Kazan: Gateway to the East!

Lately we have been enjoying the bounty of the May and June holidays here in Russia. The bounty stems more from the number of days surrounding the holidays that are somehow deemed non-working days as well rather than the actual holidays themselves. For example, if a holiday happens to fall on a Thursday workplaces are then closed on Fridays as well in order to "bridge" the holiday to the weekend. To be honest it seems that most workplaces wrap things up on Tuesday afternoon considering it just plain rude to expect anyone to have to work on Wednesday the prelude day to the holiday. Mondays following holidays then allow for slow re-entry into the work week. For someone (Erik) who actually has a finite amount of time in which to accomplish something with a Russian state institution these holidays might be maddening, but for someone (Me) who has a lot of free time and likes parades the holidays are a welcome event and a chance to get out of Moscow.

The most recent set of holidays was in celebration of День России (Russia Day) during which we were supposed to celebrate the sovereignty of the Russian Federation. We chose to do this by traveling to Kazan the capital of the Autonomous Republic of Tatarstan. Tatarstan named for the Tatar people who are the descendants of the Golden Horde (the Mongol khanate that once ruled Russia) is an ethnically mixed region of Tatars who are mainly muslim, and ethnic Russians. For me it was a chance to see something besides Moscow and St. Petersburg and the other familiar tourist sites and it was a chance to take the train!

I generally love all forms of transportation; trains, planes, subways, trolleys, and buses so I was excited to settle in for 15 hours of train travel in Russia. I have romantic 19th century notions of trains and was looking forward to the overnight journey. We prepared for the journey by buying all forms of food and beverage that can be constituted or reconstituted by adding hot water (this being the only thing available on the train since our train did not have a dining car)--tea, dehydrated mashed potatoes, & cup-of-noodles. Then of course there was the vodka which is a staple of Russian train travel. Erik and I and our two friends got a sleeping car for four which is a cozy little compartment with two beds on either side stacked like bunk beds and a table in-between. All was lovely except that it was 85 degrees outside and you cannot open the windows in the compartments. We weren't able to figure out why there was a prohibition on fresh air. We assume it was the Russian fear that fresh air is really something much more dangerous called a "draft" and if the draft gets you you'll become instantly sick even in 85 degree heat.

We had been warned by many of the Russians that we told that we were going to Kazan that the "Asian part" of Russia is very different than Moscow somehow implying that it was crazy and chaotic. It was indeed different it was very lovely. With a population of just over a million people Kazan was much more manageable and less unwieldy than Moscow and the people were downright friendly. None of this is to say that Moscow isn't an amazing city but after awhile in Moscow you begin to feel like all 14 million of its residents are sharing your metro car and with you and you feel like you've been chided by at least 10 million of it's residents for not doing something correctly. But it turns out you can escape them all for Kazan. I was ready to pack up and move to Kazan. Forget Russian language lessons, I'll learn Tatar. The city has a beautiful 16th century Kremlin with the mosque inside it reconstructed in the mid 1990's. Our love affair with Kazan continued with a cruise on the Volga river by far the biggest river I've ever seen and a trip to the spice market which brought back fond memories of Turkey for me. Best of all our hotel had a swimming pool and a sauna. However by the third day having realized that the entire local population was open-mouthed staring at us every time we spoke English to each other and we had eaten at the same Turkish restaurant on numerous occasions we realized that maybe we were ready for Moscow again where no one bats an eye at your foreigner status (for better or worse). After our 15 hour train ride home my need for train travel was satiated for quite awhile.

Click here for more pictures of our trip to Kazan

They Call it Dima Bilan: The Moscow Mullet

Fashion in Moscow has come a long way since the 1990s. While the well-dressed Moscovite can now compete with the well-dressed Parisian in terms of fashionable clothing and accessories, there is one problem that remains: the Moscow mullet. The mullet here is not yet a mass phenomenon; instead, it is worn, completely without irony, by Moscow's most fashion-conscious citizenry. A typical scene: a fashionable couple strides toward you, wearing tastefully chosen designer clothing. The woman moves effortlessly through the city's snow drifts in high-heels, her companion smiles confidently, turns his head, and then you see it: a tuft of hair swings forward onto his shoulder. Who is to blame? While Russians have been known to blame the cultural and historical gap between Europe and Eurasia on the centuries-long Mongol rule of Russia, or the Mongol Yoke, I don't think we need to go back so far in time to find a culprit. I would argue that Russian pop star Dima Bilan is to blame. He's about to be a two-time Russian representative at Eurovision, and I have heard several people here refer to the hair-style itself as "the Dima Bilan." Take a look at the picture of Dima Bilan above and judge for yourself.

