Парк Победы

Important features of Park Pobedy:

-Tanks that you're allowed to climb all over

-More rollerbladers than you've seen since 1996

-A really lovely, incredibly deep metro station (clink the link for REALLY COOL facts about it, as well as pictures)

-A group of four violinists, one violist, and one cellist playing perfect classical music in the area of the station below the street, before you leave or as you enter

Famous Dead People

Graves I saw today: Boris Yeltsin, Nikita Krushchev,* Anton Chekhov, a bunch of other people of varying degrees of fame whom I'd never heard of

I will post pictures if I can steal some from the blogs/Facebooks of my friends here. EDIT: Here's one Hannah took of Chekhov's:

Fun fact: The city of Moscow has deployed its fence- and curb-painting army, which has descended upon almost all neighborhoods with terrible, acrid paint that gives off the strongest fumes imaginable.

Another fun fact: Car alarms go off ALL OF THE TIME here.

*I don't know why his name is transliterated that way and not Krushchyov, which is closer to how it sounds/is spelled in Russian.

Oh, I'm in Europe

I can't decide which is stranger: the ubiquitous smoking indoors, or the ubiquitous drinking outdoors.

Last night, our program director, Vera, led us to a club owned by a friend of her daughter's. It's called Masterskaya (Мастерская, or The Studio) and is located in the center of town. The city at night is so beautiful, and the area we walked through to get to the club looked so very European. Inside the club: dim lighting, pale walls, a cloud of smoke hovering above the tables, just crowded enough to be cozy. It was only 300 rubles, about 10 dollars, to get in. Not long after we arrived, the band began playing. A cellist, violinist, pianist, and accordion player gave us two hours of tango music that simultaneously broke and soothed my heart. All four were outstanding musicians. I've never seen an accordion played that way, and the cellist was superb--such a stereotypical artist, all floppy hair, passion, and effortlessness. I sipped my drink and smiled at my friends and felt beautiful in my nicest dress. I needed it. It couldn't have been more perfect.

I'm paying for my lazy weekend now, but somehow the homework just doesn't seem like such a big deal.

Finally, time to relax

We had a lot of visitors to the little apartment yesterday. In addition to two deliveries (food and Anya's contacts): Grisha's friends, one shorter and round and loud, and one tall and thin and quiet; the cleaning people, who are from the Philippines; a couple of the kids from my program who go to OSU; and Anya's fashion-designer sister.

So Grisha's friends. They spoke English, too! Geez. Or at least the shorter one, Alex, did. The taller--I can't remember his name, it was very unusual--greeted me in English, but hardly spoke at all even when everyone was speaking Russian. After Alex had thrown himself across the couch (which is really a sort of large bean bag thing) and snuggled up to Anya, getting a dirty look from Grisha, he said, "So. All I know about you is that you're from Ogaio (Огайо, the Russian word for Ohio)." And Grisha said (you'll have to imagine his thick accent), "That is not all you know! You know she has long legs and is redhead." Which was very funny. Alex was dramatic and funny and seemed really good-natured. Grisha's other friend--I feel so bad that I can't remember his name--seems sweet as well. I hope I see them again. Anya and Grisha are considering having a party for Anya's birthday, in which case I'll meet more of their friends.

I left not long after the cleaning people came, so I didn't talk with them much--they spoke English with Anya. I went on a walk with Graham and Hanna, who are from OSU. They came back, but Hanna had to leave before dinner. Anya made Graham and I some traditional dish whose name I can't remember. It was not unlike tiny pirogies, and Anya set sour cream on the table and laughed at me. I'm trying to like it, I really am. It's eaten with EVERYTHING here, even more often than I was expecting. Graham seemed to enjoy it just fine. I had a little and then ate the rest plain.

