Saturday, August 22, 2009

Жди меня, и я вернусь

Well, I am afraid that we have come to the end of our blogging experience. I got to take a Tupolev between Moscow and St. Petersburg. Once was enough for me considering their less-than-stellar service record, although I did get bumped to business class. Free hard candy!

I wasted time for the last couple of days in St. Pete, to be honest. I was completely worn out, I had picked up a cold at some point in Kyiv, the weather was cold and rainy, and I had nothing I needed or wanted to do. I tried to go to an internet cafe the day before I left, but was unsuccessful in finding one that was still open and not being raided by the authorities (speaking of which, Cafe Maxx on Nevsky may not be open next time you visit. Just a heads up.), which is why you are reading all of this after the fact. I went to dinner on my last night with Pete and a couple of his friends who were visiting from Denmark, and we had a nice, if unremarkable time. I also had one last beer in the beer garden Christine and I frequented this summer, said my good-byes to Tavrichesky Park, and got packed up.

Thursday was a day full of travel, but it all went remarkably smoothly, thankfully enough. I did get stopped by the customs service on my way out of Logan International, and the guy kind of acted like a dick, unfolding all my neatly folded dress clothes and throwing them into a pile, et cetera. However, he also insisted that I open up every doll in one of the matryoshkas (the nesting dolls), which led to the hilarity of me opening the first five or so until he got bored and just let me move on through. Thanks to Elizabeth and Jessica, I had a quick trip back to Jayson and Greg's house to spend the night. The next day (yesterday) I moved in to my dorm, and now we are here. So that pretty much wraps up my summer.

I figure no short-term journal can be complete without a bit of retrospection, but I'll keep it brief. Working in St. Petersburg was in many ways a very good experience. Even when not always as interesting or exciting as some seem to have thought it must have been ("but you are working in RUSSIA!" is a phrase I heard on several occasions), I certainly learned a lot. My Russian improved, I got valuable job experience and strong recommendations from the top two officers at the consulate, and I got to waste time in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Not too shabby.

People occasionally ask me why I got into doing Russian stuff. Now that I actually think about it, people, either face-to-face or via applications, ask me this question constantly. Usually, I've answered with sort of an askance look and exasperated shrug, or some overly-academic essay to the tune of "well, I've always been interested in foreign cultures, and I vaguely remember the collapse of the Soviet Union and the thought of a giant country with great literature and a fascinating political situation appeals to me, blahblahblah..." But I've finally started to get a grasp on what it is. And unfortunately, try as I have for a while, there are no words that really suffice to explain it. I could construct a really trite and belabored metaphor, but I'll spare us all that indignity. No, such an interest in Russia, and I'm sure many of my compatriots feel the same way, doesn't bear thorough description.

Ultimately, Russia is a cruel and exacting mistress. And for some reason, despite the flaws; the dirt and grime; the wild mood swings that range from cold, dark stares to sweaty, profuse displays of affection; the tests of strength, patience, and willpower; I love her.

C

Friday, August 21, 2009

Hostel Environs

Well folks, this is a bit anti-climactic, because I am already back in the USA, yet I have at least one more blog post for you. Owing to my battery dying in Ukraine, then the temporary housing I had in St. Petersburg upon my arrival and the recent closure of practically every internet cafe in the city, I have been without the worldwide web for a while. I won't tell you all about my trek through Kiev, as it would be boring. Soon I'll post the photos to facebook and you can take your own tour of my vacation. Suffice it to say that it was absolutely lovely, the people were friendlier than in Russia, the food was cheaper, and I had a blast. Living arrangements were, however, hit and miss.

The first night I got there, I basically went straight to bed. It was late and I was totally wrecked, but people throughout the hostel were talking, so it kept me up a bit. I assumed that the other people in my room were Russians. This was absolutely incorrect, as I found out the next day that there was a Brit, and American, and a Ukrainian. The American I met first. I had come back from some touring to the sound of major repairs being done in my room. Upon opening the door, I realized it was actually this dude snoring. It was pretty incredible; the man was a freak of nature. He woke up shortly thereafter, told me he was a TEFL guy (and spoke no Russian or Ukrainian) from Chicago, and that he was back dealing with a "legal problem" he'd incurred during his last visit. He was constantly vague, but from the look and the way he acted, I'm going with he coerced one of his underage students into sleeping with him. He seemed sleazy (I'm generally suspicious of 40-year-olds who stay in hostels, but that was but a small part of what made him sleazy), and he lectured me about the problems in Ukrainian politics. I don't know when everyone became such a fucking expert in Ukrainian politics, but I got an earful from just about everyone I encountered, whether they were Ukrainians or not. Whatever.

The next guy, who shall forever be known as the Belching Brit, stumbled into the room that night. I would generally leave for my touristy stuff early, think 7:30 am, then be totally wiped out and back in the room for good by 8-9 pm. Anyhow, I was lying there and this guy comes in seeming drunk, but soon I find out he had been drinking, but what really was making him sick was his ill-fated decision to drink Ukrainian tap water. Pro-tip: no matter what anyone says, DO NOT DRINK THE WATER IN RUSSIA OR UKRAINE. I thought this was a well-known piece of wisdom, but apparently not well-known enough. The issue this poor young man suffered from for the rest of the night was an impressive display of indigestion. He let loose belches every 30 seconds or so that nearly blew the glass out of the window. The man was like a walking foghorn. I felt bad for him as he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, but his explosive burps kept me up half the night, so my sympathy was a bit short.

The last guy was a Ukrainian from Kirovograd (SE of Kiev). He was nice enough, looking for engineering work in economically-foundering Ukraine. Nothing particularly interesting to report from him. Nice guy. I ended up doing translation between him and the other guys in the room.

They all left after my first whole day in the country, and were quickly replaced by a charming young woman named Lada, a furniture salesperson from Yalta (Crimea, Black Sea coast. Famous for the Big Three meeting there during WWII.). She was there on business, and we hit it off immediately. We talked about St. Petersburg, Ukrainian politics (without the tone of a lecture), our careers/activities, anything. Also, she didn't threaten the structural integrity of the room with her noises in the night, which was another big plus. As often happens when you make a connection with a Russian (she was ethnically Russian, as is most of the Crimean peninsula), I was invited along with Caitlin to visit her sometime in Yalta. Considering how beautiful Crimea is supposed to be, I may have to take her up on that offer.

I left Ukraine early on Tuesday, August 18, and I have to say that while St. Petersburg will always be my first love in Eastern Europe, Kiev had an awful lot going for it. It's really a beautiful city, much more laid back than it's Russian counterparts. Also, as the Ukrainians are quick to point out, it's the greenest capital in Europe, in reference to all its parks and reserves, so it's a great place to go sit under a tree. I highly recommend a visit, although it's even less accessible to those who speak no Russian than Moscow or St. Petersburg, although the people will probably be more patient with you.

Coming soon, the thrilling conclusion to my summer in St. Petersburg, and a look back on what all be.

C

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Na maidani, kolo tserkvi

Well, for those worried, I am alive, well, and in Ukraine. I don't have a lot of time to post (computer dying already, no European converter), so I am just copy-pasting an email I wrote Caitlin. Sorry if you hoped for more. I will update again either on Monday or after I get back to Piter on Tuesday.

