‘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.

Day Two: Visiting Lenin

On Sunday we woke up in Moscow with a full day ahead of us. We started it off very right, with a scrumptious breakfast at the hotel that was a buffet to end all buffets; it seems that they were trying to please every possible guest, and the selection was incredible. There was a whole table just for bread, and oh what wonderful bread it was! All fed, we set off by Metro to the Kremlin, to visit Lenin’s Mausoleum before meeting our guide for a tour. Or rather, we were meant to smoothly set off by Metro. I, on the other hand, managed to forget my wallet at the hotel (read: it dropped off my chair at breakfast and of course I didn’t look for it in my purse), so after coming to the realization that this had occurred, I ran from the Metro station to the hotel. After running to the buffet entrance, I frantically inquired in broken Russian and viola! There it was. I ran back much relieved, and managed to reach the group before they entered; understandably, since the line to get into the Mausoleum was rather long and I needn’t have worried nearly as much as I had.

The Lenin Mausoleum is a very, very creepy place. No bags are allowed inside without a thorough examination of their contents, so we checked all of ours for convenience’s sake. After passing the metal detector test, we were directed along the Kremlin wall, passing all the other memorials that lay at its base. Once at the entrance of the actual mausoleum, silent, stoic soldiers watch your every move and with stiff arm signals direct your path. After entering the floor almost immediately drops into stairs, which twist around as the lead downwards, into what looks like darkness since the entire passage is built of dark stone. The combination of dark, twisting corridor and stern military men is a sobering and intimidating one, and as I descended I thought to myself, ‘so this is where they lead tourists before they kill them’. Eventually, however, we reached the main chamber and there, raised high on a pedestal and glowing in the white light shining upon him, was Lenin.

Now, its debatable whether or not this is actually Lenin’s body; many in our group were convinced that it’s a fake, but to me that really isn’t the point. What really matters is that someone – read, Stalin – thought that keeping Lenin’s ‘body’ on view for the public was necessary. Against his own, his wife’s and even the Russian Orthodox Church’s wishes (although why they should care after he persecuted them for so long, I can’t imagine), ‘Lenin’ was placed there to send a message. The symbolism couldn’t be stronger, especially around the actual body. Lenin is raised up, untouchable, high enough that you must ascend steps to a walkway that goes around three sides of the coffin (display table?), while white light brings him into focus. The rest of the room is lit by some sort of red glow, which I believe emanates from the top of the coffin. Around the sides are mainly dark stone, but with a vivid red, jagged stripe running through it at about chest high when walking around. Lenin, preserved, and his dark, stone, sturdy and timeless monument are here to stay. The monument is almost the color of the Kremlin walks that back it, and seems to be at once hidden and obvious, a non-erasable addition to the Red Square. The lesson seems to go something like this 1) Lenin: saviour/saint, untouchable and the foundation of 2) Communism; here to stay.

Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but it was impressive, to say the least. Stalin’s grave is negligible by comparison, one of multiple graves of Communist leaders set behind the monument.

While waiting for our guide and with free time in the Red Square, Ashley and I took pictures with some Russian soldiers who, it seems, all spend a lot of time at Red Square on a Sunday. There were loads of them around, perhaps because, as soldiers, they don’t have to wait in line to get into the Mausoleum. I mean, what could possibly be better than visiting some old creepy dead guy on the weekend? If I didn’t have to wait in line, you bet that’s where I’d be.

We also heard singing and bells calling people to prayer from a nearby church, tolling over the square. It was a beautiful, almost heart-rending sound.

Once our guide arrived we headed to the inside of the Kremlin, past the point from which everything in Russia is measured (sort of like Greenwich, I guess?). Its supposed to be lucky to stand in the middle of the bronze engraved circle and throw money over your shoulder, and there’s a constant group standing around of eager throwers and even more eager old men and women who wait to reap the ruble-full bounty that is thrown away. It’s a sight.

