Moscow

Even though its 2 minutes till midnight and I just got back from Moscow (safe and sound I should add) and I really want to sleep, I am going to write this entry now, recapping Moscow because, as we all know, if I just put a promise for the entry here, chances are it won’t appear later. Or maybe it will appear but on a completely different theme or topic than promised. Moving on,

Moscow.

Wait, I want to preface this with a short description of Peterbsurg (remember that?). Petersburg was beautiful and the entire time I was there I felt like I was in Europe, Venice to be exact (which I only found out later was the city that Peter modeled his city after more than any other) But it was interesting because as beautiful and interesting as Peter was (Peter as in the city. Though Peter the First was, indeed, a very interesting and well groomed individual) it had a completely different feel to it than any other Russian city I’ve been in. The whole time I was there I felt as if I was in Europe but with Russian people walking around on the streets. Поэтому I am glad I only visited there and am not studying there. Though I don’t agree with people that say Peter is “not Russia” I do agree that its feel is not as close to the heart of RussiaMoscow. as, say,

Speaking of which,

Thursday I arrived in Moscow with my friends and the first half of the day was spent seeing if they would pass the test to get their Visas. We arrived at a small square where stood an incredibly large gathering of people (there are only 6 or so days each month when people can go see the Consul for the interview to try and receive the Visa). There were more than 400 people there, and at one point Oleg (one of my friends) turned to me and, in English said “You should be proud of your country. Look how many people want to go to it.”

I’ve always had a underlying appreciation for America and of course every time I criticize her policies or political tendencies I thought I was doing it out of a deep seeded love for my country. And I was, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say love, I think my appreciation and understanding of America is just that, a strong realization of how lucky I am to live in such a country, but nothing close to a feeling of love. But what Oleg said really struck me and I stood there, while they waited for their numbers to be called, looking at all the people there, the giant crowd, each waiting anxiously for his or her turn. The most striking and powerful scene I saw was, while waiting for Oleg and Aleksei to emerge from the Consul building (a nerveracking wait) I saw a young girl exit from the building. She had just received her Visa and smiling wildly, ran to embrace her mother, who had tears in her eyes. And I think it was exactly then, that I fully felt how important this opportunity was for people.

Both Olyeg and Aleksei got their Visas! I am psyched beyond beliefe about this, as it means they will be in America this summer.

The second halfd of the day was spent wlaking around Red Square.

Friday: After moving into “Galina’s Flat” (a small 4 room apartment, a woman named Galina rents out to people) I spent Friday morning inside the Kremlin and then walked around for a good 9 hours going to pretty much ever single literary spot in Moscow. These included: Lermontov’s House, Chekhov’s house, Gogol’s house (unfortunately closed for renovations) Bulgakov’s Flat, Patriarch Ponds (the opening scene from Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita, Gorky’s house and various other places.

Saturday: I spent the morning at a cemetery looking at famous dead people: GOGOL!, Chekhov, Kruschev, Bulgakov and then went to a very beautiful church which I forget now how it is named. But there are pictures of it, it’s the one with the giant golden dome. Yeah.

And then in the afternoon I met up with the people for whom I am currently working translating their website. They are a band (called “RadaNik”) and we had an incredible time – went to a café, talked, laughed; it turns out one of the members of the band loves Mr. Bean with a passion only, perhaps, eclipsed by my own, and we spent a good hour or so saying things like “Помните когда он делал это!» “Remember the time he did this!” etc. It was great, and they are all wonderful people and I now have an open invitation to go to a recording session of theirs next time I am in Moscow along with a CD of theirs they gave to me as a gift.

Saturday night I saw a concert of the group Сплин (Spleen), probably my favorite Russian rock group that is currently still together. It was incredible. And I was 50 feet away from the stage (it was a small club but still), and they played some of my favorite songs. And I bought a shirt.

