...Absolutely guilty of blog neglect for the past month. If I said it was because I was too busy, this is only half true. Yes, I do have a fuller schedule this time around, but I have had plenty of time in front of my computer to blog... I just didn't do it. I was never really inspired. After a month of traveling and telling all those stories, regular routine has not seemed interesting enough in comparison... but this doesn't mean it has been boring!
The thing is, there just isn't any news. Well, not really.
Since the last blog (about Kyrgyzstan), there haven't really been adventures, just... good times, for the most part. Right after Kyrgyzstan I flew into Moscow, got a miserable cold (thankfully, the only one so far, knock on wood) then left to go to Kazan with some other ETAs. Kazan is just another awesome city. I was glad to have gone. Altogether it was a good time, with Tatar food, beautiful buildings, kol'yan, banya, and a friendly, clean hostel.
Oh wait... something weird DID happen between Moscow and Kazan. Word of advice: When someone asks to help you with your bags, beware. Sometimes they'll ask you for money right after.... and sometimes, they'll ask you for marriage. This happened at the vokzal in Moscow... a seemingly friendly Tajik helped me with my bags. I offered him 100 rubles (he did carry them a long way) but he wouldn't accept it, instead, he followed me around for the rest of the day, which ended with a marriage proposal.
I declined.
After returning from Kazan, I was so tired of traveling, that when I finally reached my apartment, I did not go out for three days. Running in the park, yes, but in no way did I want to ехать anywhere.
Of course, there were interesting activities since then, mostly surrounding cold weather. Here is a picture of what you need to wear when you go running at -34 C:
Without a doubt, that was the coldest temperature I have ever felt. I decided to run, just so I could say I did it. It was cold.
The next weekend's cold-weather activity was "Ural Tubing". It's what it sounds like: sliding on a tube in the Ural Mountains. It took place in the city of Zlatoust (another big city in Chelyabinsk Oblast) with Volodya.
Oh yes, here is news, SAD news. Volodya moved to St. Petersburg!! Well, it's good news, he loves his new job, but it sure is not as much fun without him here. I've still got Zhenya though as a close friend here... but I really miss Volodya.
More recently, I took a trip to Taganai (remember, the mountain I climbed back in September?) with another friend named Olga and several of her friends. We stayed overnight in a log cabin in the middle of the mountain trail, and then hiked up further on a different fact. It was breathtaking, but COLD!!
The scenery does outweigh the cold, though.
Yesterday, these same rebyata all came over to my place to sing songs. I hope to record them and add to my collection.
Anyway, I will try to update the blog more. This was just a recap; more teaching-related or life-related, deeper thoughts require more time to write about.
One year ago, during my final semester at Oberlin College, I took a class called "History of Central Asia" with two of my good friends, Michael Long and Joseph Campbell.
In this class, the professor would be sure to ask the above question "Is this ______ Orientalist?" about any reading selection, picture, video clip, or basically any tool or piece of information. Basically, everything was analyzed against Eduard Said and his critics.
This Orientalism meme inspired Joseph Campbell and I to take a journey to Central Asia together... considering we would be both (relatively) close.
Chelyabinsk, as I have mentioned, is very close to the border of Kazakhstan. The original plan was to visit Kazakhstan; it seemed like the most obvious choice. Unfortunately, there is no Kazakh consulate nearby to get a visa.
Joseph, who lives and works in Beijing, has the advantage of living in a capital city with access to every consulate. I would have had to make special trips to Moscow for an Uzbek, Kazakh, or Tajik visa (Turkmenistan is bureaucratically out of a the question), but lucky enough, a Kyrgyz consulate is conveniently located in nearby Ekaterinburg.
So we made our journey to Kyrgyzstan.
I hate to use such a superficial, candy-coated touristy adjective, but Kyrgyzstan is in very many ways, adorable. This adorable-ness began on the plane to Bishkek.
This picture is blurry and does not really capture the moment... but... I witnessed two tiny Kyrgyz children fall in love with each other. I sat on the plane next to a young mother with a daughter about a year and a half old, and in front of me sat a little boy, about two years old. The mother and daughter grew up in Moscow and spoke mainly Russian (well, the little girl couldn't really speak yet) and the little boy understood pretty much just Kyrgyz. The boy would walk up to the little girl, smile and giggle... the little girl would be shy and hide her face and then smile and giggle as well. They were clearly infatuated with each other. Then the boy offered her a cookie. All in baby-talk Kyrgyz.
Our general plans and marshrut were very laid-back and low key. We spent three days in Bishkek, then three days in Osh (on a half-hour, forty-dollar flight on the infamous Kyrgyz Airlines) then the final day in Bishkek.
Oh wait...sorry... This is Kyrgyzstan:
Bishkek, in the north, is the capital. Osh is toward the south, right on the border with Uzbekistan. The whole puzzle-looking region where Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan come together in an awkward swirl is called the Fergana Valley. This region has been a hot commodity since the Silk Road days, and as you can imagine, the boundaries of where the Kyrgyz, Uzbeks, and Tajiks live have not exactly been clean and consistent.
