At the end.

I spent four days traveling, but I’m finally here; New Zealand, on the top of a hill, in the house my parents just built. A kind of home, since my family is here, but a place I’ve never actually lived. The four days were a network of plane flights, layovers, and at the end a ferry ride and four hour car ride, and never have a been so glad to finally stop traveling.

I many ways I couldn’t be farther from Russia. Its summer, I’m in the middle of what used to be – and is still surrounded by – a cow pasture, instead of a big city. At night I listen to deafening silence instead of trams running past my window. Right now I can hear a light rain beating against the roof over my head, instead of being isolated from the noise by another level of apartments. The amount of space I have to myself is luxurious, as is the size of our kitchen/dining room and the house overall. I have eaten salad at almost every meal. I can drink water from the tap. I’ve traveled most of the way around the world to get here, and I still almost can’t believe that I left.
I miss the presence of Russian in my brain, a constant hum that either needed to be translated or was waiting to be uttered in a heavy accent. I miss the snow, and while I love being able to wear lighter clothing (‘Its been cold here, we got a front down from Alaska’ Marianne told me during my stopover in San Francisco. ‘Cold? Is this cold?’ I replied, stepping out into balmy 40 or 50 degree weather), it feels strange. The silence really is deafening, after being in a city for so long, especially only separated from the street by a thin window; I think its part of the reason I’ve had trouble sleeping. That and the light, since the light level at about four or five in the morning here is the same as it was in Russia at eight thirty, my normal getting up time. That’s another thing; the days are just so long. I never appreciated daylight so much before.

But more on Russia itself, or rather my experience there. Without a doubt, it was one of the best and most important of my life so far. Russia convinced me that I can, and should, live in other countries even with a language barrier, that I am capable of learning and using a foreign language, and that it is certainly possible to get around with just the basics. I trust myself and my abilities to survive and – even – flourish in alien environments. Russia also required me to stretch my definition of living standards. I was better off than many of the other Americans, having lived in small-town NZ as well as middle-class America, and I wasn’t outraged at the living conditions. Still, living at lower than customary standards, and realizing that nearly everyone in Russia shares those standards, was informative, to say the least. I actually enjoyed living more poorly, but I realize that I can enjoy it, because for me it is a choice; for many Russians, it’s the only way of life.
Russia also in a lot of ways confirmed my interests. I always vaguely thought that, yes, anthropology was the right field for me. But now I realize that it is actually the ideal field. I’m not interested in politics, or economics, or even sociology. I’m interested in people, how they live, how they interact, why they do what they do. Even history, for me, is a tool for understanding the background of current traits, and why they might have arisen. I have come out of Russia with a huge respect for the Russian people, for everything that they have gone through, what they still see ahead. They are survivors, and while they might be cold in public in private they are warm and generous. The real Russia is the peoples’ Russia, a huge and multi-varied one, not Putin’s Russia that caters to the elites, perhaps the top 2% of the population. If the people support him, its because he brought about economic stability and some return to order. There is more than one side to every issue.

Perhaps most importantly, I know myself better than I ever have before. If necessity is the mother of invention, it is also a honing tool, paring down all of what make you up to the most essential and important of it all. And when you know yourself, you can do anything, doing it in your own, individual and personally inspired way.

So, Duh svidanya Russia. I hope I will see you again soon.

Reflections at Thousands of Feet

(On an airplane)
Flying over the clouds, at the level of the sunrise as I fly towards Australia on my way to New Zealand. Simultaneously can’t believe that I’m out of Russia, or that it exists and I was ever there.

The approximately 30 hours that I spent in the US made me realize some of the differences with Russia. First of all, people smile when you smile at them, almost always. Also, the standard of living is just so luxurious; the large living space, availability of such a wide range of goods and at such high qualities… Generally just the richness and, even, largess of America. Of course, its not just America, perhaps generally the West.
Also, the South African (who lives in Saudi Arabia) that I sat next to on the plane, as we were flying into San Francisco remarked about the flatness of the city. The airport is quite far from the city center, and SF itself is more built up, but he was completely right. American cities, compared to Russian or European ones (and, obviously, with exceptions) are flat. The huge amount of space available really meant the massive spread of cities across the land, rather than vertically. In Russia, having more than enough land as the largest country in the world, was limited by climate and communism that favored industry and the worker over the farmer to develop up rather than out. It was strange to walk around in Berkeley and feel the space, skies unfilled with apartment buildings. The sense of space was incredible, and must contribute to the association of America with ‘freedom’, the freedom to move.
It has also been a return to customer service. On the British Airways flight from St. Petersburg to London, the group of us were incredibly impressed with the friendly flight attendants; service with a smile. But really, they were of normal flight attendant standard; it was us who had changed our expectations. I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again; as far as my experience goes, the Russian people are friendly at heart, and extremely hospitable, but they are not quite so in public. In public, they are restrained and impersonal, and this is not necessarily a bad thing.

The sun is shining fully brightly into my eyes now, and the light is pure as it rides over the clouds. As it rose the light and colors were intensive, their limited light concentrated and emanating slowly over the lake of misty cloud cloud, broken by islands of the fluffier stuff. Oh, the magic of the dawn!

There is a little curl of ice on the bottom of my window that reminds me of Russia, in its crystalline winter-locked beauty.

(So, I wrote this a long time ago....)

So, Pushkin.
Luckily, and contrary to all my pessimistic assumptions, it not only snowed quite a lot the night before we went to Pushkin, but the snow stuck as well. Meaning that when we woke up in the morning the world was blanketed, and it was even snowing when we left the bus in Pushkin itself, although by the time we left the palace proper it had stopped and it was perfect walking-around weather. The palace itself was, of course, ridiculous. It was originally a modest wooden building designed for the use of Peter the Great’s wife Catherine (who, by the way, was a commoner by birth), but remodeled by their daughter Elizabeth. The wealth of the tsars was, perhaps, never more ostentatious than under Elizabeth (II?), and she was not shy with lavishing it upon the building. As one of our guides said, she basically broke the bank, versus Catherine the Great, the next owner, who ‘as a German, was very thrifty’ (her words, not mine). Essentially, the whole palace is a little too much for my tastes, from the gold décor to the famous ‘amber room’, which contains walls literally paneled in amber. The original room (and the entire palace, essentially) was destroyed by the Germans during their invasion in WWII, and the German government paid 18 million euros toward the reconstruction efforts. They really did a fantastic job restoring the palace, from essentially ruble to its modern, reconstructed glory, but the fact is that I (and I think many in our group) are a little tired of palaces. As stunning as they are, its just a little much sometimes, or at least consistently.
The grounds, however, were certainly worth the bus ride. Under snow they were transformed, although they must also be stunning in the summer and fall. Like the grounds at Pavlovsk they are quite extensive and of course we didn’t have enough time to explore them all. One thing to note particularly are their wonderful water features, stemming - I believe – from one main lake at the back of the palace. Also like at Pavlovsk (which, after all, is only a few kilometers away), the grounds are studded with buildings and monuments, like the ‘Chinese Pavilion’ and the ‘the Hermitage’ which apparently had no windows in its lower, hidden floor, allowing the tsars to take refuge there and do exactly what they liked in complete privacy. Wandering around in the snow and the – relative – wilderness was a lovely change after St. Petersburg and its unfortunate recent slush. I even fed birds. Lovely.
Really, it was a wonderful excursion. I’ve decided that snow makes everything better, and everyone, not just tourists, were enjoying it. There was also a very friendly dog who joined our group briefly. In Russia, or at least around St. Petersburg, stray animals are much less likely to be scary, and much more likely to be merely happy-go-lucky and looking for a snack. In generally, people are just so kind to animals, feeding them whenever they can and making allowances for them, like impromptu bird houses out of bottles, or the horde of cats that lives in the Hermitage. Its no wonder that animals seem less scary, when people treat them more kindly.

Lately I’ve been running around, trying to study for exams (my last is tomorrow, and then I’m free!!), while simultaneously getting everything done that I need to before I leave. Or rather, everything that I want to, which is primarily doing a great deal of walking where I haven’t been, and visiting museums. I had my last visit to the Hermitage on Monday, following a walk around one of the oldest parts of St. Petersburg and ending up as about a 6-hour walk all in all before returning home, thoroughly chilled. There really is a danger of not being able to get warm after being out in the cold for hours. Apparently, when you walk around by yourself, you get asked directions by all sorts of people. Or maybe now I look like I know where I’m going, because lately I’ve been asked many times for directions and information. This is decidedly pleasing, since I have passed the non-tourist test; I even talked for about five minutes with a man the other day before he realized I was a foreigner. And the grocery lady who I have been wooing with frequent purchases actually made conversation with me yesterday, which consisted of her asking me if it was cold, me replying that yes, of course, and her laughing at me for thinking it was cold when it was only about three below zero. Which admittedly, is not very cold. As Tanya said today, when it gets to 6 below, then its cold. I was even told today by a stranger not to bit my nails, and that it was unattractive. All in all, lately I’ve been feeling like I’ve been accepted into Russian society to at least some extent, and so it makes me all the more sad to leave. Really, as my time in St. Petersburg runs out, I’ve decided that yes, I am very much going to miss Russia. Its hard to describe exactly why, and it will probably become a lot clearer after I leave, but its really been such a wonderful place to live.