The line to get into the Kremlin was long and there was drizzling rain to add further enjoyment to the scene, but it was worth it to get inside. The first stop was the Armory, where many of the treasures of the Russian Tsars are still held, including more fine English silver than inside England (theirs was melted in the Revolution; I think it attests to the respect in which the tsars’ power was held by the people that theirs survived). Needless to say, the building holds many interesting treasures, but to me one of the most interesting was the medieval Russian clothing. Not just because I like clothing and costuming, but mainly because it was so un-European. It really highlight how unlike Europe Russia was before Peter the Great; the garments are nearly identical for men and women, basically long capes that fasten in a very Asian fashion in front and have long, long sleeves that could be tied back. They were the opposite of form-fitting, and the contrast to the (coronation?) dress of Peter the Great’s wife, displayed opposite, was striking. In fact, the European fashion looked positively vulgar by comparison. Peter the Great really did achieve an entire overhaul of the culture, one that was previously deeply religious and conservative to something much more recognizable as European. Or, at least, he gave the old culture new trappings and called it changed.

We saw much more, but I won’t go into detail. I just have to recommend a visit to anyone who plans to be in Moscow.

Our next stop inside the Kremlin was to see two lovely churches, one of which was the traditional burying place of the tsars before the capital was moved to St. Petersburg and they began to be buried in the Cathedral in the Peter and Paul Fortress. I was very excited to see the grave of Ivan the Terrible (Thunderous!). In the other church, my friend pointed out to me an interesting aspect of the frescoes; in Orthodox churches, bad things are always depicted on the Western wall, while in the East is always the main part of the paintings which depict Jesus, the disciples, other Icons… the good. Not only an interesting fact, but as a result perhaps the easiest way to orient yourself cardinally would be step into a church.

Finally, we saw the bell that never rang, and the cannon that never fired. The bell is massive, and sadly cracked after a fire broke out in the forge around it and water had to be thrown on the bell to quench the blaze. The cannon was simply built (and by a master cannon-maker) with too short a length of shaft for the diameter of shot that was meant to go inside it, thus meaning that it would blow up if anyone ever tried to fire it. Not such a good thing.
On the way out of the Kremlin we passed the only Soviet, and ugliest, building. It was meant as a meeting place for the Communist party, and now sometimes holds party meeting but mainly serves as a venue for concerts, plays, etc.

After the Kremlin we had about an hour before our planned meeting to go to the Circus, so I wandered around and took pictures. At some point I will try and get some of them up. One thing that struck me as I was walking was how many images of St. George are scattered around Moskow. He is the patron saint of the city, and apparently is very popular in Russia as a whole; he also appears on the kopecks. Apparently he was an Orthodox saint before he was a Christian one, and the popular images of him depict his slaughter of the dragon, or evil. On a side note, the ‘Bronze Horseman – probably the most famous statue in St. Petersburg depicting Peter the Great – also shows a serpent, in this case Peter’s enemies, trampled under the hooves of the horse. Intentional resemblance? I think so.

The Circus was fantastic. I got to feel like I was 6 again, including the impulsive purchase of bright blue, fluffy, light-up bunny ears. Nearly everyone also bought the delicious doughnuts they had on sale, fried and then coated in powdered sugar, just like mother used to make (no, seriously, just like the ones my mom used to make, and nearly as delicious). It was an ‘international’ circus, so performers from all over were featured, including an incredible gymnastic team from Africa and Chinese acrobats. The worst part was the circus animals, whom I felt sorry for the entire time. Not that they looked terribly badly treated, just that they really ought to be out in the wild, not entertaining humans in a small, crowded tent. The most fantastic part was when the turned the theater tent into a cosmos, with only a few lasers and black lights shining off the performer’s costumes as light. Of course, the Russian performers got the loudest claps, and the circus finished with an act by a Russian woman dressed in white involving fountains and as I called it, the ‘rise of white Russia’ as she was drawn up above the water at the end, to twirl supple-y high above the crowd.

After the circus it was time to return to the hotel and do not much of anything but watch Russian TV, also known as badly dubbed American TV. We could have gone out, but an entire day of walking doesn’t really set one up for that. So ended day 2 in Moscow.

[Note: I feel like I’m rushing through things, but I need to get back to the present at some point. There’s so much to tell, and so little time!]

Moscow, Part II (made much better!)

I apologize for the appearance of that last post; I was interrupted in the middle of it when the keyboard stopped working. This is the corrected (and lengthened) version.

