Ran into Maurice and enlisted him to explain to the desk clerk that I want to stay two more nights. That ran me 415,900 rubles, but it has gotta be worth it not to trek back up the hill to the Hotel Vladivostok with its huge intimidating lobby and musty smell. (ed. note:How could I have failed to mention the mafia in my list of reasons I don't like the Hotel Vladivostok?) It does have a great view of Amursky Bay but the view is not worth the price difference.
I got Andrey's address from Maurice so I can send Slava a postcard of Santa Barbara... interrupted by Maurice wanting me to photograph him with his friend from the Lake Baikal expedition.
Marge dropped by and we called Alaska Airlines to reconfirm our return flights on Friday.
After saying goodbye to Maurice at noon, Marge and I got directions to the Intourist office from Alex. (ed. note: so I could get a refund on the voucher for the Hotel Vladivostok - such refunds may only be requested in person, on the spot at the Intourist office)
We got on the tram. Marge counted 5 stops and spotted a tall red brick building with trees in front of it. Nowhere did I see an Intourist sign but we got off and investigated. One door led to a doctor's office, one door seemed to be to apartments, no Intourist. I asked a man nearby if he spoke English. He said "a little". I asked him where the Intourist office was and he led me around the back of the building to a travel agency office of some sort where no one spoke English. They tried for half an hour to call and cancel my reservations at Hotel Vladivostok. I tried for nearly the half hour - once I realized I was not at the Intourist office - to get them to draw me a map to the Intourist office. They were going to get us a car and drive us there but we finally convinced them we could take the tram. Finally the one with the most English wrote the address on a piece of paper for me. Two others walked us to the tram and told the driver where to let us off. This whole production took another 10 or 15 minutes. By this time Intourist was closed for lunch.
We must've visited every stall (ed. note: except used auto parts). One woman was modelling a full length fur cote in the blazing sun! There were leather jackets, blue jeans, fur hats, suits, dresses, bras, panties, briefs, shoes, socks, bicycles, toys, used auto parts, plates, cups, teapots, everything imaginable and everything unimaginable.
One group of people near the entrance was selling kittens and puppies. The kittens looked very young. They were orange & calico, black & white, or calico. One lady tried to convince me the calico was a Russian Blue. "Russian Blue! Very Fine Cat!" she exclaimed as she held up the calico kitten by the scruff of its neck. "Very fine cat" "A good friend for you in your room." I reached over to pat a black and white puppy in a box with a heap of kittens. "Very good friend for you in your room!" she exclaims. At least she didn't try to tell me the puppy was a Russian blue! I have no doubt the puppy will be a good companion for someone but not me.
Marge picked up one of the kittens to pet it and it pooped all over her. The Russian ladies bustled around trying to find a rag to clean it up. Very embarrassing. Much commotion.
We also saw one of the kittens at the stall across the path drinking from a tub of water the vendor was using to demonstrate some windup water toys. The kitten sellers spirited it back to its box after it had drunk its fill.
One of the maps I have shows a monument called "To the Saved Whales" a few blocks from the Hotel Primore. I decide to find the monument "to the saved whales".
Didn't find the momument but had a nice walk down near the maritime museum. Walked back along the harbor/train tracks to the train station then up the street that Nostalgia is on to the North Korean place. As I was coming up the hill I saw a large crowd in front of Nostalgia. My first thought was "oh, no, Marge finally got hit by a bus crossing the street". But it turned out to be a Japanese tour group. Our close personal friends from last weekend are not among them.
Dinner, "dumplings in pot", turned out to be pelmeny in a very hot broth served in a clay pot with a crust baked on top. Very greasy. Also had blini with sour cream -- ordered jam, got sour cream. So it goes.
Nothing works. Everything is falling down faster than they can build it. Many have cars but few know how to drive. The fish merchants spend the day fanning the flies away from their stock. The other day I saw a woman with two flounders for sale. She listlessly fanned the flies with a dirty handkerchief. A couple of hours later, she and her two flounders, and the flies were still there.
The other night, she led me to the room where the floor ladies keep the samovar when I came home from dinner. She pulled a quart jar of red caviar out of the fridge and scribbled 25$ on a little pink slip of paper. I said "Nyet" and she said "my friend caught it". I said "nyet" again. What the hell would I do with a quart of fish eggs?