I had an early flight, so I got up at around 6, although I slept very poorly all night because of the excitement. Trying to save some money, I decided to take the metro/minibus. Bad decision. First, I got to the correct metro station, then got on the right bus (I even asked "does this go to the Airport?), but headed in the wrong direction. I realized this pretty quickly then yelled at the driver about not telling me when I asked, and he gave me the shittiest "well, I AM going to the airport, eventually", so I paid, hopped off, and tried to hail a taxi, but to no avail. So. I got back on the metro, went back to the original stop, and hailed a taxi there. The guy who stopped refused to quote a price before I got in, and since time was starting to run short, I had to hope for the best. We talked about Obama (and how he doesn't trust him as he seems a bit "two-faced", which must be the most thinly-veiled racist statement about someone of mixed heritage I've ever heard), then we arrived at Pulkovo-2, which is the international section. He demanded 1000 rubles for a 200 ruble ride. I told him I didn't have that, which was true, and he started calling me a liar and a cheat. I asked him who was cheating whom, offered him 300, and that was that. So I go into the airport, but suddenly realize that since I am stopping over in Moscow, I need to be at Pulkovo-1, which your tickets don't remind you of, and which, in a great example of Soviet logic, is several miles away. I hit an ATM, then run out and stop the first taxi coming by. He quotes a price that is only a little more than I probably should have paid, and just wanting to get there, I agreed immediately. Fortunately, he drove like a maniac and I got there with plenty of time to spare. Phew.
I then arrived in Moscow, which has a similarly-stupid setup for domestic versus international flights. So I asked a couple of police officers what to do, and they were actually quite helpful, although one kept asking me if I was registered (even though he was holding my registration card and passport). I told him yes, in St. Pete, and he asked why not in Moscow. Not in the mood, I asked him as snottily as possible how on earth I could have landed 20 minutes ago and gotten registered in Moscow that quickly. The other officer laughed, then took my passport and handed it back. Ugh. At least they told me that Aeroflot runs a free bus between the two airports. So I waited and got on the bus, then got to wait for a long time for the next plane. They didn't print on my ticket or announce which gate my flight was leaving from, so I wandered around looking for the right one until about 30 minutes before boarding, when they finally posted it. The flight was uneventful, and I was so tired, I of the no-sleeping-on-planes, managed to sleep through most of it. We landed, and passport control was nightmarishly backed up. After about an hour, I made it through, and was bombarded by taxi drivers. I told them all I didn't need it, and hopped the bus that I was told to take. In one of the few strokes of luck I had all day, the driver didn't charge me. I took it to the end of its line, but that wasn't where I was supposed to be, and I couldn't figure out what was going on. So, I started walking. Fortunately, it was a lovely day, and I figured that since I was at least in the city, I would soon find a metro. Wrong. But I walked, kept my head up, and I came around a bend and saw the famous skyline, with the golden cupolas and the giant protectress statue, so I knew I was going in the right direction. I thought about hailing a taxi (I walked several miles with my bags), but it was rush hour on Friday, so I was, in fact, moving at about the same pace as traffic. I crossed the Dniepr, and found a metro, which I then took to my stop. Fortunately, the hostel was only about a five-minute walk from the station, and I found it with minimal difficulty. Home sweet home. Too bad the joint lied in two ways: 1) no wireless internet and 2) no security safes in the room. I figured out a way to rig my bag so that it was attached to my bed near my head and to tie up the zipper so that taking anything out would be difficult. My roommates, two Russian tourists, seem like decent enough guys, too, so I'm not too worried. They did, however, stay up late in the common room talking to the staff, and after such a long day, I just wanted to sleep. Luckily, I still had the earplugs in my backpack from the sleep mask I gave you, and was able to fall asleep immediately after that.

Also, this is hilariously tragic and tragically true and truly appropriate for this post: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/15/world/europe/15kiev.html?hp

Do pobachennya,
C

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The End of a (Very Brief) Era

First of all, not that they read this blog, but I would like to say congratulations to my friends Mary and Stu, who just got married this week. I wish I could have been there to share their day, and from the looks of the first few photos making their way to facebook, the event went smoothly and wonderfully. Best of luck, guys!

Well, tomorrow is my last day as an employee of the US Government (at least for a while). Much of the day will likely be consumed with "housekeeping" details--cancelling my server login, turning in my keys, getting an exit briefing, et cetera. I have trained my replacements to perform the menial yet vital functions I do, and after I give my last cable the go-ahead for transmission, I will be utterly expendable at the consulate. Frankly, it's exciting. I made it, despite the State Department's near-weekly attempts to destroy me. I will give a more thorough wrap-up of my experience after I leave (a week from tomorrow, which also seems shockingly close). For now, let's throw out some amusing tidbits from the last couple of weeks:

-My fan melted. Yes, melted. I can't decide if this is ironically awesome or awesomely ironic.
-I found out this week that I am actually authorized to receive shipments here. Good to know.
-I am moving into the consulate building tomorrow so they can prepare the apartment for the next permanent FSO moving in. Amusing to move into the building the night after my last day working in it.
-I just figured out how to use the air conditioner in my room last night. Again, I move out tomorrow. (In my defense, you have to use a remote control that I just happened upon in an unused drawer. Still, ridiculous.)
-I just got an email from my RA (a position that I still hold is ridiculous to have in grad housing), and he doesn't know the correct name of the building we live in. This does not bode well for the year.
-I just realized that I've been walking too far for my grocery shopping. Oh well. This is what happens when you dismiss everything to the north as "the river".

As I have mentioned previously, on Friday, I will fly to Ukraine, and I am sort of nervous, but mostly stoked. My Ukrainian is meager at best, but I am hoping to give it a bit of a whirl. Everyone there speaks Russian, so it won't be a problem if I flop, and since Ukrainian is a rarely-studied language outside the country, I would imagine Ukrainians are much more receptive to attempts to stumble through a few phrases than Russians generally are. The trip itself doesn't seem like a big deal, although I can't say as I am looking forward to the five-hour layover in Sheremetovo Airport (Moscow). For those keeping score at home: estimated flight time--2 hours 55 minutes, layover time--4 hours 50 minutes. Awesome. I guess I'll bring one of the many books I haven't read this summer.

In 48 hours I will be in Kyiv! Hopefully I will get you a post on Sunday evening or so. And photos, too. Catch you on the flip-side.

C

Monday, August 10, 2009

Stealing Good Ideas

A friend of mine from my grad program, Elizabeth, had a very good idea to post a playlist for her summer. She generally did a better job blogging than I have done, and even posted a rationale for all of her musical choices. I, on the other hand, simply have been listening to a lot of music this summer and thought it might be interesting to take some of the stuff that I've been listening to most (some old favorites, some newer to my tastes) and make a playlist that I thought was representational not only of my listening habits, but also my perception of my summer thus far. So, if you feel like giving a listen to my playlist, go for it. It's not chock-full of nuggets that you've never heard, but what can I say? I'm predictable.

C

Citizens! In the Event of a Nazi Siege, This Side of the Lake is the More Dangerous!

And another week goes by without me adding anything. I guess this has become something of a weekly posting. If you don’t like that, well, uh, sorry? Much as I enjoy St. Petersburg, the novelty wore off, oh, about five years ago, so I’m not constantly running off to another museum or theatre or something. But I shall now faithfully recount the events of my week.

Actually, another part of why I haven’t posted until now is that nothing of interest came up until the end of the week. The most exciting thing that happened for the first few days of work was that I took a sick day on Wednesday. I didn’t feel terrible, but had been feeling a bit ill the previous few days, so I decided to just shut it down. This definitely proved to be the right decision, as I was back at work the next day and ready to go (not that there was anywhere TO go). Friday was a bit more interesting, in that I went to lunch at a Korean restaurant with the PAO. He’s an interesting guy, and it was nice to eat someplace new. The food was even pretty decent (though predictably not spicy)! That evening I had the second of my two interview sessions for the cable I’m writing. Nothing earth-shattering was said, really, but the guys had several entertaining anecdotes, and even occasionally managed to get back on topic. At the end of the night, I realized just how expensive this little café is when I picked up the check. It’s so expensive…how expensive is it?!...it’s so expensive, I had to call the political affairs officer who lives in my building, and thus just down the street from the café, to come bail me out on the bill. Fortunately, the coin dropped on the beverages gets reimbursed by the consulate. Your tax dollars at work!


The next day, I went to Lake Ladoga with several consulate employees and their families. This was another excursion that I planned out. Ladoga is the largest lake in (geographical) Europe, and it was across this body of water that the Soviets supplied Leningrad during the siege in WWII. Hence, the highway that takes one from St. Petersburg to Ladoga is named “The Road of Life”, and is strewn with monuments, memorials, and extremely Soviet mile-markers. We went as guests of the curator of the Road of Life museum, a real muzhik by the name of Alexander Broneslavovich. He insisted on giving us a tour of the museum, which then led to some of the greatest excitement I’ve had all summer, when I was dragooned into being the INTERPRETER.

