All about a fence

Now that I've upgraded my camera (Canon G11, and I love it, thanks for the advice, Dad!), I sometimes have the thought, "Which of my cameras shall accompany my walk today?" Until today the G11 has always won out, but today for some reason I wanted to keep my purse light and brought my PowerShot instead. Mistake! Today was an unseasonably gorgeous but grey day, and my PowerShot wasn't up to the challenge. Note to self - stash the old camera away, not because you'll use it again, but because if you give it away something horrible will happen to your new one.

I've already posted a few shots of the river that runs behind my neighbourhood and into town. As my "walk to the center," I've grown quite fond of this path. For starters, it is one of my memories of my first trip to Crimea in July of 2008; the geometric fence pattern was one of my first experiences with Soviet design, and I thought it was quite beautiful. Of course, as I now understand the pattern as an ubiquitous feature from Eastern Europe to Central Asia, it still has some emotional pull, but elicits something more like melancholy than admiration.

But I'm also realizing that on nice days, the river is quite a gathering spot. With yesterday the Orthodox Christmas holiday and today one of those lazy Fridays following such a big event, I've been out enjoying the nice weather (and to think, just last week we had both rain and snow!) and the holiday vibe.

There is just so much going on here:

The post-wedding "lock on a bridge"

Picnicking

Fishing (can't help but be reminded of walking down the Galata Bridge)

Cute couples on park benches

And of course there are also strollers, young boys drinking beer, friends eating sunflower seeds, reading loners, mothers and babies, and dog owners.

Unfortunately these black patterned fences are also being used as a source of scrap metal. Here's a section taken from behind my building in the past week:

In some places it is even quite a hazard -

It is sad to see these fence links disappear in such a lively public space, especially as there is no guarantee they will be replaced at all.

After seeing some of the new damage today, I made it a goal to find some older photographs of this space from throughout the years. Although with this developing interest, I'm afraid that when I'm old and gray (inshallah!), wherever I am, I'll become one of those volunteers at the local history museum, scaring children with my big, yellow smile and frightening well-meaning patrons out the door with my enthusiasm and musty brochures.