When you've seen enough, check out our Flickr album for photos of our recent trip to Abramtsevo and of some other recent Moscow adventures.

Carnival Moscow

There is no shortage of Russian holidays, and there are few occasions that Russians will not seize upon as reason to celebrate. Last Sunday, we marked the end of Maslenitsa, a week-long binge of buttery treats and carnival events before the start of Russian Orthodox Lent. While we skipped some of the traditional Maslenitsa entertainments, such as fist-fighting and sleigh riding, we did manage to indulge in plenty of bliny, Russian crepe-like pancakes filled with lemon, butter, jam, caviar, mushrooms, and much more. And on Sunday, we went out to Kolomenskoe park, the former country estate of the Romanov tsars, for what was billed as an “early twentieth-century style Russian Maslenitsa carnival.” We are not sure if fat-suit sumo wrestling was part of the Russian Imperial repertoire, but the day did offer more than its share of fair games, rides, dancers, and lots of people on stilts. At the end of the day, a straw effigy symbolizing winter was brought in on a sleigh and burned before cheering crowds. Along with announcements of presidents-elect and pancakes shaped like the sun, we hope that this ritual will have a warming effect on the still-chilly Russian capital. To get a better sense of the spirit of the holiday, check out this link to Moscow's Maslenitsa headquarters.

If Maslenitsa is the most Russian of holidays, St. Patrick’s Day is perhaps the least, but is still celebrated with great—if somewhat misplaced--enthusiasm. As it turns out, the parade route for Moscow’s rapidly growing St. Patrick’s Day event runs right next to our house, so we had an intimate view of the madness. As a holiday with no history nor tradition in Russia, its significance is still subject to interpretation. Of course there were Irish flags and lots of green, but also a Russian marching band, Russian fairy tale characters, and, perhaps best of all, a Russian group of American Civil War re-enactors. There was also a large contingent of what one imagined to be Russian fantasy gamers in “Celtic costume,” as well as people who had simply come to wave Russian flags. A coven of Russian Wiccans, a patriotic celebration, a children’s holiday, or simply an excuse to drink beer on the street with friends? For now, Moscow’s St. Patrick’s Day is all things to all people.

Pictures of both events are now up on our Flickr page.

Erik

"The Season Has Changed"

In the words of the newly anointed Russian President Medvedev, “the season has changed.” While we’re not sure if he’s actually referring to the literal possibility of the season of spring having arrived in Moscow (the prospect of which has poliarniki extremely excited, though half of us is doubtful, the other half unbelievably optimistic and ready to agree: yes, Medvedev, spring is here) or if Putin’s heir, in that deep yet painfully clichéd Russian soul sort of way, is meaning metaphorically that the thaw is on in Russian politics. Regardless, we are trumpeting change of all kinds in Moscow. So today, to herald the potential early arrival of spring in Moscow and the beginning of butter week (Maslenitsa, the Russian Orthdox equivalent to Mardi Gras) we will recap our survival so far of the Russian winter with our highs and lows (mainly highs which are broad enough to include some lows as well).

1. The All-Russia Honey Fair: Until our visit to the All-Russia Honey Fair last week, we had no idea just how good honey could be. In fact, Keeli thought she didn’t even like honey. Filling the entire hall of the giant Manezh exposition center just off Red Square, hundreds of honey sellers from every corner of Russia (and Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan) managed to surpass all of our previous honey expectations. There was honey the color and consistency of cream from the Jewish Autonomous Republic of Birobidzhan, dark, rich chestnut honey from Tatarstan, and lightly colored, fragrant acacia honey from southern Russia. There was also mountain honey, honey made by monks, and then the honey products: honeycomb, honey butter, honey mead, honey cream, honey pills. Honey pills, you ask? As we learned at the honey fair, honey is good for all things at all times. This important fact tempers my concern at the amount of honey I have been eating (in fact, as I write this now, I am dipping into some of Birobidzhan’s finest). I can rest assured that the Birobidzhan honey is helping my respiratory system (it has also caused Keeli a mild allergic reaction, but this is surely part of the healing process), the dark amber honey is indeed, as we were told by honey seller, “the stomach’s best friend,” and the honeycomb we purchased from a Russian man with an improbably long beard, is an integral component of the “honey diet,” even though it tastes sweeter than a lump of sugar. In short, we went home with a bag full of honey products, and a cup of a fizzy alcoholic drink made from honey (it helps hair and nails). One week later, we are going to have to institute serious rationing, since we were met with an abandoned hall when we tried to make a second honey run on Friday evening. Otherwise, there may be dire consequences for our respiratory systems, stomachs, hair and nails when the honey runs out. Erik

