago, it was on this walk that I missed one of the greatest opportunities of my career. Before the horror of the Romanian orphanages became known to the world, Gelu and I came upon a large building whose grounds were enclosed with bars and walls. There were many children standing around or playing behind the bars, and some came over to watch us. "What's that?" I asked Gelu. "An orphan asylum," he replied. "Oh, okay," I said, and turned away to photograph an attractive pattern of shadows playing on a window across the street. Some months later, someone else broke the story of the Romanian orphanages. It could have been me. But it wasn't.
 

An ancient window in Timisoara. A lovely

photograph and a missed opportunity.

But of course, we didn't know any of that at the time. After a delicious supper, we were off to a service at the Elim Church of God, a new and unusually large building with two levels of balconies. There was a brass band on the top balcony above the pulpit!

The large, new Elim Church of God. Packed,

as were all churches on our tour.

(Photographs made with Olympus OM and Leica M cameras and lenses, Fujichrome 100D and 400D films.)