Oh Arbat, oh my Arbat! You are my religion.
This said by Bulat Okudzhava, Soviet-era folk singer, bard, and poet, whose name and lyrics live on in his statue on Arbat Street in Moscow.
Alexander Pushkin, the great Russian poet, and his wife Natalia Goncharova also have a statue, opposite Arbat house, where they lived for a short time in the 19th century.
These are two examples of the artistic history of Old Arbat Street, but new is battling old and the pedestrian street has taken a contemporary turn.
The first performers we witnessed were two American’s playing drums to an audience of locals and tourists. Next we broke through a crowd to watch more tourists attempt to ride a bicycle with reverse steering. Later we saw a female violinist playing Beatles songs.
As the evening deepened there was a lull between the daytime drifters and the nighttime party crowd interested in the bars and restaurants. Arbat Street was quiet, and it was in this bubble of calm that we caught a glimpse of what the Arbat Street of old may have been like. A young Russian man, with no props other than his hat on the street, recited poetry for a small group of onlookers. He was loud and powerful and the performance went beyond his voice. The words he spoke became living things – he flung his arms, shook his hands, stared, smiled, and fell to the ground. I couldn’t understand a word he said, but I didn’t need to.
Muscovites used to say:
For money, go to Zamoskvorechye, for a career, go to St. Petersburg, but for knowledge and memories, go to the Arbat.
Chris
