Preschool Work Day

After staying up too late last night blogging in excruciating detail, getting up this morning was difficult. The pace of everything has been so quick since we arrived, and particularly after Moscow I think everyone in our group is feeling pretty drained.

This morning, like usual, Lena and I had a Russian lesson. We briefly reviewed some words and phrases--she actually cheated and started quizzing me while we were still on the bus, asking me to name hard Russian numbers!--before she challenged me to write an introduction about myself in Russian. I know words, not so much grammar, and my spelling is atrocious--as I've mentioned before, during this short-term trip, if I want to remember stuff, I have to be able to visualize it, and I don't want to waste any time, so I'm just visualizing things phonetically rather than how they're actually written in Russian. She wrote her own page-and-a-half introduction about herself in English, which was really good and witty...maybe I'll share it later...(GLEB!)

Also, maybe I'll share a picture of mine later, so anyone familiar with Russian can laugh. Apparently I made up some words, though she said one word was Polish (points for crossing into another language?), and unsurprisingly my spelling was not so good. It's hard to say what the stupidest thing I wrote was, because it was all pretty lame and basic and random, according to what words/phrases popped into my head at the moment, but I did make a cultural reference to a song about Putin, which I think I've mentioned in a previous post (if not, I surely will in the future), so that also won me some points back. Overall, Lena gave me a 5- which is equivalent to an A-. We aren't actually getting grades--and we were having a lot of fun, especially Lena!--but I think I did pretty well for only having two weeks of Russian under my belt. I was actually surprised that I was able to write so much, to remember so many words, and to remember the letters I needed to form the words--even if I did make up a letter or two of my own along the way. :P

Following the lesson, it was tea time, and then we had a lecture given to us by two Russian girls who study English at Vladimir State University with Aleksey Leovich. They talked about Russian phrases and homophones, words that sound the same but have different meanings and often altered spellings. For example, one phrase is dangerous because, depending on how you say it, you're either conveying, "We can be on a first-name basis now," or, "We're married"!

The group then went to lunch, though Abby frantically took the bus back home because she was afraid she'd left her hair curler plugged in and wanted to make sure she hadn't burnt down her host's apartment. While she panicked, we ate a typical, three-course "business lunch." The salad* was really good; the soup was good; the main dish was ok, but it was fish, which I don't care for. Also, it's a joke amongst Russians that Americans can't handle eating the fish here because fish is served with the bones. Considering Kevin literally gave up eating and admitted defeat after one big, bone-filled bite--and Mack, too, after not too long--this seems like an accurate assessment. Lilly, the debutante (for-real) of the group, managed to eat her fish with no problems. But after we left, David told us that the woman working in the restaurant had been staring out from the kitchen door, watching and smirking while Kevin and Mack struggled to eat bone-in fish. Apparently, it's yet another one of the many arts and sciences of daily Russian life.

As we finished working at the dog shelter yesterday, today we had a new project at a local kindergarten/preschool. Allergy-ridden Kevin didn't tag along, but went home to sleep it off instead. While at the preschool, we painted a bunch of things out on the playground, and at one point a class of kiddos came out to play, so it was fun to see them running around and to listen to them speaking Russian a million times better than us. ;)

I then got recruited, along with Mack, to go inside and work with some girls who are students at the local art institute, who were drawing and painting murals inside one of the school rooms. The girls were so sweet, and despite the language barrier we had really good conversations. One girl said I spoke really good Russian; I'd only really introduced myself--which is about all I can do--but I'll take the compliment! :P

As it turns out, the girls are studying to be art restorers--professionals who have the great honor and responsibility of caring for and repairing the centuries'-old art found around town, including the delicate iconography for which Russian churches are so famous. So, they are really talented, and it was an honor just working with them, knowing what they'll go on to do. Because I wrote icons for a couple years during high school, I have profound respect especially for that part of their training and work, and I can't imagine having the skill to do that kind of stuff. Really neat! Also, really cool because that's not a course of study that I've ever heard of or met someone from in the US.

Following this, during which time I was painting in yellow stars drawn on the wall, we all stopped working and rejoined the other members of the Vandy group to have tea, compote, and sweets and to get to know each other. We were all kind of quiet and shy, but we eventually started talking and laughing, and it was so much fun! One of the women who works at the preschool took a video of our interactions, and then of Lilly and Abby each playing a little something on the piano. Aleksey Leovich had me read my introduction that I'd written in Russian earlier today with Lena, and--just as Lena had done--one of the Russian girls took a picture of my writing, because she found it entertaining. I got a lot of laughs, some intended, some definitely not intended but not altogether unexpected, given my poor Russian. :P

We were presented with a certificate for our work and contributions there, which was a surprise, because we only worked for a couple hours and hadn't done a great deal. The women were very grateful for whatever help we provided them, though, and then Abby and I presented some gifts from America to one of the women for the children and teachers of the preschool. Abby brought some mini Beanie Babies, and I gave some postcards of Nashville (representative both of my hometown and of our Vanderbilt group) and some homemade candy sticks I picked up from Cracker Barrel before I left. One of the women got this on video. I don't think any of us quite understands how or why, because we feel we haven't really done much work at all. To us, it's nothing, but to the locals we've been helping, apparently, it's been a big deal. Even though it's hard to fight the feeling that, "All we did was X; we could have done more!" the gratitude and warmth with which our work has been met has been really humbling and rewarding. Maybe a little bit really can go a long way.