Two years ago, there were riots in Osh as part of the revolution to overthrow the Bakiev government. This is not to be confused with the Tulip Revolution, where President Akayev was overthrown.
The Kyrgyz tend to kick out who they don't like rather quickly.
In Osh, we passed be some buildings that were completely burnt out from the inside, with bullet holes and clear remnants from the 2010 riots.
Now... back to why Kyrgyzstan is "adorable":
HATS.
EVERYONE in Kyrgyzstan wears beautiful fur hats of various designs and colors. EVERYONE. Not just for special occasions, not just as part of traditional wear... no, everyday wear consists of an elaborate fur hat and a coat to match.
This includes Kyrgyz children. Every round-faced Kyrgyz child was bundled up from head to toe in puffy winter clothes and of course, a beautiful furry hat. Even Joseph Campbell couldn't resist to point out "Adorable furry little kids!!!" I kind of wanted to take one home with me.
On the other end of the hat spectrum was..... what we like to call... Epic Hat Man.
Epic Hat Man earned his hat. He didn't just go and buy it. We figured he was a tribal elder or something, or at least had some kind of status. He sat on the flight from Osh to Bishkek, and the entire time did not take off his enormous hat. The top was a black velvet-like Islamic cap, and underneath it about a foot length of some kind of fur, with longer hairs sticking out around it in all directions. Some people take off their hats on the plane, but he did not. He actually didn't budge. His body and facial expression matched his hat.
Unfortunately, there was no way we could take a picture without being unforgivably awkward. I did manage to touch it, though. I pretended to have to go to the bathroom and lose my balance due to turbulance, and "accidentally" touch his hat.
When we arrived in Bishkek, we went to get our baggage.. but Epic Hat Man did not have any baggage. We figured, he put whatever he brought with him in his hat. He then walks alone toward a mysterious door in the back, opens it, changes his mind, walks back, and then decides to weigh himself. He weighs 110 kilograms. I image 10 might be from the hat... but he was actually quite large (although not as large as the Chechen on the table from the week before).
Kyrgyz people, in general, are very beautiful and very elegant. They are clearly Asian looking, except much bigger and taller.
That was another thing that charmed us about Kyrgyzstan... the people, and their general attitude...comparatively much more laid-back.We stayed in hostels run by people about our age, who were very laid back and trusting when it came to payment, documents, times, whatever. People tended to just go with the flow. There was one time where we were asked for our documents by a police in a bazaar in Bishkek, but it seemed as if he was just bored and though "OOOHHH COOL! FOREIGNERS! I wanna look at their passports!"
Bazaars. Yes. Yet another great thing about Kyrgyzstan. Everything is so CHEAP. Granted, there is generally much lower infrastructure and as a destination it is not for you if you always expect Western comfort... but everything from accommodation to food to souvenirs is very inexpensive. The Kyrgyz som is worth less than a ruble (a Russian ruble is about 30 or 31 to a dollar, the Kyrgyz som is 46 to a dollar). The hostel cost 250 som per night, a good meal costs 80 som, a taxi ride to the airport costs 400 som, and a beautiful dress I bought cost 500 som. You do the math.
In the bazaars, you may barter (in fact, you are expected to). Joseph is much more relentless than I am. I often think "oh, it's so cheap anyway, and they need the money, so I won't argue", while Joseph would say "No, 200 som for that hat is too expensive, I will buy it for 120 and no more!"
I bought four Kyrgyz hats. Joseph bought fourteen.
One problem we had: language. In Bishkek it was not so much of a problem because everyone there spoke Russian pretty well. I could translate for Joseph and/or do most of the talking, but he understands a great deal of Russian (in addition to Chinese and Japanese and every East Asian language he knows). In Osh, however, a lot of people didn't speak Russian very well, or spoke with an unintelligible accent.
In the hostel in Osh, we shared a room with a Japanese backpacker named Ska (and yes, she does like that kind of music). She was 27 years old and was working toward a PhD in Central Asian studies. She spoke decent Russian, and she had just come by herself from Uzbekistan. She did not speak English very well, so we kind of had a three-way language situation: Joseph and I spoke English to each other, Joseph and Ska spoke Japanese, and Ska and I spoke Russian.
Eventually Russian became our main language. Joseph could manage enough of it.
From Bishkek, we took a marshrutka to Sukuluk and Alexandrovka, a nearby city that Joseph wanted to visit, because of the local Chinese Muslim (Dungan) population. Surely enough, we found some people that spoke Chinese, and Joseph impressed them as an American is Kyrgyzstan who spoke not just Mandarin but their own dialect.
The only negative part of this whole trip were the roads in Osh. I didn't want to check any baggage from Bishkek, so I just brought a backpack and could not bring any extra shoes. Unfortunately, I chose leather boots with heels. The roads in Osh are the most God-awful terrain you can imagine... uneven, muddy, and slushy. I ended up buying a cheap pair of boots just to use for the days there, and they broke after one day.