On a complete side note, the re-facing of the Hermitage has been completed, and it looks fantastic.

Before Pushkin

It is snowing outside. This is glorious, not least because for the past week or so the weather was just wet and gloomy, as all the past snow drifts gradually melted and disappeared, leaving us all wondering if the snow had just been a wonderful dream. But no! It has returned! And just in time for our trip to Pushkin, the old vacation town of the nobility, and Tsarsye Tselo, the imperial palace that contain the famous Amber Room, tomorrow. Although the palace sounds nice, the grounds are meant to be spectacular, even more so than the grounds at Pavlovsk that we visited in the fall. Unfortunately, its hard for anywhere to look good when all there is to see is mud and leafless trees, not that they don’t have their own, different aesthetic appeal. So I have been hoping desperately for snow, and it has finally arrived! With any luck, it will last the night and there will be glorious whiteness all around.

This last week has gone by in a blur, once again. Its impossible to believe that I’ll be leaving Russia in a week. I don’t want to. Some people on the trip blatantly do, to the point of my having been informed of the number of hours to go, but I could really stay much, much longer. Or just have to come back. I know I won’t realize everything I’m going to miss until its gone, but there are some obvious ones; my host mother and her amazing cooking, the canals, the snow (as elusive as its been lately), the metro, the rye bread, the bakeries, the tea…. The list goes on, probably so far as to stretch down the block and around the corner. Oh, Russia!

Still, I’m trying to use the remainder of my time wisely. I’ve visited the Hermitage twice more recently, and I think I’ll time for once more before I leave. I’ve explored more of the city, eaten at every blini chain I think, (oh, the blini! So available and cheap!) although one can never be sure, talked for hours with my host mother. We have our last organized excursion on Thursday to the Jazz Philharmonic Hall, which will hopefully be spectacular. With any luck I’ll have time to wander and see more, visit the Museum of Bread, grab the last needed presents and visit a few more sights while studying for exams, and before my time here is up. It’s the familiar time crunch at the end of every semester, but now worse since there’s so much more to go out and see.

And time grows short

We have less than two weeks left in Russia, and everything has suddenly sped up. Actually, ever since we got back from Finland everything has been going ridiculously quickly. Still, I will try to describe the past weeks, somehow distinguishing events from the blur that they have left in my mind.

With the snow came a lot of wandering around in it, naturally. The week after coming back from Finland was mainly just walking and readjustment to Saint Petersburg in its new white, and later slushy form. Also a lot of soup making, and subsequent soup enjoyment. I’ve discovered that Russian are not crazy for eating ice cream at below freezing temperatures, it is actually very enjoyable. We went to the Pushkin Apartment Museum, which was decent but not actually as interesting as real art museums, and probably not as interesting to us as to Russians, since he is their most famous and seemingly most revered poet. I’m thinking for them its more of a shrine… It did make me think about how ridiculous it was to duel over women; I mean really, Pushkin was married to the most beautiful woman of the time, took offense at letter sent to her (letters she never acted on), and subsequently lost his life in a duel. Now, how did that help her, honor intact or besmudged? And it certainly didn’t help him, since he ended up dead. And it certainly didn’t help Russian literature, either.

Anyway. I also visited the Hermitage twice, which sadly only convinced me that there is not and never will be enough time for me to see all that I would like to. Ideally, starting exploring earlier would have been a good idea, but c’est la vie. More will be packed in the remaining weeks.

I have been spending more time on the trams, and subsequently a deep appreciation for the public transportation here. Naturally, I am also dreading leaving it, although really I have at least some available bake in the States. Maybe its just the really, truly beautiful metro that I will miss. Especially it’s extreme frequency.

Last Tuesday, I wandered through the entire Ancient Art section of the Hermitage, and then Ashley and I went to a Banya! It was very, very exciting. For those not in the know, Banya’s are (public, generally) bath houses, where before the Krushev (if that’s how you spell his name in English) housing reforms most of the public went to bath weekly, due to the lack of facilities in their homes/communal apartments. Although really, the essential part of the Banya is the steam room, where you can go to sweat out all the dirt and impurities in your system before washing them all off under the shower/with buckets of water. Its actually a decently complicated process, so it was lucky that we asked one of our professors (the amazingly cool and possible ex-Communist informant Igor) about what to do before actually going. The right way to do things is something like the following. First, of course, pay- entrance for an hour and a half cost about a dollar, and a sheet to wrap yourself in cost about $1.50. Then put your belongings into a locker in the entrance/storage/relaxation/cool-down room; the woman at the front will lock your valuables away if you want. After undressing – completely, I might add, no modesty here – you first go claim a bench, filling a tub with hot water, washing the bench and placing everything you need on it. This includes putting your birch branch into the tub to soak. Then, take a trip to the shower to wash off outside dirt. It is not time to proceed to the steam room for the first time, and it is damned hot. As Igor said, listen to your body, and spend only maybe 5 minutes in the steam room the first time. Finally, exit the steam room - you will probably be bright red at this point – take a shower, and go wrap yourself in a sheet and relax in the first room. Maybe drink some tea, or beer, if you want to be really Russian. Water, if you’re us, since you WILL get dehydrated. After you have cooled down completely, its time for the steam room again. Rinse, repeat.

Igor said that its normal to spend anywhere from an hour to three hours in the Banya, depending on your personal preference. We went into the steam room three times, which might be about normal, and spent almost exactly an hour and a half there. You can tell the really hardcore people because of a couple things. One, they wear wool hats in the steam room (Igor told us to, its meant to protect your head), they get in just when people throw hot water on the coals and the most burning steam arises, and they beat themselves vigorously with birch branches. Yes, birch branches. According to the ever-wise Igor, this is to get the air circulating around the skin for a better result. It actually feels quite pleasant but sounds nasty. There was a little girl getting wacked by her mother when we went, and to hear her you’d think that it was as bad as a horse whip or something. This is not the case.

Overall, the Banya was fantastic. You don’t notice that you’re naked when you’re surrounded by that many naked people, so that certainly wasn’t a problem. And thanks to Igor, we were well-prepared. Also, the steam room is really just fantastic; they scented the water with what smelled like birch essential oil or something, and the platform is built of a dark wood, so you almost feel like you’re in a very hot, rustic cabin. And the atmosphere of the banya is so cheerful and communal, women helping each other lug water, soaping each others’ backs, sometimes beating each other with birch branches. It’s a very organic and natural place, really, and I fully plan to return again. Tomorrow, actually. Although time is running out, perhaps we will try a higher class of banya before we leave, including a cold pool to plunge into that Igor says makes you feel like you have no skin. Which must be interesting, to say the least.

Wednesday was exciting because I got a library card from the National Library in Saint Petersburg. This was a reasonably long process, since I had to bring my passport, fill out a form, and be questioned briefly re: form by the woman behind the desk. But it was free, and you need a card to ENTER the library, you can’t just look around. It’s a lovely building and perfect for studying, which I will probably do more of in the coming week as my exams loom. Actually, they’re already looming. The library itself has an impressive collection, including one of Bede’s manuscripts, the monk who wrote (arguably?) the first history of England back in the middle ages. This was very impressive to a history nerd such as myself.

On Wednesday we also went to see The Master and Margarita, a fantastic stage adaptation of a novel by the same name. I won’t go into detail about the play in order to not ruin the novel, although I highly recommend it, but the entire play was quite fantastically done. It took place at the Baltiiskii Teatr (Baltic Theater), right behind Peter and Paul Fortress. The Theater has a massive stage, and it was very much used to its own advantage, often divided and simultaneously used in several layers. The costuming was fantastic in its own right as well.

Thursday was Thanksgiving, which we had catered in an American restaurant. Somehow, without the family and a table creaking under the weight of the food upon it, it just wasn’t quite the same. Enjoyable, naturally, but just not quite the same. Although there was a absolutely decadent pumpkin/something chocolate/pecan pie.