Tired and headachy from inhaling paint fumes all afternoon, we went to Mack's host family's house, where we watched Mamma Mia! in English and then ate a tasty dinner cooked for us by Mack's host mom, Tatiana. After dinner, the group went to meet up with Mack's host brother, Anton, to go bowling, but I was too tired, so I called it a night, came home, had some tea, and took a shower, though I'm still splattered with blue and yellow paint. Bedtime!

The Two-Week Mark

It's weird to think that, two weeks from now, our group will have disbanded, our adventure together having come to an end and all of us having gone our separate ways until late-August.

Because there are only six of us, professor David included, we know each other pretty well by now, and it's just a fact of life that we probably get on each others' nerves from time to time. We've really got a great group, and I'm going to miss these guys as much as I'll miss the town of Vladimir and everything in it!

Speaking of the group, I have to mention something here that I told my friends I would. You see, we take turns having "on" and "off" days, though most of us are usually "on," which is a good thing.

Our first work day, now a couple weeks back, saw three casualties: First, when we were putting our trays away at the school where we had lunch and talked to some middle-schoolers, Mack knocked over the trash bucket containing all the leftover noodles, soup, juice, and other assorted food remnants that people had scraped off their plates--pretty nasty. Second, during tea time after we had finished our tasks at the Association for the Parents of Handicapped Children, my face randomly started bleeding profusely, I think because I accidentally scratched a bug bite I got while we were gardening. Finally, just a few minutes later, Kevin knocked over his cup, pouring hot water all over his pants and making it look like he'd wet himself. Somewhere, David has a picture of the three of us--Mack, me, and Kevin--standing together, representing the three snafus of Day 1. For the three of us, Day 1 was an "off" day.

At the banya, stuff happened, and we'll just say Abby had an "off" day.

In Moscow, the otherwise-perfect Lilly made her first mistake: tripping and falling whilst going down the stairs at the train station. She proceeded to make two other mistakes: leaving her cell phone at the hostel after we'd checked out and gone to catch the train back to Vladimir...and something else I can't remember, but which was noteworthy because Lilly's the one who always remains unscathed while the rest of us mess up. :P

Kevin...It really hasn't been Kevin's day for a few days, as he's borne the brunt of our group's allergy-suffering from the ridiculous amount of pollen in Moscow. Also, he's got a bunch of blisters from walking and other stuff, so the poor guy's kind of a mess right now. OH! And he's the one who ate a cold mix of sour cream/cottage cheese, thinking it was going to be vanilla ice cream. Ok, enough bashing Kevin.

Today was my turn to have it be not-my-day. (Also, Mack overslept and was late to class, so he deserves a mention for it not being his day, either.)

My morning lesson with Lena was disrupted by the presence of the biggest bee I've ever seen in my life. It was some kind of mutant (or maybe just Russian?), the size of three normal bees combined.

We had decided to sit outside, since the weather was so nice and I honestly just wanted to feel a little freer, less confined, less forced into activity. So, we slowed down the pace, did some dialogues, and worked on vocab and phrases. I just didn't want someone to come up and ask what we were working on, or if I had already learned X, because Lena is doing a fine job, and I'm satisfied with the pace at which I'm learning. It's a difficult language, with difficult pronunciation rules for even the seemingly-simplest of words, and I don't care about learning via traditional textbook methods; I just want to get by as best I can while I'm here. Plus, I'm not getting graded on my progress, so I'm welcoming this freedom to experiment with a language. I know I'm perpetually messing up, but it's fun to just try without worrying or being self-critical that "I had a test on this; I should remember it!" Additionally, from an etymological standpoint it's interesting. Every word that I don't know in Russian is a challenge to pull together all my linguistic knowledge and to try to approximate the word in Russian.

For example, trying to figure out the word "day":

In English, day. In German, Tag. In Latin, dies. In Spanish, día. In Polish, dzień. Sasha, a woman who works in my dorm back at Vanderbilt, taught me to say "good day" in Serbo-Croatian, and the word for day was dan. As it turns out, the word in Russian is день ("dyehn"), which makes sense, as Russian, like Polish and Serbo-Croatian, is a Slavic language.

