This morning I caught a central line busker playing the DangerMouse theme tune on his accordion.

THE STRANGEST SIGHT I HAVE SEEN TO DATE IN MOSCOW

It was 9.30 on a bright Tuesday morning. It was a novelty for me to be awake at this time, let alone in the centre of the city, but I was planning to visit the foreign-language bookstore to pick up some graded readers for one of my groups.

So I was walking along one of those mostly pedestrianised old cobbly streets in the Theatre District. Up ahead on the right was the bookshop, and on the left the map shop, which I also wanted to pop into. Only there was no way I could go into the map shop because of the large mob of angry citizens milling around outside it.

This was no ordinary mob: there were young men, old women, mothers with children. All of them were shouting at each other, pushing, shoving, gesticulating. There were also two middle-aged women leaning out of a high first floor window above the map shop - whether it was part of the shop or a private shop I really couldn't say. These two women were also shouting and gesticulating. There also appeared to be some kind of robe dangling down from the window into the street below.

In the middle of the mob there was a TV crew, complete with cameramen and reporter.

After a minute of this a police car pulled up. It didn't have the sirens on, and indeed the police officers seemed content just to watch the mob from a distance (which I was doing), while smoking (which I wasn't doing). It was only when one of the younger members of the mob started shoving a rather frail old lady that the police felt compelled to intervene. The young man, once he saw the police approaching, started quite hilariously to sidle off and pretend that he wasn't involved. However, Moscow's finest were not fooled. But as soon as they grabbed the man, half the crowd started shouting, 'It's not fair! He's not to blame!'

In the middle of this rucus, the two women in the window took the opportunity to pull up the rope that was dangling down from their window. As it ascended I saw that an incredibly large and full shopping bag was tied onto one end. The bag made its painstaking journey up the side of the building. Slowly the crowd turned to watch - even the policemen seemed to forget about the young man they had seized.

Oh no! The bag wedged itself under the window ledge and wouldn't climb any higher. Half the crowd shouted for the women to pull harder, the other half for them to let it down again. It was like some demented quiz show. The women decided to pull harder but - disaster - the bag split, raining down tins of food and items of fruit, mostly bunches of bananas, onto the crowd below.

The crowd were not to be deterred even by aerial bombardment from baked beans and bananas. Indeed most of them reached for the fallen fruit and started lobbing it at the window. The two women in the window responded with encouraging words - 'Come on! Throw it! You can do it!' but whether they were being supportive or defiant I haven't the faintest idea.

So that was when I was treated to the strangest sight I have seen to date in Moscow. Bananas pinging off walls, off gutters, bananas bouncing back onto policemen, into windows. It was an early morning theatre district banana fight. Fantastic! And I still don't have the faintest idea what it was all about.

*

So, I'm still in this crazy, violent city where metro trains explode and leisure centres collapse. What the hell am I doing here? What are any of us doing here? Why is Rich here? Gareth? Julia? Liz? Anthony?

Moscow is a fantastic place to be. I hope that the story I just wrote shows you that. If you still don't understand why I'm here, then I don't think there's anything else I could say to you.

JD.

SPECIAL GUEST BLOG POST ABOUT HATS
by Julia Davis, who I should say is American


So, this analysis is about hats. You know the big furry things you see on top of the heads of Russians in movies, thinking to yourself 'no one would actually wear something that ridiculous in real life,' here's the news: they really wear them. And not just one or two people, they're everywhere. Honestly I thought it was strange until I began to understand what was going on: The Russians are competing for Biggest Hat. Now for those of you not in Moscow this may sound like a simple, uninteresting competition, but as an inhabitant of the battle ground I can tell you it is quite a show.

But first let me say that not everyone is involved in this highly complex War of the Hats. As with most any Russian competition, those who do not have a shot at winning simply choose not to compete. This is announced by
going to the other extreme and having a small, knit hat that fits tightly to the skull (in these cases it seems the scarf
must be quite big, nearly swallowing the head, but I haven't quite figured this one out yet).

Anyway, for those who can afford or have the ways and means to hunt for some large, furry animal to stick on their head the competition is on. There are several ways of winning Biggest Hat. The men usually opt for
the straight ahead approach and simply kill or buy something that perches just above the ears and hope that it's big enough.

The general form of the hat can be made bigger by getting an extra furry skin or by finding a long-haired animal whose tuffs wave in the wind. Color is also an issue. Some, confident in the size of the hat, wear a simple black furred beast. Others, perhaps trying to trick other contestants into thinking their hat is bigger, wear wild colors. I have seen orange, red, purple (on a woman - I'll get to that) and, for those who are really going for it, combinations of these abominations.

Now, in the category of color it seems that women have more freedom than men, being able to pull off (used loosely) all sorts of crazy business. For goodness sakes, I have seen yellow. A big, poofy, yellow fur hat?I would have run screaming in the other direction but I was too busy pissing myself. The women also adhere to a differently formed hat. Not the traditional shoot-it-perch-it-top-the-head that you've seen in movies. For the women it is more of a
buy-it-wrap-it-round-the-head-like-a-hood. This gives the advantage of having more material to work with. I have noticed it is important for the fur to stick out in every direction as much as possible thereby drastically increasing the size. Also, some women supplement with poofy, furry tails that hang from the hat and are wrapped about the neck like a scarf. These women are usually front runners.

Now, I hear you ask 'How can you be sure this is a competition? Maybe they are just cold.' To that I say, 'pfaaagh. cold my arse.' These folks are warriors. If you have ever seen the look on a man's face as he strolls down the street, his hat towering above all others, you will know that Hats are serious business. Or a pair of eyes swiftly scanning the metro car to see if anyone's hat is bigger and the look of triumph when they confirm that, indeed, they have the Biggest Hat. How that triumphant look can turn to despair when a Bigger Hat boards the car. I have seen Russians running blindly from hats that seriously out size their own. Babushki board a packed metro car and immediately be given a seat in deference to the size of the Hat. Occasionally, when there are two men with equally sized hats in the same car, one will get off and board the next car up so he can be alone in his victory. Yes, in Russia Hats are serious business folks. I just wanted to let you know.