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

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

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.

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

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

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

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 200^th 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

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.