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

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