I didn't plan it this way... but the whole month trip turned out to be a tour of Post-Soviet Islam. From the North Caucasus to Central Asia to Tatarstan (that will be Part III), I certainly noticed a lot of difference in how religion is practiced in the different regions. In Kyrgyzstan, Osh was definitely the more religious and conservative of the two cities we saw. We spent one morning climbing Solomon's Mountain, a small mountain in the center of the city right behind the main mosque. Inside the mountain there was a museum of traditional clothing and jewelry, and then we climbed upward to the summit. It was actually difficult, because everything was so icy and slippery. Many of the locals believe that the Prophet Muhammad had once prayed there (I didn't think that historically, Muhammad had ever made it as far east as Kyrgyzstan...? Even so, this place has obvious significance). On the top, we wanted to have our picture taken, but the only other person was a peaceful looking Uzbek man walking around and praying, and we decided not to disturb him.
Most people did not eat pork, but they certainly drink alcohol. Joseph was poured a shot of vodka by a woman in hejab. I bought for myself and my Fulbright comrades a bottle of "Kyrgyzstan Cognac"... a hard liquor from an Islamic country. I was only hesitant to try it because it was so cheap (about 3 US Dollars... usually you don't want to mess with alcohol that cheap) but when we tried it, it was actually kind of good... strong, but with an aftertaste of cinnamon.
Joseph and I ended up having a great time, although I left a day before he did and was coming down with a cold on my flight to Moscow. The next day, he set off for Uzbekistan. I can't wait to hear about his adventures in Tashkent and Khiva... jealous.
Back in Russia, I am certainly missing the chaikhanas (tea houses) of Osh, where you can get a full breakfast for about a dollar.
Kyrgyzstan is certainly the most "exotic" and non-Western place I have been to. To really appreciate the time there, you have to have the right mentality, and not expect high infrastructure and not let Soviet legacies faze you. I think I have long since gotten to that point. It may be difficult to see everything and get to every place you want to go, but since we were in for a low-key week of going with the flow (but still in for adventure), it was definitely an Epic Win.
As the legend goes, in ancient times, before the Nart heroes dwelled in Greater Circassia, there stood one giant mountain named Otshelnik. One day, the Devil decided to pay him a visit, and Otshelnik became worried and asked God to help him. Together, they did something very painful to the Devil's nose, and he was so tortured that he tore his own bones out and threw them from (what eventually became) Anapa to Baku. And so became the Caucasus Mountains.
Fast forward to 2012, and the place is still a painful mess.
So, what was I doing here?
A long story short... three years ago, an English teacher named Madina from Adyghe State University came to Oberlin to give a presentation about her home, Adyghe Republic... basically explaining, that even though it's in the North Caucasus, it is completely safe... and beautiful. Two years ago, when I was studying abroad in Moscow, I decided to visit. Madina and her family showed me hospitality I would never forget, and her students became lasting friends.
...And from then on, Lezginka music has blasted relentlessly out of my iPod, laptop, car windows, etc...and I became increasingly fascinated with the region.
Good thing, because considering that I double-majored in Russian/East European Studies and Politics, focusing on the Post-Soviet era, my undergraduate life sometimes played out like a game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, except only with 3 degrees, and Kevin Bacon is Dzhokhar Dudayev.
The friends I had made at Adyghe State University were in my same graduating class and had now become English teachers (with the exception of Ruzana, a Kabardian Bollywood enthusiast who now works as a chef in a Korean restaurant), making us colleagues. So of course, I went to visit for New Years!
The adventure begins actually on the train from Chelyabinsk to Krasnodar, a two-and-a-half day trip that I shared with an Armenian jokester and a religious Babushka. The Babushka read her Bible every night before going to sleep and would complain about how today's youth is losing their Orthodox faith. Goga, the Armenian, got the phone number of every girl on that wagon (he's happily married) and consumed nothing but beer and copious cigarettes. By the end of the trip we were all as good as friends. The running joke was the story (repeated 100 times) by Goga about how my friend was going to take me up to the mountains, where I would be bridenapped like Kavkazskaya Plennitsa (Prisoner of the Caucasus.... there are two movies with this title, both worth watching).
I arrived in Krasnodar and stayed for a few nights with my friend Igor, who also went to Adyghe State and is now a professional weightlifter. On the third night in Krasnodar, another Fulbrighter, Alex, joined me on the trip. (We had met at the October orientation, where he expressed interest in going to the Caucasus and I invited him along). Two others were going to join us, but didn't for various reasons.
We took the bus the next morning to Maykop, the capital of Adyghe Republic. The bus ride isn't very interesting, but it was quite nostalgic. Upon arrival to Maykop, we settled into the daily-rental apartment. That night, we met up with a local friend named Idris "Eddie" Khwazhev.
Eddie is Adyghe, 23, born in Syria, grew up and went to school in New Jersey, and now lives in Adygeya and owns a car wash. He is an unforgettable character.... he has a habit of speaking in a succession of contradictory sentences, his best friend is a gay Chechen rapper named Maga, he has apparently lived in five different countries and out of the blue wants to move to China, he has friends who live in Nalchik (Kabardino-Balkaria) from Ohio. He also says he hates Kabardians for no apparent reason.