Friday there was a disgusting amount of class, and then Ashley and I attempted to return to the banya but were thwarted by a line that went out the door, down the stairs and right by the coat check. Awful.

Saturday we had an organized excursion to the Baltika (Beer) Factory in Saint Petersburg. Baltika makes about 38% of all the beer in Russia, which is incredibly impressive given how much in drunk. It was fairly interesting, including the ‘hall of glory’ of Baltika awards, what I like to call the ‘Hall of Past Glory’ which showed the old equipment used, and the ‘Hall of Sponsor Glory’ which contains presents given to Baltika from mainly organizations they sponsor, but which includes a plaque from the political party currently in power in the government; naturally, drunk people are easier to deal with than sober ones. The whole placed also smelled very pleasantly of beer. Well, if you like beer it was pleasant.

We went out Saturday evening to a fancy Ukranian Restaurant where I had borsch unlike any I have every tasted before. Delicious, but different. We also had a group of people dressed in traditional costume sing and play instruments for us, which was wonderful.

On Sunday I spent a shameful amount of time at the second hand Market. It really is wonderful, now that I’ve discovered its secret; there is the obvious second hand stalls, but to get to the really good stuff you have to walk a good quarter mile (perhaps I exaggerate, but it is far) through all the other stalls to reach the glorious field where people lay their wares out on plastic sheets or blankets on the ground to be qawked at by passersby. The things you can find are really incredibly varied and wonderfully old treasures are to be found.

After the glory that is the market, I took the metro into the center to meet Tanya (my homestay mother) at Isaac’s Cathedral, where she works as a guide. After a brief spell of confusion, I met her at the exit, and she led me past security, into the glorious interior. Outside, St. Isaac’s looks very solid and Roman-esque, but inside it is colorful and beautiful. Perhaps a little formal for my tastes, but lovely and very imperial. I joined Tanya’s tour, understanding little but more than nothing, and then we all went up to the collonade that surrounds the dome of the cathedral. There are so many steps going up that at 101 steps to the top they start writing on every ten stairs how many more there are to go. And the view! I have never seen, and understood, Saint Petersburg like that. Here and there stick up golden spires, in some places cranes for repair rise above the buildings, in the distance at the edge of the city rise the steaming chimneys of industry. The city center is so much more cohesive and understandable from the top, without navigating canals and streets that are only grid-like, not laid in a grid. It was magical. Yes, I will use that word.

Sunday Ashley and I made borsch in the evening, which was very much a success; not only did we enjoy it, but Tanya tried some and told me that it was ‘genuine’ borsch, and that she liked the size I but my beets better than how she normally does it. This, as you can imagine, was a fantastic compliment and has probably inflated my ego to a dangerous size. She also told me the other day that I don’t seem American, or at least not before I open my mouth I assume, which I took as compliment.

Today, Monday, I spent four hours cooking and then eating Plaf (Pilaf in English?) with Tanya. It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to make yourself understood for that long in another language, although I admit that grammar mistakes and vocabularly complications are always the order of the day.

Now, a few notes about Russian life. 1) The parking has gotten better with the snow fall, although it is still hazardous and the driving is perhaps on the sketchy side 2) I still can’t believe how children who are so young take public transport by themselves here. 3) Bread is incredibly cheap, good and very, very varied. Of course, Russians love their sweets/bread products passionately so I really shouldn’t be surprised. 4) I never thought I’d get to the point where I’d think ‘one degree outside (~34 F)? Its not cold today!’, but I’m there.

I hope it starts to snow again. There are less than two weeks, and I want to see everything covered again, bright and white and wonderful.

Tallin!!

Estonia was wonderful. In fact, it convinced me that learning Russian was actually a very good idea, because now I can travel around the Baltic states and have a decent chance of making myself understood. And after visiting Estonia, I’d like to do so. Since we only spend about 8 hours in Estonia, this speaks (positive) volumes about the country. Or at least, Tallin.

Estonia is a tiny country, but Estonians are very proud of having their own state. As well they should be, given that at various past times they were ruled by, among others, the Teutonic Knights, the Swedes, and the Russians. Their only other period of dependence since the middle ages, besides the current one, was a brief spurt in the early 20th century before their absortion into the USSR. Tallin, as both their main and capital city, shows traces of every period of Estonia’s history, and thus was absolutely fascinating. Although in our case, besides our time walking to and from the ferry, we spent the day in the Tallin ‘old town’, which can itself be divided into two parts, the ‘upper’ town and –you guessed it – the ‘lower’ town. The ‘upper’ town is older, and contains among other things on one of its highest points the medieval castle (the first permanent structure in Tallin?) that has undergone changes with each successive administration that has controlled the city; its current reincarnation has a candy pink, St. Petersburg-style stucco façade built by, of course, the Russian tsarist government. I think it is currently used as the parliament. It stands across from the very traditional Russian Orthodox Church that the Russian Administration built during Tsar Nicholas’ ‘Russification’ campaign, a glaringly obvious symbol of Russian power.
The upper town also contains one of the most beautiful and moving churches I have ever visited, a huge Lutheran cathedral. Perhaps due to a strong German influence from its trade relations, Estonia is a primarily Lutheran country and the cathedral is decorated with shields commemorating local important barons, counts, etc. These wooden shields are decorated with coats of arms and were apparently carried in front of funeral processions, then hung in the church, and they offset beautifully the primarily white interior. More impressively, there was a woman singing in the church,and filling it full with her voice. When we initially entered the church I didn’t realize that the music was live, but looking into the musical balcony at the back there a woman was, practicing one assumed. Her singing was beautiful, and gave a very holy feeling to the cathedral. Overall, the impression created was of a pure vastness made more intimate by the presence of dark wood, ornate metal work (especially in the chandeliers), and filled with a glorious voice. Lovely.
Other sights in Tallin include the Maidens’ tower, where young girls who refused to marry the men their families chose for them were imprisoned until they relented. I imagine young, fiery women, and old, fat barons that were their intended husbands. Later, (or simultaneously?) this tower was apparently used to imprison prostitutes, given an ironic meaning to the name ‘Maidens’ Tower. In the lower town there is a well called ‘drowned cats well’ which the townsfolk would toss unfortunate stray cats into to appease the demon that they believed lived in it. Imagine the water quality and shudder. I should mention, the tap water in Estonia is drinkable, so probably does not currently contain dead cats. Right across from this well of doubtful quality is a house that the devil allegedly celebrated his wedding party in; the room where this happened was sealed, and remains so to this day. From the look of the old town, you would think that Estonia is back in the middle ages. They even have active guilds in the city, some no doubt tracing their history back through the centuries, since Tallin has long been a commercial center (although apparently Germans were at the fore, not Estonians themselves). Apparently, however, IT is actually a big deal in Estonia, with more and more young people entering the field. In fact, Skype, the internet calling phenomenon – if you will – originated in Estonia, and apparently many Estonians still staff its ranks. And really, outside of the old city Tallin looks quite modern, albeit in a fairly unsurprising and concrete-laden Soviet way.
Also more recently, President Bush stayed at the Radisson in Tallin during his visit to – I believe – a summit in Latvia. And by stayed at, I mean rented the entire place. Our guide, a very cheerful and amusing Australian who lives in Tallin due to his Estonian girlfriend, pointed out that when the Queen of England visited Tallin she stayed in a local historical bed and breakfast called the Three Sisters. He said that he tells Americans that this shows the power difference between the two countries, and tells people from other countries that this shows how important the two countries see themselves. He then admitted that perhaps the comparison is not quite fair, given the Queen has mainly ceremonial rather than religious power. I still thought it was funny.

I could say more about the rest of the city, but there’s only so much I can describe without it all beginning to sound the same. Overall, it contains extraordinarily old architecture and was a joy to walk around in. The streets, like in most medieval towns, are narrow, cobbled and windy, making it even more fun to explore. There is also both a marzipan shop and a marzipan museum. There are plenty of cafes and small shops with local crafts, and it was in one of these that I had my first experience with tourist versus local prices. We happened to walk into a wool and yarn shop owned by a Russian lady, who we had heard talking in Russian and to whom, when she was struggling to name prices in English, Ashley asked her to speak in Russian. She brightened, and after her other customers left came over and enthusiastically encouraged Ashley to try on multiple hats while she was shopping. Having apparently decided that a scarf with long ends functioning as a scarf was the best choice, she lowered the price from 350 kroons to only 200, apparently its actual price in wool and work hours, a.k.a. the non-tourist price. And it is a fantastic scarf-hat. As I said, Estonia proved the usefulness of Russian! It also had delicious pastries, just like Finland. All buttery goodness and flaky crust, which is not usually standard to Russia; not that they’re not good, but they are a different style.