After the Kremlin we took the bus over to the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, the main church in Russia that was rebuilt in the 90’s after its earlier destruction by the Soviets. On one side of the church is a foot bridge that offers a fantastic view down the Moscow River towards the Kremlin on one side and towards the rest of Moscow on the other. One of the most ‘interesting’ sights that can be easily viewed from the bridge is a statue of Christopher Columbus masquerading as Peter the Great. It features a ship (Spanish galleon?) resting on ornamental waves, with a man dressed in late 15th/early 16th Spanish garments at its helm, gazing out sternly into the distance (and vastly disproportionate to the ship). It was built by the sculptor Z Tsereteli as a monument to Columbus, and hawked to various American cities in states. Unfortunately for him none of them wanted it, probably due to rather tasteless and ridiculous appearance, not to mention incredibly massive size. Tsereteli was not entirely unresourceful, and managed to sell it to Russia as a statue of Peter the Great- with just a different head. As our guide explained, although Saint Petersburg is probably where the statue could have gone, it was too ugly for the city; so it stands in Moscow as monument to Peter the Great’s founding of the Russian Navy. An interesting statue, especially when you consider that Peter the Great hated Moscow; the statue was intended to celebrate a man who discovered the land that would later become Russia’s enemy; and that historically, the statue’s appearance (hair, clothes etc.) is about two centuries off.
On a side note, Peter the Great’s founding of the Navy is a pretty amazing story; apparently he went to Norway (or Sweden?) and, posing as a common carpenter, was taught how to build ships. He returned to Russia with the knowledge, and viola! An impressively un-orthodox way to go about it.

The Cathedral of Christ the Savior has its own interesting story. Before it was rebuilt with a church, the area that the church stands on was intended to be the ‘Palace of the Soviets’, a skyscraper topped by a gigantic Lenin. I am not kidding. This giant Lenin was intended to contain a movie theater in his out-stretched arm, searchlights in his eyes and a library in his brain. Before construction stopped – I believe due to WWII – they even had a ‘Committee of Citizens for the Design of Lenin’s Arm’ or some other title specifically to design the aforementioned arm. Underneath the church there are archives of both religious and Soviet materials, including the plans for this skyscraper. It looked pretty… arresting on paper.
Then came the nunnery and cemetery.

The Novodevichy Convent is an old convent on what used to be the outskirts of the city. It contains many interesting buildings from various time periods, including one I found particularly interesting because it was built in the 'Moscow Baroque' style; trust Moscow to have its own version of Baroque, and a very pretty one too. The Convent also happens to be were the sister of Peter the Great spent her days after (I believe) a falied coup. To punish her he had the rotting carcass of one of the conspirators hung outside her window, where the stench and the sight haunted her for months. Pleasant. Next to the convent is an old cemetery divided into two parts. The older part contains many old famous artists\musicians\intellectuals graves, including that of Chekhov(!). The second part was the official Soviet cemetery, and contains many important Soviets. The great thing about the Soviet side was that the monuments on each grave were actually very interesting and often beautiful; instead of being standard gravestones they were designed to show the specialty of the graves occupant. For example, one featured a mathematical equation; another, airplanes. They were really surprisingly innovative, although the stern (Soviet on the portraits was a theme throughout.

Finally, we visited the Moscow Viewing Platform, situated on the largest hill in the city and from which you can see just about everything (if you have binoculars or eagle eyes). This includes the Olympic stadium built back in 1960 (?) for the Olympics that were held in Moscow, and in which the USA among other countries did not participate for political reasons. You can also see six of the ‘Seven Sisters’, maybe all depending on the weather. The one you can see the most clearly is part of Moscow University, and it stands right behind viewing platform. From what I could see of it, the campus must be beautiful. What was perhaps the most surprising part of the viewing platform was simply the vast amount of trees that was visible throughout the city, in parks but also just between buildings. Moscow is a delightfully forested city, it seems, particularly as fall was not quite finished.
On our way back to the hotel, we got caught in a ridiculous amount of traffic. A drive that was meant to take only about 40 minutes took something like two hours, and so we missed out on the planned excursion to the Tretyakov Gallery, which contains Russian Art from the 11th to 20th centuries. At the time I did not realize how unfortunate this was; the gallery is meant to be quite a trip, and in Saint-Petersburg its difficult to find art more modern than the 18th century. C’est la vie! Besides, it proved that traffic does in fact exist in Russia, and the reason we missed out was not so much the driving as it was that once at the hotel check-in took minutes, and registration took two hours. In Russia, if you aren’t a Russian and plan to stay three days or more you must register with the authorities; most hotels will take care of this for you, but it takes time and you can’t safely go out without doing so, or rather without the resulting paperwork. After two hours at the hotel it was getting dark, so options were limited. Two friends and I decided to take advantage of the proximity of the hotel to the metro, so after grabbing dinner at the local Teremok (Russian fast food, mainly blinis but they do a mean salmon soup) we headed downtown.