His Russian isn't very good, he speaks English and Arabic and Adyghe... including Adyghe swear words, which are apparently strongly offensive.
That night, we went to Idris/Eddie's house for kalyan, and his Adyghe/Syrian roommate drove us all back late at night (Everyone knows that I love Adygeya and would never speak bad about anyone there... but to be completely honest, I HAVE NEVER SEEN WORSE DRIVERS IN MY LIFE. If there is a mountain and ice on the road, the logical thing to do is drive slowly. Why do Adyghe drivers feel that these are the best conditions to race each other on the road??) This car ride also stopped spontaneously to blast the music louder and dance Lezginka on the street.
The next day, Alex and I get lost in an aul near Xadzhox Gorge, eat bananas on a random hill, and get driven around by the apartment owner's hyper-caffeinated friend.
The day after that was New Years Eve. We all reunited first in Ruzana's cafe, then went to celebrate at Ruzana's apartment with an elaborate feast, champagne, and Azamat Bishtov (very famous/overplayed Adyghe singer). Outside, 2012 was met with a magnificent fireworks displayed (people like to set fireworks randomly in the streets, even in the daytime, which Alex originally thought were North Caucasus-terrorist bomb explosions).
The New Years Eve Soundtrack:
New Years Day 2012 was spent wandering around town with Idris, with random Lezginka on the street (regardless of whether we were allowed to use the stage on the main square), annoying the grocery store owner, and other sorts of mischief. That day it was 60 degrees Fahrenheit, the next day was a snowstorm. Because of the snowstorm, Katya' (another Adyghe State friend)s friend could not drive us to Lagonaki, so we went to Gwamka instead.
Gwamka is a river/gorge in between mountains in the south of Adygeya/Krasnodar. After the snow the scenery was especially breathtaking, I will post pictures later.
For some reason, the Caucasus Mountains always have techno music blasting somewhere at random. Following this trip was another epic car ride down the mountain, through a village that happened to be called Grozny (which prompted an unfairly terrifying text message to my parents) and over to Katya's house for more hospitality, and rather stimulated Russian political discussion.
The next day, Alex and I set off on the bus to Pyatigorsk. This bus ride was surprisingly uninteresting, the route entirely skipped over the republic of Karachai-Cherkessia.
We were originally going to rent another daily apartment in Pyatigorsk, but when I called the xozyaika, she said that the current occupants had decided to stay longer and it wouldn't be available.
In the end, after a series of messy phone calls, we ended up forking over the 1600 rubles a night to stay at a tourist hotel. It was actually quite a nice hotel, we got our money's worth.
Pyatigorsk was a surprising gem of a city. I had not known much about it before. Located in the south of Stavropol Krai, Pyatigorsk is the (politically safe) center to stay for those who plan to visit Karachai or Kabarda. Unlike the bizarre nearby city of Mineralnye Vody (literally, Mineral Water... although from the looks of it, it is the last place I would want to drink the water from), Pyatigorsk is gorgeous, with both scenery and architecture. The city has a curious mix of European, South European/Mediterranean, Caucasian, and Russian style. It is full of beautiful views and mountainside Orthodox churches.... the name "Pyatigorsk" literally means "Five Mountains"... I am not really sure which five they were referring to when they named the city. There are two very big mountains and then a lot of smaller ones.
That evening, I climbed Mount Moshuk while Alex went back to the bus station in futile attempt to retrieve his new boots which he left on the bus. They ended up in Nalchik.
I definitely took the hardest path up the mountain. At the top was a beautiful view of the sunset over the city, but I had then realized that it was soon going to be dark and I sort of forgot where the path I came up started. On the way down I wiped out several times because of the dangerous mistake of thinking that under a pile of leaves is just solid ground and not a slippery rock. I still have one of my bruises, almost a month later.
The next morning we left for an excursion to Chegem Waterfalls in Kabardino-Balkaria. (Kabardino-Balkaria is another North Caucasian ethnic republic.... there are seven republics in the North Caucasus, from West to East...Adygeya, Karachai-Cherkessia, Kabardino-Balkaria, North Ossetia, Ingushetia, Chechnya, Dagestan). That bus ride was also interesting, because
a) We passed what I decided was The Sketchiest Car Ever. A beat-up white Lada with opaque blacked out windows, with barbed wire across the back windshield, and a Chechen license plate (Region 95).
b) We also passed through a closed village... meaning, normal cars (our tour bus had privileges) can not enter it. It is the only village where Kabardins and Balkars live together. (Kabardino-Balkaria is a Republic named for the Kabardin people, who are related to the Adyghe, and the Balkar people, who are Turkic and just the same as Karachai.... and they hate each other. Nice job, Stalin.) The entrance to such towns is guarded by militisya-i-mean-politsiya, who look heavily armed but heavily bored.
Chegem's waterfalls were frozen solid, and absolutely gorgeous. The whole excursion seemed very touristy, like we were almost hand-held by the guide-Babushka, as to protect us from the truly Wild Caucasus... but then again, we probably couldn't have made it that far without the tour bus anyways.