There really are many Russians in Estonia, but at the moment its impossible to get to Estonia directly from Russia, thanks to Putin. Apparently, the Estonian government dismantled and relocated a monument to the Red Army from Tallin to some obscure park. Since this was kind of a slap in the face to the Russian influence in Estonia, Russians in the capital rioted, and Putin cut the railway lines into Estonia. I sort of imagine this as similar to a ribbon-cutting ceremony, except that Putin stands with a stony look on his face, holding in his hands massive wire cutters and then taking them to the tracks. Or maybe he just chopped through them with his bare hands, given his judo expertise. You never know.

I think that’s were I’m going to stop with Estonia. Overall, I liked to better than Finland, although that may have something to do with the lack of stucco and presence of cobbles. One can only stand so much stucco. But also, it seems more real than Finland, which is a little overly clean and well-run. Basically, slightly boring. Then again, that might only be Helsinki. No matter what, I will be returning to the Baltic States, and explore the ex-USSR. And it will be fantastic.

On the ferry back to Helsinki many people were loaded up with boxes of duty-free goods, beer, cigarettes, and gin ‘long drinks’ being particularly popular. Ah, to be able to travel so easily between countries! Or rather, to have other countries so close!

Back in Saint Petersburg, lately we have been receiving actual winter weather; loads of snow and glorious landscapes of white. Unfortunately, I have discovered the inevitable and terrible side of effect of the glorious whiteness; slush. In its many forms, including sludge, icy water and dirt. Downtown, where they clean the entire streets and sidewalks with ice, the gutters overflow and there are slushy rivers that form between the sidewalk and the street, making it a mission to cross the road without boots filling with water. I also managed to step into a massive hole in the road concealed by water, splashing above my boots and leaving unpleasantly wet pants in their wake. And I was worried that my snow boots wouldn’t come in handy!

The slush and sludge is a small price to pay, however, for the glories of winter. The crunch of snow under my feet is joyful, the silky top of the snow a lovely blanket. There is just so much to enjoy, and its still so new, that I’m surprised every time I step outside. Oh winter!

Finland!

Really, this should be titled ‘Helsinki’, since it’s the only part of Finland that we had the pleasure of visiting. Then again, apparently about a third of the population of Finland lives there, so it’s a pretty big deal to the country.

Finland was lovely! Helsinki is a port city, and it was wonderful to be by the sea again. Saint Petersburg might technically be on the Black Sea, but its really on the Neva River and is actually isolated from the Sea by sea walls so there is really no direct contact. In terms of architecture, much of Helsinki was built after the Russians took control of Finland back in the 1700s, so not surprisingly a lot of the oldest parts of the city are very reminiscent of Saint Petersburg, since they were built pretty much simultaneously. I have to say, I’m getting a little jaded about stucco. Its beautiful, the colors they paint it are wonderful, but there’s only so much a girl can stand. Other than that, Finland reminded me of London in the sense that their integration of old and new buildings is admirably successful, beautiful in its own right in fact. I hope I have some pictures that at least partly capture the feeling. Helsinki also struck me as a very arty city, or that might have had something to do with the places that I visited. Lots of cafes, too, which is always enjoyable and warm, a very important attribute in such a cold climate. Efficient public transportation and bike paths also featured as favorable attributes, although Helsinki is also an easily walkable city both in its small size and wide, comfortable sidewalks. People were friendly, and pretty much everyone speaks English, as well as probably four other languages. A Finnish girl, upon hearing that my friend Ashley was studying Russian, remarked that Saint Petersburg was a beautiful city and then asked about other language was she studying back in the States? To which Ashley was forced to admit that Russian was her only foreign language. A sad state of affairs, to be sure.

Now for some more specific features of our time in Finland. We met at the Metro station on Thursday at the obscenely early time of 6am. Astoundingly, Tanya got up to have breakfast with Anna and I and see us off; which I thought went way beyond any sort of requirement of her as a host mother. She told me that if she got up early she could get more done in the day, but I think she only said that to allay my fears and probably worried look. Our train was at 730, and we arrived in Finland around 1pm. We were picked up and taken on a city tour by bus, seeing such sights as the ‘cathedral in the rock’, a Lutheran cathedral literally partly chiseled out of the hillside and with an astounding roof made of copper wire. It was one of the only modern churches that I’ve loved; the rock and the copper made the interior glow and feel warm and welcoming. After the tour we checked into the hostel and had free time for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, since it gets dark around 430 that far north, it meant that we only had about an hour of sunlight left, so spent it wandering. Then it was time for groceries and dinner. Ashley and I decided to go to the free concert in the cathedral in the Rock at 7, which was a number of soloists from a music school in Helsinki on the oboe, accompanied by piano. They were very talented, and it was a very enjoyable experience. Afterwards we walked some more, found a kiosk with Dr Pepper for Ashley (Dr. Pepper was a very big deal in Finland; the soda isn’t available in Russia, but Finland not only has it, they produce it. Everyone who grew up in the south was immensely excited, especially Ashley, who brought two cases back with her and has pictures everywhere with her and the beloved drink. I can only dream of such devotion), and somehow got swept up into going to a Karaoke bar with others from our group and some Finns who they had met at IMOP. Strangely enough, it was very like an American karaoke bar.

Saturday was our full day in Helsinki, and we made the most of it. First Ashley and I went to free sauna at the hostel, then took advantage of the free breakfast for about an hour. One interesting thing to note about Finland; apparently there are about 3 million saunas for 5 million people. As the guide put it, “so we have plenty of room for visitors”. They also traditionally wash their rugs in the sea, or any available natural body of water. ‘But that’s neither here nor there’ as Gogol would say. We then left the hostel and, after visiting a local market, trekked over to the ‘Cable Factory’, an ex-cable factory (strangely enough) that now serves as a museum/gallery/art studio/school for art, theater, crafts and whatnot, and generally anything arty that should be in a building. The entire complex houses too many artists and arty things to count, and its extremely cool. The best exhibit we found was one on an anti-fur campaign, although we only touched on a small portion of its offerings. It also has a 1 ½ floor. After lunch in its café, we headed for the student/poorer part of town, which was much to my liking, being much like any student area. After more wandering it was time to find the café I had looked up on the internet and which had promised an interesting and exceptional interior, which it delivered, sort of an ultra-bright Scandinavian crossed with Russian theme. It had a lovely homey atmosphere, and I got the sense that everyone else in there was a regular; I think one table just served themselves from the kitchen, even. There was no cash register, and the owners where playing scrabble on one of the tables, walking back to the open kitchen when needed. We stayed for quite a long time, feeling completely comfortable sitting around drawing and talking. Really, a perfect café. Then we visited the modern art museum in Helsinki, which is housed in a building that perfectly reflects its contents. It was a joy to wander around in, and while I am not generally a fan of modern art, the collection has some exceptional pieces, including one of licorice candy that is available for digestion (we were literally consuming art), and beautifully worked paper from Japan.

After the museum closed it was time to go back and sleep, since we were getting up at 5am to get to the ferry to Tallin. It had been a very successful day.

Sunday we also spent in Helsinki. I got up early to sauna, which I had all to myself to blissfully enjoy, and then after breakfast walked with my friend Jacob around the headland, looking out over the port and its islands an finally out over the sea. He showed my what is meant to be the most famous park in Helsinki, which contains a hill that, being right off the water, offers a view of both the city and the ocean. It was stunning, especially since the weather that day was gorgeous. Unfortunately, my camera decided to stop working temporarily at that point, but it really was glorious. We continued walking through the rich part of town (sea views are always expensive) back downtown to take the tram and go to a weekend second-hand market. The market was very satisfying and I have the feeling that the lively Finnish around me was all bargaining. We had to be back at the hostel by two, so the rest of the time was spent walking across town, something accomplished in a surprisingly short time; Helsinki proper is really rather small, but it doesn’t seem like it. Then off, back to Saint-Petersburg! Leaving from one of the most beautiful train stations that I have ever seen.

Helsinki actually reminded me very much of Wellington, or rather what Wellington would be like if it was magically transferred from New Zealand to the Far North. Lots of cafes, arty, a capital city, quite highly educated, port city…. And it just felt familiar.

On another note, I have to say that it was nice to see such a variety of ethnic groups, just going about daily business and acting like they belong. In Russia, people who aren’t obviously white don’t always look as comfortable.

Overall, Helsinki was lovely, but perhaps too nice and clean for my tastes. After Russia, it seemed almost sterile. Before I left, Tanya and I had a conversation in which I tried to explain that Russia being hard makes it interesting, and she said she really didn’t understand. Its true, though.

