The Blockade Cemetery

Just a quick note to let you know that I've finally got around to captioning the photo album Blockade Cemetery so you can finally know what you're looking at.

Yesterday I had the occassion to use my tallness for the public good. Helen, Ina, and I were walking back from class when a distraught-looking babushka came at us, or rather at me, calling "Molodoy chelovek, Pozhalsta pomogitye koshku!" Did I hear that right? I was sure she said young man, come help the cat... Perhaps my Russian's getting better because I'd understood correctly for once. There it was, a mangy black and white street cat stuck on the top of an old wroughtiron fence. The poor thing was mewling pathetically and staring with wide eyes in terror at distant ground and the knot of worried babushki below! So up I climbed and spent a good couple minutes in front of the assembled crowd trying in vain to pry the darn thing's claws off the fence - one off, two back on, one off, the other one back on. Argh! Much embarrasment later, I finally extricated the uncooperative fellow and passed him down to Ina. The babushki cheered, Molodets! Molodets! - a wonderful Russian expression that something's like good show, old boy! My proudest moment: Peter, rescuer of Russian feral kitties!