Crappy crumbling workers apartment block alongside refurbished apartments belonging to entrepreneurial developers and the winners of the new enterprise society.The approaches to these reminded me of the derelict post war bombed sites in the working class suburbs of my childhood in Manchester. Cracked and pot-holed pavements and roads threaten ones ankles. Puddles of undrained storm water are omni-present, and pre-stressed steel wires protrude from crumbling concrete pavers threatening nasty surprises for the unwary.Amongst all this, Stall holders sell everything fom kitchenware,through greengroceries and fruit, to gigantic floral bras.Estate must be full of former Soviet Olympic lady shot putters and hammer throwers ( or is it their inebriated men they toss around.) Outside bottle shops, people loiter at all hours of the day and night to drink, smoke and chat.In the badly neglected scraps of park, packs of mangy cross bred dogs hang about looking for divertion and perhaps non Russian speaking prey.
At the road crossing to the metro station ( only two stops to city centre) every one plays Russsian roulette with the traffic as seemingly clapped out sluggish old heaps come on like Feraris when they have pedestrians in their sights and there are always the black sinister limousines of the mafiosi who are a law unto themselves and not to be trifled with.
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