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Eine Stadt, in der es unmöglich ist, nicht daran zu denken, wie enttäuscht Bazhov wäre, der in seinen wohlklingenden Erzählungen die Schätze beschreibt, die in eben jenen Uraler Höhlen und Bergen im Geheimen verborgen liegen – jetzt kann man hier alle diese Halbedelsteine kaufen.
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Yekaterinburg is a city, which can rightly claim to be the chief, if we talk about In Transition. A city where every visitor is trying to find that very point, the Urals, where, you see, it is possible to have one foot in Europe and the second in Asia. A city which can be proud to have the largest number of royal family per unit area. A city which in the 1980’s, still under the name of Sverdlovsk, became the capital of rock and the underground scene. A city in which you can still find outstanding monuments to constructivism which, even though neglected, have miraculously remained intact. A city, where a market with cabbages and potatoes has the most gaping heights of constructivism in the background, is striking for its people; it seems all the inhabitants visit the, “Drum for running on the spot without moving anywhere.” The city where it is impossible not to consider how Bazhov would have been disappointed, as in his melodious tales he described the treasure, secretly hidden in those Ural caves and mountains, but that, here and now, everyone can buy for themselves. All these semi-precious stones and cheap glass shining next to paper calendars, with pictures of the dollar and other presidents, in every kiosk at the corner of Sacco and Vanzetti streets and already nobody remembers who these two people were and why the streets are named in their honor. But everyone knows that on Saturdays they should go to the market and buy potatoes, cabbage, honey and fish, in order to stock up to get through this long, dark and terrible winter, eating warm food, studying and preserving constructivism, reading the tales of Bazhov and arranging the next modern art exhibition or biennial.
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