Interpreting is infamously hard, and with the amount of language study I’ve done over the years (Russian and otherwise), I’d say I have about as healthy a respect for simultaneous interpreters as anyone who has never had to do it seriously. But I still undersold them. I consider my Russian to be pretty good, especially considering my limited opportunities for speaking over the last several years. Simultaneous interpretation is hard. Really. Hard. You miss one word in a paragraph, and suddenly the wheels come off. Your mind rushes to find that word, and in the meantime, it has missed the next ten, your interlocutor has stopped speaking, and everyone is waiting for your translation. There’s a reason these people get paid crazy amounts of money. There’s also a reason they work in 30-minute shifts. Your brain is toast after doing that. But back to the story.

The museum was informative, I think. I was mostly distracted, but considering the amount of historical study I did of the siege in undergrad, I don’t think I missed too much. Among the most memorable items on display was, of course, an example of a daily bread ration from the starvation winter of 1941-42. However, the museum also featured several trucks (Ford AAs), weapons, bits of airplane, and other war-related detritus dredged from the lake. Those will probably stand out in my mind even more than the bread. Imagine, if you will, driving a vintage 1934 Ford truck, loaded to the brim with flour, medicine, ammunition, whatever. In the dark. On a frozen lake. With no lights. With little or no markings to know if you are going the right way. Without having eaten enough to keep your body from atrophying. While being shot at by German artillery. Sounds pretty bad? Now turn around. There and back took about 8 hours, and you’re still on the hook for another go. Failure means the whole city—around 2 million by that point—dies. Doesn’t sound like a very fun occupation to me, and seeing a truck they’d pulled out of the lake was grim beyond most things I’ve ever seen.

After the cheery tour, we all relaxed by the lake, cooked shashlik (kebabs), and enjoyed the sunshine. We were lucky with the weather, and being out in the country proved a much needed respite from the constant noise and dust of the construction on my block. Of all the things I’ve done here this summer, that’s probably the thing I enjoyed most.

Sunday proved mostly uneventful. I purchased a few souvenirs, took a few pictures, and ate lunch at a dingy stolovaya (cafeteria). Then I made an excursion to the grocery store and enjoyed lounging around for the rest if the evening. It’s hard to believe that I only have three more days of work, and that I go to Ukraine, only the second foreign country I’ll have ever visited, on Friday. I’ll try and get you another update before I fly to Kiev, but if not, have a good week, and you’ll next hear from me from the banks of the Dnieper.

Also, since I know you are all ravenous consumers of photographs, here's a facebook link to the album from this weekend. Again, if you want to see them but don't have facebook, let me know and I'll get you a link.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2106263&id=1102272

C

Sunday, August 2, 2009

What Have You Done To Be So Lucky?

That's right, you are getting a double-dose of my blog this weekend, because I like you so much. Actually, it's more because I have interesting things to tell you, and I didn't get to post all week. But if you felt special after the first line, you can continue to pretend that is the reason.



Last night (Saturday), I witnessed the FIRST-EVER American Football game ever played in St. Petersburg. Historic, eh? The match was played in an infamous area of the city to the north called Primorskoye, amidst some of the newest and most opulent buildings in the city. I would like to say, before I get to how weird this game was, that the uniforms and equipment that the teams (the Nevsky Lions and the St. Petersburg Gryphons) were impeccable. I was impressed and really came to expect a quality product based on their appearance.



Don't judge a book by it's cover.

The game was played on a soccer field (big surprise), but that's not even scraping the surface of how bizarre this game was. First, there were yard markers diligently spread at ten-yard intervals--that is, until you got to the forties. I would estimate that there was about 8-10 yards between the two forties. Obviously, the yard markers were just for show. There were no uprights, as such, so for field goals, the attempt was to kick the ball over the soccer goals. This was fine, except there was no netting set up behind the goals, which meant that on the south side of the field the ball would sail into the parking lot, and on the north side, into a thick overgrowth of woods. Of course, all this assumes a successful attempt, which really was rarely a problem. In fact, the Lions (fittingly named, as we shall soon see) never even attempted an extra point. They went for two each time, and never succeeded, while the Gryphons had two kicks blocked more or less by sheer virtue of the fact that they were kicked at about chest-level with the defensive line. Alas, the nuances of the game may take a while.

Nuances like understanding basic offensive strategy. The Lions on more than one occasion completed screen passes to the running back, but gave him no blocking protection. In case you don't understand what happens in this scenario, allow me to treat you to the following link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9jgP1brUn8. Not surprisingly, these plays led two two lost fumbles, and one broken leg (seriously). Another detail lost on both teams was the idea of "punting". There wasn't a single punt all game. And the Lions, in fact, at one point attempted what can only be described as a wingback sweep on something like 4-and-30. Not surprisingly, the Lions failed to convert. This trend of not understanding appropriate passing-vs-running situations was another trend throughout the match.


Nuances like zone coverage. Like how to fake a handoff. Like having wideouts stay back to block. Like how to throw a football (the Lions' QB had particular trouble with this one). But the number-one failure (pictured right) was the awarding of a touchdown to the Gryphons on a play that should have been ruled a touchback. WTF?! My head exploded on that one. And you thought the refs were screwing YOUR team.





All told, however, it was a good time. I was announced as a representative of the American government (which was strange), I sat next to some overly-perfumed and excessively-made-up low-level politician from the area, as well as a whole bunch of Chechen children, who were much more interested in making loud squeaking noises with a blade of grass, here on a special cultural exchange.





Today I went out souvenir shopping a little, but I have to admit, much to the surprise of some who know me, I hate to buy souvenirs because I can't stand haggling. I feel cheap and annoyed, but that's how we do things around here. I was not wildly successful today, but next weekend will be better. Why? Because next weekend will not feature VDV Day. The VDV are the Russian paratroopers, with whom I had a brush a few years ago that led to the story entitled "The Time I Was Nearly Thrown From a Moving Train By Drunk Russian Paratroopers". Suffice it to say, I wanted to avoid them as much as possible, and I'm sure they got raucous later this evening, but I hid inside all day. That is, after I got stuck behind their damn parade--TWICE--on the way home. It's really amazing to see so many people so drunk at noon, but that pretty much sums up the affair as I saw it.

And tomorrow, back to work. Nothing terribly interesting on the immediate horizon, but of course, I will try to keep you updated. Also, football photos will be posted soon.

C

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Rounding Third...

Well, this week sort of got out of hand. It's funny; I was so bored at the beginning of the week, I was considering posting on the blog despite having nothing to say. But as the week went along, I got busier, got less mired in my own sloth, and now, well, here we are. So let's begin from the beginning, so to speak.

The start to the week was pretty inauspicious. Monday yielded nothing of substance to do, other than try and sort out HR paperwork messes. Not exactly my idea of a good time. That evening I went to a local Ukrainian restaurant with Christine, and then we went and got our traditional after-dinner drinks. It was bittersweet, as that was the last time I would see her before she left for the states, meaning that now all of my friends have left town. Already feeling a little ready to get back myself, being socially isolated did not help that sentiment.

In order to avoid making any disastrous, career-ruining posts, let me just say that there was nothing to report for most of the beginning of the week, and it was really putting a drag on my energy. But things started looking up when I was assigned to rewrite the universal briefing memo, a small fact sheet distributed to officials who visit the city to let them know about the history, politics, economics, culture, and social issues of the city. Believe it or not, that's the kind of work that really gets me motivated, and I finished it in a day and I think the CG and deputy really liked it. I was pleased with the way it turned out, I have to admit.

On Thursday evening after work, I went to a nearby cafe to talk to a few youth leaders about...things. Mostly they confirmed things I already thought or knew, but they certainly gave me some interesting insights. Also, it was just nice to get out of the apartment. The next day I went to an international conference hosted by the regional government that I wish I could have bottled and taken home with me for when I am suffering from insomnia. I cannot remember the last time I was so bored. Not helping the fact was that the speeches were so stupid, but would get repeated, sometimes twice. For example, you'd have some Pole from Silesia talking about youth programs in his region, then someone would translate into Russian, THEN someone would translate the Russian into English (not very well, I might add). It was delightful, as you might imagine. There were two redeeming factors, however: I got to walk there and the weather was beautiful, and I got a whole bunch of free swag, including a crappy t-shirt that says (in Russian) "Youth: A World without Borders". Whatever.

