Sunday, February 27, 2011

life is too good.


My last four meals have included борщ со сметаной (borsch with sour cream).
Can it get any better than this?

Thursday, February 24, 2011

С днем защитника Отечества!!

Happy Defenders of the Fatherland Day, y’all!  Today I experienced my first war related holiday in Russia, and let me tell you, there sure are a lot of these holidays!  Russians love any excuse to skip out on work/school, drink lots of alcohol, and revel in their victories.  Both nostalgia and hope for the future run strong.  Officially, this is a day to celebrate all those who have served in the Russian armed forces, but lots of people now celebrate it as a day for all men (День мужчин). International Women's Day (March 8) is a very big holiday here where men give women gifts, so I guess that the guys wanted a little love too.  Today women are supposed to give gifts to all the men in their lives (husbands, brothers, sons, coworkers). It's funny because there is a discrepancy among Russians about who should be celebrated (veterans only vs. all men).  I decided to play it safe and celebrate all men.  My friend Elena told me to make sure that I am good to the guys around me because the way that Defenders of the Fatherland Day is celebrated determines how International Women's Day will be celebrated.  So hopefully I was good enough to the boys today!

I, like the rest of the city, was off from school today, and so I decided to spend the day out and about in the middle of the festivities.  As I walked the streets I passed lots of families enjoying the holiday together and lots of drunk veterans out celebrating, as well as lots of people just going about their normal lives.  There was definitely a lighthearted spirit among people today that broke up the usual busyness and hardness that I usually encounter.  People were openly having a good time.  I couldn't stop smiling when I saw a couple of girls standing outside my metro stop holding signs that read, «Free Hugs for February 23».  I sat and watched as guy after guy that came out of the metro took them up on their offer.  It makes me so happy when I have moments like this everyday that remind me all over again how much I love Russia. 

A few friends and I heard about some war reenactments that were being held at a nearby park, so we decided that this would be the perfect way to celebrate the day.  Snow fell and the temperature dropped as we trudged to the park where we were told the reenactment was being held.  Once we arrived at our destination, we sadly realized from the emptiness before us that we had missed the demonstration.  At first we were disappointed, but we quickly discovered that we were in for an experience that would make up for the missed demonstration.  A group of reenactors were still hanging around the park drinking (of course) and cooking around a fire.  When they realized that we were Americans, they became very excited and immediately invited us to join them around their fire (a typical act of Russian hospitality).  They told us all about their reenacting and showed us their weapons (and even let my friend Rachel fire one of their guns).  Ironically, some of these guys were reenacting the American Civil War of all things, and I found camaraderie with my fellow representatives of the South (I wished my pal Duffy could have seen that).  One of the guys was eager to show off his English language skills, such as they were, and started singing along with the out of date pop music that he played on his cell phone.  In respectable Russian fashion, they sent a flask of cognac around our group so that we could toast our newfound Fatherland with them (Russians never hesitate to offer a drink to a stranger, and I love them for this).  We laughed as we stood around and shared in their shenanigans.  It was such a surreal scene.  As we left, we exchanged numbers with our new friends because they wanted to be sure that we didn't miss out on future reencatments.  I walked away from our little encounter so happy, falling in love with Russia all over again.  I love these random meetings with strangers where at the end of five minutes we are all best friends.  Russians are fantastic, warm people.  The Russian soul is deep and full of love, and I am so lucky to experience that everyday.    
Our new best friends
Warming by the fire
Rachel testing out the weaponry 
Our personal demonstration
Evan wishes he could be a Civil War reenactor too



Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Things I Love/Respect About Russia


There are so many things that I love/respect about Russia.  One is that they take their sausage seriously.  This is what I would consider a limited selection of sausage at a grocery store.  If you want to see a lot of sausage go to Kuzhnechny Market.  Another is that of all the things in the store, it is the sausage that needs anti-shoplifting tags to ensure their safety.  I love that it's clear where Russians' priorities lie, and the foodie in me respects this act enormously.  And did I mention that I love to eat their sausage too?

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Baby, it's cold outside!

There must be another word for it.  “Cold” just doesn’t do this feeling justice.  Freezing is closer, but there still must be a better word.  How cold is it, you ask?  It’s 0 degrees but feels like it’s -16 degrees today.  It’s cold and getting colder.  It’s so cold that my camera refuses to stay switched on for more than 15 seconds at a time.  It’s so cold that I don’t realize how cold I really was outside until I’ve been inside for at least an hour and felt the pain of the thawing process.  It’s so cold that I can’t breathe outside without erupting into a fit of coughs because my lungs just don’t know how to function in this kind of weather.  It’s so cold that no amount of layers or winter wear can save me.

