MOSCOW CIRCUS WITHOUT SIGHT

When I was a child going into my adulthood even, I frequented the Moscow state circus, in Russia! No not as a clown, but as a spectator in the vast audience. I loved going, because it was such a change from the horrible painful treatment I was given in the dirty antiquating hospital. The building of the hospital was not so old, well, not the second hospital I went to, the first one I  visited for only a few years was historical, but eh second one I went to for most of my visits in Russia, was quite new, just the equipment and set out was rather old fashioned. But you know what? The cerium I was given helped my sight, so you can’t have everything. The injections were barbaric though, so the knowledge that I was going to the circus that visit, that evening, was simply a littlegirlls dream.

We would have our evening meal in our hotel and get dressed up. From the drab hotel bedroom and washed out thin red narrow carpet, which only went  down the centre of the lobby, showing  polished wooden floors at its borders, to the grey streets, interrupted by the glance of gold domes from the rooftops of the magnificent churches, to the circus.

Oh the taxi would pull up. Most times I visited the circus, seemed to be in winter. Though I did visit Russia in all seasons.

So the sounds of the cars, normally all the same colour by the way, swishing through the snow, added to the excitement. Opening the car door to say hello to the bitter winter. that Russian people became accustomed to, was at first shocking, as one cannot explain just how cold it was?

Hearing all the children having one thing in common, even just for a night. Masses of fur coats hurrying up the steps, crossing the rows of seven lines of traffic on the busy roads of Moscow, heading towards the building, where happiness was waiting for  us all, even just for a few hours!

Through complicated double glass doors weaving in and out of glass doors and cold people, wanting the warmth of the building.

The buildings in Russia are so warm in winter and the gas was so cheap for the Moscowvites to be able to keep warm in it’s somewhat cruel winters.

We would line up to hand over our coats. Take a plastic number and try to weave through the stiff bodies of garlic fragranced people.

People whom I loved. My family were Russian people.

I have said before in my blogs, I felt more at home there, than I did in my own country, as my homeland, I lived in my horrible boarding schools and visited the awful hospital in our capital, where the main Doctors treat me like an exhibit and got pleasure out of hurting my Mum, with their words, so home for me didn’t show much happiness.

In Russia, the people were kind and real.

Of course like everywhere, there were nasty people and we all know about the KGB and Russian Mafia?

Some of the so called normal Ruskie’s on the streets too could be unpleasant, but in general, they were lovely.

We went down the dangerous steps to find our seats. The orchestra would be rehearsing and the lights were bright. There was colour, in a colourless country.

The Russian people I would sit next to were always good kind loving people, who would offer me kind words. I remember the children’s voices, they were so serious, an yet couldn’t hide their inner excitement.

The announcement would be made and the lights would lower. The music would bounce out of the pit of the orchestra and the man from the loud speaker, would welcome everyone. My insides were ready to burst.

Each time I went there, I knew I would have that feeling, followed by the realisation, that nothing in front of me, I would be able to see, but when there were acrobats in the air, my Mum would say

“Look, Fiona, can you see how high they are?”

I learned from a little girl, to one, look up and two to give my Mum some hope by saying

“Oh, Mum, they are great?

Such a little thing for me to do, gave my Mum such pleasure.

 I learned to then follow gestures that sighted people did. I learned if one is for example standing in a queue? A noise happens to our side, Not everyone would turn their heads to the side of the sounds, but they would turn their eyes. So even now I am blind, I still do that. My eye muscles still for now, work.

The music was great at the circus and the voices were fun. Better than the Soviet television and serious radio of politics and classical music.

The clowns were great as they made stupid noises, so one could just imagine their faces? Their actions.

I laughed when others did. My Mum was happy, because her daughter was happy.

I have inherited her feelings of that.

In the interval, we would queue for ice cream; there would be long tables of caviar on eggs…. Yuck? but juice and happiness filled me up.