Priklyuchnie

Last Monday night was the stuff memories are made of. Or at least I get good practice with prefixed verbs of motion while re-telling the story a couple of times in Fonetika and then to my Russian friends.

The premise: I wanted to see "Pikovaya Dama," a Tchaikovsky opera — music by Pyotr Ilyich, libretto by the composer's brother Modest  based on Pushkin's short story. I read the story when I was still enrolled in "Russian Classics on the World Screen," an intriguing title for a class that amounted to... nothing I could stomach.

The location: Mariinsky Theater. I've been there four times now, three operas and a ballet. If you get into the line on the left as you enter, you can get cheap student tickets. If you get into the line on the right, you get expensive seats in the 3 yarus (top balcony that has uncomfy benches).

The crew: Um, just me. The usual suspects had printmaking, The Count decided against it, and I didn't think my Russian friends would be ready to spring for a night at the opera just like that, the day of (I'm not one for advanced planning, sometimes).

The problem: Operas are really long! I got thirsty and had to buy 30 ruble bottled water during the first break so that I could pay attention to the second act. Then I got really hungry, but had no food, so I did homework during the second break. And then I noticed the time as the curtain rose for the third and final act  10:45. Yikes. Not only did I still have homework for tomorrow, but the metro closes soon after midnight, and then all public transportation grinds to a halt.

I left before the curtain call, mainly because the women in my row were trying to leave and it was easier to leave when they did. From this point, I have a record of the time from when I exited the theater to, well, let's see.

I stood on the corner that we usually stand on [after seeing something at the Mariinsky] — and not a single marshrutka or private bus went by. I waited from 23.45 to 00.00. Then I walked to Ploshchad' Truda [Hardship Square] and waited a couple minutes 'til the 6 [bus] def. wouldn't be coming. Then I puttered around, called Carly [for advice], and crossed the bridge. I SMSed Jen [who lives just across the birdge and with whom I might be able to spend the night] in a ditch effort — no reply. I walked down 6th line, feeling fine minus icy toes. I reaalized that I couldn't walk home [not dressed well enough, too late, too unpopulated], so I looked for a kruglostutohno mesto [24 hour place]. Lido brosilo v glaza. [The cafe Lido caught my eye]. Prishla okolo 00.45, zakazala chyorny chai [I arrived around quarter to one, ordered tea][served in a French press — fancy] i kartofel' po derevenski [and potatoes in the style of the village] (cottage fries? potatos wedges?). They came with 'salsa!' Am working on razgov. hw. [Rasgovornaya Praktika homework — Conversational Practice. I had to retell a story using specific verbs] Will keep a log.

01.32 The two dudes at the table ahead of me have left. There are 4 women at 2 tables in this room, and a table of three in the other (for some reason, there are three screens above the cash register showing the movements of all the guests in the separate dining rooms, and then other showing the kitchen?). My last mouthful of chai is cold, bitter, and saturated with sugar.

Karli sez [via SMS]: Khanushka eto takoi-to uzhas! Ty dolzhno vyzbat' takci! [Hannah, darling, that's a horror! You should call a taxi!)]

01.59 Dvoe (devushki) prishli, sidya za stol, ocvobozhdenny drugimi dvoimi. [Two women have arrived, and are sitting at the table vacated by another pair of women].

02.05 Okazalos', chto dvoe za spinoi slushashchie. Not yawning yet. Zhelayu, chto Chainaya Loazhka byla by kruglostutohno. [It turns out that the women behind me are employees. ... I wish that Chainaya Lozhka were open 24-hours. --Teaspoon: a fast-food place that serves blini, but really, I wouldn't have wanted to stay there all night, it's too orange and not as comfortable as the couch I was sitting on.]

02.20 The blue-smocked cleaning lady approaches.

02.45 Andei pozvonil mne, khotelos' bylo by znat', gde ya. Vsyo normal'no. [Andrei called me, wanting to know where I was. Everything's ok.] Guess it would've been prilichno [polite] of me to call home, huh?