Back in Russia, yesterday I went to the Russian Museum with Jane and viewed some very, very good art. Russian art isn’t particularly famous, it seems, but not for any reason that I could see. If anyone’s interested, I would recommend taking a look at Serov and Koronikiev (spelling? I will check these). Or just Russian art generally.

Today I had a small adventure taking the tram. Yesterday I bought a transportation map of St. Petersburg from a woman in the metro, which are not for sale in any normal places as far as I can tell, or at least no-one I know has been able to find one. Anyway, I decided to test it out todayA few things I noted today about Russia. First, I am constantly surprised by the extremely young children taking public transportation by themselves. Today I saw a young boy who couldn’t have been more than six with a backpack approximately his size on his back traveling on the Metro. Its amazing. Also, the cold weather really does make all the public transportation essential, I’ve realized, although it ironically creates a situation in which while waiting for said transportation you get extremely cold, colder than if you just walked. But probably not as cold as you would get if you walked for a long period in negative temperatures. Finally, now that the frost has set in its possible and amusing to see what people have been doing with water, imprinted in the frost. For example, where buckets of water have been thrown from restaurants, or where bikes have left a trail. Ice generally is just fantastic.

Before Finland/Estonia

Our week of theater ended quite bizarrely and rather amusingly.

First, we went to see Raskolnikov (the stage adaptation of Crime and Punishment) at what was advertised at the ‘Starnik’ Theater. What I failed to realize was that the production was put on by an amateur Russian Orthodox acting troupe - despite this being advertised on the ticket - and that the ‘theater’ turned out to be located in a sketchy part of town, on the fourth floor of a church. Despite our disbelief (could a theater really be in the midst of ominous warehouses and miscellaneous buildings, away from main buildings and, well, people?) and misleading building numbers, we eventually found our way thanks primarily to some helpful guards. After finding our seats we waited the standard Russian 10 minutes for the show to start (I don’t think a single show has started on time here, including at the Mariinskii), and then the producer of the troupe got on stage. He explained the troupe’s mission – the only Orthodox troupe in St. Petersburg, although apparently there is one or two in Moscow – and why they had chosen Raskolnikov. Anyone who has read Crime and Punishment might guess that Dostoevsky was a very religious or at least very moral man, and he said almost exactly that; not only is C & P a classic, but in the end the story has a strong lesson. Then, before the show began, he led us all in an Orthodox prayer. Both the theater in the church – a very nice and well set-up theater for an amateur company – and the prayer were new to me, but it was certainly an experience. The play itself was actually very interesting. I had been wondering exactly how they were going to edit such a work to make it play-size, but for those who have read it, the play consisted almost solely of scenes between Raskolnikov and Sophie, and centered of course on Raskolnikov. The acting was good, very good in some cases, and the atmosphere was perfect. Perhaps it had something to do with being in a church, but there was an almost sacred feeling to the scenes, or at least an intimate one. Or rather look at it this way; the church knows how to make scenes feel sacred, and this knowledge was used to stage the exceptional play. All in all, the trip to the church, the church itself, the hymn and the play itself was quite the Friday night experience.

Then came Saturday. In the morning we had an excursion to the Yusopov Palace, the site of the plot against Rasputin, and of his poisoning and shooting. More generally, it is a sumptuous palace in the heart of the city that had been bought and re-decorated by the Yusopovs, one of the richest noble families, in I believe the late 18^th century. And those Yusopovs knew how to live! Many of the rooms are themed, and include a beautiful study filled with books and old, dark wood, the ‘Islamic’ (or maybe ‘Spanish’) room that opened onto a garden, the ‘Turkish’ room for billiards, a massive, lengthy hall for their personal art collection and a theater. A beautiful, beautiful theater that is still in use today, complete with a ‘princes’ box’ in place of the traditional ‘tsar’s box’, for obvious reasons. Of course, the palace also includes a banquet hall, a massive ballroom and three salons lining the Western side of the palace, looking out on the canal for the use of guests. There are also many interesting quirks to the building (which is still under reconstruction- I can’t imagine how there can be more to see, but apparently there is). For example, at the end of the hall that runs down the western side of the building there is a ‘rotund’ room that is built somewhat round and with a large round sofa in the middle, for guests to conveniently use as a sign to turn around either back down the hall towards the ball and dining rooms or go through the alternative set of doors. Because this room is at the end of the building, there are only two exits, both in the north. However, there are fake doors in the South, apparently to make the room symmetrical, but also as the guide put it ‘because you always want to make it look like your palace is bigger’. Of course, a ballroom and dining hall aren’t enough to prove that.

The area were Rasputin was killed is on the North side of the palace, which had been remodeled to house the Yusopov heir, Felix, and his new wife. That side includes a small room that is mirrored on all sides in the shape of doors, four of which are real and four of which are fake. One leads to where the other plotters sat on the night of Rasputins murder, making noise so that Feliz could pretend that his wife was upstairs; they were nervous, however, and apparently forgot to change the record and thus listened to ‘Yankee Doodle’ for that whole fateful night.

Overall, it is a completely stunning palace, my favorite of all the palaces that we’ve visited, perhaps because you can feel that people really lived there. Yes, they lived in indescribable luxury, but nonetheless the palace is a ‘home’, not just a palace.

Saturday night was another theatrical experience, but this time the Nutcracker on Ice, at the Sports Palace arena. What we failed to realize this time was that it was put on by what must have been a children’s ice skating club. Not that this was really a problem, but it certainly was somewhat odd. The storyline was mostly the same, but then after a while it somehow turned into interpretive ice-skating to Russian techno and folk music, without any explanation or any end to the actual Nutcracker tale. It was enjoyable nonetheless, and the hordes of children around us added to the joy, but it was not at all what had been expected. Cotton candy, caramel corn and flashy toys were to be had though, so what could really spoil our fun?

We ended the night at Dacha, a bar downtown that plays great music and apparently is popular with ex-pats; we met three British, two French, a Canadian and a Russian-American. The last explained that the bar was founded by a Swedish couple, which might explain its appeal.

So ended Theater Week. The cold snap ended with it, leaving us with again warmer than normal temperatures and me with a revised fear of global warming. Still, Finland and Estonia on the weekend! Great things are to be had, I’m sure.

In more recent news, we returned from the Finland and Estonia trip yesterday and it really was quite stunningly fantastic. As soon as I manage to find the words, I’m sure that I’ll be writing about it.

More importantly, today was the first snow!! Just when I thought the world couldn’t get more amazing, it did. Of course, it was wet snow and in most places it melted as soon as it touched the ground, but that doesn’t change the fact that it swirled deliciously through the air and made everything more magical. Tanya told me that according to Russian tradition two weeks after the first snow the snow will become permanent for the rest of the winter. Which would give me two completely snow-filled weeks before we leave!

Actually, its very strange to think that in less than four weeks we’ll be leaving Russia. Is this possible? Its impossible to say how I feel about it, because there are so many conflicting emotions.

Expectant Travels!

Tomorrow we leave for Finland and Estonia! Taking a four-day weekend, we're spending a day and a half in Finland and a day trip to Estonia (visiting Tallin). Its all very exciting.

In weather news, the cold snap broke, leaving us with warmer (and thus stranger, for the time of year) temperatures. I'm not going to lie, its worrying. Seems that global warming exists after all. Still, for the time that it was cold and that there was ice on the ground the world was a magical, freezing place, and with any luck by the time we return from abroad the cold times will have returned. Here's hoping!

I can't believe that its already November. In less than

That's all for now. Much more when we get back!

The Theater!

(I apologize in advance for the melodramatic tone of this entry- the theater does it to me, I swear!)

If there is one glorious thing about Saint Petersburg that stands out from all the rest, it is the beauty and accessibility of the theater. Granted, one might be more in a position to take advantage of this resource if one understood more Russian than I, but I like to think that I am simply proving to myself that superb theater transcends language. Not that I am claiming that all theater is superb. But I will continue, less digression.

This week is my theater week. I don’t mean theater in the most confined sense of the word, but instead as anything that takes place in any sort of theater-like place, including operas, the philharmonic, etc. Although we went to the philharmonic two Sundays ago, but I will discuss it anyway. So far this week there has been the opera Eugene Onegin at the Mikhailovski* Theater on Tuesday, and the operatic version of The Brothers Karamozov at the Marhinskii Theater this evening, or Wednesday. Tomorrow there is nothing, but on Friday Raskolnikov (the stage adaptation of Crime and Punishment) at Theater Starnik, and on Saturday the Nutcracker, possibly performed on ice, at the Sports Palace, where we went to watch the Ska hockey match all those weeks ago.