Anya's older sister, Masha (Маша), came over after 8:00. She mostly played with Lyova at first, but then Anya hard-boiled some eggs for us to paint and Grisha came home from the gym and visiting his mother. Grisha, Masha, and I sat down in the kitchen and painted our eggs while Anya put Lyova to bed. Traditionally, Russians paint either end of the egg a solid color and write ХВ, the abbreviation for the Russian phrase meaning "Christ is Risen." I did so, at least on one end. On the other I painted an exclamation mark. My egg was striped white and mustard-yellow. The biggest stripe in the middle was white, and I painted purple swirly things--I wish I had a picture, I'm very proud of it. Masha said, "I like your style." Grisha painted a Star of David at one end of his; he and Anya are both ethnically Jewish, although Anya is also Orthodox by heritage. They are not religious. The rest of the egg he decorated with other symbols and patterns, such as a very well-executed zebra print. Masha painted an absolutely perfect heart on one end, and on the other a third eye symbol with an Aum on it. The rest was striped with various shades of yellow and red.

Masha was fabulous in the exact way I would expect a fashion designer to be. She called me "darling" and said things like, "I don't know, I hate everyone right now" in an absurdly charming, low, heavily accented voice. She is elegantly dramatic, and I can tell I would have a hard time knowing her personally but she was much fun to hang out with for one night. It's apparent that she is a strong, resilient but volatile business woman. There's a lot to like about her. Also, she's a babe.

Anya, Grisha and I watched O Brother, Where Art Thou and ate ice cream. The ice cream was SO DELICIOUS! They put some topping on it, but even alone it was nice, had a stronger cream taste than American ice cream. They gave me the largest serving of ice cream I've ever eaten in one sitting, I think. The movie was sort of dubbed. The original sound was still there, but there was a track laid over it of a man translating into Russian--it was odd, and it seemed like it would be difficult to understand who was saying what. Anya said that it was, but that they could mostly figure it out. I can't imagine enjoying a movie like that, but when it was over, they said they loved it.

This morning, Anya and I will eat the eggs we painted as well as a traditional Orthodox Easter cake called kulich (кулич, I would imagine, though I haven't seen it spelled out). I can't tell you how much I adore Anya. We're very good friends after just over a week.

Night life

Sort of.

Last night, handful of my friends and I were planning on going to Kruzhka, a bar, and then over to Propaganda, a club in Kitai-Gorod. I'd been to Kruzhka on Tuesday and liked it--60-ruble ($2) house beer (which I wouldn't drink more than one of, anyway, so it's quite cheap for me) and it's such a dive. In a very charming, pleasant way. Not much different than the Skull in Athens--only beer, for instance--but about 5 times larger. Anya and Grisha said they'd never go there. Cheap, they said--which is, of course, why we go there. Anya thought it was the sort of place that would have rowdy drunk men who want to fight and hit on young women. But we weren't bothered at all while we were there, and mostly the patrons were young, many of them women. The tables were lit by long candles stuck in beer bottles, and the light actually made the place look pretty classy. Plus they have bathrooms with toilet paper that you don't have to pay for, a rarity here.

I started getting stomach pains on my way to Kruzhka that made it difficult to stand up. But I powered through and made it to the bar. On the ride/walk to Propaganda, it just got worse and worse, and we weren't far when I realized there was no way I'd be able to dance. So Rachel and I took the metro back to our station. I called Anya and stumbled home. When I got there, she was waiting with a box of medicine labeled "Живот" (stomach) and gave me something that tasted like Mylanta. "I hope it wasn't our food!" she worried over and over, suggesting maybe the mushrooms were the culprit. But I'd been eating that dish for the past few days. I didn't say so, but I think the problem was that for dinner, Grisha poured a bunch of leftover vegetables into a skillet and warmed them up with A LOT of cheese. It was so good that I ate the whole pan that he made, and I think that's what did me in--I have a suspicion I'm developing a mild lactose intolerance. But I really hope I'm wrong.