Before I left for Russia my friends and I would joke that my greatest fear is to freeze to death in Russia.  While that fear is more than just a little bit exaggerated, as I trudge through the bitter cold streets I sometimes ponder what it would feel like to actually freeze to death (Russia has already turned me morbid).  It can’t be a pleasant way to die.  When my mind wanders to these kinds of thoughts, I become more and more thankful for my warm coat and boots with every step.  Most days I stay pretty darn warm with them, all things considered (Please quit worrying, Daddy!). 

It was quite amusing last week when both Starkville and Memphis got a snow day.  As I Skyped with my friends at Rhodes who all gathered together to eat pancakes and enjoy a day of freedom, I too was excited for them because it was a snow day after all.  Later on though I remembered that in St. Petersburg, everyday is a snow day, and that is not always a fun thing.  When I return home I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to look at the snow and the cold in the same way ever again after months of this weather.  I hope, however, that snow in the South will never lose its wonder and excitement.  I’m not ready to give up those childlike feelings of amazement and joy when school is canceled for that once a year weather wonder. 

People at home often ask me if Russians automatically know if I am an American.  While I like to think that I am blending in pretty well here (many people think I’m Scandinavian with my accent and complexion), I think one of the easiest ways to stand out as a foreigner is to look like you’re actually trying to stay warm.  To say the least, fashion is very important to Russians, women in particular, and staying warm is only a secondary thought for many.  I am amazed to see women dressed in short skirts, bare legs, and high-heeled shoes in single-digit weather.  I have the utmost respect for their commitment to style but know that this is a commitment that I will never understand in the slightest.  Earlier this week my professor came to class wearing a skirt that only came halfway down her thighs, sheer panty hose, and ankle boots.  It was 5 degrees outside, and I just wanted to exclaim, “What were you thinking, woman!  Don’t you realize how cold it is!” Of course, I said nothing, and when another student mentioned the weather she simply commented, “I thought it was going to be a bit warmer today,” to which I wanted to reply, “It’d have to be at least forty degrees warmer for that outfit to even be close to weather appropriate!”  I really think that many Russians use their pursuit of high fashion as a mental defense against the cold.  Maybe this mentality is something that I need to look into...  (See here how fashionable women in St. Pete are fighting the winter weather).    

Today my group went on an excursion to Peter and Paul Fortress (Петропавловская Крепость).  This is the original fortress of the city established by Peter the Great in 1703 on a small island along the Neva.  As an avid fan of Peter the Great, this historical sight was high on my list of must-see places.  I did not, however, bargain on visiting this sight on the coldest day of my time in St. Petersburg thus far.  And with most of the tour of the fortress outside, not even my obsession with the shipbuilding, western-loving founder of this city could keep me from wishing that I was back at my apartment curled up with a book in my toasty bed.  I bucked up, however, and sacrificed my comfort for cultural enrichment.  Among other things, we visited the Peter and Paul Cathedral, the place where the tsars were buried including Peter I, the Romanovs, etc.  We also visited the prison block that was used for high profile political prisoners and revolutionaries such as Trotsky, Dostoevsky, Bakunin, Kropotkin, etc.  It was cool to walk, yet again, in the places where so many significant people lived and suffered (and for some, died).  As I walked through the prison cells, I couldn’t help but think that no matter how cold I was, it could not compare to how these prisoners felt.  In my world there is relatively little risk in expressing my ideas or lobbying for change compared to what these kids had to endure.  Sappy and cliché as it may be, this is just another reminder of how free I am to express myself and act on my convictions.   I don’t have to freeze in a dark prison cell through the Russian winter in order to make myself heard, and that’s something I shouldn’t take for granted. 

Again, I’ll have to leave the thoughts here for now.  I’ll take it easy and find refuge from the elements in the warmth of my apartment.  I simply must go—baby it’s cold outside!

*And if you're reading this, Janelle, I promise I won’t get pneumonia and die, so there’ll be no life long sorrow.  No worries!J


Entrance to the fortress

Peter and Paul Cathedral

Inside the cathedral

Resting place of the Romanov Family

Resting place of Peter the Great, my hero.
Prison Museum (Trubetskoy Bastion)

Prison cell for political prisoners

Example of foreigners who stand out by trying to keep warm

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Wandering and Wondering

A week of my time here has come and gone, though it feels like I have been here much, much longer.  In such a short time I already have begun to establish a routine for what is now my everyday life here.  We are in the midst of our two-week Russian intensive that is meant to kick our minds into full Russian mode before we begin our classes with the rest of the Smolny campus on February 9.  While these classes are helping me adjust to academic Russian, it is really simple interactions from daily life that are forcing me to assimilate to speaking, understanding, and thinking Russian as my normal way of communication.  Whether it is conversation over dinner with my host family, buying something at the store, asking directions on the street, or attempting (miserably) to make a joke with a new friend, it is impossible for me to avoid the language when I have been thrown in headfirst.  I know that there is no other way for me to learn, other than this full immersion.  When you study a language so much of your identity goes into it, more so I think than in any other discipline.  To really learn it, you must put your whole self, your whole life into it, and that is what I am attempting to do here.

