With Eva Shaw, world-famous writing mentor!

Welcome to My Kitchen

Lint In the Frypan

You’re going to have a problem in the kitchen, friend Julia said. There’s no place to put the washing machine.

When Julia says something like that I listen. Julia is a kitchen designer. It was a couple of weeks before the move into my new apartment. I had given Julia the keys to go over and look around.

Oh. . . Oh, of course, the washing machine.

Most apartments here in Russia were built back when most folks washed their clothes by hand in a basin. And in such Soviet-era apartments, finding a place for the washing machine can be a challenge.

But it was too late. A week earlier when I first walked into the living room and laid eyes on the wall of built-in bookshelves, I fell in love and shortly thereafter, proclaimed my serious interest in the place. And, as my realtor can attest, that’s quite different from my usual modus operandi. It was the 7^th apartment we had looked at.

Let me think about this for a few days, was my typical response. But on this one, I was smitten from the start.

So okay. I had made a commitment before I thought much about the kitchen. And Julia was right, I had a problem. Next to solve it: I did a kitchen-to-scale mockup with various appliances and cabinets on bits of paper. Julia and I moved those around at length.

On paper, our plan was brilliant. In reality, it was back to the drawing. . .er, shuffle board.

The problem was: What else could be moved out? The kitchen table had already been voted out and into the living room. The gas stove had to stay. The sink had to stay. Seemed as though moving the washing machine was the only option. So we brainstormed. Someone suggested the washing machine in the entry wall – no problem if you don’t mind water hoses running above the floor. Another idea was to put it on the window sill – where it really would fit, space-wise. Or on the kitchen balcony? We kept running into dead ends.

Then handyman Nickolai suggested moving the refrigerator. Out into the entryway seemed logical because of closeness to the kitchen. But I was already set on putting a chest-height cabinet and mirror there, the place for launching from home to the street and back.

And then, voila! We hit on it. We realized that refrigerator could go just inside the living room. There’s an outlet there and the door between the entryway and living room could be easily removed. It works!

Back in the kitchen, a previous resident had strung space-saving laundry lines overhead, as is common and works with the high ceilings. That’s a great place for hanging smaller items. Imagine hanging laundry right over the stove. There are safety considerations with that, of course. But then again, there’s nothing quite like the texture of sautéed lint.

"Please cover your right eye. . .and read from the chart."

Care to guess what this is?

Pyshkinskaya, My Pyshkinskaya.

I’ve gotten comfortable living here on Pyshkinskaya, the pedestrian-only thoroughfare that stretches 16 blocks or so through the center of the city. Pyshkinskaya is lined by stately trees and nine-story Communist-era apartment buildings several decades past their prime. I’ve lived in one such building for seven-and-a-half years now, six months longer that I lived in my childhood home.

My landlady wants to sell the apartment so I need to move – although she did give me dibs on buying the place and offered it for US$100,000 in cash. So, as I said, I’ll be moving soon and the whole process has been quite smooth so far – finding a new place and getting it ready because, for one thing, there’s no hurry. And for another thing, my attitude has been good, so far anyway. I’m okay about this move because I see it as an opportunity.

Last move, my outlook was a bit different. I remember that distinctly. That was four years ago when I lived on 3^rd floor of this very apartment building. I had been there for three years and gotten things all spruced up when the owner, Tatyana Somebody-ovna decided she wanted the apartment back for her son and family. Okaaay. As I recall, I did share with her my displeasure about that. (Imagine.) Mostly I was dreading finding a new place, not knowing quite how to go about it.

But, as the Aussies say, “No worries, matey!” A new apartment landed right in my lap thanks to the unofficial network of Russian babyshkas, the grandmothers who know what’s going on with everybody. The sweet, busy-body babyshka (BBB) on 6^th floor asked if I knew of anybody looking for an apartment. At first I couldn’t think of anybody (duh) but eventually I did (guess who) and dear BBB connected me with the owner of the newly available apartment.

I came up to have a look around, saw 35 years worth of dusty canning jars, broken windows on the balcony, the rickety cabinets in the kitchen and decided “nyet, nyet, a thousand times NYET.” But later while listening to a sermon (no offense Igor), my mind wandered off to the sage advise of “location, location and. . .location.” The grime and junk could be dealt with. Windows and cabinets could be replaced. But the location was absolutely unbeatable. So the “nyet” became “da”. . . and here we are!

I’ve been on 7^th floor for more than four years now. Doing repairs and replacing wallpaper are but vague memories. But the view overlooking Pyshkinskaya out on my south balcony still takes my breath away. To the north, three large windows are in the tree tops and I relish the big sky, the summer sunsets and a family of delicate little birds with blue caps, blue wings and yellow underside, officially the Blue Tit species. I haven’t shed one nostalgic tear missing that 3^rd floor apartment. Moving was in my best interests.

So, lesson learned, I’m realizing that another move equals new opportunities. I think I’ll like my new apartment even better in some ways but I will miss Pyshkinskaya with its peace and quiet. I’ll still be able to enjoy Pyshkinskaya, walking from the Vor-osh-il-OV-skee bus stop to our church building. The route goes right past a favorite dining establishment where I feel right at home – McDonald’s.


Left: Views north, northwest from apartment on Pyshkinskaya.