But the night ended up being AWESOME. We talked about movies and music, and sat around for hours sharing music with one another. Anya gave me a bunch of CDs to listen to (including 5'NIZZA, woo!), and when the conversation died down she started watching Friends in Russian on her computer! She said she wants to buy it in English. We are amusingly alike--they don't have a TV, but they watch House on the computer, and now I find out she likes Friends. Grisha and I have very similar taste in movies. We, improbably, share a love for the Jim Jarmusch film Dead Man. He's more into Tim Burton than I am, but he also likes the Coen brothers. I was shocked to find out that Anya hasn't seen any Coen brothers movies, though she certainly knows who they are. I'm going to try to convince her to watch O Brother, Where Art Thou with me today in Russian. She found it on the Russian Facebook, В Контакте (I think). They can, apparently, stream almost any movie very easily. Their licensing laws for movies and music are much different than ours--they can get almost anything free or at least cheaply.

I feel better this morning and I'm excited for today, even if I just end up watching movies with Anya at home.

I look like a slob

While waiting for a friend at my metro station today, I started keeping track of the footwear of the women walking by. At least 90% of the women around my age were wearing heels--and I mean HIGH heels, at least three inches but more often four or more. I'd also guess this was true of around 3/4 of the women under the age of 50.

I feel really, really frumpy here.

My friends and I are planning on going clubbing tomorrow, and I have no idea what I'm going to wear. No time to shop--I forced myself to come home right after class today to get in some real studying.

So there's a song I've assigned to be the official song of my trip to Russia (to be honest, I made that decision before I left). I don't usually go in for inspirational songs, but this one's different for some reason. Click here for the lyrics, but you should really find it and listen to it, because it sounds less corny if you get music + vocals + lyrics together. Here's a bit of it anyway:

"People are just people

They shouldn't make you nervous

The world is everlasting, it's coming and it's going

If you don't toss your plastic

The streets won't be so plastic

And if you kiss somebody, then both of you'll get practice

The world is everlasting

The dirtballs in your pocket

The dirtballs in your pocket and take off both your shoes

Because people are just people

People are just people

People are just people like you"

-Regina Spektor, "Ghost of Corporate Future"

Anyway, I like it.

No energy left

Due to many factors, not the least of which is the fact that I spent approximately seven hours of the day on my feet, I am exhausted in every possible way. But there are a few things about today that I'd like to note.

Today, we went on an excursion to the Kremlin (Кремль). It was mostly entirely boring, but at least we didn't have class AND I learned another ridiculous Russian historical fact, one which really gives the Beard Tax a run for its money. In the times of Tsars and stuff, like way back when, they treated bells as though they were human. The bells had tongues--which is understandable. But they were also whipped, executed, and exiled. How the Russians went about doing this, I have no idea. Nevertheless, they did.

After the Kremlin and a stop at Okhotny Ryad for food, a group of us went searching for a souvenir market we were told was good and cheap. We never found it, but we found some pretty interesting spots that I realize now I will have to describe later, when I'm more awake, in order to do them justice. The important thing is, we found a place that Jordan dubbed Hell Town and we're going back this weekend.

The best part of my tiring and not completely awesome day was coming home to Anya, Lyova, and Grisha and getting a surprise--Grisha had made things for burritos, which I'd told them the day before yesterday I really enjoy making at home.

Life is pretty good here.

Although now I have to go and do the homework I haven't done for tomorrow. It's almost 11:00 here. Ugh.

Beard fact

We were learning about Peter the Great (just Пётр I in our textbook) in history class today. Apparently, the nobility in Russia in his time were notable for their long beards. Peter OUTLAWED beards, and when that was apparently too much for the populace, he allowed beards--WITH AN EXORBITANT TAX! That's right, a Beard Tax. My favorite ridiculous historical fact.

Ahem

Sorry for flooding everyone's Google Reader. I just posted the entries I've been saving up while I didn't have wireless. They're long, and I doubt anyone will read them all.

I'm fine, by the way. I got many concerned messages on Facebook. Take all that worry-energy and direct it towards sending good thoughts to the families of the people who died or were injured in the attacks. It's a sad day in Moscow.

I should stop writing such long entries.

Sunday, March 28, 2010, Day 5, 10:32 a.m. Moscow time, 2:32 a.m. Athens time

We had the daylight savings time switch here last night, so Moscow is again 8 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time in America.