As part of the tour we ate traditional Shashlik at a restaurant (this is real shashlik, not the gross meat you get on street corners in other cities) Alex at this time was worried about returning to the bus on time, but I was distracted.... they were playing Chechen music (calm down, we were still just in Kabardino-Balkaria, nowhere near Chechnya), not just playing it, BLASTING it.
The Chechens are in general a very attractive, well-built people.... with two notable exceptions. One of them was dancing lezginka on a table near us in the shashlik restaurant. This 400-pound Chechen actually had impressive dance moves for his size, but he apparently has had one too many glasses of wine (or something) or about 100 too many shashliki.
I didn't make it back onto the bus before a loud group of Kabardians blasted more Circassian music from their car and broke out into another spontaneous Lezginka, which I was promptly invited to join.
Incidentally, the next day, we ate at a Chechen restaurant (in Pyatigorsk) called Cafe Bezam. I knew immediately it was Chechen, because bezam means "love", and is a required word in any of Makka Sagaipova's songs. And now I know what nourishes the people of the mountains during hard times... Fried lamb fat soaked in butter... and some other thing that looked like pel'meni except much heavier.
Finally, the day after that... the Queen of Mountains, the highest mountain of all Europe (yes, pretty much pwning Mount Blanc).... Mount Elbrus.
First of all, there is a clear view of Mt. Elbrus all the way from Pyatigorsk. If you look at a map, Pyatigorsk is pretty far away, and Mt. Elbrus is almost on the border with Georgia. You can see the part of the Main Caucasus Range that is close to Pyatigorsk, then a wide space, and the Mt. Elbrus standing alone. It's that big.
On the way, we passed through another bizarre closed city called Tyrnyauz. It used to be a prosperous city due to some mineral mining, but after the mineral was depleted, half of the people deserted the city making it look like a complete ghost town, and the other half lives in multicolored high-rise buildings on Elbrus Avenue.
Mount Elbrus is... tall. It is an epic giant. Even so, you cannot see very far from the top as you would think, because the other mountains around it are also giants...all around 5000 meters. Yes, we actually went to the top. Not climbing, obviously, but on a very terrifying, sketchy, Soviet chairlift. It was seriously just a wooden plank hanging from a pole by a chain with one thin rope to guard your life. It's basically just that wooden plank between you and oblivion...the tortured Devil's bones.
Surprisingly enough, I never felt any of the high-altitude weirdness about which the tour-guide-Babushkas warned us constantly.
A Balkar Babushka on the ground also coaxed us into paying 250 rubles for a pair of sunglasses "because the glare of the sun on the snow will make your eyes bleed."
Also impressive were the skiiers we saw down the mighty Mountain's treacherous slopes... although we did see someone wipe out quite dramatically.
Anyways, the rest of this trip cannot be described in words, only pictures... which will come soon, really.
The next day Alex flew back to Petersburg (out of the bizarre Mineral Water City Airport) and I went by bus back to Adygeya and stayed in the same low-budget hotel I stayed in on my first visit two years ago (hello nostalgia!) It had been impressively remodeled, however.
I decided to go back to Xadzhox during the following day, now that I knew my way around. I had not planned on climbing another mountain, but spontaneously decided to, even though I was wearing heels. I got kind of lost, but didn't care. Nobody was around, so I didn't need to resist the temptation to sing Tamara Nekhai songs at the top of my lungs and pretend I was in an Adyghe music video.
My high-heel boots were in pretty rough shape by the end of the day.
At the base of the mountain, there was a small grocery store where I bought some bread, and then I stopped by a stand to buy some honey for the bread from the Babushkas. These Babushkas also insisted I taste some of their wine... so one Babushka gave me about a shotglass worth of wine, which was quite delicious... then another Babushka gave me a similar glass of the kind of wine she was selling and asked me compare the two. I preferred the second, but then a third Babushka said "If you like that one, then you will like mine EVEN BETTER!" By the time I left, the three Adyghe Babushkas had taken enough turns giving me tastes of their wines that I may have felt slightly tipsy. I would have bought at least one, but I didn't bring enough money with me.
My last night in the Caucasus was very.... Caucasian. I had decided to meet my friend Nafset for dinner (she was sick during New Years so I didn't see much of her). She took me, of course, to an Adyghe restaurant, called Ta Tyi which I think means "our home." She ordered me schips, a dish of soup with a soft bread in it. She then called Idris and another friend of hers named Aidamir to join us.
Aidamir insisted on buying us all cake, then insisted that we all go to another restaurant with live music located just outside of town. Thankfully, Nafset drove; I had my fill of Adyghe men and their driving abilities or lack thereof.
I had intended to just have a glass of wine or something as I was not hungry... but Adyghe hospitality will just not accept this. Aidamir bought us all salads, more shashlik, and vodka.
I blame him for my hangover the next day... I normally know my drinking limits, but when someone makes toasts to "за адыгейский народ" and "за Северный Кавказ".... you can't refuse.