Sunday: My second day in Moscow while heading into the Metro I suddenly heard “Гриша!”, turned around to see who had yelled out my name and saw a friend of mine (Misha) who had worked at the Middlebury Russian Language Schools last summer. He is living and working in Moscow now and so on Sunday we had made plans to meet up. And we spent a long time catching up and talking about the Russian experience in general. Also, the next time I visit Mocow I will be able to do so free of charge as Misha has kindly offered his apartment to me any time I need it.

I forgot to add that Sunday morning I was in Red Square and saw the body of Lenin and the grave of Stalin. Both resulted in a vary odd feeling; seeing a body or the place of rest of a body that once held so much power, and under whose command so many people died (60 million under Stalin I believe). If I was more in the mood to write I would elaborate on this point.

Sunday night I saw a presentation of Gogol’s Ревизор “The Revisor” (maybe that’s not an accurate translation), a comedy that I occasionally understood and, when I did, very much enjoyed.

Monday: was by far the most interesting and unorthodox day as all of my original plans fell through and most things were thrown together at the last minute. I had originally planned to travel by train to an Yasnay Polyana, a town about 4 hours outside of Moscow where Tolstoy’s estate is located. Woke up early, bought my ticket, only to find out when double checking information in my guide book that the museum is closed on Mondays. Returned my ticket. I still wanted to travel outside of Moscow and thus found another town to go to called КлинПарк Победи (Victory Park) an entire park dedicated to the Russian Soldiers of World War II. The main museum ended up being closed but this was a blessing in disguise because the grounds were almost empty and hauntingly quiet, so that the only feeling was one of incredible awe and smallness standing beside the incredible monument that formed the center of the park (there are pictures). (pronounced Clean, as my clothes rarely are here) where Tchaikovsky’s house is. Bought my ticket and with the 3 hours I had until the train left I went to see

Its impossible to stress just how different the Russian view of World War II is. Not difference, so much as, just how central a part the war played (and continues to play) in the lives of Russians today. In America we talk about the “Lost Generation” but in Russia this phrase applies to such an exact degree it is almost impossible to see things from the Russian viewpoint. America had many losses in WWII but in Russia almost one person in EVERY family was killed, oftentimes entire families were killed, in the long struggle. As a result, any American visiting Russia will frequently be met with the question “Who won WWII?” It is the opinion of most Russians that all Americans believe they, themselves won WWII, (this certainly is not completely true but, to some degree each country has its own biases when teaching history in schools), while Russians get little credit for the incredible price they paid. Every time I’ve had this conversation with Russians I’ve tried to make it clear that I am aware the Russians were invested for a longer time but that does not mitigate America’s losses. Regardless on this point, WWII, no matter how hard I try I find it impossible to fully comprehend how strong a part WWII plays in the Russian Conisciousness, and on just what incredible a scale the death toll was.

After the park I went ot the train station, got on the train, and sat next to an old Russian man who told me Russian Jokes. The funniest one, and the one I understood the best, was the first and goes something like this:

«Что такое Русский стол?»

«Там лежит пива, бутилка водки, киелбаса, и собака.»

«За чем собака?»

«Есть киелбасу»

In English
”What makes a Russian table (for eating. Basically: What is a Russian table composed of)”

“Beer, a bottle of vodka, kielbasa, and a dog”

“Why a dog?”

“To eat the kielbasa”

I arrived in Klin, only to find out when I got to the museum a piece of very important information that was not written in my guidebook. I documented this revelation in my photos where can be seen a very friendly, welcoming sign, that just happens to say (in English and Russian) that the museum is closed the last Monday of each month. So I took a picture of the house through the iron gate and, finding it meaningless to return immediately to Moscow, decided to try and find my way back to the train station by walking. I knew this would be a good half hour to hour walk and as a result I would be able to see some of the town.