Or for a more specific word like apple, I know that Russian's Slavic cousin Polish uses the word jabłko, which is close enough to the actual Russian word, яблоко (yahblakah), that I can get by pronouncing it the Polish way, which is already familiar to me and committed to memory.

ANYWAY, the mutant bee invasion was one problem today. Also, my purse got eaten up, shredded, and spit back out by the security scanner at the train station back in Vladimir en route to Moscow; that casualty carried over to today, when it was deemed an actual fatality and when it was clear there was no hope of reviving it or use, therefore, in keeping it.

After our lesson, we went to lunch at a place called Café Solyanka (named for this traditional soup dish), where I had the best borsch, called "Moscow-style," so far in Russia. We then headed out one last time to work at the dog shelter, where the guys did stuff involving wood, saws, hammers, etc., and we girls socialized the puppies--who are now so much bigger!--in between painting a wooden fence. It was really hot outside, no one had sunblock, and I was still sunburned from Moscow--I didn't expect to be in the sun as much as we were. (It was really the riverboat that did it.) So, as I was crisping in the late afternoon sun, we tried to move a big, heavy, unwieldy iron plate on the ground that the fence was laying on top of so we could more easily paint. Unfortunately, it fell and did a pretty good job of crushing my left middle finger. By this point, I was already splattered with blue paint, and so I expect my finger to be literally black and blue come tomorrow morning. Hopefully, I'll be able to feel the tip of my finger by tomorrow, too....

We had homemade blini, brought to us by one of the women at the dog shelter, again with delicious, fresh apricot marmalade. We took some pictures as a group, kissed the doggies good-bye, and boarded a bus back to our respective host families. Also, before leaving, Abby, Lilly, and I signed the doghouses we'd previously painted: "With love from America." :)

(One last note about working at the dog shelter: met X, had a great conversation; her English was about the same level as "our" combined Russian; made my first joke in Russian! "Do you have a boyfriend?" "No." "Why not?" "Мне нужно 'Такого, как Путин'!" "So, bald?" ... turns out she--like many young Russians--didn't know the song, but Abby and Lilly got the joke, which was satisfaction enough.)

The bus ride itself was interesting; I got stuck between two drunk guys. One guy was standing, since the bus was so crowded, and I was afraid I was going to have to grab him when--not if--he fell over. I think something was wrong with the other guy, as the lady on the bus who collects money and hands out tickets seemed to recognize him, and then they started yelling at each other with me in the middle. Also, we passed two different scenes of [minor] car wrecks, and a trolley and a car almost collided because the traffic was so bad. When I finally got off the struggle bus, I crossed the street, got home, ate dinner, took a shower so I no longer smelled like wet dog, and then pretty much turned right back around to meet my group at 19:20 on a street corner, as we would be visiting the town's blacksmith shop.

Honestly, I expected this to be boring. We were told we'd each get to make a nail to bring home as a souvenir. Woo-hoo, a nail! But actually, this was one of the funnest evenings in recent memory, as the blacksmith himself was a cute, super bubbly guy--described by David as a "short little ball of energy"--who was hilarious. Aleksey's shop is incredible and is filled with his works from top to bottom. He explained that it's a family business; he was his father's apprentice from the age of 5 and eventually took over after his father died. He's also a new dad to a one-month-old baby boy, whom he said he hopes to one day train in the art of smithing, too, and if he had a daughter he'd train her, too, he said. He told us a lot of really interesting stuff that I never would've thought or cared about before, like the intricacies of horseshoes and a legend behind the good luck horseshoes are associated with. He explained that, during tsarist times, blacksmiths and millers were the two main professions, and that the only differences between a contemporary blacksmith shop like his are (1) electricity instead of pumps to get the fire burning under the coals; (2) see notebook; and (3) .... It was really interesting and almost surreal--a very "old world" kind of feel and a continuation of our skazka (fairytale) that began at the banya our first weekend here.

He demonstrated use of his various tools, showed us how to make a nail, and then we each got to try our hand at it. None of us hit right on the mark, and it was cool to learn first-hand about the reality (and, for blacksmiths, the necessity) of "striking while the iron is hot"! It was ridiculously fun and an unexpected but major adrenaline rush to be hurrying to swing a big hammer on a +1000-degree-Celsius piece of flaming iron. He then offered us tea and let us roam around, looking at his various works and taking pictures. I asked if he has a favorite thing he likes to make; he said no. He also told us about how, last weekend, during the Night of the Museum (where all museums are open all night long and, mostly I think, free to the public), he received a visit from the Russian Foreign Minister* and the Minister of Finance/Economics or something, who also got to try their hand at making a nail. Apparently, they did "ok...." ;)