The "live music" was not so impressive, until they played lezginka music. Needless to say, Idris and I stole the floor =)
And so... there it was. The North Caucasus, and I, reunited again. The following day, I departed for Part Two of the Epic Travel Adventure: Kyrgyzstan. (This blog will come later).
Anyways... what is this place? With such a reputation that made my friends and family worry so much about my travels here, and with two conflicting images.... one of war and hopeless instability and imminent danger, the other, a fairy-tale land of handsome dzhigity who dance lezginka and cook shashlik and play on accordions riding on horseback through snow-capped mountains. It's hard to say... it can be one, it can be both, it's usually neither.
There's no denying the danger and lawlessness in some regions, or the fact that one should never consider traveling here alone and clueless of the surrounding culture and political situation. That said, the Caucasus is also a place of adventure, beauty, inspiration, and even romance.
It has become the time to assess the year in terms of what things are annoying, and to what degree they are annoying. As I have said, for the most part, everything has been fine, and anything that I would really significantly complain about is really nobody's fault, not even Russia's.
I've always been into list-making, so here I will make three lists (and start from the negative so we can end positively) of things that are annoying, sort of annoying, or not annoying at all.
ANNOYING:
*Winter, and the clothing associated with it. Today is technically the first day of winter and I feel like it's been winter for months already. I am tired of wearing heavy winter clothes all the time and miss wearing dresses and sandals.
*The fact that my rent increased by a LOT.
*Things getting canceled (see earlier posts from November)
* Stuttering when I speak Russian. Everyone who knows me knows that I can speak Russian reasonably well, but if I go all day speaking English, or not speaking to anyone at all and suddenly I need to say something, I stumble over my words. Half the people who first hear me speak think I'm Latvian, the other half think I have a speech disorder...and sometimes I may as well be a Latvian with a speech disorder.
*People getting sick all the time. At least it isn't me (knock on wood)
*The fact that on the first trip to Ekaterinburg I bought a beautiful pair of earrings, and on the second trip to Ekaterinburg I lost half of said pair of earrings.
*The question "Why are you here?", or the assumption that I must really miss all things American and would of course, go home for all of break.
*Babushkas. Yes, I am a horrible person for saying this. There ARE most certainly exceptions, but for the most part, Russian Babushkas are not sweet old ladies that tell you stories and make you tea. Or maybe they are, but that's not the side I see. The Babushki I see are either really depressing (such as the Babushka that sits outside the grocery store-where they sell reasonably fresh vegetables- selling rotten vegetables and worn-out looking mittens...for any last ruble or kopek she might scrape up), intimidating (you NEVER argue with a Babushka), or just downright annoying. I will not question the wisdom that comes with age, but...and maybe this is an American or Western point of view... an individual knows his or her own body and behaviors.
An open letter to Russian Babushki who might know English (haha): NO, for the hundredth time, I am NOT COLD. If I was cold, I would dress warmer so I would not be cold. I am not cold in my running clothes outside because I am running and therefore my body temperature goes up about 20 degrees. And running will not make me get meningitis or infertility or whateveryouclaimimightget. In fact, it is probably part of the reason why I still haven't gotten sick. NO, I am not cold wearing this short-sleeved shirt indoors, BECAUSE IT IS ROOM TEMPERATURE (OR EVEN WARMER) INDOORS. My feet are perfectly fine in these "autumn" boots and I do not need to buy myself "winter" boots... if I were cold, I'd put on thicker socks, and when I am walking my feet warm up anyway. I have a pair of winter boots, but they are too warm to wear inside. And NO, I do not need to wear stockings underneath my pants, at least until it gets to be -30. It is not -30, so why must I dress like it is just because it is by calender winter and at some point at this time of year it has been -30?
And furthermore, dear Babushkas.... No, I am not going to steal your stupid pel'meni (long story). I am perfectly fine walking home from work when it's cold outside, I will not get sick from being outside (it's the opposite, I'd get sick from germs on the marshrutkas), I will not become infertile from doing yoga on the floor (plus, I use a towel, for crying out loud!) An empty wine bottle inside does not mean I will lose all my money, and I will not get bridenapped when I go to the Caucasus.
Get it?!
Ok, enough.
SORT OF ANNOYING.
*Kefir. Not "annoying" because no one has force-fed me this stuff or anything, but how the heck to people drink this stuff? It's gross!
*The assumption that everyone wants cream added to their food.
*The bus driver on the 06:30 bus to Ekaterinburg who played Russian techno music the whole way. I had intended to sleep on this bus. Only "sort of annoying" because at least the music was Russian and not American pop, if I had to listen to Rihanna at 6:30 in the morning or something of the like, I would have jumped out the window and walked to Ekaterinburg. I also figured, that maybe the bus driver played this music so he wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel himself. Understandable.
*Ice skating, and it's popularity. Don't get me wrong... ice skating of course can be fun! I personally prefer to go slowly, or at my own pace, and not in huge crowds of people... and even so, only once in a while, it's not really my thing. In Russia, though, at least in Chelyabinsk, EVERYBODY ice skates. All the time. It's considered strange if you DON'T go ice skating every weekend. Why is this annoying? Because of unpredictable little kids darting around and causing a tripping-over-them hazard, and 13-year-old hockey players sharing the rink with you. So you have to watch out for little kids, hockey pucks, and the occasional hockey stick... not exactly what I call a fun afternoon.
