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.