Above ("a family business"), I've linked to the smithy. The blacksmith's full name is Aleksey Borodin, and his father was Yuri Borodin. Also, I just came across THIS interesting story about an honorary axe they gave to Putin back in 2008! And here's a story, in Russian, that includes a picture of them together. Aleksey is on the right. We had been told that the city administration of Vladimir had begun calling him a local phenomenon, as nobody can believe that it's just him doing all this outstanding work, but I didn't realize he and the shop were this well-known! An axe for Putin! :P

When we finally had to leave--Aleksey said he'd be working until about 02:00 or 03:00 this morning, which means he's probably still up hammering away!--I walked into McDonald's, thinking I'd grab a snack on my walk home. I went in, looked at the menu, thought about how crowded it was, and chickened out. I could've ordered and been fine, but at the moment I wasn't really feeling it. Honestly, I wasn't that hungry, but I just wanted to try making a transaction on my own. I guess I decided that today wasn't the day for that, though.

I've still got to go back and fill in details on Moscow. And also, I think, on the banya, which was now two weekends ago! I may not get a chance to do so until we leave Vladimir, unfortunately, but that's why I've taken a bunch of pictures--so I can recall the mundane, forgettable details that combine to create the wonderful, unforgettable experiences I'm having.

Off to bed now. Darn. Just realized we had a lecture today following our lesson. The lecture was on Russian economy, particularly the economy of the Vladimir region. It started off dry and over my head, as I know nothing about economics, but once the speaker--(list position; see notebook)--opened it up for questions, I asked several questions and got really insightful answers in layman's terms. More details later on this, too, I guess. This is why I take notes during the day. ;) Ok, NOW, off to bed.

*This guy was apparently quite drunk at the time!

Moscow, Day 4

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

-morning rush to pack up, eat breakfast

-Kremlin; arrived at 10, got in line, went in, took pictures from every angle, went into Ivan the Terrible/Great(?) bell-towerWIKI (named not because he had it built but in order to connect it to Russia’s past)(?)

-went into 2 other churches; 1 where lots of tsars, from 1400s-1600s that I could tell, are buried; and the one where coronations of tsars was held (Dormition church??), including final tsar Nicky; tsar’s “praying place,” tsarina’s pew, in between the two is the patriarch’s seat; touched tsarina’s (tsar’s wasn’t reachable) when security guard not looking…Alexandra! Unreal. Gold everywhere. Enormous, hand-written icons floor to ceiling [in all the churches] and paintings of saints/biblical stuff

-lunch at neat café, no idea what it was called, really good, sweet and sour chicken (missing American Chinese food), chocolate-cherry cake

-Soviet cemetery (Novodechi??), Yeltsin, Khrushchev and his wife, Stalin’s daughter, Chekov, Gogol (??), Pavlov (THE Pavlov, we think), also the man who started the circus we saw the night before.

-back to the hostel, grabbed bags, went to the train station, came home, ate dinner, chatted with Lena (Irina in Moscow with her other daughter/Lena’s older sister), unpacked, going to bed

-overall, liked Moscow ok; amazing history; center of everything; good food; but too bustling, hectic, large—so many people, like NYC, just feels out of control because of sheer size; favorite parts still: Red Square, Moscow Circus; also, just seeing all the Kremlin police/guards, strolling through the Kremlin and Kremlin gardens (way less crowded than Red Square, though still of course touristy), and Soviet cemetery.

-but overall, as far as experiencing the life of the city, I can check that off my list. Like NYC (after much thought), it’s not a place I can see myself really wanting to visit again, though I’d go back to visit more sites of historical interest if I were given the opportunity--could look at such spots for days.

Moscow, Day 3

This morning, we woke up at 09:00, rushed to eat breakfast and get ready, and then headed out to meet a free tour guide and group at 10:45 in a plaza at a statue dedicated to Saints Cyril and Methodius, who brought the Greek (“Cyrillic”) alphabet to and christianized Russia.

Admittedly, one of the most exciting parts of the day for me was hearing two men speaking German at the statue. I debated with myself whether or not to say anything to them, because I wanted to ask where they were from, and it was just a relief to finally hear a language I understood and could communicate in. (I ended up saying something, and it turns out they're from Hamburg, where I'll be stopping over on my way back west toward the States. I got a chance to impress my group mates by showing them that I am, indeed, competent in something--just maybe not Russian [yet!].)

The tour was led by a really sweet young Russian girl, Irina, who was really witty and spoke nearly perfect English. She took us to several of the spots we’d already seen, such as Red Square, the former KGB headquarters (currently under construction), and the massive GUM mall. Today was International Children’s Day, celebrating the Rights of the Child—a United Nations charter signed by nearly every country…except for the US—so there were games and balloons and stands with snacks and free ice cream for kids everywhere in the mall. It’s been such a long day and we saw so much that, honestly, I can’t recall all of the spots we visited. But we got to see the house that Michael I, the first Romanov, lived in and passed on through the Romanov dynasty until, I presume, palaces started being built in other parts of Russia. (Excuse my shoddy history; it’s past midnight, and the Internet connection here at the hostel is insufficient for basic googling, at least from where I’m sitting.)