Yesterday was fun, but I was too tired to stay out as long as I had wanted. Every morning I feel awake and I’m sure that I’m over the jet lag, but it’s still hanging around, I think. Inevitably, around 5 or 6 I crash, no matter how hard I try not to. So I ended up at home again—argh! But I have many weekends left to explore Moscow night life. Cool thing: our program director’s daughter has a friend who owns a club. In a few weekends, they’re having an orchestra (or some size group that plays stringed instruments—she told us in Russian, so I can’t be sure) come to play tango music. Now, I can’t tango, but that sounds awesome. So I’ll certainly be going there.

Anyway, yesterday most of our group met at Red Square. (Lyova is still sick, so Anya didn’t join us.) Lenin’s mausoleum was open, but we waited too long to go in. We had to go in groups, as you can’t take anything in with you, but the first group was turned away at the door. It was closing. But again, many more weekends to go. Mostly we just walked around that beautiful area of Moscow, taking pictures. I’m regretting now that I never got my camera fixed. I’ll have to steal everyone else’s photos. We saw a lot of beautiful buildings, but you’ve heard of that stuff—here’s something I hadn’t known about: there is a pedestrian bridge with a bunch of iron tree-type things running across it. You can hardly see the trees, though. They are covered with padlocks. Couples paint their names on the locks and attach them to the trees, especially after weddings. (I’ll find pictures someone else took and post them here, I hope.) Here, following a wedding, couples traditionally visit important sights in Moscow. I saw at least four just-married couples that I can remember, two at the lock trees.

Finally, we went to Охотный ряд (it looks strange in our letters: Okhotniy ryad), a mall, to find some food. An uninspired choice, but we were all very hungry and not excited by the prospect of wandering until we found a decently-priced place that everyone approved of. We ended up, because the food court was PACKED, in a chain Italian restaurant called Il Patio. I know, entirely unexciting. But none of us have been thrilled by Russian cuisine so far (I’ve been very happy with Anya’s cooking, but it doesn’t sound like the food my friends eat with their host families), and it was nice to get full on something relatively familiar. The poor waitress was a good sport, and we eventually ended up with all of our food. The portions were a great deal smaller than at American restaurants, which was fine. I ended up spending about $17 all told, not a big surprise. Afterwards, I got ice cream at one of the many stands in the mall. It looked so pretty, set out like gelato. It was 65 rubles for a scoop, two bucks and some change, but the scoops were very small. Not tragic, because the ice cream was rich—it was probably the best strawberry ice cream I’ve ever had. I can imagine, though, that by the time I get home, the amount of cheap food we have access to in the US will overwhelm me. (For some reason, I am already craving mac and cheese, and anything with lots of sugar.)

I’ve been bad: I speak English frequently with my host parents. I wrote them a note in Russian when I went out yesterday, and they said it was very good, that they were impressed. Haha—they put it on the fridge. But anyway, I’m so glad that Anya speaks English. I wouldn’t be able to get very close with her otherwise. We have gotten to know one another well, and when I was missing people back home last night, she listened to me talk and talk and talk. It was comforting. I like Grisha very much, too, but he isn’t home as often when I am. Oh—I found out yesterday that Lyova was born four days before my nephews.

Someone is supposed to come tomorrow to hook up the router. I can’t wait. I am unfortunately reliant on the Internet. But when I’m here for long periods of time and I end up in my room alone, it can be sort of depressing. I can only read and write for so long.

12:45 p.m. Moscow time, 4:45 a.m. Athens time

I want to clear up the remark I made about cheap, available food. It’s not that they don’t have food here. But a lot of things we’re used to—like cereal—are expensive, and the foods they have here that are like things we have in the US are often slightly different. It’s not primitive or anything at all. Surprisingly similar, really. I’ve been especially amused by the products in the shower room: Clean & Clear, Herbal Essences, Colgate. Really, the culture shock is minimal, doubly so for me because I live with young people who are pretty much like young people in the states.

One funny difference: the toilet paper in my apartment does impressively resemble, in both color and texture, the yellow napkins they used to have at McDonald’s. I have not noticed it elsewhere, though.