Into real, live Moscow on a Saturday night. Moscow feels different from Saint Petersburg, mainly younger, shinier, richer. More alive in some respects, and buzzing in a very NYC-sort of way. The thing with Moscow is that as the most expensive city in the world, the only people who can really afford to go out are pretty wealthy. If you’re part of the masses, most of your income gets eaten up by rent, food and transportation because you probably live quite far outside the center. Thus, on our walk we found ourselves in the most beautiful and possibly most expensive grocery store that I have ever been to in my life, right on tverskaya ylitsa, one of Moscow’s main streets. As we were walking by we didn’t even suspect that it was a grocery store, the insides were so lush. Upon a second viewing and entry, it was in fact full of food, but also full of lavish Baroque decoration, well-dressed clientele trying to decide what brand of caviar to buy, and chandeliers. Impressive indeed. While looking around Ashley believed that she heard a conversation between two Mafia men, who were casually examining fruit while talking in English about how one of them should ‘not worry, we have a place for you’. When they looked at her curiously she quickly quit the area. So we bought chocolate from their vast selection, and left. We didn’t have to pay for bags, either; when you’re rich, they come free.

[Side Note: On the chocolate front I can report that ‘rysskii shokolad’ does some sort of weird air-bubble thing with most of their chocolate and it is not tasty, although I suspect that their 87% would be excellent for baking. ‘babaevskii’ chocolate, on the other hand, does a very nice 75%, and ‘red october’ is truly a tasty brand despite a lack of dark chocolate offerings. I will continue to explore.]

We didn’t wander around for too long in the downtown; Moscow is, as I’d heard, colder than SP and it was a decently bitter night. In fact, the day after we left (the 14th of October) is a holiday in Moscow called the Day of Our Lady of Assumption – I believe - and traditionally the first snow fall is expected before or on that day. Last winter it was much later, and this winter it’s late as well. ‘That’s global warming’, as our guide said. In Russia no one seems to refute that it’s happening, while simultaneously not doing anything about it. In America we seem to have to still fight to convince people, but some people are at least trying to do something, at least recycle.
Anyway, the downtown was bright and stylish and expensive, all the things you would expect it to be. The ride back to the hotel was fast, and before we knew it we were safely back, hitting the hay early to be ready for another full day of the Russian capitol.

[on a complete and utter sidenote that I completely forgot to write about at the time, a few weekends ago the first GBLT film festival in Russia was scheduled to be held in St. Petersbrg. The venues, however, were shut down by the police, although no-one was arrested, and the festival went on in secret. This does not point towards a high level of tolerance, but at least there was no violence. Oh, Russia.]

Moscow, Part I

Moscow was an experience, and I'm not going to even try to explain it all in one go, but here's the first section; starting, of course, with the night train.

On friday night we set off from St. Petersburg on a midnight train, aiming for Moscow. Our sleepers were at the end of the train from the platform, so our trip began with a long, long walk through the drizzle; thank you, S.P. On the train many were understandably exited; not many Americans had taken trains before, certainly not sleeper trains and this one was nice. Much better than Spain, with all sorts of neat little tricks, like the compartment right next to your head for- I assume- storing valuables on the way. Just like the train featured in my textbook, the conductors offer both tea and coffee aboard, the tea served in massive 'stakan's, large cups with mug-like handles. Eventually everyone calmed down and slept, after some conversation about the economy for some reason (probably because its rather worrying, and Iceland is currently sinking rapidly, like the Titanic, no lifeboats in sight).
After a night of sound sleep under a very comfortable cover, lured to sleep by the rocking of the train, we were awakened by an awful choice of some sort of bad American pop music at 7am. They left this lovely selection on until the train arrived, I assume as some sort of attempt to gently wake their passengers and keep them awake. It worked, unfortunately.