After about an hour and a half, our group left the tour to go to lunch at a food court at another, less-expensive-but-still-fancy mall, where I got pilaf/plov, playing it safe since I was familiar with the dish. It was ok, but, like mall food back in the US, a bit on the greasy side.

From lunch, we took the Metro/subway across town, walked down to the water, and boarded a riverboat where we took a tour for another hour and a half, passing Red Square and the Kremlin, lots of other beautifully-architected, ornate buildings, a huge statue in the river of Peter the Great, and lots of people sunning in the grass along the side of the river.

The boat tour took us to a pier where we disembarked in order to walk to the Great Moscow State Circus. At 17:00, the show started, and initially I was afraid there’d be a bunch of clowns. There were some creepy clowns, but overall the show was really outstanding—a REAL circus. All sorts of dancing, acrobatics, monkeys (jumping, running around, flipping), sea lions (high-fiving, clapping, hula-hooping), a bear (walking, hula-hooping, dancing), stereotypical human characters, etc., etc. AMAZINGLY talented folks! Also, now we can cross off our list that we’ve seen a bear in Russia. ;) 

However, I left the show with mixed feelings—supremely entertained and impressed, but at the same time saddened, considering how unnatural and disorienting a life in the circus must be for the animals and also how odd the little person must feel, playing out the traditional role of “midget,” as he was the only person in the show simply because of his physical appearance. Even though the guy looked like he was having fun and is obviously doing this of his own free will and getting paid for it, as someone of relatively short stature this left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth.

All that said, Red Square and the have been my favorite parts of Moscow so far, by a long shot. Moscow is too big and hectic, and it’s a little overwhelming not speaking Russian. We’ve also been rushing around from one place to the next without much time to enjoy where we are, and at this point I’m just ready to be back in Vladimir with Lena and family.

At this point, I’m still not feeling the love for the Russian language, and this was clear to me particularly when I noted my reaction at overhearing Germans. I think the main problem I have with Russian is still the different alphabet—despite the fact that my dear puppy is named Cyril in honor of it. :) Being unable to understand and use the language of the country also makes it more difficult to enjoy fully.

After the circus, we went to Il Patio, an Italian restaurant just down the street. Dinner was good, we were exhausted, but we walked several kilometers away anyway to go to Sparrow Hills, where Moscow State University is located and where the ultimate panoramic view of Moscow can be found. (Naturally, my phone ran out of storage space, and my battery died minutes later.) Finally, after what seemed like an endless walk, we arrived back at the hostel.

Moscow, Day 2

Today began with a quick breakfast in the hostel before a walk over to Red Square. This morning was our long-awaited visit to the tomb of Lenin (linked to in my last post). A while back, I remember reading about the mausoleum and being amused that his body is still preserved, despite the fact that he died in 1924. Knowing this and having seen pictures, I expected him to look pretty waxy, which he did. Apparently, his body is “refurbished” once a year, and below his tomb is a complex, including a gym, for the people who work on his body.

We lined up around 09:45, as the tomb opens each day for tourists at 10:00. Also at 10:00 is the changing of the guards at the eternal flame that burns on the side of the Kremlin for the Russian soldiers who gave their lives during the fight against the Nazis in World War II. The whole experience of being at the Kremlin, surrounded by old and gorgeous architecture, uniformed men, and quaint chiming bells, it felt like we had stepped back in time. Things were at once modern and historic, and to see the changing of the guards—a simple but dramatic practice involving five soldiers—gave me chills.

Right after the changing of the guards, a group of individuals bearing a single flower each stepped up and stood in a sort of formation. I don’t know who, exactly, they were, but I think they were probably family members of soldiers who died during World War II who had come and been granted a special visit to the eternal flame, which was currently off-limits to all other visitors. In three groups, they marched up, laid down their flowers on the monument, did a synchronized about-face, and marched back down as the next row of their group got in formation and prepared to deposit their flowers.

In Russia, we are told, there is no family without some sort of personal connection to someone who died during World War II. Though a lot of Americans fought in the war and some died, Russia had the most fatalities during the war by an enormous margin. As a result, reminders of the war and those who died are everywhere in Russia, particularly in Moscow—even outside the Kremlin—as we’ve seen. Also, because we’ve never faced war on our own home turf, because our cities weren’t bombed out or turned into bloody battlefields, because our buildings aren’t pockmarked with bullet holes from wartime, Americans don’t have the same sense of the reality of war that Europeans do. War for us has been a more distant affair, which is of course a good thing—a blessing, but also a curse, I think, because we don’t fully appreciate the horrible consequences that war or invasion can have. In any case, it was really a neat experience to catch the changing of the guards, as I’m not sure how often this “ceremony” takes place.