2. The discovery of Superbit DVDs: We are excited about the rule of law coming to Russia, which indeed includes a crackdown on piracy of all kinds, but please, we still want to have our cheap counterfeit DVDs and my, have we found them! Available for 120 rubles (5 dollars) each, every American movie released here in Russia can become part of our home movie collection. This discovery is beyond excellent and has totally changed my quality of life. I cannot tell you how many hours of the Russian sporting channel I watched on tv (you see bobsledding is pretty easy to follow when you can’t understand Russian: they’re going to start at the top and end up at the bottom) before discovering the abundance of American movies available in English at my very fingertips. Keeli

3. The Moscow Metro. I could wax poetic for days about my love/hate relationship with the Moscow Metro. It is the most mind-boggling phenomenon of Russia in my eyes. In a place where disorganization reigns, the metro is insanely efficient. A train every 50 seconds and thousands and thousands of people underground pushing and elbowing their way on and off at every station at all times of day. I have never been shy about my love for public transportation systems, but never before have I been so torn in my equal love and hatred of a transit system. I have taken to standing and walking with my elbows out at all times just to try to create a buffer zone of personal space. I am cultivating this ability to disembody myself entirely while in the metro. I have memorized my regular routes and now walk into the metro station confident that my feet will take me where I need to be and my brain can begin the process of the space-out for survival. The person beside me blowing their nose onto the floor of the metro, I didn’t even see it. The unbathed drunk next to me whose head is bobbing dangerously close to resting on my shoulder, I’m not even here. Heated to 9,000 degrees with more strangers pushing parts of your body than you thought possible, the Moscow Metro chews up the remaining bits of individual humanity you possess and then magically spits you out exactly where you wanted to go. Keeli

4. Khachapuri--Everyday in everyway. To explain to those of you who aren't yet initiated into the cult of Khachapuri-love, Khachapuri is a Georgian cheese bread whose only close equivalent I can come up with are the cheese sticks at Doozy's in Lincoln, NE—although this is way better. Erik keeps telling me I'm going to get sick of it sooner or later. What foolishness! He clearly doesn't understand my love of my favorite food group in Russia: the bread with good things stuffed in it group (also includes pirozhki). The rest of the Russian food groups go something like this: fried goodness (including potatoes, onions, chicken cutlets and pork cutlets), beets (also including borscht), mayonnaise-based salads, the sugar group (chocolates, cookies, tea cookies, pastries, and cake) and finally the tea group. Note that Erik's editorial commentary on this posting is that my favorite food in Russia is indeed not Russian (duly noted Erik). Keeli

5. Our apartment and our neighborhood: The fact that the apartment is on the market and could be sold at any minute makes us appreciate it all the more. The apartment building is massive and monumental, constructed by Stalin as a gift for the triumphant Soviet polar explorers (poliarniki) of the 1930s (hence the name of our blog). The apartment itself is a veritable museum of Soviet everyday life. Living here is like method acting for the aspiring Soviet historian. While probably a turn-off to any prospective buyer, we feel thrilled every time we see our furniture and appliances appear in old Soviet movies (since everyone in the Soviet Union, from Belarus to Bishkek, had the same armchair, lampshade, and casserole dish). The apartment was built with charmingly little concern for energy efficiency, its palatial ceilings (never mind the cracking paint) rising up 18 feet. Meanwhile, the central radiator system of the building runs so hot we frequently need to leave a window open.

Walk outside our door, and you find yourself in the heart of central Moscow. Tree lined Nikitskii Boulevard runs in front of you. To your right, begin the Old Arbat (a charming if souveneir-laden pedestrian area, and one of Moscow’s most historic streets) and the New Arbat (its brash, casino-laden cousin, with four lanes of screaming traffic). The Kremlin is only a ten minute walk away, as is the Musical Conservatory. Right next door is the house where Gogol lived, wrote the second volume of Dead Souls, and burned the second volume of Dead Souls in the fireplace. Just beyond that, a cozy Georgian restaurant where Keeli can get her Khachapuri fix, and old Georgian men with leather vests and dark sunglasses serenade diners with their renditions of Georgian urban folk songs. I realize that I end this post sounding a bit too much like a tour guide, but this is only to encourage those of you out there thinking of visiting us to come soon, while we’re still here. Erik