Still have not even finished my homework. Also, I'm cold.

03.33 Still working on R.P. d/z [hw]

03.54 Sean Kingston, again? [This cafe had a bunch of TVs tuned to World Music, which meant that I was surrounded by music videos from the moment I stepped in to the moment I stepped out.]

Just finished first draft. Now to perepisat'. [Re-write.]

04.30 Halfway through the perenicanie. [Rewriting.]

04.44 Finished! How long until the buses start running?

05.19 Finished first draft of my skit-ette [a satire of Putin's Plan]. Maybe the buses are running now? I'm hungry. I mean, I've been hungry for the past five hours, but you know.

Also, I recognized a music video and I was so ashamed.

05.37 I'm getting out of here.

Here the log ends. I walked to one of my favored bus stops, on 8th line between Sredny and Maly prospekts. Most buses start running around 5:30, but I didn't catch the 151 (my favorite for getting home from that neighborhood) until 6. I got to my stop in a record six minutes. It was amazing! A run of the mill city bus will take 3045 minutes to get from the 8th line to Nalichinaya (close to home), the 151 often takes 15 at the very best, and here I was, whisked home in a trice! I was pumped.

I entered the apartment quietly. Tatiana Ivanova was already up, of course. When I went into the kitchen to get the phone to wish my Dad a happy birthday, she chuckled and said, "Gde ty propala, Khana?" [Where did you lose yourself, Hannah?]

Afterword: I spent the rest of the morning wishing my father a happy birthday and doing more homework. I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I'd never get up again. I eventually took a nap at 6, when I got back home, and was intensely disoriented when I woke up. Other than that, though, I suffered no repercussions from losing a night of sleep. I was gently shocked.

Den' Blagodareniya

Happy Thanksgiving!

I and another student on the program organized a Thanksgiving feast for the students on our program and selected guests. And it was great. Peeling parsnips in Bryan's apartment, I thought about how my family was probably preparing for Thanksgiving at the same time, nine time zones away. But then guests started arriving, I was faced with a flood of dishes that needed warming (a distinct problem given that the oven was occupied with a tiny 3 kg turkey) and shooing them out of the kitchen, and I got distracted from thoughts of home by the whirl of activity and worrying about why the turkey breast, stuffing, and gravy crew hadn't arrived, where the roaster of the current turkey had run off to, and when the gentleman bringing all the plates and utensils would show up.

I had a great time shopping for food. I went to so many stores and markets! And I came across so many random food products -- soy mayonnaise, corn on the cob in a jar, corn on the cob in plastic, vodka in the shape of a AK-47, American Peanut Butter, pickled eggplant, etc. etc. Unfortunately, sweet potatoes, my heart's desire, was nowhere to be found. Mashed pumpkin had to suffice.

Tonight we clean up. And eat more. We had thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis many desserts and lots of snackies -- tonight will not be healthy. Hey, the Spirit of Thanksgiving lives on!

The Stolitsa, Part Two

Back to the heart: the Kremlin. We had a tour within the walls, and though I kept my eyes peeled, because before I left, my host brother told me to say hi to Putin. Also, there were no sightings of our dear Vladimir Vladimirovich. As it turns out, the Kremlin is home to the world's largest cannon, and the world's largest bell, which is featured on the right. The young fellow standing in front of the behemoth of a bell is the tallest member of our group. He's well over six feet. But the bell well over two hundred tons. And is six meters. My money's on the bell. (Photo courtesy of Tess S. via facebook.com)

Or rather, under the bell. (Photo courtesy of Carly C. via facebook.com)