Moscow. We arrived at the 'Leningrad' station (a jab at St. Petersburg, putting them in their place with an old name they chose themselves to change?), a stunning building, like all the stations in Moscow it seems. Perhaps Lenin and Stalin saw efficient mass transport as the ultimate sign of industrialization, because all the train stations and particularly the Metro ones are stunning. But I'll get to that later. The square with the train station also contains the 'Kazakstan' station and one of Stalin's 'Seven Sisters', skyscrapers with various functions that tower among the Moscow skyline, eye-catching for both their height and elegant, ornate design. There were meant to be 8, built to celebrate 800 years of Moscow (the first reference to the city dates to 1147), but only seven were completed during Stalin's lifetime. An eighth, more modern one, is currently being built. The one by the station is in fact a hotel. We boarded our tour bus and went off to Breakfast, nothing to write home about. And then our tour began.
Our tour guide was, for the first time, a man, and it was actually quite nice. He had a very, very pleasant voice and looked strangely British. The first place we went was, of course, the Red Square, and on the drive we drove by the ex-KGB (currently occupied by its sort-of successor) building and down a row of churches whose proximity to the Red Square is at odds with the destruction in the Soviet era of so much of the Orthodox Church. The Red Square is actually smaller than I thought it would be, and not very square, more rectangular. We came from the St. Basil's cathedral side into the square, with the Kremlin and Lenin Mausoleum on the left and Gym ('goom'), a very up-market department store built on a historical marketplace, on the right. Straight ahead sat the 'Resurrection' gate and the Museum of Russian History. We only stopped briefly, getting a short overview of the history of the Red Square from the guide while watching the intermittent sun place over the surrounding buildings and square, most of them red. Also, realizing that Moscow is, in fact, colder than St. Peterburg, especially when you're just standing around.
(note: 'St. Basil's Cathedral is not actually only a church to St. Basil; most of it is actually other churches -seven in all, I believe- the original one, the Church of our Lady Of Assumption, having been built by Ivan the Terrible (in Russian Ivan the Thunderous) in thanks for a victory over the Poles, I believe).

Lunch time in Berlin! More later; this is about 10 am the first day.

(I apologize for any and all typos; I'm using a German keyboard, and you never realize how popular the letters 'z' and 'y' are until they're switched. Among other things.)

This Russian Life

Fall is… dampening. The colors, while still bright, are becoming more muted- I think they might be falling off the trees and draining into the ground along with the intermittent rain. The weather is still mostly beautiful, though, rain mainly at night and beautifully sunny during the day, although colder. I think my favorite part of the day is walking home when its ‘golden hour’ as my father would say, and all the colors on the trees look especially glorious, while even the plainest buildings are shown off in warm tones. It makes me so glad that I live in a residential district instead of downtown; it feels real to live out here, surrounded by real people going home, and there are many more trees. I think my walks home might be one of the best parts of my day.
A plus side to the small amount of rain that we’ve been getting is the puddles. There’s a lot that seems magical about reflections, a small fragment of a larger world contained within the puddle’s edges. Especially, again, at golden hour, when the puddles make jeweled tones shine up from the pavement to mirror the surroundings.

I am truly, truly glad that I’m living in a homestay. The benefits to my Russian are obvious; I can’t speak well, and I don’t understand everything that is said, but I’ve realized that my comprehension is better than people in my class who chose to stay in the dorms. More importantly than the language, though, is that I adore my host mother, who had people over for her daughter’s birthday today and as soon as I came in the door I was immediately taken into the kitchen and fed. A lot. Then again, the feeding is pretty standard, but I was made to feel welcome, even though of course I am not an actual member of their family, and that means a lot. Tanya is more generous than she has to be, and I really appreciate it. Additionally, while I was staying in the dorm I felt like I was seeing Russia through a big, protective and isolating bubble. It was probably a little warmer and safer, but sanitized and a little fake. Now I am living more of ‘la vida ‘Russian’’, and I love it. After all, this is what Anthropology is about.

Tanya’s also amazing because, as a tour guide, she got my friend and I a free tour through the water ways of Saint Petersburg on Tuesday. Tanya led the tour, and I realized while she was talking about the city that perhaps that’s why her Russian is so clear; as a tour guide, clarity is essential, and she has a lovely voice. It was also a completely gorgeous day for it; we started off on one side of the Neva at the Peter and Paul Fortress, then crossed over and entered the canals that run through the city. Jane and I were sitting on the top of the boat, and we at times feared for our lives as the boat passed under low bridge after low bridge, coming terrifying close to knocking our heads off our necks. But the driver had his job for a reason and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such skillful boat maneuvering. Even though the tour was only an hour long, I saw parts of city that I hadn’t before. And even the parts that I had, its really a different view. I got to see the undersides of bridges, and the stones that make up the embankments; the water of the canals churned up, empty- or full- places to moor boats, people gazing down from bridges. The boat tour was really one of the best things I’ve done in S.P., getting a view of the city from –literally- another angle, from under rather than through. Even if the weather hadn’t been completely perfect, it would have still been magical; I think some of the buildings must have been designed with a water tour in mind, the was they majestically line the embankments, their paint simultaneously coloring the water and the facades themselves. Their arresting presence is really best felt by being in the middle of the two sides, and thus of course in the middle of the canals. It was simply fantastic, and it was also in Russian, which meant that anything of what Tanya was saying about the city that I understood (not a lot, but some) was vastly more satisfying.