Last night, I went over to a coworker's apartment with several other guys from the consulate for a social event. Little did I know, this meant playing Risk. Risk...Risk is really long. Really. Long. And we didn't start until 10 pm. And thanks to some bad luck, I lost very early. It was fine, no one was taking it too seriously, but after a few hours, I was tired and just was like "well, I don't mean to break things up, but I'm tired and heading out". I guess others felt likewise, as that pretty much ended things. Then I came home and slept for several hours. Today is lazy until this evening, when I am going to an American-rules football game played by two local clubs. If the baseball game was any indication, I could get pulled out of the stands to play wideout. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

C

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Bonus Post: The Godfather

So, this weekend, feeling lazy (as I often do these days), I watched some movies I had never seen before. Three, to be exact: The Godfather Parts I, II, and III. First of all, if you've never seen them, you probably don't need me to tell you that they are good (the American Film Institute has already pounded that point into the ground), and they've become so much a part of our culture, that you already know the gist of things and can figure out whether they interest you. I really enjoyed the first one, which is what prompted me, after my long meandering yesterday, to watch the second one. The second is a sequel, but like most quality sequels, it adds a great deal to the story instead of rehashing bits and pieces from the first movie. It is, on its own merits, a very good movie, as well.

The third movie, however.....

I wish I could say that the third movie was laughably awful, as I do so enjoy that kind of wretchedness. But in all honesty, this was not quite that bad. I mean, it's a really bad movie--the kind of franchise-sullying movie that series fans will want to forget (see: Rocky V, Star Wars prequels, Indiana Jones 4), but it falls short of being hilarious, which makes it even less bearable. The story (replete with Catholic Church intrigue, the hallmark of any good movie) isn't very good, there is a lot of recycled footage and navel-gazing, the characters make something of a departure from themselves (esp. Michael Corleone), and the acting is, well, bad. Even Al Pacino, who is so good in the earlier movies, comes across as wooden. But all of these facts could be forgiven, making Godfather III tolerable, if not good, except for one little detail.

Sofia Coppola is ABSOLUTELY ATROCIOUSLY TERRIBLE.

I don't think I've ever seen a worse actress in a major movie. Ever! The closest run for her money would be Ahney Her as Sue in Gran Torino, but even she seemed like she was trying. Coppola lays a total egg; she somehow manages to be completely vacant and inhuman, yet terribly annoying. The problems in her performance boggle the mind, really, because they are things like: 1) not speaking English with normal or expected cadence and tone, 2) failure to make appropriate facial expressions, 3) misunderstanding of basic human movement, 4) completely unbelievable displays of emotion, etc. I fast-forwarded through large chunks of this movie, largely because she was so bad (although, to reiterate, the rest of the movie isn't very good, either).

SPOILER:

I felt like a jerk, but I laughed when she died at the end. A lot. Not just because I was happy that this curse had been lifted from the movie, but because her character in death, just as in life, was completely unbelievable. The woman is shot through the CHEST, for god's sake! Absolutely ridiculous. Perhaps I am heartless for laughing at a death scene, but I would argue that anyone who didn't laugh at this is without any sense of justice.

THIS JUST IN: I just looked her up on IMDB, and it turns out Coppola was one of the queen's attendants in The Phantom Menace! This woman is a terror! Has any performer had so prominent a hand in ruining multiple great movie franchises? Thank god she decided to duck behind the camera for the rest of her career.

C


Around Town

Well, I haven't done a lot since I last wrote to you all, but yesterday I did go on a self-misguided wander through St. Petersburg to take more photos and to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather. I've got a link for you on facebook so you can see the pictures. I give you most of the pertinent information in the photo captions, so I won't waste your time here.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2104932&id=1102272

I also watched The Godfather for the first time yesterday. I liked it, although I think The Departed is actually a better movie, and I'm not just saying that because of my preference for Boston over New York. Still, it was a very good movie and the messages from both movies are pretty different, so despite them both being gangster movies, they are hard to compare.

I'm now entering the home-stretch at work. I have three more weeks, although the last one will be shortened as I will be heading to Ukraine during it. I have a couple of projects I am working on, so I think I will be able to keep busy. Also, my weekends are filling up with plans quite quickly, as next Saturday I will be at a football game (American football, played by Russians) to take pictures, and the following Saturday, I am arranging a trip to Lake Ladoga (large lake north of St. Petersburg that was used as a means of transporting supplies into Leningrad during the siege) to see the siege museum and the countryside. The Saturday after that, I'll be in Kiev, and the Saturday after that, I'll be in Boston, so time is running short. I've done just about everything in the city that I really wanted to do, except buy souvenirs for a couple of folks.

Happy Russian Navy Day!
C

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Kastkovo? Kaykovo? Keykovo? Karavello? Whatever.

Dear Readers!

Since last I wrote to you, not much of interest has happened, generally speaking. In fact, I've been particularly bored at work. But today, I had a rare adventure, wherein I rode 2.5 hours each way in a car with four Russians to the glubinka (boondocks) to help out with another summer camp.

I have been struggling with some mild insomnia recently, so the last thing I wanted to do was get up early this morning, but that I did so that I could get to the Public Affairs Office on time. This was a similar affair to my last camp excursion: bring trivia, a few camp game ideas, and baseball. Furthermore, we made lemonade and sandwiches while the kids watched The Incredibles (in English...despite the utter lack of English knowledge among these children).

Frankly, the camp experience was similar to last time. I went with Vera, Lena, and Leonid from the PA section, and we took Nikita, one of the baseball players from the North Stars (and one of the ones who came to the last camp excursion) with us to help teach baseball. It was fun, the kids liked the food, they had fun with limbo and red rover, and they insisted on watching Nikita and I air out the baseball (this led to the first time anyone has watched me throw a baseball with any sort of interest since I was about 14, if that, and I found it pretty funny to hear them ooh and ahh at basic throws). But whatever, there were a bunch of kids, the whole thing was terribly disorganized, largely because of our counselor help didn't live up to that appellation.

Much more interesting, actually, was the car ride there and back. Days where I speak nothing but Russian I usually find exhausting--I don't know if that is an indication that speaking Russian wears me out (probably), or if those days tend to be days where I am working a lot and sort of running the show (also a possibility). Regardless, the conversations we had in the car were delightful without exclusion. This will probably seem obvious or silly, but I honestly think those who have not spent extensive amounts of time with foreigners in a foreign land take as a given this simple fact: people are people everywhere. No, I'm not just figuring out that the Russians are human, nor did I ever have suspicions to the contrary (okay, maybe once or twice). But these were surprisingly open conversations about our interests, our experiences, and our hopes for our own lives, with a generous portion of humor thrown in (mostly from the crummudgeonly Leonid, who drove, occasionally with a mouthful of Lays potato chips).

I think foreigners, especially those who speak a different language, hold a certain mystique to most everyone. They come from a distant place and speak about God knows what in a mysterious code, therefore, our minds leap to the conclusion that they must be fundamentally different beings. I fall into this trap of my subconscience from time to time, too. But driving through the Russian countryside, past the vast empty fields and lush green forests, talking about Vera's decision about law school and Lena's kids and Nikita's hometown, you just can't help but feel at home. I got back to my apartment sometime after 9 pm tonight, but it was pretty worth it. When you can feel not just welcome, but like a part of a new group of people in a different land, you feel like its a pretty special event. But if you think about it, it's the most natural thing in the world.

Also, if anyone sees the Cincinnati Reds play sometime soon, be sure to throw something at Willy Taveras for me. I'd say wait until his back is turned, but I'm fairly confident he won't catch it one way or the other.

C

Sunday, July 19, 2009

It's Official!

Going to Kiev August 14. Can't wait!

Update: Now have booked a hostel reservation and made preliminary plans. Starting to get excited.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Spare Ribs and Sleep Deprivation

Oh my, what a week it has been. The big thing to report is that for the last few days of work this week, I have been the designated chef for the Consulate General in St. Petersburg. How did this come to happen? Funny you should ask.