The highlight of this tour was end, when we went into one of the churches, where it was warm. Also, there was a totally sweet chandelier with grain on the top, and grapes hanging from the bottom. Geddit?! I'm pretty sure there were also some famous bones lying around, but again, end of the tour, tired of listening to the endless Russian, didn't catch names. After the tour ended, spurred by a desire for warmth and prompted by our Stalinist Culture class, Margo, Carly, Ana and I rode the Moscow metro and ogled the stations constructed during the time of Stalin which featured socialist realist art, a topic recently covered in class. We were at it for hours. I got really warm. Unfortunately, taking pictures of the metro is strictly forbidden, luckily, there are pictures online. One of my favorite stations is Park Kultury, which features reliefs of young soviets engaging in enlightening pastimes. Check out the proletarians reclaiming the art of ballroom dancing from the aristocracy! (Photo from beeflowers.com/Metro)

The next day, we went to the Novodevichy Convent and Monastery, conveniently located a few blocks away from our hotel. Our program director thought the tour was really interesting and keep talking about it during the lunch that followed, but he was in a different group and is fluent in Russian. I looked at the buildings, the falling snow, the icons, and occasionally asked questions of Liza, my hotel roomie and Russian tutor. She explained to me how to weave with silver and pearls. That was interesting. The other part I got into was a visit to the neighboring cemetery, where many prestigious Russian are buried. I spotted Rostropovich, famous cellist and conductor, freshly sunk into the ground, and Kruschev (Photo courtesy of Carly C. via facebook.com). I didn't see too many other famous grave sites due to lack of a map, guide, and time. I'm ok with that. I can always go back. They aren't going anywhere.

The highlight of the trip, hands down, was visiting ВДНХ - Выставка Достижений Народного Хозяйства (VDNKh - Vystavka Dostizheniy Narodnovo Khozyaystva, Exhibition of the Achievements of the National Economy), also a recent topic of "Stalinist Culture Before WWII." Constructed between 1935 and 1939, this massive exhibition was originally planned to celebrate the mighty and multifaceted USSR. Each republic had their own pavilion showing what they contributed to the economy of the CCCP in the style of their own culture, etc. etc. To the right is the fountain Дружба народов (Druzhba narodov -- Friendship of Nations), fifteen (15?) maidens, one from each nation, circling a sheaf of grain. (Photo courtesy of Carly C. via facebook.com.)

Grain was a running theme at this place. Can you spot some on the Central Pavilion, behind the fountain?

Nowadays, the pavilions are less exhibitions and more places to sell honey, underwear, and dishes. We went into Aremenia and found excellent truffles, mediocre baklava, and white mystery khalva, discovered by yours truly at Tsarskoe Selo and beloved by Margo, Ana, et al. We also watched a sweet but cryptic movie at the Theater of 360 degrees. That is, there were twelve (12?) rectangular screens hung on the walls of the circular room onto which were projected twelve images of, well, the countryside, the forest, or art -- whatever struck the director's fancy. It was a trip.

Unfortunately, not all the highlights of the exhibition were present: the giant statue of Stalin was taken down long ago, as well as the statue of Рабочий и колхолница (Rabochi i kolkholnitsa - Worker and Kolkhoz Woman). The latter was taken down for restoration in 2003, but then Moscow didn't get to host the World's Fair and they didn't have money for it, and now they say that it has been irrevocably damaged and will probably never return.

I'd better quit before I add more links.

The Stolitsa, Part One

Moscow, the object of much anticipation. Moscow, the sometimes capital of the Russia country. Moscow, in contrast to St. Petersburg. And so on and so forth.

Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral, Kitay Gorod, GUM, Arbat, etc. etc. we walked highlights of the city, as lead by our friendly tour guide, Mikhail Pavlovich. He was a riot, especially if you could understand his Russian. Anything of historical interest about the city I'm sure you could google to you satisfaction, much better than I can explain. So I will provide my впечатления (vpechatleniya - impressions), in roughly chronological order.