Other than the boat tour and subsequent walk around the downtown, I haven’t been terribly active this last couple of days. I spent some time enjoying the solitude of my room before my roommate came back late last night from Japan, where she was attending her cousin’s wedding. I realized last week that I hadn’t been along for a significant amount of time for probably months, certainly since before leaving Berkeley, and it was quite refreshing. I’ve been doing a little bit of drawing, which is in no way artistically brilliant but makes a nice change from the normal reading/studying/talking, because its just looking and then attempting to put on paper what I see, which is relaxing.

Today we went to the ‘gypsy’ market near Sennaya Ploshad, which is fairly illegal I think, and which the city is apparently trying to either clean up or shut down, but which got its original license from Peter the Great or some similar historical and famous figure and is thus hard to remove. One of the charms of so old a city, really, and a capitol at that. One of the wonderful things about S.P. is its history, and its residents appreciate that as well. There’s a new building going up downtown that will – according to one of my professors – ruin the ancient skyline of the city, and people are not happy. I’m not particularly impressed either; the graceful façade lining the embankment of the Neva will not be complimented by a metal and glass behemoth towering behind it.

But I digress. At the gypsy market I discovered that my feet happen to just be too large for this country. Every shoe that I like they didn’t happen to have in my size; discouraging, to say the least. I really would love a pair truly Russian, shiny pleather shoes. I’ve come to the conclusion that Russian women judge you by your foot wear, and mine come up short. Luckily, we ended the afternoon at the two second-hand stores near my house and with some successes. One of these is quite like stores back home, clothes neatly hung and complete with 80’s tragedies waiting to be loved again. The other has clothes piled on tables and priced by type, and is really probably the better of the two. Of course, I would write about second hand stores in other countries. And enjoy it.

In two days we leave for Moscow, and then our break begins. I’m getting more and more excited to see an older, windier, probably stranger city than S. P. I’m also very intrigued to see how Moscow compares; it seems that generally you love one or the other, not both. Then its off to Berlin, with my friends Will and Brandon who decided to join me at the last moment so that I wouldn’t have to enjoy German beer and bratwurst all alone. I’m very excited.

Ah, the good times!

I am currently sitting in the window of my room in the homestay, facing the street and Russia in all its beautiful, sunny glory. The wonderful weather has been on and off, but today is probably the most gorgeous day we’ve had, not a cloud in the sky. Stunning.

 The last couple of days have been fairly eventful, actually. Thursday we went to the ‘Museum of Erotica’ which actually is within a functioning sexual diseases/obsessions (not too sure what exactly, the signs were in Russian), and its not so much a museum as displays set up of erotic collectibles, etc. which are in the halls of the clinic. While you are viewing said collection, nurses and doctors are walking through the same halls, and a patient was sitting on a couch watching a TV. It was all very, very bizarre. The highlight of this museum is the preserved penis of Rasputin, stored in the attic of one of his devotees until quite recently. Despite his outstandingly disreputable lifestyle, apparently the organ does not show any signs of STDs, pointing  to either 1) it not in fact belonging to the ‘mad monk’ or 2) his miraculous ability to aid Alexis’ haemophilia was not his only healing talent. The whole experience was rather bizarre, but at least we got to wear the attractive blue plastic bootees over our shoes of which Russians seem to be so fond; any clinic or palace with a delicate floor, and our they come. Probably a good idea, but regardless they’re very amusing and give you pointy elf toes.