First, to describe the philharmonic. I must admit, as uncultured as I am the prospect of sitting in one place for hours listening to classical music didn’t quite inspire undulations of joy in my heart, but I was very very much pleasantly surprised. First of all, the surroundings are beautiful. The hall is splendidly large and sumptuously attired primarily in gold and white, with huge chandeliers providing the lighting. The subject of the night’s performance was ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Tchaikovski, a work that I had never heard before. I enjoyed most the sections in which the entire orchestra took part, grandly backed my percussion and integrated so stunningly that it was breathtaking, with one exception. The soloist for the evening was a cello-ist with one of the most arresting stage presences that I’ve ever witnessed in a musician. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, appearing on-stage in a long amber-embroidered ball-gown and poised perfectly awaiting the signal of the conductor. As soon as the music started it was as thought the audience didn’t exist, only the music, and watching her play was like watching music take form and play itself, all grace and smooth, gliding action. I have never loved a string instrument like I loved the cello as she played it, and as a past player of both the violin and the viola, this is perhaps saying something. But I never did get to the cello, and she made hers sing.

The conductor was also one of the best parts of the evening. He had a warm, slightly hear-sighted smile and his movements were masterful. The control that he had over the orchestra was remarkable; I believe that no-one’s little finger could command that sounds that his could.

So much for the philharmonic, and on to Eugene (in Russian ‘Evgenii’) Onegin. Acclaimed as the greatest work of Pushkin (and so, to Russians, the greatest work of their greatest poet), I decided to read Eugene Onegin the day that I went to see the opera, and good thing too given the Russian being sung is even harder to understand than when it is spoken. So earlier that day I sat and, in the course of approximately two hours, read the work. Originally it is in poetic form, but the translator of the edition I read sacrificed verse on the altar of lucidity and story, so while the language was poetic it was not an actual poem. It is, in fact, a very very good story and no doubt an incredible poem when in its proper form (this morning, when talking to my host mother about the performance, she recommended that I buy and read it in Russian, in order to really get it; this seems to be a common conception, and no doubt a correct one). But back to the opera. The Mikhailovski theater is perhaps the second best in St. Petersburg, and luxurious enough to be so, all classical baroque and decorated in the actual theater in primarily red and gold. The opera itself was beautifully sung, although perhaps, it being a Tuesday, the singers too a little while to get into the swing of things since the chorus seemed a little off in their first chorus; but who am I to complain? The leads where both lovely singers and good actors, which is probably more rare than it should be. And, having just read the book, it was very interesting to see where the writers of the opera took artistic license, and where they stayed almost completely true. Puskin must really have written Eugene Onegin with an opera in mind, because it fits perfectly; well, he was a romantic, after all, and ended his life in a duel.

So, that leaves the Mariinskii. The Mariinskii is glorious, and gorgeous, and has a screen on which there was printed to follow along with the singing an English translation of what was going on. I will admit that this perhaps endeared me more than is quite right to the theater, but having gone into it knowing very, very little about the plot of The Brothers Karamozov, I would have been lost without it. As it is, I was left with a strong desire to read the book, the opera was that intriguing. As to the physical appearance of the theater, it is more winding and sectioned up than the Mikhailovski, but interesting because of it. Then again, we were only on the first floor of the Mikhailovski, and in the first tier of the marinskii. This is, I’m convinced now, the only way to watch opera, ideally with the whole box dedicated to your party. Why anyone would ever choose to sit on the ground when it is possible to sit above, as though suspended and able to gaze out at the stage with virtually no interruption is impossible to guess. And the seats are upholstered with blue! Actually, I believe that they are like that everywhere, and overall the Mariinskii is the blue version of the Mikhailovski’s red interior, but more lush in every possible way. The Mariinskii, by the way, is THE theater in St. Petersburg, or rather THE ballet at least. And deservedly so. The production merited the grand surroundings, and that really is saying something. Masterfully put together, very well acted for the most part and completely well sung and played, seamlessly running- I could go on, but bore everyone to tears. Suffice to say that it was fantastic, and leave it at that.

We shall see how the rest of theater week goes. The problem with seeing this much theater is that it only makes me want to see more, which both my budget and studying habits probably can’t quite stand.

On an entirely different note, it has finally stopped raining! For the past few days there hasn’t been a drop, although I always expect it to arrive, and the world is drying up. Gone the moats to cross and lakes to leap! Walking home late from the theater is infinitely more enjoyable when done under dark velvety skies streaked with cloud than through drizzle.

* Please excuse any and all typos. I could spell most of this in Russian, but English transliteration fails to inspire correct spelling or a great desire for accuracy in me.

How to Compare? or ‘Is Russia really for me, and I just don’t know it?’

The easiest way to distinguish Berlin from Saint Petersburg (and, really, Germany from Russia) is that Berlin rests on an even plane of development, solidly first-world, and even at the upper spectrum of first-world in terms of public transportation, recycling, etc. Russia, on the other hand, rests on the first-world industrial plain tentatively, but endangered by what can only be described as gaping holes that fall right back down to second- or third-world standards. The lack of drinkable water is the most notable of these. Berlin was comfortable and welcoming not only because it, as a major Western power, was understood, but also because there was no danger of these holes and things were roughly as expected. In Russia, these discrepancies really throw one right off balance, and it’s incredibly disconcerting.

Russia is also just a scarier place. I think that this is understandable, given its history, the difficulty in getting into the country, the notably corrupt police force and the care which one is advised to exercise at all times. In Russia, you better hope that you have your spravka (information/ visa) with you all the time, just in case you’re stopped by the police. I’m not entirely sure what happens if you don’t have it, but I believe it might involve at least temporary Russian jail time, and from what I’ve heard that is not something pleasant. In Germany, we didn’t even need a visa to get into the country, and while technically you’re meant to carry your passport at all times, Tom and children reassured me that it really wasn’t all that necessary. I think the phrase ‘don’t worry’ might have actually passed their lips. Don’t worry? Why ever not? Oh, of course, because its not Russia. The amount of tension I am currently carrying in my shoulders is a very good indication of how worrying Russia really is. I don’t think that I’ve been this tense on average since I played violin, and that was a muscle thing. I don’t think its terribly healthy. Of course, the language does make it more stressful, but I don’t know German either; granted, most people speak English, but it just didn’t seem to be as big a deal.

Customer Service exists in Germany. It doesn’t exist in Russia. Although really, after I got over the first shocks of cashiers being unhelpful and even downright rude, in a strange way I appreciate their honesty. They don’t feel like they have to pretend to be happy to make your day better; their job is to ring up groceries, not flatter anyone’s ego. And they’re really not all mean, they just aren’t dedicated to customer service. On the other hand, not having to worry about having the right change was a huge relief. It honestly adds about three grey hairs to my head every time that I have to worry about if I have enough small bills in my purse as I get in line at the grocery store. So basically, people in Germany are nicer to strangers, as a general rule.

At this point, I will take a moment out to make a small disclaimer; everything I say about Russia are basically wide-ranging conclusions based on relatively limited personal experience. I may well be wrong in some, if not all, of my assertions. Unfortunately, its very difficult to write about anyone else’s opinions, so inevitably they have to be mine, as incorrect as they might be. Please take them with a grain of salt.

To continue. I believe that Russian society is more to the point, less melodramatic. Germany was more colorful, more out-there, but also probably a little more useless. It could also simply be that Russians don’t see any point in making something more than it really is, and just buckle down and deal with it. Overall, Russians certainly seem more distant in public. I have a related quote from my Russian history professor, about how in Communist time “Russians were taught to not really be sincere, they developed a multi-layered conscientiousness in which we knew what to say in certain situations, which is why foreigners were so strange, because they were sincere. We couldn’t be sincere.” A tendency to be ‘zakritii’ (closed) in public is certainly something to be noticed in Russia, and not so much in Berlin, but every Russian that I know is very friendly once you get to know them.

Enough comparing for now. One thing that was very interesting to note about coming back to Russia was to see what I’d forgotten, but also how welcome so much of it newly was. Walking home from the metro the rows of apartment buildings were positively welcoming. I’ve realized sometimes, when I think about it, that although Russia is a harder place to live than a lot of others that I’ve been to, I actually like that about it. Not always; in fact, probably not even most of the time. But challenges make one grow, and constant challenge (in theory, perhaps also in practice) means constant growth. Plus, its always interesting. There are a lot of things that I really love about Russia.

Now back to current times. Recently, especially the last few days, the weather’s been getting colder. A hat and gloves have actually been necessary, and there are times when I actually don’t have all the feeling in my hands. My roommate said that it smelled like snow two days ago. Needless to say, I’m very excited, both at the prospect of real winter and at the possible indication that global warming isn’t all that bad just yet.

