Originally sent June 23:
Quick update now. Five days ago, went (with our awesome teacher), on a walk through Moscow late in the evening, then to a really awesome bar-club called Solyanka, had a great time, although we had to leave before the party really got started in order to make the metro before closing time at 1 AM. Beforehand, we walked through the narrow, historic streets of Kitay-Gorod, which in contemporary Russian means China-Town, although the etymology is different, and if you go looking for Dim Sum, you will be disappointed.
Before I go on, a few notes of correction/ clarification before I proceed. In a previous posting, I noted that the cost of three months on the Moscow subway is the equivalent of $55. I was off by a factor of 2. It's actually more like $105. Conversion fail, slash you can all stop hurling your "THAT'S SO CHEAP!" at me.
Second note: in my previous posting, I noted that V. Sr. is a large man of fearsome appearance and bear-strangling physical capacity, reminiscent, I would rather say, of a Cossack. Well, as it turns out, V. Sr. IS a Cossack. Verily, his last name means, in his Ukrainian mother tongue, little Cossack. Which is funny because he is not little. But he is a Cossack. His ancestors presumably decimated rebelling villages, grew long tufts of hair on their had, became rowdily drunk, and, for all that I know, strangled bears.
A few more notes on home life. Russian standards of hygiene seem to be regretfully lower than American ones, and I have seen no evidence of the usage of soap to clean dishes thus far. Ah well. I'm not sick yet, am I? Also, the cats have a way of going into the bathroom, and in plain view of their litter boxes, shitting right in front of the toilet. Late at night, when nature calls me but I can't call O., there is little to do but grin and bear it. Also between the cats and the fact that Russians seem to find the usage of sheets superfluous, the apartment wears the perpetual aroma of feet.
Back to the account of things. Thursday night I slept like a long, waking up at 1 PM on Friday (no class on Fridays!). I did nothing for a while, but then went to the Academy to use the free internet (getting there was basically free too. Because I have a 3-month metro pass. Did I mention it's for three months and $105?). I did basically nothing else for the rest of the day, but in the evening I talked to O. and V. Sr. for several hours, while Misha the cat sat on my lap and gave me a massage. Yes, Misha gives massages. He puts his hind legs on your lap, and his forelegs on your chest, and gently presses, going up and down your chest. Where he learned this skill, I know not. All I know is that in Soviet Russia, cat pets you.
On Saturday, we had a pre-planned "ekskursiya," i.e. tour, that we went on. Due to some clerical error (or perhaps sadism on some higher power's part), we advanced students got an English-speaking guide, who operated under the impression that we had never heard of Russia before, while the beginning students got a Russian-language guide who is used to giving tours to people from St. Petersburg. But it was a good tour. We saw the immense and impressive building of Moscow State University (seriously, google image it), one of seven Gothic-inspired skyscrapers built by Stalin in the late 40s and early 50s, situated in the prestigious Sparrow Hills area, from which the whole city (and the other six Stalinist buildings) was visible. From there we stopped through Victory Park, then the Khram Khrista Spasitelya, or Cathedral of Christ the Savior (yes, Borat fans, Khram means Cathedral, not... you know). The latter was built in the 19th century, demolished in the 1930s to make room for a huge skyscraper that never got built thanks to WWII, and where Khrushchev, at a loss for what to do with the foundations, set up the world's biggest outdoor swimming pool. After the fall of the USSR, Russia rebuilt the Cathedral, much to the dismay of atheist swimmers across the city. After this, we were deposited at Red Square, which really has to be seen to be believed. St. Basil's cathedral, with its mystical, Byzantine, chaotic architecture, is just jaw-dropping. Not as big as you think it is, but even more exquisite.
The best part of the Ekskursiya, however, was when our tour guide and our driver, Viktor, yelled at each other. Viktor often took it upon himself to correct the tour guide, who would respond "Viktor, bez kommentarii, pozhaluysta," which I will loosely translate as "shut up in the peanut gallery." The tour guide was also seemingly challenged with the opening of sliding doors, at which point Viktor expressed his opinion that the "passazhiri dolzhni znat sami kak otkryvaetsya dver', potomu chto vy rukami pol'zovat'sya ne umeete," which means "the passengers themselves should know how the door opens, because you don't know how to use your hands."
Anyway, the rest of Saturday was passed in pleasant sitting around, because plans to go to O. and V.'s dacha (country cottage) fell through. But this freed me up to go on Sunday to Yasnaya Polyana, Tolstoy's estate, with Danya of Harvard, E.S. of Stanford, and Sasha the teacher-man. We all met at Sasha's metro stop, which happens to be the same metro stop as the Cosmonaut Museum. Sasha met us there covered in grease. "I was repairing my car," he said. Sasha then led us to said car, and we saw why: it was an early-1980s Soviet Lada.
Ladies and gentlemen, this was the most legit car I have ever seen. And by legit, I mean if you crashed, you would almost certainly be ripped to shreds by the force. It consists of little more than some sheet metal and a couple of (surprisingly comfortable) seats. Sasha had rigged up an electronic locking system himself. Also, the back seat manual window cranks were broken, so the windows were perpetually open! We returned to Sasha's so he could wash up, and then went on our way.
Yasnaya Polyana is outside the city of Tula, a good 2.5 hours from Moscow. The road there passes some lovely Russian countryside-- big green fields and fine forests of birch and maple. It was a warm, dry, sunny day: lovely for a ride-- and for open windows at 70 mph. And what a ride it was. We stopped only to fill the minuscule gas tank and piss in the great Russian outdoors. Later, when to got to the outskirts of Tula, we drove through a small village that looked pretty damn third-world, and had potholes of the sort that led you to believe it had recently been shelled. This was all good for Sasha, who refused to go slower than 60 while taking narrow corners, dodging the potholes on the one-lane street. It was like being at a theme park, except if you died, it wouldn't make the papers.
Yasnaya Polyana was a lovely little spot in a lovely neck of woods. We saw Tolstoy's pond, his apple orchard, his house, books, grave, etc. The house is preserved exactly as it was when he lived in it. I found it weird that he kept the couch on which he was born right behind his work desk. I mean, that's kind of gross.
We then ate a bit, toured Tula (it kind of sucks), and at the local cake, pryaniki, before returning to Moscow; we got home around 11. Then the last couple of days have been more of the same as before-- class in the morning, goofing off in the afternoon, and all that. Last night, we celebrated the 20th birthday of one of the girls in the program at a lovely expat-friendly bar. Today I had an interview at the place where I'll probably be working, the Slavic Center for Law and Justice, which is a law firm focusing on human rights, esp. religious freedom issues, with both for-profit and non-profit clients. I met my putative boss, who is a cool dude. Work duties to be specified, but there is of course the ubiquitous "you want to read some documents for me in English?" And that's all so far! Okay, not so quick update.
--Aseem Aseemovich Aseemin
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