We continued on in line to see Lenin, and after about fifteen minutes we were being ushered forward towards his tomb. We walked up a ramp that took us around the tomb, before being led down a stairway and, soon enough, into a dark passageway with the word “LENIN” inscribed above in big, red, Cyrillic letters. It was cold inside, which was a welcome change from the humid weather outside, and soldiers stood on guard at every turn.

We had about 45 seconds total to view Lenin’s body, herded slowly past by guards. When we turned the corner into the actual crypt, there was Lenin, lying in state behind thick glass in the middle of a dark room lit only by red candles. Since he’s been dead 80+ years, it’s no surprise that he looked mostly like wax. His fingernails were gray and yellowed, and the black blanket covering him from the waist down matched the color of his suit, so it made him look four feet wide, which was kind of amusing. It was creepy and disturbing to know in whose presence we were standing, but it was very humbling and put things into perspective. People can do great good, people can do great evil, people can wield unimaginable power over others, and people can also be completely powerless over their own lives and situations—but at the end of the day, death is the great equalizer, as the saying goes. Lenin—for everything he did during his lifetime and the effects of his historic legacy—was simply lying there in all his dead un-glory like anyone else.

Following a visit to Lenin and the other Soviets buried outside the Kremlin wall, including Stalin and Brezhnev and also the ashes of cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, we walked across town to the Gulag Museum that opened in 2004 in an old building. A sweet old Russian woman gave us a super thorough, two-hour tour—too many details and facts to report—and at the end, I asked (through David, interpreting) if she had a personal connection to all of the things she had taught us about: Did she have a personal connection to the gulags? Was someone in her family imprisoned during the Soviet era? Was she? The answer was what I expected: “Too personal. I can’t.” Again, back to the theme of how nearly every Russian family has someone who was affected by the prison/labor camps under the gulag system.

For lunch, we went to the former state department store, GUM, now a really fancy shopping mall, where we had lunch at Stolovaya No. 57—a Soviet-style, self-service diner thing. It was crowded, the line was long, the food was expensive, and overall it was ok. The only problem I have with these self-service restaurant things is that you can neither scout out the options beforehand nor put stuff back if you come across something later on down the line that you’d rather have. Noteworthy moment: One of the guys in the group, Kevin, bought and ate what he thought was vanilla ice cream—turns out it was a mix of cold sour cream and cottage cheese. :X

After lunch, we went out to the circus to buy tickets, as we’ll be at the Great Moscow State Circus tomorrow night. We then went to the massive souvenir market, spent about an hour and a half there, rushed back to the hostel, dropped stuff off, changed/freshened up, and then went to the Moscow Conservatory, where we saw a moving two-and-a-half-hour performance including something by Haydn, someone else, and then Mozart’s Requiem, complete with a choir joining the orchestra. (performance details?)

Following the concert at the Conservatory, the group went to a really cool café called Лук (“look”), where there was live music. The girl singing was really good and sang all English-language songs, including “At Last” by Etta James, to which we all sang along, impressed! After dinner, we came back to the hostel. Another long but exciting day.

Moscow, Day 1

When I got home last night, Lena was gone, taking her brother Iliya to the train station. He was heading out to St. Petersburg, I think because his vacation is over, and he’s back on military duty now. At home were Lena’s mom and her sister, brother-in-law, and niece, who live in Moscow but visit on the weekends. I was exhausted, so I packed as quickly as I could before jumping in bed.

This morning, Lena and I had breakfast, and her brother-in-law drove us to the American Home, since I had my suitcase for the Vanderbilt group’s Moscow trip this weekend. (We would leave directly from the American Home around noon, and it was easier to just grab my suitcase and go rather than unpack my suitcase and repack my backpack, the only other and smaller bag I’ve got. I tried to defend this to Lena, but she laughed: “Is this typical for Americans?” [In truth…kind of.])

After our morning lesson, during which Lena and I read some short Russian poems and she had me try to translate stuff, the group had tea before settling in downstairs for our last lecture of the week, and perhaps the most awaited one yet: “Who Is Mr. Putin?”

This lecture was given by a professor Roman who’s spoken to us several times before now on different topics about Russian politics, geography, demography, and history. He teaches in Vladimir and brought two of his students with him to join us today for the lecture. As he talked through the topic of Vladimir Putin, the man and the politician, he often asked questions to “poll the representatives” of America and Russia--that is, us and his students, respectively. For instance, he had us take a sheet of paper, fold it in half, and write anything positive that comes to mind about Putin on one side and anything negative that comes to mind about Putin on the other. He told us that we didn’t have to write anything on both sides; if our opinion was fully leaning in one direction, we should just put that. We then went around reading from our lists, and this was interesting. The two Russian women, who study political science and had joined us, both wrote only positive things about Putin. Our lists were more a mix, with most of the “negative” thoughts pertaining to Putin’s past as a Soviet KGB officer and the way this is interpreted by the West.

