Since my last blog post, I have used five different types of Russian public transportation: taxi, bus, train, plane, and metro. I also spotted a flower strewn carriage in Suzdal carting a groom and his glaring pile of lace, mesh, and sequins. However, despite Russians’ claims that their transportation system is the best in the world, after almost 50 hours of traveling this week- I think that “sometimes efficient” is the best rating I can give. Instead, I am awarding my gold stars to “personal vehicle,” and recommending the lonely planet add it in their “Getting Around” section.
Last Wednesday, after soccer practice at MGU the coach gave myself and a few other girls on the team a ride home in his huge black Hummer. I am afraid I lost some of my hard earned cred with the girls on the team when Kostya (the coach), after turning on some Rhianna and beaming with pride about his American car, asked me if the Hummer made me feel at home… and I laughed. I obviously disappointed everyone (They all watch too much “OC” and “Laguna Beach,”) so I think Ill wait to tell them I live in the Adirondaks and go to school in Vermont.
MGU 2008-2009 mini-football squad. Coach Kolya on left
Our home "field" at MGU
Despite the Hummer slip up the car ride was comfortable and enjoyable. More importantly, however, it was another victory in my (slightly creepy) campaign to befriend Russians. Luckily, the girls on the soccer team (prime targets) are pretty easy and predictable victims. I have found that, just like in the US, the way to bond/make friends is by showing up in the locker room early. Using this tactic, I now not only have the numbers of 5 of the girls on the team but have also gotten all the scoop: one of the girls is an ex girlfriend of the assistant coach; another is nicknamed the “star” because she never passes the ball; the random 40 year old woman who shows up at practice sometimes is a mother of 3, an anorexic, and a sports nut; Kostya, is actually an investment banker and only gets paid a few hundred dollars to coach; Natasha just broke up with her boyfriend- thats why she is not at practice-; Sveta plays for a premier league team in Moscow as well as MGU… and the gossip goes on.) And (despite her boyfriend troubles) Natasha has offered to take me to a soccer game tomorrow– so all in all, my make-russian-friends quest is going well.
Those other forms of transportation (bus, train, etc…) are not so lucrative in that department. Last Friday, Lilly (a girl in my program) and I set out for a weekend in Suzdal, a tiny town and UNESCO World Heritage Site on the “Golden Ring” of Moscow. The town dates back to 1024 when Suzdal was the capital of the Rostov-Suzdal principality and was then annexed by Moscow in 1392. There is, in addition to over 30 churches, a famous
suzdal
monastery called the Intercession Convent that was founded in 1364 as a place of exile for the unwanted wives of tsars. One such exile was Solomonia Saburova, the first wife of Vasily III. She was sent because of her infertility, but actually did become pregnant right before being scent to Suzdal. Solomonia was afraid the son would be scene as a threat to any of the sons produced by the new wife (she was rightly worried as the new wife bore Ivan the Terrible) and thus staged a mock burial. In 1934 they opened the tomb and found it to be empty.
As Lilly and I waited on the platform in Moscow, we were optimistic about our future elektrichka (train) friends.
Platform in Moscow
A kind woman had already taken the initiative to come and talk to us–even if it was only to, in a voice of fear and desperation, warn us/demand that we immediately get up from the concrete ledge . She only let us sit back down when we agreed to sit not directly on the ledge, but on our backpacks like the Russians next to us. She was worried that we would get a kidney infection from the cold cement (some kind of Russian superstition). After questioning us as if she was an accredited doctor, a gypsy healer (she certainly looked like one) or at least like a very good ski patroller (she forgot BSI but took our SAMPLE history,) she decided that we might be lucky and not get one because we had only been sitting for about ten minutes– but she seemed pretty skeptical.
Unfortunately, we lost our kidney expert after the stampede. Sitting on our backpacks Lilly and I watched as crowds began to form on the platform. We were immediately impressed. Not only do trains run on time in Russia, but they come half an hour early?! Our awe changed quickly to superstition when we noticed that the travelers were not spread out, but were instead clumped into equally spaced groups along the platform and were each swaying like a mosh pit at a Dima Bilan concert. Lily and I tentatively joined one of the groups. When the train arrived, the pushing and shoving became even more intense and, when the passengers poured out of the arriving train, it became unbearable. Finally, the last passenger stepped off, the floodgates opened, and Lily and I (along with a straggling debarking passenger who, screaming, was actually pushed to the ground, were caught in a wave of smelly and aggressive babushka’s, briefcases, and fur coats. Were the window seats really this good? Yes. In fact, even the middle seats on the hard wooden benches would have been worth throwing a punch for. Lily and I (along with the other victims of the stampede) spent the 4 hour journey to Vladimir standing. Excruciatingly painful.
Crowded train as the men begin their drinking...
To keep me company I had only the ferret in the purse of the woman standing next to me, the occasional gypsy selling ice cream and apples, and my struggle to decide whether to be blatantly foreign and sit on the cold dirty train floor– putting my kidneys in danger once again. I was even tempted to sit down in one of the two empty seats on the train, next to the two smelly drunk (p.s– 12 AM train) men alternating between smoking, taking vodka shots, sleeping, and screaming into their phones or at each other. I watched as others attempted to tolerate their behavior- but they all eventually decided standing was better.
bus to suzdal
The bus ride to Suzdal was slightly better- but since Mendeleev, Russians seem to forgot about chemistry, and the fact that smoke and gas expand to fill their containers– so having a smoking section at the front of the bus actually makes no sense.