Klin is a nice, small town that certainly has the feel of the Russian countryside, occasionally interrupted by busy streets. One large difference from either Moscow or Yaroslavl, however, is the attitude of the people there towards foreigners. There is no outward display of antagonism, and I wouldn’t even say a very strong dislike, but I definitely received a feeling from people I passed on the street that it was strange I was in their town and I wasn’t fully welcome. Of course in Yaroslavl (Moscow even more) the sight of иностранци (foreigners) is something people have grown used to. But small towns like Klin, except for the draw of Tchaikovski’s house, I would imagine don’t often see too many foreigners. That said, everyone I asked for direction was very kind and obliging.

There was only one sort of scary incident that happened on my way back. Sensing the fact that I stood out fairly strong in the town I tried to take as few pictures as possible so as to not look even more like a tourist. However, at one point I came across a bridge that was over a small but pretty waterfall. I figured that taking pictures of the waterfall would not immediately identify me as a foreigner, since Russians probably did as well, and therefore headed down the staircase to the path which ran alongside the river and started taking a few pictures.

Suddenly I heard a loud crash close to me and looked up to see a group of middle schoolers standing on the bridge overlooking the waterfall. They were throwing fairly large stones in my direction and laughing. (I only found out later that this happened to a friend of mine in Irkutsk while she was running and a bunch of middle school aged kids threw stones at her and ran after her. I’m not even sure if it was because I was a foreigner or just because they thought it was funny). Anyways ,it was a difficult situation because I wanted to yell something in Russian at them, or at least make some threatening movement in their direction, but the last thing I wanted was for other people, seeing or hearing my response, to get involved. Therefore I stood there with a smirk on my face, looking at them, and then walked away. That was probably the most worrisome moment I had the entire time traveling alone in Moscow but, in comparison to stories I have heard it was nothing.

Returning by train to Moscow I knew I wanted to see some sort of concert and that they started at 7:00. Luckily, the Russian sense of time is about as good as mine and concerts usually start at least 20 minutes late. (Interesting fact: if you tell a Russian “see you at 4”, they will meet you around 4 but probably be late. If you tell them, “see you after 4” with the intention of seeing them at, say, 4:15, they may arrive at 6). So at 7:04 I ran into the famous Tchaikosvsky Concert Hall to see if there were any tickets left for the performance. All were sold out, but there happened to be someone standing nearby me who said he had an extra ticket. After a good 5 minutes of scrutinizing the ticket to make sure it was real, and finding no fault with it, I bought it (for the equivalent of 6 dollars!) and for the next 3 hours saw the Moscow Symphony Orchestra in conjunction with numerous guitar virtuosos.

Tuesday: Went to the Tretyakovskaya Gallery (an incredibly famouse museume, with onie of the best collections of Russian art), got in at the student price which is about 2 dollars. Afterwards I went back to “Victory Park” to see the inside of the museum. Then met up with friends, and, at 7, headed on the train ride back.

One last story before I finish up:

On the train ride back I was quite tired and was looking forward just to reading and not having to think, so for the first hour I ate my Russian equivalent of Raman Noodles, drank my chai, and read. But somehow or another, (I forget how) I ended up exchanging a few words with the guy sitting across from me (with the intention of going back to reading right afterwards). However, the conversation quickly took a fairly philosophical turn and, not being one to turn down such a conversation, the remaining 3 hours on the train flew by as we talked passionately about the human soul, how to lead the fullest life, karma, God’s existence, and the responsibility of one human being to another. It was an incredible conversation and it turns out the man (he’s probably about 30-40 years old) lives in Yaroslavl and owns his own shop there. I am going to visit him at some point this week. Just to stress this again, the conversation was wonderful, and his point of view was an outlook that I spend half of my time believing in strongly, and the other half not finding enough proof for. At the very least, however, the exchange of ideas served to refuel and reenergize various views I used to strongly hold before they grew tired under the burden of so much faith and trust.

This is already too long of an entry and badly written. Next time I am going to write an entry about various aspects of Russian culture/philosophy I enjoy/don’t enjoy. And perhaps soon I will finish the entry I already started about the 8^th of March as it touches on many of the same themes.

In conclusion, I successfully traveled alone around Moscow for a good 6 days and am now home and happy to be relaxing.

До скорово,

Гриша