Today is a national holiday, ‘National Unity Day’, which is sort of an artificial one. It was designed to replace the Communist national holiday celebrating the revolution, and it technically celebrates the regaining of Moscow from the Poles in the 17^th century, an event which modern Russians probably care little about and possibly don’t even know that its ‘why’ they’re celebrating. But it’s a holiday, so why not be happy! In what my professor described as ‘typical Russian’ fashion, the holiday fell on a Tuesday this year and many people used that as an excuse to make it a four-day weekend (as did, I think, the State, since we had school off on Monday too). Very sensible, in my opinion.

Now, in an exciting new development, I can start adding pictures that I’ve actually taken in Saint Petersburg onto the blog! My lovely, wonderful and very surprising parents bought and sent me a digital camera for my birthday, but it took much longer than expected to arrive; I picked it up about a week ago. And now there can be pictures! The ones I’m putting on today should give you all an idea of where I live; they’re all from around my neighborhood, some from off our balcony. The last one is the remains of the watermelon stand near my house, finally closed down as it actually just got too cold, the end of Watermelon Season. Enjoy!!

‘Watch Out for the Bikes!’ or ‘Berlin; City of Cities’

Berlin was fantastic. I won’t do a day-by-day rundown of events like I did for Moscow for two reasons; one, I probably couldn’t if I tried at this point, and two, we didn’t actually do nearly as much because it was so terribly and wonderfully relaxing to be out of Russia. Don’t get me wrong, there are many great things about Russia, but if nothing else Berlin was simply more familiar. Additionally, being without the stress of feeling like you should be able to speak the language and struggling horribly was wonderful. For once, we were actually tourists!

First, let’s start with the basics. I went to Berlin with two of my friends from the AIFS program, named Brandon and Will respectively. We stayed with an old friend of my dad’s from high school, Tom, who was incredibly gracious about sharing his apartment with three college students for nearly a week. Tom outdid himself to surpass the requirements of hospitality, showing us all around the city, recommending destinations, essentially making sure that we had a fantastic time.

Before I write about Berlin, I just have to say; it was incredibly strange to be able to drink tap water. Every time I did it, I had a moment’s hesitation, worrying about whether or not it was safe. Will, Brandon and I endlessly enjoyed this simple pleasure; water straight from the tap, and tasty too. That was the first thing that really struck me as an indication of being a different country. Drinkable water is a stunning thing.

So, Berlin. First, as to the title of this post- Berlin has an incredible system of bike paths that follow all the (major?) roads, and which often run at the same level of the pavements. Due to this, people can and do bike everywhere, and it is actually necessary to look out for the bikes. They have the right of way on the bike paths, and god help any pedestrian who gets in their way. I myself had to jump out of the way more than once, with a biker bearing down on me like some sort of demon rider.

Perhaps needless to say, their public transportation system is also top-notch.

Bikes are only part of the reason why Berlin is so awesome. Not only am I an avid cyclist, but also an avid recyclist (if such a word exists, which Microsoft Word is informing me that it doesn’t). And oh, Berlin is a recyclist’s haven. They not only recycle, they separate wet and dry, colored and clear glass, and possibly colored and white paper. Actually, I believe that there were other bins as well, but the plethora of responsible recycling had left me bewildered and unable to comprehend the intricacies of such a complex and wonderful system. They even reuse the cups that coffee is served in on the street; you pay a one Euro deposit on the sturdy plastic cup, and get it back when the cup is returned. That’s just impressive.

Additionally, Berlin, in a way that reminded me of London, is a masterpiece of the successful combination and simultaneous existence of old and new architecture. Due to the massive destruction of Berlin following the Second World War, in many parts of the city there are nearly exclusively new buildings, but some older ones survive and the integration is nearly seamless.

Berlin was colorful. The marquees of shops were colorful, people seemed to wear more colors, there was simply color more places, and brighter. It actually was a feast for my almost stunned eyes, a surprise similar to that of drinkable water. Both, things that you don’t realize you miss until you have them back, and then you appreciate them even more.

The food was fantastic, especially the vast selection and availability of international cuisines. There was Thai, Indian, Mediterranean, Japanese, more Turkish than you could ever eat. I hadn’t seen a kebab since New Zealand, and there they were! I ate the best falafel of my life at a small Turkish restaurant maybe two blocks from Tom’s house. In Russia, as far as I can tell, non-eastern European cuisines don’t really take root and stay. They come in phases (right now Japanese, especially sushi, is very popular), but they don’t necessarily stick, and they don’t breed. Of course, Germany is a richer country, and people eat out more.

The theater is wide-spread, sometimes in English, and by all respects extremely respectable. I only attended a single show while there, but from what I could(n’t) understand besides the German, the acting was good, the singing charming and the art direction impeccable. These are all very good things. The art scene, generally, seems to be extremely alive and well. At one point we found ourselves wandering in an old, graffiti-covered shell of a building that according to Tom housed artists during the split-city years that smelled like punk rock. In the bottom and around the back of the building was specialist shops that current-day artists had set up, setting and showing their wares, and it was pretty brilliant. Besides theater, there are all sorts of events, shows, concerts every day of the week as far as I can tell, all listed in a handy Berliner city guide called ‘the Tip’. These people are brilliant.

Mainly, we did a lot of walking (like, really a lot) and a lot of relaxing, visited the impressive Holocaust monument that consists of metal blocks that from the side look like they’re only perhaps waist-high, but which in fact form a maze that one can get lost in, and probably do. The oppressive, claustrophobic and lost feeling that being inside the maze invokes is sobering and completely appropriate. The boys left a day early to visit Latvia on the way back, and that Saturday I went biking around the city to flea markets, chaperoned by Tom and his lovely daughter Pia, and became utterly convinced that biking is THE way to get around and see Berlin.

In addition, the season was glorious. While fall was diminishing rapidly in Russia, in Germany it was still in full swing. By chance, we chose the week where they were putting on the Festival of Lights, in which parts of the city were lit up specially by colored lights, some in patterns (like the laser show playing on the Berliner Dom, rearranging at regular intervals in abstract patterns on one of its sides, while the other side was covered with a modern crossed with Victorian floral black, red and white pattern), others constantly.

Of all the parts of the city that we visited, the one where Tom lives was probably my favorite. One of the coolest and most random things about it was the dispenser machines mounted randomly through the neighborhood, a great use for Euro coins and to get randomly colored rings. The are was pparently the old artists’ hang-out and is still a perfect destination for anyone who likes cheap food, second-hand goods, zany stores…. Did I mention that I’m considering moving to Berlin after graduating from high school? Maybe for just a year or two, and after all I don’t speak German, but that should attest to its impression on me as a wonderful place.

Of course, I’m tempted to think that maybe some of the reasons that Berlin appeared so fantastic was simply that it was everything that Russia was not; or rather had everything that I feel an absence of in Russia. Bikes, recycling, bright colors, smiles, theater in English, drinkable water.

Next Time: A thoughtful reflection on the differences between Germany and Russia, and what makes that so (or, more likely, more rambling)

And the things I forgot.....

I knew that there would be things that I forgot to mention about Moscow, but luckily I kept track of things that I wanted to write about on a handy Teremok napkin. So here goes.

The Metro. How could I forget to talk about it? The Metro in Moscow is gorgeous, and brilliantly designed; it has a ‘ring line’ that literally makes a ring around the city to connect the lines that radiate out from the center, unlike in St. Petersburg where in order to get to stops on any other line you must take the metro into the center and then back out again on the other line, which is obnoxious. Probably because the Metro is so fantastic, there also seemed to be less buses and marshrutkas around (marshrutkas are like shuttle buses that move on designated routes; they’re separate from the official city system, and not covered by the travel cards we use on the metro, buses and trams. They are apparently also THE way to get around, if you happen to know where they go). But back to the Metro. Perhaps to Lenin and Stalin a metro was the ultimate sign of industrialization, because it is literally fabulous. Each metro station has its own sort of ‘theme’ and decorative style, ranging from the simplistic to the simply sumptuous. To give you an idea of how they are laid out, in both Moscow and St. Petersburg, the station is basically a long hall with stairs of escalators as the access; arches lead from the hall to where passengers enter the trains, something like this:

Tracks HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH e

Platform s

Arches ------ ------ ------ ------ (stair access)------ ------ ------ ------ c

a

Hall l

a

Arches ------ ------ ------- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ t

Platform o

Tracks HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH r

Often, the escalators are the access into the stations from the surface, and the stairs are used to get to stations on other lines. The pure amount of underground space that is used for these stations and access ways in amazing, especially in St. Petersburg where the ground is technically swamp land. Anyway, the Moscow metro is probably the most beautiful in the world, and almost certainly the most interesting (and I thought SP’s metro was impressive, and didn’t really believe people when they told me to wait until Moscow. Ha!) Here are a few highlights;

Ploshad Revolutsii (Place of the Revolution) Station is decorated primarily in a dark red on the walls, as befits the metro stop closest to the red square, and in accordance with its name iron (brass?) sculptures of soldiers and other revolutionaries adorn the pillars supporting the arches, sculpted to appear constantly in motion and watchful, seeming to lunge out from the walls at the passing throngs.