But I am getting ahead of myself. How did we get to the столица (stolitsa -- capital)? Train! What kind of train? Sleeper! When did it leave St. Petersburg? Eleven o'clock at night! Not many people slept on the way there, but I sneakily selected low-key coupe mate (i.e., Russians) and fell asleep at a reasonable hour. Or at least "fell" as in on to my bed. It wasn't too easy or pleasant to sleep on the upper bunk, especially as I didn't take the time to fully make my bed or put on pj's.

We arrived bleary eyed on Saturday morning. I had set my alarm for 6:45, fifteen minutes before our scheduled arrival. Turns out there was no need for such precautions: cheesy Russian pop music jolted me from my sleep sleep half an hour from arrival. The train had it's own radio "station": Dorooooozhnoe radioooooo! goes the jingle.

Skip the checking into the hotel, fast forward to Red Square.

It was smaller than I expected, чесно говоря (chesno govorya - frankly speaking), and I was surprised to notice that, standing in front of the State History Museum on one end and looking at St. Basil's cathedral at the other end, the latter looks sunk into the ground. I guess the square is built on a hill? There's one difference between St. Petersburg and Moscow -- the latter is far more curvy. Moscow would be far more interesting on a bike than dear ol' built-on-a- river-delta Piter. This impression was reinforced the next night: Amy and I were watching a movie, Статский Советник (Statsky Sovetnik), which takes place in Moscow. The final shot of film was of Oleg Menshikov, the most attractive Russian actor I've laid eyes on, walking away from St. Basil's Cathedral. First, I was excited that I had just been were he was walking, and second, I noticed that he seemed level with the domes, rather than the entrance.

ГУМ (GUM -- think "goo" plus m) lines one side of Red Square. This State Universal Store (it sounds better in Russian) is crammed with high-end stores, into which I was afraid to enter while sporting my large, unclassy coat. I did make it into one store with the goal of gasping at the prices. I found the tag on a fashionable shirt, and if I remember correctly, it was 5000 roubles. I don't even want to translate that into dollars. Everything is expensive in Moscow, since it is home to the more billionaires than any other city in the world. Side note: the man that compiled the list of the billionaires, published by Forbes soon after died, presumably bumped off by one of the men he named.

Features of the building that puzzled me: fake trees planted on a strip of fake grass (an the woman that was tying dark ribbons around the trunks). Feature of the building that pleased me: a round, white bed, piled with pillows. It was realllly comfortable and covered with people on our program from the time we found it 'til the time our guided tour began.

Храм Христа Спасителя (khram Khrista Spasitelia -- Cathedral of Christ the Savior), formerly a swimming pool under the Soviet regime was a highlight because also under the Soviet regime, it was the site for the Palace of the Soviets, a MASSIVE construction that never came to light, but which we studied in my class, "Stalin Culture before World War II." The kram is huge -- the Palace of Soviets was going to be even huger. The statue of Stalin that was going to top the building was planned to be taller than the Eiffel tower. Crazy!


Well, I'd better wrap it up -- I want to get to the Thursday evening service at the Lutheran church not far from here. Tonight I will make sure to get a bulletin, which should do wonders for my comprehension of the богослужение (bogocluzhenie - divine service). I don't know how cold it is now that the sun is down, but I've got my long underwear on, never fear.

Moskva

Here is is, proof that I made it to Moscow, entered the walls of the Kremlin, and listened intently to the tour. I wanted to let you all know that I am still alive and kicking, but have not yet found sufficient computer time to give more details on life in the second half of my time in Petersburg.

It's cold.

But I can deal.

Second Hand

I'm sure you all -- some more than others- will be relieved to know that today I purchased a Winter Coat. It is long, black, hooded, and Big. It has that second-hand odour -- inoffensive, yet a trifle troubling.

"You know," it says, "you're not the first person to have worn this coat. You have no idea who the previous owner was. There may have even been more than one previous owner. But don't worry too much. I'm mostly clean."


So I don't worry, I just giggle whenever I catch a glimpse of my bloated reflection.
Tra-la-la, I have a large bubble of warm air surrounding my person.