It is amazing how my standards for what is really cold, what is really slippery, and what is really bad weather have changed so quickly.  What I used to consider cold is now simply normal.  Anything above freezing feels like springtime is here.  What I used to find slippery is now solid, stable ground.  While all the white is truly beautiful, the weather really can be pretty terrible here.  And Petersburgers love to talk about just how terrible it is.  Какой кошмар!  Просто ужас!  (What a nightmare!  It’s simply horrible!)  They exclaim these words, swearing that this winter is worse than any other they have experienced.  Getting around in these conditions is a daily challenge, not just for me but also everyone here.  No matter if you choose to take the bus, the metro, the tram, the trolleybus, a marshrutka, or a taxi, you always have to walk at some point during your journey. There are really no good options.  You can walk on the sidewalks that are always covered in layers of thick ice that you will surely fall on at some point in time and where you run the risk of being hit by something falling of a roof.  The icicles here are gigantic (I’ve seen some 6 or 7 feet long) and fall without warning from the roofs.  Icicle death is a real possibility here (and I’ve seen lots of near misses!).  Believe it or not, 20-30 people die a year from getting hit by icicles and 400-500 people are injured.  In a city of 5 million, I think my odds of survival are pretty good, but I actually find living in a place where death by icicle is a remote possibility somewhat exhilarating.  Another risk of walking on the sidewalk is having snow shoveled on your head.  The city hires crews of people (many homeless and without work) to go from roof to roof shoveling snow.  These sites are poorly marked with whatever the workers can find (usually broken furniture, old caution tape that has been reused at every site since October, and other inconspicuous and seemingly everyday objects).  If you choose to avoid the risks of the sidewalks, you can walk in the street, which is usually cleared better and is easier to walk on, but by walking in the street you risk getting hit by a car.  The idea of “pedestrian has the right-of-way” is nonexistent.  Russians follow the logic that cars are bigger than people, therefore you should get out of their way so that they don’t have to prove that very logical fact to you. As I have walked and struggled through many a mile on the rough city terrain, I’ve decided that walking here is a metaphor for the Russian mentality.  Even though no option is optimal, everyone does the best that they can.  Everyone is doing it together, and everyone helps each other out.  If someone slips and falls, everyone around swarms to help him up and make sure that he is okay.  If a babushka is struggling to make her way, someone always stops to give her a hand.  Such acts of camaraderie seem counterintuitive when no one breaks a smile on the street, wearing their best I-hate-the-world face, but Russians really do take care of their own.  Struggles are collective, and there seems to be an understanding between people that comes from simply being Russian.  No matter how long I live here, I realize that there is a circle of bonds that is impossible for any outsider to infiltrate.  Such a concept has become lost in the States.  As a whole, we are not deeply connected by a single shared identity, and while there is much to be said for our openness and inclusiveness, the deep bond between Russians is refreshing to witness. 
Poorly marked snow shoveling zone.  

Icicles of death.



This time before the start of real classes has given me the chance to explore the city and get to know the other kids in my program.  Everyday after Russian classes are finished, my friends and I consult our handy guidebook to find a new museum to visit.  This week we went to the Hermitage, the Russian Museum, the Pushkin Museum, the Artillery Museum, and St. Isaac’s Cathedral.  Most of these historical sites are within walking distance of school, and with our Russian student IDs we can get in for free or for an insignificant sum.  There is so much culture and history in this city that it is just ridiculous.  I love that even if I visited a different museum every day that I am here, I still won’t be able to see it all.  And in the Hermitage or the Russian Museum, I could spend weeks wandering their halls and still want to see more.  There's too much to put in words, so hopefully my pictures can do the talking for me.  I’m currently in culture-overload; all of these places are so wonderful yet so ordinary here, it blows my mind.  So I’ll keep wading through, wandering and wondering.  

Snow falling on St. Isaac's at night.

A sunshiny day at the Hermitage.
Pondering icons at the Russian Museum.  

Our spoils from a walk on the frozen Neva.

Dangerous?

Inside St. Isaac's.

View from the top of St. Isaac's.