Oktyabrskaya (October) Station (it may be another) contains beautifully tiled wall and ceiling vignettes depicting the harvest and generally happy peasant folk; a little ironic, given the prosecution and exploitation of farmers, particularly under Stalin. They really are lovely, though, especially in contrast with the almost creamy surrounding walls.

Teatralnaya (theater) Station would, of course, be one of my favorites. The station is decorated with many little statues depicting the arts, especially theater of course. Its not the most decadent, but I think its sort of elegant in its simplicity.

That’s all the stations that I will describe in particular, but all the ones in the center are particularly beautiful, and even the outlying stations are elegant. Additionally, the connecting network between the stations is also complex and impressive by itself, and the walk between stations and seeing the change in decorations. On a final note, one of the most enjoyable parts of the metro ride from the hotel down into the downtown was a closed metro station on the route; passing by the empty, dark station in the process of reconstruction was fascinating and very enjoyable.

At the circus, I forgot to mention two things; one, the clowns made jokes about death, where one of them was ‘killed’ by a bullet. Maybe this is normal everywhere, but I didn’t remember seeing that as a child. They also had someone dressed up in a giant mouth costume, complete with massive teeth and tongue. Second, Russians sometimes clap in unison. They’ll start out in the standard scattered fashion, but eventually end up clapping in time. Not everywhere, and not all the time, but it certainly happens and its rather odd.

Moscow is less aesthetically floral than St. Petersburg. A good indication of this is the kind of drinks sold on the street; in SP there are a lot of fruity mixed drinks (in English colloquially known as ‘bitch drinks’), while in Moscow its more business with mainly wine, beer, and somber-colored mixed drinks without much fruity pizzazz. Compare the SP Gin and Grapefruit of ‘I’m the girlfriend of a sex god’ cranberry drink to a gin and tonic or half litre of Baltika in Moscow. Generally, less florally excess; florally might be the wrong word but it seems proper, somehow. There were also less flowers generally in Moscow, and stands as well, but they still made their presence felt.

I might have mentioned this, but the women in SP are more attractive, and the men in Moscow are more attractive. Perhaps this has something to do with the ‘less florally’ ascthetic, more manly really in Moscow with its more utilitarian bent.

That probably pretty much covers it, as much as it is possible to encompass such a massive amount of experience in a few pages of type.

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Breaking to current news, I managed to lose (or rather, possibly my friend managed to lose) my wallet, which wasn't as big a deal as it could have been but which was still damn annoying. The weather was, as still is sometimes, unseasonally and thus worryingly warm. I find myself constantly confronted with the reality of global warming, although we'll see how the rest of the semester goes.
The time changed on saturday, and now it gets dark, as in really dark, by seven which makes me want to sleep at absurd hours. There are other things going on, but that's most of it. And Russian life continues!

On our last day in Moscow it was difficult to decide what to do, because there was just so much and so little time.

We started the morning back at the wonderful buffet, where the hot chocolate was waiting and the bread was still delicious. This time I didn’t leave my wallet and managed to get a blini (crepe, in other countries), and it was a success all around. Afterwards a group decided to take advantage of the nearby and, according to our guide, cheapest souvenir market in the city. It was just getting started as we arrived around 10, so the selection was perhaps smaller than it would be otherwise, and at the beginning of the day bargaining is probably not at its highest. Still, the usual haggling ended quite well on multiple occasions, and it was a pretty profitable morning for all; many presents were purchased. More excitingly for me, on the way out of the souvenir market a few vendors were set up with more standard fare, including fake designer bags and shoes. Now, at the gypsy market in St. Petersburg I had spent about two hours trying to find shoes, without any luck due to the large size of my feet (apparently Russian women don’t go about about a size 8). Feeling clown-footed and man-like, I had eventually departed. But here, in Moscow, they had shoes, and they had shoes my size. So I bought a pair that were really about half the price of average shoes at the market in St Petersburg and were satisfyingly black and shiny, and thus very Russian. A bag to match, so I now epitomize Russian style. Well, a certain kind, anyway.

After the market it was time to check out of the hotel, leaving our bags there in their secure room. Then it was time for our group of students to fragment into little bits and pieces and scatter all over the city. Ashley and I headed to the Metro and out to the Rublev Monastery, built on what used to be the outside of the city and which is now the edge of the inter-city. They have the largest collection of Russian medieval art (read: icons), and it was a beautiful exhibition space, inside (I believe) one of the old residences, all white-washed inside and bright from the sunshine filtering in through the windows to fall on the old wooden floor. The monastery was named after an old monk whose famous frescoes used to cover the inside of the church in the middle of the grounds, but which was utterly destroyed by the Soviets. Not a single of his frescoes remain, but the museum was founded by the State, perhaps in an attempt to right the wrong. It was a really lovely place overall, outside of the striking icons, and inside the complex people were walking or sitting with their baby carriages, enjoying it like it was an average park. It was wonderful to see people able to enjoy a historical place in such a comfortable and unassuming way; the church inside the monastery also still functions.

On a side note, something else that struck me in Moscow was the price of bread. Bread is State-supported and probably cheaper everywhere than most other products, but in Moscow for some reason bread and ‘bakeries’ (stalls) with bread-like things are everywhere. They seem especially abundant in the underground halls were markets are set up, usually between metro stops, and fill the area with wonderful aromas. The markets themselves attest to how cold it must get in Moscow; I believe they’re relatively permanent, and sell all sorts of things, from perfume to scarves to magazines, underwear and snacks. Its very exciting to descend into Metro stations or into under-street corridors and see what you can find.

After leaving the church we headed by metro to the ‘Art Park’ outside the Trybuadev Gallery, a park full of sculpture. On our way we accidentally stumbled upon the underground art market that lives in the passage going under the street right between the Tribuedev Gallery and the Park (??). There’s a similar market on Nevsky Prospekt in SP, but that one is in the open air. It really was like finding a secret treasure (in Russian ‘klad’). We emerged on the Gallery side of street feeling very accomplished, and paid our ten roubles (about 40 cents) to enter the Art Park. Part of this Park, and the part we saw first, is the ‘Park of Fallen Idols’, consisting of statues of old leaders, in this case mainly Lenin and Stalin. These statues were removed from their original places and discarded, eventually finding their way to the Park. It was interesting and a little creepy to walk among so many busts of old Communists; the Stalin with a broken nose was probably my favorite. There was also an arresting Holocaust memorial nearby, a mass of broken-off heads encased in a cage-like structure and topped by barbed wire and search lights. It managed to get down to the most ghastly part of the concentration camps, somehow, and was chilling.

Our walk took us among and past much interesting statuary, which I will try and find some pictures of. We stopped for a very civilized tea break in the middle of the garden; I love that one can do that here, since tea is everywhere, always relatively cheap, and always tasty. There was even an open air ‘tea garden’, but it was not open due, no doubt, to the season. The Art Park must be stunning in summer, when the tea garden is open and there are shows playing at the open-air theater. It was beautiful in autumn, but its hard not to assume that it would be at its full glory when the weather is warm enough to stroll. We also sat in a gigantic love seat swing, watched a sculptor at work, and draped wreaths over statues before scampering away. Overall it was a very, very enjoyable outing and again, if you happen to be in Moscow, the Art Park is certainly a must.

Our evening ended at the Bugalkov house, where Ashley had been intending to go the entire time and where we had accidentally walked past our first night down town. Bulgalkov was famous for his underground novels, particularly The Master and Marguerita. The house is actually the supposed Devil's house in the novel, and currently concerts and things are held there as well. As you might have guessed, I don't really know much about it but Ashley was very excited and there were a couple really adorable cats around.

Finally, we returned to the hotel, grabbed our bags and set off for St. Petersburg. On the way back Jane and I stayed in a cabin with two very friendly Russian ladies, and slept pretty much the entire time, to emerge into a drizzly but somehow colorful St. Petersburg, and with about 8 hours to go before my flight to Berlin.