On Thursday, the consulate, and more specifically the Public Affiars Section (the office I was in charge of for a couple of weeks recently), was planning what's known as a media cookout, where we invite a bunch of journalists, stuff them with free food, and hope they'll give us good press coverage. Discuss the ethics of this practice on your own time, please. All that really mattered to me was that I was going to be working at the CGR(Consul-General's Residence) with Eric (Public Affairs Officer) and Gennady (CGR chef) to get pulled pork, ribs, hamburgers, cole slaw, brownies, and various sauces and snacks ready for 60 media people. We went shopping on Tuesday and bought a massive amount of food, then on Wednesday we spent about 12-7 at the CGR preparing stuff. I baked tons of brownies, ground up 40 lbs. of American beef, put dry rub on the ribs and pork, et cetera. The next day, I was to go at 9 to the CGR and not the consulate so that Eric, Gena, and I could cook all day. The dinner was to start at 6 and last until 9 or so, which meant 12-hour day. Sweet.

All seemed in order until I got to the CGR, and at 9:03, I got a call from Vera, a woman who works in Public Affairs. Eric, the PA Officer and amateur chef who was masterminding the operation, was in the hospital! Fortunately, Eric is okay, he just had to spend a few days in the hospital with a kidney issue. Suddenly, I was in charge (again), and people wanted to know if we would move forward, what needed to be done, et cetera. Not being apt to waste massive amounts of food and work, I decided we were going to push ahead. I got some backup from the consulate and PA office, and we went to work. I spent about 6 hours cooking all the ribs on a decrepit gas grill the consulate inherited from the marines who used to be stationed here, and it was almost impossible to control the temperature on it. Meanwhile the pork (which was the wrong cut, so we had to throw big chunks of lard on top to marinate the meat in the oven) slowly cooked and Gennady followed my cole slaw instructions. PA helpers chopped onions, lettuce, tomato, and pickles for the burgers, then we had a party to turn the 40 pounds of ground beef into patties with bleu cheese in the middle. I sent Nathan, of locking-me-out-of-the-apartment fame to fire up the charcoal grill and start the burgers, I helped Gennady shred the pork, and it was time to go. Fortunately, everything turned out perfectly. Obviously, I am biased, but I think the ribs were the best part--they had that perfect fall-off-the-bone consistency. I kept cooking until everyone was gone, and finally got home at about 10. Quite the day.

However, we had so much food left over, we decided to invite the consulate staff over the next day to eat it! Which meant back to the kitchen for me. So I spent much of Friday in the kitchen, reprepping everything. I think the CGR staff my have made off with some of the leftovers the previous night, but oh well. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food the second time around. For my lunch break at about 2, I walked back to my apartment, fell asleep, then changed into work clothes again so that I could do all the stuff I had ignored for the previous three days. It was quite the week.

Also, my friend Elizabeth from grad school was in town with her parents, so on Wed. night I took them to the local Georgian restaurant. I was stunned at how well her parents liked it, but obviously I was glad I hadn't dragged them somewhere terrible. After the long day Thursday, Elizabeth came over and we picked up some drinks from the market down the street, where I was waylaid by some drunk Russian who wanted to talk my ear off and sell me a tour around the city (even after I impressed upon him that I *live* here). Elizabeth seemed to get a kick out of that. Last night, I needed to do something non-work in a bad way, and Elizabeth needed to do something non-parents, so we went out to this Irish pub that I frequented several years ago. It's kind of expensive, but it was a good time. Then I decided since we were out so late anyway, we should watch the bridges go up (they go up in the middle of the night, from around 1:30-4ish, depending on the monthly schedule and the bridge). I hadn't seen them in years, of course, and Elizabeth had never seen them, so we had quite a good time with that. Afterwards I took her back to her hotel, then started the long walk home (after stopping by a 24-hour McDonalds to get a cheeseburger and a bottle of water) and got back about an hour later, at around 3:45. You have to stay out all night at least once every time you are in St. P, and all things considered, this was a good time to do so. Then I slept like a rock and woke up sometime after 11 (this is quite a feat for me). The best part? For the first time in a month, I have a whole weekend without work duties. Sweet.

Oh, thanks to everyone who voted in my polls. Apparently the skontorkning setting is a gentle setting on the dryer. Good to know. And, as some of you know, Ukraine has won the competition for where I am going for my one trip outside the country! What's that? Ukraine didn't get the most votes? Welcome to Russian democracy, where I decide ahead of time, then let you vote to make you feel like you have a choice.

Besides, those of you who voted Helsinki: seriously? Pfft.

C

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Boats and Baseball

Ah, I am beat. It's been a pretty good few days, though. On Friday, all the people we lost to Moscow got back, thankfully. That means that I am back to working at the main office of the consulate, at least for now. Next week we are planning a media cookout, where we basically invite a bunch of media representatives and cook them food. I have been drafted into helping out with that a fair amount (it will be this Thursday afternoon), so I'll probably end up spending a good chunk of the next three or four days over at Public Affairs. It really makes no difference to me, as long as I've got something to do.

On Saturday we did the baseball tournament that I have been talking about. The CG threw out the first pitch (successfully, I'm
told, but I didn't see it with my own eyes). We also grilled a ton of hot dogs and handed out free drinks. I'd say all told, it went very well. People were (not surprisingly) not completely honest about taking just one hot dog or one drink each, but what can you do? It was a hot day, people saw free food, and the stampede commenced. I think it went off pretty well, though, and if anyone was disappointed, well, you get what you pay for.

The baseball was interesting. I managed to stay for one of the games, although I was hot and tired and disinclined to stay for the last one (also, they needed my help loading and unloading the equipment to and from the van). The quality of the baseball was not particularly high, although I'd put it on par with most decent high school teams in America. The guys running the event
claim that the little league they run has a massive enrollment, so maybe baseball is taking root. We hope that soon they'll get their own stadium. They played this tournament out at an old
sporting complex without a baseball field, and thus ended up playing on a soccer field. There was no pitcher's mound, no dirt, no real fence around the whole field. But judging from the interest, it looks like the national pastime is gaining momentum in Mother Russia.


Today, I went around the city taking pictures for you to enjoy! But you know what? I took too
many, so I am not posting most of them here, but rather will provide a link for those who want
to see them. A lot of them are of ships from the Tall Ships Regatta this year. (I mentioned this all in the last post, but just in case you forgot...). The Regatta works in stages, like the Tour de
France, and
this latest stage ran from Poland to St. Petersburg. This weekend, they were moored along the
Neva River, and you could go out and see them, and even go aboard from around 12-4 pm. I
ended up only going on one, partly because I went out there so early, and partly because after I went on one, I felt like I'd seen enough and wasn't that intrigued in going around to the others. But they were really cool to look at, and I took pictures of all of them, so you should get a good
idea of what was going on. Another part of why I didn't go on any more is that I ran into this
photographer dude who has showed up in a couple of different places that I have been in the last
couple of weeks, and he wanted to see the rest with me. Since I'm fairly paranoid about being f
ollowed in this city, I lost him at my first opportunity. He also got my email address at one of
these events where we were giving out contact information,
although he has yet to use it. Frankly, I'd just like to avoid
him for the rest of the time I'm here.



I ran all around the city this morning, and now I am totally wiped out, so I am taking the time to upload the pictures and to generally relax for the rest of the afternoon. Soon the pictures will be posted. Enjoy!


Update: The pictures are posted, but since there are so many of them, I had to post them on facebook. If you want to see them, they are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2103795&id=1102272&ref=nf and here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2103793&id=1102272&ref=mf. If you aren't on facebook, and you want to see them, contact me and I will send you a link specifically so you can see them.

C

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Like It’s My Job

Ah, what to tell, what to tell. Life here in Russia continues pretty much apace. Thank goodness my regular schedule is not like last week’s, or I might not long be bound for this earth (not to mention I’d definitely outgrow all my clothes).