Right after the lecture, the taxis arrived, so we grabbed our stuff and were driven off to the train station. We got a quick lunch (beef cutlet—like German Boulette, basically just a hamburger patty—and rice, plus blini with raspberry jam) before heading to the actual station, where we stopped for a bathroom break. Normally, bathroom breaks are less than noteworthy, but… Shock. Nervous giggles. Almost-tears of disbelief.

PIC

A picture’s worth a thousand words: the [Soviet-era?] toilet in the women’s room.

After this humbling, confusing, utterly dumbfounding experience, we walked—introspective, defeated, continuing to laugh nervously, heads hung low—to catch our train. Most of the train ride I slept, as I’d snagged a window seat and brought along the travel pillow that I took (stole? It’s unclear whether in-flight pillows, like the seatback magazines, are also free for the taking.) from my flight from Atlanta to Amsterdam earlier this month. For about five minutes I devoted myself to reading  over some Russian vocab, but I hadn’t slept much the night before, so back to sleep it was.

Soon enough, we were leaving the rural landscape behind for the urban one of Moscow. We hurried off the train and were greeted by a veritable snowstorm of pollen. (I haven’t actually seen the trees the pollen comes from, but it’s flying around in big clumps everywhere!)

It was a draining, slightly agonizing 30-plus-minute walk to the hostel through the city. We were tired, hungry, hot—so warm here this afternoon!—and dragging big bags through narrow, winding passages and cobblestone, puddle-filled sidewalks. But finally we reached the hostel, where we settled in, all six of us into one room. Abby and I are sharing a bunk bed; I’ve got bottom bunk. :)

Quarters are tight, but we managed, so we set out walking again after changing clothes and taking a minute to recharge. We walked another 20 or so minutes to a cafe called My-My (“moo-moo”), which is a cow-themed (again, why not?) chain of restaurants here. As David explained it to us, it’s basically “a glorified [Soviet-style] cafeteria,” but the food was really good. The ambiance was neat, but honestly it was just nice to sit down somewhere, anywhere, and chill out for a bit.

On the way to and from My-My, my friends and I were stopping every several meters to snap a picture of something. Just like Vladimir, Moscow is very colorful, but there are many more and much larger buildings, and it’s extremely large and busy. So far, it reminds me of [my limited experience with] New York City, only even more hectic, if that’s possible. My first impressions of Moscow were: (1) This is insane; and (2) I want to go back to Vladimir! At first, everything just seemed out of control—the drivers, the pedestrians, the noise, the signs and advertisements, even the pollen.

After dinner, we walked to Red Square, passing various administrative government buildings along the way. Soon enough, a red brick wall showed itself, and we were there—the Kremlin!

Walking up to Red Square was one of those moments when every thought or memory related to the place started running through my head: learning about Red Square in school, seeing mentions of it on the news, hearing references to it in songs and movies...

We stayed in Red Square long enough to take pictures and listen to the clock-tower bells, which ring every 30 minutes. For such a stunningly beautiful sight, the chimes were eerie and ominous—out of place, yet at the same time fitting, considering the history and the fact that the tomb ofVladimir Lenin and the grave-sites of Stalin and many other big Soviet names lay scattered throughout the Square.

Police were everywhere, patrolling the area, but hurting no one. This was an occasion where I realized the fears and biases I, as an American, brought with me on this trip: I stood there looking around, taking pictures (including of the police and other guards), and I was excited on two levels—first, just to be in Red Square, but second, because in my mind it felt like what I was doing was risky. As an American abroad, it’s like I had the expectation that I couldn’t act “normally” without running into some sort of barrier to the freedoms we pride ourselves on so much in the United States. Like in the movies, I expected that simply taking a picture of a cop or zooming in my camera lens too much on government buildings would arouse the suspicion of “the Russians” and get me in trouble. I was born two years after the dissolution of the USSR, yet Cold War messages and stereotypes still managed to color my worldview and my expectations when abroad. As it turns out, I was just one of probably thousands of people this evening walking around and snapping pictures of anything and everything in sight, with no consequences. It was fun but unbelievable to actually stroll through such a significant plaza. Although Red Square is a major tourist destination, this has been my experience so far in all of Russia: Nothing I did was risky, and the only threat to my freedom was my own paranoia, as an American abroad, about somehow losing my freedom.