*Pukhoviki. A pukhovik is a kind of Russian winter coat. It is not fur except for the collar, it is just a coat with a texture that looks something like the Michelin tire guy... except it doesn't make you look fat. They are usually long and slender shaped with a belt in the middle, so that even in warm winter clothes, Russian young women still show off their slim figures. People also wear pukhoviki when they go ice skating. I like my dublyonka, it is real fur and very warm and not as bulky looking as the American winter coats, but it does lack the sleekness of the pukhoviki, you cannot distinguish what kind of figure is underneath. I thought from before that wearing a dublyonka and high-heeled boots would make me indistinguishable from other Russians my age, but no... most people my age wear pukhoviki, plus "winter" high-heeled boots, and a hat on top. (Why, if the pukhovik has a fur hood, do you also need a hat?)
*Russian dates. A typical date with a Russian is a movie and a walk in the park... or sometimes, more ice skating. Somebody else correct me if I'm wrong. This kind of date is perfectly fine, I like movies (usually), and I like to go for walks, but for especially a first or second date when you are still getting to know someone, this isn't really what I have in mind. There are some things I like about this difference from American dates where people go to restaurants or something... they cost less money, they don't involve calories and/or being judged on what you do or do not get to eat... but when I want to go on a date with someone and get to know that person, I really need to sit down across from him and make eye contact and have a good conversation. You can't do this in a movie theater, and on a walk...while walking is great... there are too many other distractions, like other people, buildings, cars, cold, and what good a look do you get at someone when they are all bundled up in winter clothing? My ideal kind of date is to go and have a drink (just a glass of wine is enough) at a place where there is music, maybe live music (but not until after meaningful conversation) and dancing. Maybe this is too expensive?
NOT ANNOYING AT ALL (BUT YOU MIGHT THINK THEY WOULD BE)
*The actual temperature. Maybe because it's been a "mild" -15C on average, but the Russian Winter is more invigorating and strength-building than annoying. Once I am dressed right, I feel empowered after having gone running when it is -24 (that's the lowest temperature I have run through so far... about -12F)
*Kyrgyz bureaucrats. They get a 7.5/10 rating for me. I got the visa without any problem, they were quick with doing it and I never had to wait long. Maybe because there was not much going on there. The only issue was, I am pretty sure I am the ONLY female American they have ever in their lives seen come to their consulate in Ekaterinburg for a Kyrgyz tourist visa. I seemed to have blown their minds.
*Speaking Russian. Obviously. I LIKE to speak Russian. And if I get to do so for most of the time outside of English class, even better.
*Class periods/"pary". I used to think that 90 minute classes were long... but they seem to fly by actually.
*Trains. Call me crazy, but I actually like to travel by train. Yes, it's often long. We'll see if this changes after my 52-hour Chelyabinsk-Krasnodar mega-train-ride. But I usually meet interesting people and have an excuse to nap all day or read or do nothing at all.
*Running around a track. Even though it is much more boring than running on a road with hills, it has it's meditative points, and I am just so thankful for this Soviet track that it doesn't matter how boring it is, I'm just glad to have a place to run.
*Culture in general. As I have mentioned many times already, I've adjusted pretty easily. Well..until a Babushka comes around.
I really have no name for this next blog entry, so I've decided to title it "December." There are too many things to write about.
Actually, it is a good point to make that it is NOT November. November was kind of a month of inertia... I got into this lull of classes and routines and people canceling things right and left and being bored and stuck in a comfort zone... which has the effect on me that doing anything out of the ordinary seemed like a big scary deal.
This month is the exact opposite. Things are busy. Interesting. Always involving people. Sometimes stressful, in a good way.
One thing that was NOT stressful was... this weekend! I finally made it to a Russian banya. In the movies, it's when large awkward looking men drink vodka in a sauna and hit each other over with birch sticks. Fortunately, this is was not the case... I went to the sanatorium with two friends- the colleague Volodya and his friend Anton... they are neither large nor awkward looking, we did not drink vodka, and there were no birch sticks involved. It was pure, relaxing fun. The only problem was that sometimes we would argue about which language to speak. Everyone always wants to practice English with me, but if I speak English for too long my Russian gets all messed up.
It was a weekend of freezing cold frozen-lake islands exploration, deep and meaningful conversations, and бесцельные прогульки (aimless walks- something Americans lack. I noted yet another difference...when friends meet up in America, it seems like it always has to be IN or AT some place.. a restaurant or house or something... Russians can just meet up and walk, without a destination. I like this.)