As you probably read, we had a fairly successful summit with the Russians this week. I would have to say that the outcome was pretty predictable—we made progress on nukes, which everyone expected and which everyone wanted, but we remained divided on the missile shield, which everyone also expected and everyone feared. Nothing particularly fascinating, I would say. There has been a lot made about President Obama’s “star-power” not carrying much weight in Russia. In fact, the CG was asked a question about this today at a meeting with several young American professionals here on Alfa Bank fellowships. First of all, I think too much has been made of this phenomenon. (Warning: this is all anecdotal and observational). Average Russians by and large don’t dislike Obama or hold him in disdain. They are, however, hesitant to jump up and scream about him. They did that for Clinton and were disappointed, then they got to watch Bush muddle through multiple foreign policy mistakes in regard to Russia and its interests, and now, in my humble opinion, there’s more of a wait and see attitude. I think a lot of Russians are optimistic about improvements in relations between our two countries. But they do not subscribe to the notion that he’s going to magically fix all the quarrels and problems between the two countries. So let’s all calm down a bit on the Russians don’t like Obama rhetoric. I think a bigger problem, and I'm not the first to say this, is that there has been a little too much Obama-centrism, so to speak in foreign policy. There aren't a whole lot of new ideas so far (I remain optimistic that this will improve); rather, the visits have mostly been about the genuine excitement Obama brings most of the rest of the world as a symbol of change. The Russians, I think, (and eventually the rest of the world, too) are going to need to see less style and more substance. But I don't want to get to political here.

As for me personally, work is work. As I have mentioned, I am working as the Public Affairs Officer in lieu of our permanent staff member, who has been in Moscow helping with the visit. This honor/trial by fire explains why I was so wiped out by the end of last week. This week, especially the last couple of days, have been significantly and mercifully lighter, and the genuine article PA Officer gets back either tomorrow or the next day. Whatever the precise arrival date, I will slide back into my normal job as intern on Monday. This weekend should offer some excitement, though. First of all, the annual Baltic Tall Ships Regatta is set to sail through St. Petersburg from Gdansk, Poland, with all of the teams mooring along the river for the weekend and opening to the public! I am definitely going to see them, come Hell or high water. Also, ALLEGEDLY, the weather here will be nice with plenty of sunshine this weekend. The weather forecasting in this city, for lack of any nicer way of putting it, absolutely sucks, so I cannot say with any certainty that the weather will cooperate with my plans. But if it does, you can anticipate not only stories about the boats, but also the long-awaited pictures I have been promising you! Other than all that, I am going to sleep a lot this weekend, and I can hardly begin to explain to you how excited I am about that. Until then, enjoy Vinni Pukh, and tell me if I am using my dryer wrong.


Also, this made me giggle out loud at work today: http://www.theonion.com/content/news/report_90_of_waking_hours_spent?utm_source=b-section

C

Monday, July 6, 2009

The Great Burden of Freedom (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Russian Beef Products)

If you, like so many of your compatriots, are desperate to know more about what I’ve been doing for the last several days and just exactly how the American government abroad celebrates the Fourth of July, then today, my friend, is your lucky day. I shall now regale you with tales of drama, suspense, intrigue, romance, conflict, and danger.

Or maybe just food.

Thursday, July 2:

This is the only completely work-related thing I will tell you from last week: I got to help in an interview with the CG at Ekho Sankt Peterburga, which was kind of cool. The CG had practiced her (Russian) answers diligently, but was still not that confident in her abilities. A Russian staffer and I, thus, sat in the studio to help out (mostly, I figured, the Russian would feed her words, should she get stuck, and indeed that was the plan). However, about a minute into the LIVE interview, the Russian started having a serious coughing fit and had to leave the studio. WHOOPS! Now it’s my job to try and interpret/help answer the questions in Russian for the CG. All in all, I’d say it wasn’t disastrous, although when the question arose of “why didn’t Benjamin Franklin ever become president?”, I found it quite difficult to keep from telling the CG to comment on his womanizing. But there were no such missteps, so all’s well that end’s well. It wasn’t a pristine interview, but it went over fine.

In the evening, we had our much-anticipated Independence Day reception at the Consul-General’s Residence (CGR), which is really quite the swanky pad. America’s bounty was on display courtesy of an entirely Russian kitchen staff, leading cuisine ranging from delicious and accurate in its portrayal of traditional American food (pulled pork and baked beans) to bizarre (completely spherical hamburgers?) to slightly off-the-mark (key-lime pie with berries on it) to the culinary equivalent of giving up (50 pizzas ordered from the local Papa John’s). Of course, as we worried that we would not have enough food, the consulate staff was told to try to go easy on the food until the party was winding down or we had a better idea of how we were doing. This would normally have been a difficult task for me, but I hadn’t eaten lunch (which was a recurring theme throughout last week’s hectic schedule), and once the roughly 300 guests/friends/dignitaries/creepy old Russian guy who followed me around for about an hour and wore a nametag (his was the only nametag at the soiree) arrived, the residence transformed from lovely mansion perfect for understated government receptions into Hell’s vestibule, with temperatures reaching approximately 30,000 degrees. Obviously, I have felt better in my life. As I stood there listening to the perhaps intelligent remarks of the CG and a member of the local government, I couldn’t help but think about how nice it might be to dive into the giant vat of frozen margaritas (for more reason than one). The remarks were mercifully short, though, and soon I was faced with the prospect of forced socialization, something at which those who know me probably realize I do not excel. But I muddled through, enjoying basically every beverage offered at the event, including a “mint julep” made with Johnny Walker that was a little light on the mint and heavy on the julep. I’m usually not scared off by a stiff drink, but this tasted like scotch with a dallop of toothpaste in it. Oh well.

Perhaps owing to other social engagements, the party cleared out fairly quickly, leaving me to enjoy whatever food I wanted. Alas, we had run out of cutlery (perhaps another reason the thing started to break up), leaving me to eat the copious supply of leftover pizza and soda (I was heartbroken, as I’m sure you could guess). Before long, it was mostly just us consulate faithful, which was nice, as we could all relax, take a deep breath, grab a slice of pizza or piece of cake, and unwind. But the weekend, for me, at least, was only beginning.

Friday, July 3

Friday was, for most people, a much needed and well-earned day off. Not for me, however, as the Committee of Foreign Affairs for the City Council of St. Petersburg (yeah, I know) had decided to finally release its much-anticipated volume St. Petersburg and the US: 200 Years of Russo-American Relations on that day. What did they care, after all, they just HAD a Friday off (June 12). So I went along with the CG and Elena, one of the local staff who often serves as an interpreter/point woman for the CG at large public events. Feeling sorry for me, the CG invited me over to the residence for lunch, where I got to eat leftovers from the night before (turns out the barbecue and beans were pretty good). She seemed displeased with the in-house cook, but in all fairness, he did seem like a flake.

The release was not a terribly exciting event. There was a brief panel of presenters who talked about the importance of such a book, especially now (the eve of Independence Day and the 200th anniversary of the beginning of diplomatic relations between the two countries in 1809), and then a few questions. I was tasked with recording the event for posterity by taking lots of pictures, and I did so faithfully. But once the ceremony itself was over and we moved on to the buffet/reception, my new job was pack-mule, and I accumulated quite a collection of items, ranging from a hardbound copy of the book signed by all the authors to be given as a gift to President Obama (a brush with greatness!), to half of a hamburger that the CG intended to eat (a brush with mayonnaise!). The CG also granted a couple of interviews, while I mostly stood around and smiled. The food was okay. Basically, when Russia wants to honor America or Americans, they make hamburgers and corn, which, perhaps accurate, can get old over the course of a long weekend. All in all, it was a mildly interesting event. I met a few fairly high-ranking muckety-mucks from the local United Russia administration, I ate lunch for free, and I didn’t mess anything up. All in all, a successful day, even though it did take 6 hours out of my day off.

That evening I met with my friend Christine to take some of the Princeton undergrads she is leading out to an Uzbek restaurant. The kids seemed a bit shy/shell-shocked, but they’re all 19 and in Russia for the first time, so I don’t know what else you could really expect. The food…..suffice it to say the best part about the restaurant was the teapot-cozy that looked like the best hat EVER. Although the really loud Turkish techno-punk music with accompanying Russian (I assume by her appearance) belly-dancer were a close second. After dinner, Christine and I lost the undergrads and went to a bar/club/trashy establishment called Smiley’s where I learned, much to my excitement, you could purchase beer a liter at a time! Not one to back down from such a menu-offered challenge, I of course ordered one. It was like they brought a barrel of this swill. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t drink it all! That was about enough to last me the rest of the night, so after hanging out a bit, Christine and I parted ways, and I ate a khychin from a nearby kiosk and then called it a night.