 Friday I went to go see Othello in Russian with two friends. We nearly didn’t make it since my sense of where the theater was located was rather off, but it seems that at least at that theater starting ten minutes late isn’t abnormal, luckily for us. Having previously studied Othello in English, I at least knew the plot, and I thought it was really quite fabulous. Whether this proves that Shakespeare is good in any language or just that my love for the play manages to transcend the language barrier I’m not sure, but it really was very, very enjoyable. It was put on the ‘Modern Theater’, so there were some rather surprising dance interludes, and the music choices seemed very, very Russian to me for some reason. It was surprising, but actually quite effective, and I think I might well return to the theater; the ticket was only $6, after all, and apparently since the season is starting ticket prices are quite good since there are so many theaters in Saint Petersburg. Ideally, I will go to most of them while I’m here, especially as I feel like theater can always be good even if you don’t understand the language. In fact, that’s probably the sign of truly amazing acting. Unfortunately, Othello also made me miss theater terribly; I wish there was some way I could act while I’m here.

 The night finished up with meeting an entourage of Russian boys whom Ashley had somehow picked up; one of them, who had lived in Wisconsin, informed me that while Ashley and I were both good-looking, on average American girls weren’t compared to their Russian counterparts. I sort of have to agree, although it’s a very different look; but I should have told him it’s the same way with Russian boys, but in reverse (I mean really, the mullet?).

 Saturday we excursion-ed to Pavlovsk, to the summer palace built for Paul I (son of Catherine the Great). The palace really was astonishingly beautiful, built in what I would describe as a combination of Classical and Russian styles, but the real treat was the surrounding grounds. The park is absolutely huge, and quite wild in many parts, but with touches of landscaping, like a round tower by a bridge or statues placed at intervals. The park is in a ‘hilly’ part of this area, which means not flat- on the way to Pavlovsk the guide pointed out how the land rose into a ‘hill’ and, I kid you not, we all had to look twice to figure out that she meant a slight rise to our right. To anyone who has ever lived even remotely near hilly or mountainous country, it was a joke. Either way, the Pavlovsk grounds are hilly enough to be charming, and with a few streams and rivers winding through, criss-crossed with beautiful bridges and reflecting the surroundings. And of course, its still fall. Fall just continues to take my breath away, and Pavlovsk is the probably the place that shows it off the best. I can’t even begin to describe the colors, and since most of the trees are rather thin (lots of birches) you can see quite far through the trees, so many colors come out at once. Just watching the yellow leaves filter down through the branches to the forest floor is stunning, the way they float around the surrounding trees and slowly down. I really can’t describe it. I keep saying that, but I think it might just be impossible.

 I really love that Russian gardens are less landscaped than others in Europe; they might be planned, and there are some flower plots, but the trees are allowed to flourish and its just lovely.

 We also had a blast acting stereotypically Russian, gathering select leaves, posing with them for photos…  enjoying the fall, which Russians know how to do. Probably nature generally, really. Ashley even found a leaf crown, which apparently are made just like the daisy chains my mother taught we how to make, just with leaves. All in all it was a wonderful, wonderful way to spend the day. 

 Saturday night, we went out and saw a Surf Rock band. A Russian one. Which was almost creepy because listening to the music, and looking around, I could almost imagine that I was in Wellington, or San Francisco, doing exactly the same thing. The music (no singing) was accompanied by crazy 60’s and 70’s movie clips played behind them, like Frankenstein. It was awesome, a true spectacle. For some reason Russians left a huge gap in front of the stage, which Ashley and I took advantage of to dance in, despite possibly disgruntled murmurs behind us. I would do the same thing at home, perhaps proving that I’m always that annoying person who dances more emphatically than most. It really was a great, very entertaining show, and I now have a 10 ruble note signed by their incredibly good-looking and awesome woman bassist, at whose feet a man laid red roses during the show- reminding me that perhaps I was in Russia, after all.

 Unfortunately, fall seems to be winding down; out the window I can see trees that are nearly all bare. And I think it might be getting a little cold for mushrooms though, as I’m seeing less baskets filled with them around. So I’m going to go out and enjoy the weather; and next weekend its off to Moscow, then Berlin!

You know you're in Russia when...

There are cats everywhere, no one recycles anything, people don’t smile for no reason/you don’t have to be happy, calling someone just the word for ‘girl’ isn’t an insult, sweet things, flowers and shoes take great precedence, public transportation is rampant and small children take it by themselves, tea is just as or more popular than coffee, there are blini stands instead of pizza places, there are riot police at hockey games….

