Don Curry and the Fraudster Grandmas

Don Curry is not naive. He knows that when traveling, you meet many people. Most of them mean well; they are helpful, caring, interested, and can even help overcome language barriers - with a lot of goodwill. And then there are people who don't mean so well, who see the inexperience, helplessness, and communication difficulties of foreigners - and like to take advantage of them. Today, Don Curry should encounter two particularly insidious specimens of this category.

The day started a bit later than usual, at least for Don Curry. Yesterday's tasting had made him even less cheerful in the morning. When the alarm clock went off as usual at 7:30 a.m., he turned around; when he turned back, it was suddenly 9:30 a.m. In an hour, breakfast time would end, and Don Curry's body now needed a certain amount of breakfast to be able to function. At 10:00 a.m., freshly showered, he walked through the extensive breakfast buffet of the 'Volkhov' Hotel in the 'Volkhov' restaurant, enjoyed the typical socialist plush decor of former luxury hotels, and savored some salads, thick pancakes, and warm cheesecake.

Now he was ready for the oldest city in Russia and its art treasures. But as soon as he left the hotel, light rain started. Don Curry didn't find it inappropriate, as he wanted to visit the Novgorod Museum with its famous collection of icons. Well planned, but today the day would repeatedly thwart Don Curry's plans. At the museum, there was a sign in Russian and English: closed on Tuesdays! Today was Tuesday. Don Curry marveled at the mighty bronze monument '1000 Years of Russia' from 1862, which, among other things, showed how Viking Prince Rurik landed in 862 in the area of today's Novgorod, laying the foundation for the Russian Empire.

The desolate weather with its changeable April ambitions and corresponding short-term changes between showers and sunshine gave rise to Don Curry's next plan: a visit to the St. Sophia Cathedral, the oldest church in Russia; here too, there would be an abundance of old icons. And indeed, there were, but a Orthodox service was taking place - as every day at 10:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. - colorful, incense-filled, powerful, and long. Don Curry wondered why the worshipers present were also encouraged to sing along. A priest conducted the congregation by indicating each pitch with his hand. Don Curry had never seen anything like it. Nevertheless, he left the impressive church again because a visit was not appropriate at this time.

Meanwhile, the weather had turned back to 'sunny', and Don Curry finally wanted to see something. He had read that the bell tower, actually a bell wall, would offer wonderful views towards the cathedral and the city. So he climbed the unusually wide bell tower. On the first floor, two old Russian women were engaged in a lively conversation. One sat behind a sign that read 'Cassa'. So Don Curry ordered a ticket from the elderly lady - completely in Russian. But of course, it couldn't be that simple. The old cashier showed him various ticket options: from a simple bell tower entrance to extensive combination tickets. Don Curry quickly decided on a ticket that included the bell tower, Kremlin walls, and cathedral - a total of 6.20 €. He paid, received his triple ticket, and was given clear instructions to first look at the bells on this floor and then climb the stairs. Don Curry thanked her and followed the clear instructions of the old lady. Immediately, the even older woman sitting one meter away from the long-gray cashier protested energetically. 'Ticket!' she demanded. Don Curry showed her the multi-entry ticket he had just obtained, the old woman suspiciously and carefully examined it, then tore off the stub that belonged to the 'bell tower' area, and gave Don Curry the clear instruction to first look at the bells on this floor and then climb the stairs.

Job creation measure, thought Don Curry. Or Putin's trick to save money on pensions. What one grandma can do, two can do as well, with clearly defined competencies: one collects money, the other checks. But even the two advanced age ladies didn't seem to have nice thoughts about Don Curry. They whispered eagerly to each other. At first, Don Curry thought they were making fun of his lack of language skills, but he would only become aware of the true machinations of the elderly conspirators much later.

After the double inspection of the bells on this floor, Don Curry climbed the double-shown stairs. The view could truly be called grandiose: both the cathedral and large parts of the Kremlin, as well as the city of Veliky Novgorod, spread out before Don Curry. On the horizon, he even caught sight of the St. George Monastery, which he had visited yesterday. In good spirits, Don Curry left the bell tower and took the pedestrian bridge over the wide Volkhov River. He now planned to head for the furthest destinations of his sightseeing program, and then later to visit the walls and the cathedral - after the end of the liturgy.