A sanatoria is like a spa, but not necessarily so expensive and fancy. It's just a room or room suite you can rent with access to a sauna and fresh air. This sanatorium was located outside Chebarkul, a small town near the city of Miass, another city in Chelyabinsk Oblast. It's a completely different world, for those who associate Chelyabinsk with only heavy industry and dirty air. The names of the sanatoria are always something like "Sosnovaya Gorka" (sleepy hill- the one we stayed at) "Lesnaya Skazka" (Forest Fairy Tale), "Uralskaya Zorya" (Ural Sunrise).... except there happens to be one sanatoria named "Metallurg." Seriously, only in Chelyabinsk.
Really? A spa named for the metallurgical industry? Images of massages done with broken tractor parts come to mind.
My winter travel adventure is well on its way to being prepared. I have almost all the tickets bought, accommodations discussed about, itineraries brainstormed. This doesn't mean planned out... it means "options are being considered." It's an adventure, not a plan.
The grand general itinerary is.... North Caucasus-Kyrgyzstan-Moscow-Latvia. Which cities in Kyrgyzstan beyond Bishkek and which places in the Caucasus beyond Adygeya are still to be determined and will depend on money, time, willingness of other people, security, and who knows what else. Places in consideration are Nalchik and Dombai in the Caucasus and Osh and Karakol in Kyrgyzstan... Moscow and Riga...this is more obvious.
Yesterday was my first daytrip to Ekaterinburg involving the Kyrgyz visa. Even though this whole process seems very inconvenient, it is actually very lucky that I live so close to Ekaterinburg. First of all, it's a beautiful city (I will take pictures the next time I go), and second of all, it is easy to take a bus there at any time of any day. The Kyrgyz consulate is located near the center of the city, and I worried about getting there too late (as I did with the Russian consulate in New York, where I waited four hours in line only to be told to come back the next day). On the contrary, there was not much of a line at all, only two Kyrgyz families looking to get Russian passports, which is what I imagine most of their work involves. Russians and other CIS citizens do not need visas to go to Kyrgyzstan. I felt pretty weird there, a young blonde who looks like a Russian waiting around in the consulate asking about tourist visas. The people in the office didn't really seem to know what to do; for some reason or other, they don't get many Americans in Ekaterinburg looking for Kyrgyz visas. They did not ask me to leave my passport there, only took copies of my documents and the forms, my payment in cash, and said it will be ready in ten days. If there are any problems, they will call me.
If there are no phone calls from Kyrgyz bureaucrats in the next ten days... then all is well. I will give them a rating of 5 so far. They were polite and not slow, but kind of unsure of what they were doing. If all goes well and I get my visa on time I will boost their Bureaucrat Rating to a 6. In short: There are much, MUCH worse bureaucratic experiences to be had.
Ekaterinburg itself is gorgeous... very Old Russian. Next time when I am more oriented (assuming the visa situation in the consulate won't take too long) I will take the rest of the day to visit a museum or walk more around the center.
Mom, Dad... when this is all over, you are going to have SO MANY MAGNETS.
Definitely worth the 6:30 am bus ride.
As for the North Caucasus trip... it is to begin after Christmas. I will be leaving by train on the 24th and will be spending the entirety of Christmas Day on a train to Krasnodar, where I will meet and stay with an old time Adyghe State University friend Igor. I will then meet a fellow Fulbrighter named Alex and take a bus to Maykop where I will meet more old friends and celebrate the New Year, and then we are looking to travel onward. I'm not sure exactly the plan, but it will involve mountains, friends, music, wine, long road trips, complex languages, and fond memories.
Okay... now rewind for a second to last week. It is worth mentioning the extra three classes I picked up because one of the teachers was sick. These were elementary level classes, where the students knew VERY little English. I was only with them for one period each, but they seemed to be amazed. To be honest, it is a *slightly* uncomfortable feeling for me... I am not used to talking so much about myself and my own life and having it be so interesting for people... usually when people do that, it sounds conceited and self-obsessed. The students, however, were fascinated to here about my life in America, about Oberlin, about long distance running, about Drag Ball, about my friends from all around the world, about the red Volvo I used to drive. We mostly spoke Russian (I figured, since I was only with them for one class, I might as well call it a cultural lecture instead of language practice, since their level was so low in English) but towards the end these students became more comfortable and could construct some sentences in English.
Who knew that college life was so fascinating!
Something strange happened. Here, living alone in my apartment, I have needed to actually cook for myself, all the time, and.... I like it.
The two things I like to make the most:
PLOV. Rice with some seasoning and spices with random vegetables, and lamb (it's supposed to be lamb but I had chicken) I also add pomegranate seeds. Traditional Uzbek dish.
Ural Sandwiches. I love this. They are delicious and take only about 15 minutes to make. Stir-fried mushrooms with lots of spices (whatever I can find) on a sandwich of Ural'sky Xleb. Best with wine and halva.
Sometimes though, I just make soup by throwing into a pot whatever vegetables I happen to find. Usually more mushrooms and onions and a lot of pepper. It also ends up pretty spicy. Other times I get REALLY lazy and just boil some frozen pel'meni... but unlike the Russians I do not add cream... paprika instead :)
Without a doubt, that was the coldest temperature I have ever felt. I decided to run, just so I could say I did it. It was cold.
The scenery does outweigh the cold, though.
