Mozart in an 18th Century Palace

Imagine you were a Sheremyetev earl, living in Moscow in the late 1700's and it was June. You waltzed around the gardens in the refreshing summer breeze, and were treated to a musical ensemble playing the contemporary music of Mozart in the grand ballroom.

Well, that is almost how I felt on Thursday evening after Sasha and I drove through over an hour's worth of rush hour traffic to arrive at the Kuskovo Palace in the Southeastern part of Moscow. I remember fondly several visits to Kuskovo. First in 1988 in July as a student at the Pushkin Institute. We had an "official" excursion there with a tour in Russian, where we wore felt boots over our shoes and shuffled through the ornate and elaborately decorated rooms, careful not to scratch the floors. Then I returned often for picnics along the edge of the lake, and concerts in the ballroom. In 1994, the summer my cat died and I became mother to 5 adoring kittens, I traveled around Moscow in my Niva with a basket of kittens. I took them to a concert, where I hid in the back, until one ornery kitten began biting his brother who screeched octaves higher than the orchestra, forcing me to flee from the concert. I made a lot of friends that summer!

Again, I returned many summers for the once a year concert I could manage to attend during my wild work days. It was March of 2000 that I took Michael there - blistery and cold, we were the only ones at the museum. This trip was quite nostalgic as all these various memories came flooding back to me. I enjoyed the brief encounter once again. The crowd was jovial, the orchestra quite talented, with a flute solo by a young man that must have been no older than 18! He remained well composed in his bow tie and tuxedo, even in the high heat and humidity.

The singer for the second half did not arrive, so we were subjected to a repeat of the first half. I must admit, that was a first for me. I thought perhaps they might have something else in their repertoire, but I guess if it's good once, it's as good or better twice. As soon as the concert was over, the guards began to shuffle people out of the gardens. Their task was challenging as dozens of young lovers stargazed and sauntered, oblivious to their commands to leave. I took one last look at the reflection of the Italian hall reflected in the little pond as the sky behind it glistened a pale orange and then turned away, my mind full of colorful memories, the eternal notes of Mozart's 15th Symphony still ringing in my ears.