So, that last one. At the hockey game we went to – the Petersburg Spartans (or ‘CKA’ pronounced like ‘ska’ which I think is great) against the Moscow team - the Moscow section/fans were surrounded by riot police. Just, you know, in case things got nasty. It was actually a fairly calm game, although it did get more aggressive towards the end, and there was a fair bit of shouting. Beforehand they played the Russian national anthem, which was something to hear, along with a fantastic video featuring various aspects of Russia. Hockey is a much more interesting game than I ever thought, very smooth and fast and a little terrifying given the tendency to pass the puck behind the goal and then into play. I can also report that hot dogs in Russia are very similar to hot dogs back home, although I suppose I’m not in the best position to judge. I didn’t expect to at all, but I really really enjoyed hockey- and the Spartans won, which made the vast majority happy. Unfortunately, that same night the beloved St. Petersburg soccer team ‘Zenit’ (previously first in Europe and truly prized by the city) lost their game, against who I’m not sure. They beat Manchester United a few weeks ago, though.

And about the cats. I think the divorce rate in Russia is something like 60 or 70 percent, which is really rather high. But if Russians can’t love each other enough, they certainly do love their animals. Not only are there cats draped all over the Hermitage (or all place, a national museum? Really?), but they feed pigeons and let their dogs wander around without leashes on. It really is all about the cats, though. One of our professors works at the German embassy, and apparently when applying for a German visa you must list the things ‘of value’ that you leave behind (e.g. family, job….). And in many cases, in the first spot comes ‘cat’. Before ‘spouse’ or ‘apartment’. In addition, they were advertising in the paper a desk that comes with a built-in sleeping shelf for your cat, right next to the keyboard. No more moving the cat when you need to type!

I think cats and children get the most love here. And sweet things. Russians are all about the sweets; I think half of every supermarket is dedicated to them. And to answer inquiries about the chocolate, it is really quite good; even the one dollar chocolate bars have real cocoa butter and solids. So far I’ve tried three; ‘creepy baby chocolate’, so named because of the picture on the front (guess what it depicts), the ‘pyckuu’ (Russian) dark chocolate, and ‘letnii sad’ (summer garden) chocolate, which is produced in Saint Petersburg and is a 54% dark (or ‘bitter’) chocolate. The last was probably the best, and I want to try the company’s other varieties, especially if they have a darker one. As to ‘red october’ chocolate that I’ve heard about, apparently it is produced in Moscow so perhaps while I’m there I will sample it. Actually, I most certainly will since I haven’t seen it here. And besides, it might be the only thing that I can afford in the most expensive city in the world.

I went to volunteer at the Hermitage again on Tuesday night, this time to watch ‘Giselle’, which is really a rather ridiculous story because 1) a girl dies of grief because her lover was married and only pretended to be a peasant but was a prince and then 2) SAVES HIM FROM EVIL SPIRITS while letting her spurned lover die and so finds salvation. Moral? If you’re a man who is unfaithful and seduces some poor girl on false pretences you’ll be fine in the end. If you’re the poor girl, you’re dead. Make sense? Well, it is French.

The dancing of the main ballerina was fantastic, but overall it didn’t quite match up to ‘Swan Lake’, even ‘Swan Lake’ with the fake happy ending apparently invented by the Marhinsky theater (the main ballet in Petersburg). It was still stunning, of course.

And I am now living with my host family, and it is pretty dang sweet. Kiril still doesn’t talk much, but Tanya is amazing and has been making all sorts of delicious fall things, like apple and ‘cowberry’ (aka red bilberries? Never heard of them before, but they grow all around here) compote, apple ‘jam’ and blackcurrant syrup like you can buy in New Zealand. It is all very exciting. Tonight I had dinner here for the first time and ate soup, salad and lamb ‘plof’, the first time I’ve had lamb in probably 8 years. I’m not really thinking about it. I’m also a little worried that I’ve run out of things to talk about with Tanya, since my vocabulary is so limited, and I get very flustered trying to talk Russian. I really am not very good, but what to do? I think I was feeling optimistic because I realized that I knew more than I thought, but now I’ve realized that I know much less than I’d like. So the optimism has vanished, to be replaced mostly with frustration and a desire to become instantly good at Russian. Looks like I’ll just study a lot instead.

In other news, I spent three and a half hours walking around the city today with a friend. Parts are starting to be familiar to me, which is an amazing feeling. And while walking I love watching the leaves fall through the wind; its like bits of gold scatter and flutter. Of course, in St. Petersburg there could well be gold leaf in the air...

And I’ve been here for a full month as of yesterday.