I think that the American sense of exceptionalism—of being the only place in the world that “does/has/thinks/values X”—is an attitude we would be well to examine. It would certainly make traveling to other countries easier. That said, as is clear from the picture of the toilet above, there are some things that I am really missing about home right now. First, free public toilets. Whenever you want to go to the bathroom here (like in the rest of Europe that I know of), it costs. It’s just pocket change, and you’re paying for the restroom attendant to be constantly cleaning, but still—I miss not having to pay to go to the bathroom at the mall, for example. Second, free water in restaurants and cafés. This was my other complaint in the other parts of Europe I’ve been to, too. I don’t understand how people here aren’t perpetually dehydrated, because it’s relatively expensive to get water (or other any other drink, for that matter; tonight, a 2-ounce glass of juice cost me 140 rubles/about $4), and drink containers run small.

Ah, so back to talking about Red Square and the Kremlin: Whilst walking through a big garden-ish area behind the outer side walls of the Kremlin, we encountered a long row of memorials to the Soviet soldiers who fought to defeat the Nazis in World War II. There was an eternal flame lit, followed by a bunch of markers indicating the names of several Russian battlefronts and Soviet “hero cities.” A few meters later, a large column jutted out of the ground. Upon closer examination and with the help of David to translate the finer points of the engraving, it was a marker celebrating the 300^th anniversary of the Romanov dynasty—each tsar’s name is listed, including the final and fateful Nicholas II toward the bottom of the column. With such a long personal history with the Romanovs, dating back to when I was 3 and dressing up as Anastasia and “researching” Alexei with my dad, it was unreal to be standing in Russia, reading in Russian an official monument dedicated to the actual imperial family.

After this, our group walked on to the Old Arbat district, which is filled with shops, restaurants, cafés, etc. It’s a big plaza with lots of street artists, some musicians, and craftspeople. We just strolled around, and en route we’d stopped to get tickets to a performance tomorrow night by the Russian National Orchestra. Though they won’t be playing Russian music—Mozart’s Requiem, I think—it’ll still be an entertaining experience in a beautiful music hall. Apparently, tourists go to the Bolshoi, and locals go to the Moscow Conservatory, so if anything we can just say we’re being more “authentic.” :)

After spending time in Old Arbat and grabbing some free samples from Wetzel’s Pretzels, we returned to the hostel, where I’m writing from now with a really weak Internet connection. It’s been a long day.

McDonald's Day & Uzbek Hospitality

This morning, I apparently hit "snooze" a couple of times before finally jumping out of bed at the sound of Lena's knocking on the door. I was in a deep sleep and had forgotten what today was set to be: McDonald's Day.

It's always interesting to go someplace away from home and encounter something familiar; comparing and contrasting can offer insights into your culture as well as the local culture, even just from region to region within the same country. But as an American abroad, it's particularly interesting to pay a visit to familiar stuff in another part of the world. I could ramble about this, but simply put: McDonald's is way nicer here than back home, and I've never seen a McDonald's this nice (or clean) anywhere in the US--not to mention the food and menu are different!

This morning, we had our Russian lesson as usual, then tea time, and then our group had a lecture about the Russian holiday of Maslenitsa ("Pancake Week"), given to us by a young woman named Daria, who's really sweet, speaks nearly perfect English, and works as a supervisor at Aeroflot, which is the Russian company whose flight we took from Amsterdam to Moscow earlier this month.

The group then went to lunch at a place called "Ogly" (which means "coals" and is a pizza place where they cook pizzas in a coal oven), where I had the opportunity to introduce my group-mates to the art of eating cheeseless pizza. They had many questions about this practice, so I demonstrated. :)

We then had free time, so I went back home, where Lena was hanging out after having lessons at her institute after tutoring me in Russian. Lena hadn't eaten yet, so we went back out for lunch, to a Chinese place she'd been telling me about for days. We got chicken and noodles to-go, then went back home with the plan of watching The Godfather together in Russian with English subtitles. The food, which was delicious, took a while, though, so by the time we got back we just decided to sit and talk and watch whatever was on TLC. I love The Godfather, and it was Lena's dad's favorite film, too. We plan to have our viewing party next week after I get back from Moscow. :D

At 17:15, my group met back up at the bus stop in the center of town at the Golden Gates, where we took a bus about 30 minutes away to be treated to a traditional Uzbek dinner hosted at the invitation of Timur Atabekov, a postdoctoral researcher and lecturer who studies migration to Russia and has been presenting to us on these topics. Timur, his wife Natasha, and their two little boys entertained us to a delightful evening with one of the best dishes I've had here so far--actually a staple food in Uzbekistan--real pilaf ("plov").

Before, during, and after dinner, Timur showed us Uzbek songs, a documentary, and talked to us about the Uzbek culture, Russian culture, intercultural relations, religious/secular differences in Central Asia and Russia, and tolerance as it relates to the topic of migration and cultural differences. It was a really fun time, and the only thing that could've been better was the weather. Just a dreary, rainy night.