Then we walked on and on until we eventually found ourselves by the banks of the Volga. It had been a beautiful day, and down by the banks of the river often known as Mother Russia, it was a beautiful evening. It was the time of that light known as artist's light, when colours take on a definition and hue, much loved by those trying to reproduce them on canvas, or on the screen of a digital camera for that matter.
The river was like a mill-pond. There seemed to be no movement, no flow. One of my ambitions, spurred on by seeing photos of my young friends in a summer Volga, was simply to touch the water in this wonderful waterway. There were large steps down to the water's edge, and crouching down very tentatively, with my shoes in a few millimetres of water, I was able to run my fingers through the clear water. It was icily cold. Not surprising really. I had my photograph taken.
Not surprising really.
Very true! :)
Walking back up the steps from the water's edge, we moved past a miniature fairground, with a couple of children's rides, and then spotted a small van parked by the side of the road. It was one of those tiny little vehicles being used by mobile baristas the world over, it seems, and I think it was the first time Daria had seen it. I asked her if she would like to go for a coffee, and she said yes, ant that we should go to the American bar that we had omitted from our itinerary on Sunday. It wasn't too far, and soon we were handing our coats at the Alchovski in Marshal Chuikov Prospekt.
Daria reminded me that there was beer available, and it turned out that it was brewed on the premises. So whilst she sipped elegantly on a cappucino, I gulped at a pint of a very pleasant ale, golden in colour. I could not see from our seat how the beer was dispensed - one can only assume that it was from a keg. This was the second Russian-brewed 'craft' beer that I had consumed whilst in the country, and both had tasted very good. Daria disappeared for a moment or two and returned with an English book for me to peruse. It was in fact an English novel,printed in Russia. I can't remember the title, but it was some kind of daring-do story set in the late 19th century, I think. It provided a useful prop for .... more photos.
It was now getting dark outside - time for the illuminations along the river's edge. As we left the bar, Dasha took a selfie of us in the mirror just beside the door. We then returned to the Volga where the classical styles mini-colonnades were illuminated in a soft light. On the way we passed the City Opera House. It looked very impressive.
Time for more photos and then a slow walk back to the metro,
and the short journey to Profsoyuznaya. I walked Dasha back to her apartment block and then returned swiftly to the Hotel.
We had arranged that Daria would come round to the hotel next morning, to have breakfast before going to work, to collect a small bag of gifts, mainly sweets from me and more souvenirs from Siberia.
I received a message asking if I had managed to get back to the hotel safely.
Yes, I had.
What a wonderful day!
Thanks Dasha!
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