Saturday, July 4

Happy Independence Day! Or as I like to call it, another work day! Actually, this was much less labor intensive, but it was that day when finally, the long-awaited trip to Peter and Paul Fortress for the firing of the noontime cannon occurred! I had spent a large amount of time organizing this trip for the previous week or so, getting names and transportation and so forth figured out, so it wasn’t just a walk in the park. I walked out to the fortress (about 40 minutes from my apartment) with both SLR and video cameras in hand, or rather on my back, at around 10:30 so that I could meet everyone at the meeting place at 11:15. Some people drove there with the CG, while some walked, but fortunately, everyone arrived in a timely fashion. Other than my taking a ton of photos and video of the group, this story doesn’t have a lot to tell. We went to the Naryshkin Bastion and climbed up the rampart, where we saw the cannon and a grizzled old Russian artillery officer who played his role impeccably. He explained how to fire the gun to the CG, while instructing the rest of us where to stand. At about five seconds before noon, we heard a beep (through our earplugs—thanks, International Paper!), and the officer gave the countdown. Neither the CG nor the cannon disappointed, as she fired it right on time, and the muzzle let out a large plume of smoke and confetti (not to mention a shockwave that nearly knocked a couple of kids on their asses). More photos followed, and the CG was presented with the spent shell for her own personal amusement.

After that, some of us headed to the American Chamber of Commerce (AmCham) BBQ, which was pretty much what you would expect from such an event: lots of American food and drink, some made by Russian businesses, some by American. As with all these type of events, several people were invited to the stage to say a few words, greet the guests, thank the sponsors, et cetera. They had music piped in for each one’s ascent to the microphone, and amusingly, it was the same ten-second clip from “Simply the Best” for every presenter. I must have heard that clip a dozen times in roughly five mintues. Furthermore, there was some sort of “entertainment” (I use the term loosely) going on in the form of a Russian announcer, whose voice bore a tragically-striking resemblance to Sasha Baron-Cohen’s Borat, exhorting everyone to get up and dance/play random percussion instruments distributed onstage. Suffice it to say I stayed as far from the stage as possible. I didn’t eat all that much, but I did make the unfortunate mistake of eating two of these little golf-ball sized chocolate balls. They have since become the legend of the event thanks to their incredible density. They were delicious, which prompted me to eat a second one. Now folks, I have eaten a lot of horrible things, or just horrible amounts of things, or even horrible amounts of horrible things in my life. But I have never, ever, EVER felt put out of commission as quickly as I was by this second ball of dark matter masquerading as chocolate. That thing hit my gut like 30 white castles all at once. Not surprisingly, I went home shortly thereafter (the weather was getting nasty, anyway), and ate nothing else for the rest of the day. I spent the rest of the night watching the 1864 portion of Ken Burns’ The Civil War, which I spoke about in the last post, and otherwise goofing off and trying to enjoy some rest.

Sunday, July 5

Finally, a day without work. Too bad I couldn’t sleep in, for whatever reason (perhaps the chocolate-flavored cannon ball I had ingested the day before played a role). I had another cookout to attend, but fortunately, this one was a small affair, consisting of about a dozen Americans from the consulate who had nothing better to do than get together and grill leftovers from the previous events. It was actually quite refreshing, and I ate entirely too much food, but it was good times. I also began my tutelage of the CG on how to throw a baseball for her upcoming first-pitch at the Russian Baseball Association tournament (this Saturday; post to follow). I then went home and fell asleep, only to be awoken by a call from Christine and Ally, a girl from another Princeton Slavic grad student’s summer language program who, for a long and complicated reason involving an upcoming internship with State had to make a voyage from Astrakhan to S. Petersburg to get fingerprinted and needed a place to crash. Fortunately for her, I have a couch and the inability to say no. They were at a nearby Georgian restaurant and wanted me to come join them. For some reason, the 30-minute nap had made me hungry again, so I obliged. Ally had signed a language pledge (to only speak Russian) at the beginning of her program, so we indulged her and refrained from English for as much as possible. She did a decent job, held her own. Then we went home and I went to bed, mercifully, but not as early as I might have liked. I sent her on her merry way this morning with Nathan, as she needed to go to the consulate, and I had to go to Public Affairs.

And so ends my highly eventful weekend and my correspondingly long post. No pictures, as my camera’s memory card was engaged with the consulate all weekend, and I didn’t have a lot of spare time on my hands. All the same, my promise still stands that I will soon take pictures of the city. Just as soon as I get an entire weekend off….

C

Saturday, July 4, 2009

The Guns of July

Today was a July 4 like many in Russia--tacky, even by American standards, and filled with Americanesque diversions so that homesick westerners can feel themselves a little closer to the country they left behind.

Although much of my day was spent recording the firing of a cannon from an historic Russian fortress or eating Russian-made hamburgers and swilling Coca-Cola, I couldn't help but bring myself back to a personal Fourth of July tradition--watching part of one of the greatest works of history ever created, Ken Burns' Civil War.

The Civil War cannot help but bring a number of emotions to mind. As Burns faithfully recounts in his documentary, my hometown of Clarksville, TN sent 975 men to the war, of whom, three returned. At the same time, my father's roots extend deep into northern history, touching a number of veterans, not the least of whom, General Ulysses S. Grant, eventually brought the bloodshed to its desperately-needed conclusion.

I do not intend to foray into any sort of North versus South, states' rights versus slavery debate. I think all can agree that slavery is barbaric, and that for whatever else that happened during the course of that war or as a direct consequence, the ending of that abomination was one of the great triumphs our nation has ever achieved (albeit in an extraordinarily untimely fashion).

The reason I ramble on this subject is that for me, no other period or portion of American history so typifies what we are truly celebrating on the Fourth of July as the Civil War. The history of the United States of America can be summed up as the slow, painful attempt, frought with tragic missteps and cruel injustices along the way, to create a better society--one that affords to all complete and equal rights and freedoms. One that does not visit tyranny upon the governed, but which offers each person the chance to be the architect of his or her own fate.

Despite great progress in a relatively brief period of history, we have yet to achieve such a society. But the Civil War marks one of our most difficult strides toward such. For me, Independence Day is not about hot dogs and vacations and fireworks. It's also not about America's birthday or even secession from the British Empire. To me, the Fourth of July is a chance to remember how far we've come, and how far we have to go. It is about recognizing the value of government of the people, by the people, and for the people. And it is about recommitting to our deepest-held convictions and values, not merely so that they shall not perish from the earth, but so that some day people throughout the world, in all nations (including our own), will be able fully to enjoy the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I wish you all a happy Independence Day, and trite as it may sound, I hope we all take a moment from our grilled burgers and potato salad and explosive demonstrations to ponder what these values mean to us, and to remember the lives broken or ended along our treacherous and uncertain path toward the world for which every generation of Americans--past, present, and (I sincerely hope) future--has striven.

Monday, June 29, 2009

A Strangely Awesome Day

Are you still humming the telephone song to yourself from the last post? I am. But let's get back to something a little more substantial.

Today I had a rather unsual day. I spent the entire day out of the office working with a summer camp from St. Petersburg. It was me, a young woman from the Public Affairs Office named Vera (she's probably about my age), a slightly younger woman from a local university (Yulia: ~21 years old and looks EXACTLY like my friend, Denise, from Princeton...seriously, it was eerie, and we had a boy on the excursion whose name was Denis, which in Russian is pronounced like Denise, and it was freaking me out when someone would say his name and I'd look up and see this girl) who works for the camp over the summer, and seven kids. Now, that may sound like a good ratio, but seven is a lot of kids. Look, I've always had a lot of respect for schoolteachers and such, and two of the people I respect most in the world are my mother's parents, who had fourteen kids. But I've always sort of been of the opinion that kids are kids, they're easy to amuse, and I've had lots of experience with my younger cousins, so whatever. Well, let's just say that my estimation of people who work with kids on a regular basis has risen another tick.