The furthest destination was the Transfiguration Cathedral, famous for its Byzantine frescoes from the 14th century. But the radiant white glow of the magnificent church was the only thing that pleased Don Curry today: a sign announced that Monday and Tuesday were closed. Disappointed, Don Curry moved on to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Sign, but here, Tuesday and Wednesday were indicated as days off.

Already slightly frustrated, Don Curry returned to the Volkhov River; here lay 'Yaroslav's Court', the former center of the Hanseatic city of Novgorod, which had been ruled solely by wealthy merchants independent of Tsar and princes. Half a dozen churches were able to escape the destructive forces of time here and were preserved until the present day - albeit in rather dilapidated condition. Only the St. Nicholas Cathedral had already been beautifully restored and opened to tourists, but not on Tuesdays. And when a heavy rain shower came down on him, Don Curry's frustration grew.

During a short break in the rain, he admired the recently created Hanseatic Fountain and the modern Hanseatic Monument, whose amorphous structures eluded him.

Shortly before the next rain shower, he returned to the Kremlin side and decided to satisfy his small hunger in the simple restaurant at the Volkhov embankment. Actually, it was more of a snack bar where you ordered at the counter; after that, the guest could either choose a table in the large tent or in a small private hut with a view of the Volkhov River - the order would then be brought. Don Curry had ordered chicken shashlik with onions, bread, oriental sauce, and fried potato wedges, along with homemade kvass. The chicken was crispy grilled on the outside but not fully cooked on the inside, but the rest was quite delicious.

Afterwards, Don Curry wanted to climb the Kremlin walls. The young uniformed attendant greeted Don Curry with a torrent of Russian words. When Don Curry asked if he spoke English, he seamlessly continued in English, suggesting that their lunch break was about to begin and that he could return at 5:00 p.m. - then he would be welcome.

Don Curry fully understood the need for a lunch break and decided to visit the cathedral with his multi-entry ticket. However, even beyond the church service, it was open to all visitors free of charge; no one wanted to check Don Curry's ticket. Outraged, he thought of the two senile whisperers in the bell tower: they certainly knew that the triple ticket was completely unnecessary. They had illegally obtained 150 rubles, almost 2.10 €, at the expense of the trusting Don Curry, without any value in return. But Don Curry didn't really care whether the two senior ladies could add it to their presumably meager pension or had to transfer it to the state for the preservation of cultural assets. Both were fine, chorosho - as the Russians say; but fraud is fraud - even if committed by the soon-to-be-departed!

However, these divergent feelings did not burden Don Curry for long. The interior of St. Sophia Cathedral unfolded its pleasantly uplifting power. The omnipresent opulence of colorful frescoes and several iconostases inevitably captivated him. Even outside of the church service, the other visitors were mainly engaged in gestures of worship, lighting candles, and moving prayers. A sign posted multiple times prohibited any photography, but the experienced traveler Don Curry had learned in Indian temples that capturing with a smartphone does not count as photography. So there was no interference here either as he discreetly filled his memory card.

Inspired and having long since pardoned the conspiratorial criminal grandmas, Don Curry left the oldest church interior in Russia, indeed the oldest preserved interior in this country overall. It was already raining outside again, so he decided to quickly go back indoors somewhere. The nearest destination turned out to be the former bishop's house, which had since been transformed into a museum of religious art.

However, some exhibition rooms still displayed the original frescoes from the time of the bishop. With clear gestures, Don Curry asked if photography was allowed and received a similarly clear nod.

The weather in Veliky Novgorod was now clearly showing its true colors: the rain had definitely prevailed. Don Curry retreated to his hotel room. After the exhausting tasting event of the previous evening, he preferred an early, civilized dinner in the hotel's own restaurant with its wonderfully socialist-plush atmosphere. And something else was important to him after the morally frustrating experiences of this day: decent, honest cuisine. He was not disappointed...