Today, the "Humanitarian Academy of Global Language and Rest" (a horrible misnomer as none of them spoke anything but Russian, it's really more a summer camp than an "academy", and I feel anything but rested after today) was doing an "America Day", and to get a genuine experience, they requested help from the consulate. Of course, the Public Affairs section was only too happy to offer me up as the sacrifical lamb. I met them in front of the Kazan Cathedral, and we played some silly camp games while we waited for everyone to show up. The kids were of a pretty strange age distibution; I would say that all but two were 8, but then that one boy was 12 and another girl was 13 or 14 (I originally mistook her for a counselor), although for young teenagers, they ended up being remarkably cooperative and seemed to enjoy themselves. Once we were all there, we went to a local culinary institute to cook "real" American food--we'd picked out recipes for sloppy joes, cole slaw, some sort of Pennsylvania Dutch tomatoes that I'd never heard of, and apple Brown Betty (which they kept calling "Dark-Skin Betty" because of a translation that someone from my office did, and my sensibilities were a bit offended, but alas). The head chef was wonderful, he was great with the kids, he was very helpful, and he clearly just grasped cooking quite well, so my relative ignorance of all things culinary did not hinder us. The kids did a good job, although they were often more interested in playing with the knives, which terrified me to a great degree.

Aside: Russians are generally a less-risk averse people than Americans, which is probably why no one saw in big deal in giving kitchen knives to several third graders. It probably also explains why no one seemed worried about letting children put food in a hot oven without any sort of hot mitts. But I digress.

The food actually turned out quite well. The sloppy joes were tasty, the slaw was too runny, but good, the tomatoes were a bit weird (they had bacon, but it didn't make them better, believe it or not), and the brown betty was tasty although it could have used some ice cream. When we finished there, we headed over to a park not far from my apartment. Vera had to leave, putting Yulia and I at an even greater disadvantage, and the American girls who were supposed to come from a local program to help out didn't show, so it was just the two of us. We played around, I showed them the limbo (which the teenage girl was REALLY good at...it was crazy. She beat some of the eight-year-olds), then I had several American trivia questions that I read out for them and awarded Reese's Cups for each correct answer. The kids seemed to enjoy that for a little while. Finally, the main attraction--two guys from the St. Petersburg semi-pro baseball team--showed up. They were nice guys, and I helped them teach the kids (and Yulia) about baseball and how to play it. Probably the best was a little girl who had rolled her eyes a lot when one of the guys explained that girls generally played softball, not baseball. She could really smack the ball, which perhaps came from her experience with tennis. Anyhow, we played catch a fair amount, then we taught them to field and hit and so forth. I had to restrain myself BIG TIME not to tee off on the baseball when the kids insisted that I take my turn hitting. After I took a check swing that launched a ball at a kid and hit him in the stomach, I switched sides of the plate (to audible gasps, which made me laugh). It was a good time.

Finally, the ballplayers had to leave (around 5:15), and then we played a few more American games (Red Rover and Mafia) before it was time to go. I had a pretty good time, and it was quite a test of my Russian skills. I made it through, everyone understood me, and I generally understood everyone, so that was good. I may very well go back to work with them sometime, although when I informed the children that I worked at the consulate for free, they were appalled, so I can't imagine how they'd feel if I kept showing up to work with them without getting paid. At the end of the day, I felt tired, hungry, and pretty happy. The kids were funny, Yulia was good with them and was very friendly and interesting, and all the people who helped make this work were really good with children. It was nice to get out of the office for a change, especially after I had spent part of my weekend writing a speech for the CG that she ended up not needing (don't ask; it's not that interesting, anyway). This weekend was another quiet one, because the weather was lousy again. But I PROMISE that sometime soon, I will get out there and get some pictures for you all. I really wanted to go this weekend, but the weather just did not cooperate. This coming week will probably be really busy, what with the upcoming presidential visit and the 4th of July right around the corner. We've got our own reception, I have to go to one for the American Chamber of Commerce, et cetera. Oh, and while I may not get to see any fireworks this year, I will get to help fire a cannon.

Hells yes.

C

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Don't They Have Locks at Dartmouth?!

This was a message sent to Caitlin this morning. I have left it untouched (aside from removing my greeting from the original email) so that you can get the full grasp of my seething anger. For background, my new roommate got here on Monday from Dartmouth, where he is a rising senior. But withou further ado:


Nope. No stories.
What? You want a story?
Let me think....
Hmmmm.....
Oh.
Oh, I know!
How about....
HOW MY IDIOT ROOMMATE LOCKED ME OUT OF THE FUCKING APARTMENT LAST NIGHT!
I went out to have dinner and a beer with Christine last night. I didn't invite my roommate, probably because I am a bad person, but mostly because I had had to deal with him all of Monday and Tuesday, and I sort of hoped he would do things like, you know, go to the grocery store and stop eating my food. But alas, that didn't happen. He seems like a good enough guy, but it's been a rough week. I worked through lunch twice, was one of the last to leave yesterday, et cetera. Whatever. So I just wanted a relaxing evening out with friends, and not feel like I had to babysit anyone.
So Christine and I went to a little "cafe" (more like beer tent), then went to dinner at a chinese restaurant across the street from my place. Being busy folks, we were both a bit taken aback when we realized it was the late hour of 10 pm (GASP!). So we parted ways. I went up to my apartment, and the door was locked, but I soon realized that the dead-bolt, which can only be locked and unlocked from inside, was on. So I rang the doorbell. Nothing. Rang again. Nothing. Pounded on the door. NOTHING. Called the apartment number. STILL NOTHING. I started calling the other guy from the consulate who lives in my building (the conservative guy). HE didn't answer the phone. I must have rung the doorbell for almost half an hour. So, left with little recourse, I called Christine, who talked to her host about it and said it was fine for me to sleep at their place. Thanks goodness, too, because I was pretty much out of other options. Christine's host mother and sister (Marina, whom I told you about) were both very understanding and nice. We talked for a while, then I went to bed. Fortunately, they live in what is known as a kommunalka, an old apartment that during the Soviet period would have been inhabited by several families. Apparently, they bought the place out after the fall and make most of their money renting space out, and they had a spare room. At first, the host mother seemed to think that we wanted to sleep together, but was trying to dance around the subject and be cool about it. It was pretty funny. We all went our separate ways at around midnight, and while it wasn't the most restful night's sleep I've ever had, it was better than wandering the streets. Also, my phone died while I was talking to the security officer to apprise her of the situation, so I had no alarm. Not to worry, as Elvira Borisovna (the host mother) was kind enough to wake me at 8. I then walked home (~15 min) looking haggard and dishevelled, and went up to my room. STILL DEADBOLTED. I start ringing like crazy. Finally, my roommate opens the door. "What, forgot your keys?" he asked.
"No, you locked the deadbolt. While I wasn't here."
"You don't have a key for that?"
"It's a fucking DEADBOLT. There's no key."
"Oh, I thought that's what the second key was for."
(We have three locks, one gold bolt lock, then the deadbolt, then the lock on the doorknob.)
"NO, that's for the KNOB. You CANNOT unlock the deadbolt!"
"Oh"
"You locked it last night before I came home."
"Oh, how did you get back in, then?"
"I DIDN'T!"
"OOOOOhhhhhhhhh...."
"Yeah. New rule. DO NOT lock that unless you know I'm here. We clear on that?"
"Yeah"
"I'm going to be late for work. Don't wait for me."
And thus ended my morning with him. I have yet to see him since, although he sent me an email saying he finished setting up the wireless router. I think he knows that I am trying not to be pissed. And I sympathize, because maybe he's still lagged, maybe he's just early-to-bed, early-to-rise. All the same, infuriating.
T H E E N D

In my ongoing effort to amuse you all and (hopefully) give you a glimpse into Russian culture, I would also like to share this video with you. It's from Ulitsa Sezam--Russian Sesame Street, and it amuses me for several reasons. I was a big Sesame Street fan as a little kid, so there's that, I've always retained a great deal of respect for the show, and I think its really interesting to see how it is adapted for foreign countries. The big blue thing is called Zeliboba, and he's basically Big Bird, although I think he's supposed to be some sort of tree spirit(?). Also, the little girl in the video looks so like an idealized image of a Russian child that it blows my mind. Finally, the song is ridiculously catchy, especially if you speak Russian. Thus, viewer discretion is advised:

Yeah, maybe I'll post something else about how nice the weather has been recently or something, but this is definitely the best I've got for now. Again, I promise, pictures will be taken soon!

C