Despite the lack of heat and the door in our room of the hostel that opened to a 15 foot drop off where workers began at 8 am every day to finish the hostel, Suzdal was beautiful. 35 onion-domed churches, 5 monasteries, 3 weddings, and 50% cheaper food than Moscow.
suzdal
Church with footbridge
Across the river
More churches...
kremlin
babushka
Old wooden church
church...
the obligatory lenin statue
lily at a convent
Our xozyaika (boss, housekeeper) at the hostel, although complaining that we came home to early (I think she is used to those crazy Finnish backpackers) sat up with us for a few hours telling us about her life (sad: lives alone in the hostel and occasionally visits her family and husband in the ukraine), her speculation on the success of the hostel (not good– we were the only 2 staying there) and the kind of tourists she is used to (non Russian-speakers). She gave a great (although very racist) impression of the Japanese tourists who she claimed should earn the prize for the best tourists in the world. Up at 6 am, all day straight walking around seeing every church (they showed her identical pictures of the whole family standing in front of all 35), and back late. They even brought their own food and water and were completely quiet (hunching over to mimic the height of a japanese person, the xozyaika gave a chipmunk like impression of them “scampering” all over the hostel making no noise).
Our trip back to Moscow (we opted for the bus this time with assigned
apple market
seating), despite a stop to fix the broken brakes, was slightly better than the trip there. We were equipped with free apples from the pickle-apple-and honey ale market stand of an old woman who refused to take our money; capitalism is, apparently, still only slowly arriving.
I was pleased to find that, although I missed the fresh air of Suzdal, returning to Moscow really felt like coming home. Although the goods in my perexod (underground crosswalk) to my house are much less interesting (nail files, socks, umbrellas, and magnifying glasses) than the fresh food markets in Suzdal– I was happy to see the merchant’s familiar (unsmiling) faces, even if I wasn’t going to score a free apple.
dancing forest
After less than 24 hours, however, I packed up and left again with the Middlebury group for our fall break trip to Kaliningrad and Vilnius, Lithuania. We rented a car for the 13 hour (we opted for the scenic route and were held up at the border for a few hours because the guy who rented us the car neglected to give us the proper documents) trip from Kaliningrad to Lithuania. Absolutely stunning- we drove right along the Baltic Coast, walked through the Dancing Forest, and were even stopped by the traditional bribe-seeking militioneer. But, our slightly schizophrenic friend/GPS guide, “Natasha,” finally led us to Vilnius.
The Sea!!
Vilnius is the capital of Lithuania, but despite having been under Soviet rule, it seems like a very European city. It was even named the European Capital of Culture and has it’s own equivalent of Montmarte in a run down jewish neighborhood. The community declared their own “independence,” they have their own president, and wrote their own constitution. Unfortunately, our free “alternative” guide from the hostel seemed more interested in showing us this area (in particular the “backpacking Jesus” statue) than the >100 beautiful christian and pagan (Lithuania was the last European country to leave paganism) churches. At least the Jesus statue was a change: I have gotten so sick of all the Lenin statues, and I am pretty sure that if you put all the “Lenin street’s” in Eastern Europe together they would go around the world…. 4 times. On the Lenin street in Vilnius there was, appropriately, a very well done (and very depressing) KGB museem in the old headquarters. There were 20 rooms of personal stories and artifacts that told the history of the German and then Russian occupation of Lithuania. The basement, where the KGB prison was, had been left disturbingly untouched. The cells (called “boxes”) had no beds or toilets, and were as small as Mrs. Trunchbull’s chokie from Matilda. There was a scary padded soundproof room, and numerous other torture chambers. After all that I wasn’t in the mood for eating dinner, which was just as well because apparently the national food of Lithuania is fried bread and potatoes wrapped in pastry.
Street in Vilnius
This was a Pagan church before Lithuania converted to Christianity. The cross is a combination of Pagan symbols and the Christian cross.
New Vilnius. One of the many public art displays. In flowers is written "I love you" on the bank of the river. The other bank has written: "I love you too"
View from above
castle
On our drive back to Kaliningrad we stopped by a small town in Lithuania with an old castle standing on an island in the middle of a lake. I think that the town must be the only town in the world whose main form of transportation is…. paddleboat. The banks of the river were scattered with pink, green, red, and yellow paddleboats, some of whom, because of their plastic dolphin statues, looked like they belonged more in Disney Land or Water World than the small, seemingly timeless Lithuanian village. When we arrived (8 am) there was a lone fisherman in a fur coat (yes it is already winter here) out paddling.
The flight home made me long for a good paddleboat, which surely would have had more leg room, would not have been delayed, and would have tipped the airplane’s rowdy drunk flight-attendant-whistling men into the cold river. At least when they puked out of the paddleboat it would have gone into the water and not where I wanted to get off the airport shuttle. I imagine the first metro run at 6 am in Moscow would be pretty similar.
The scene from my metro station: GOODBYE FROM MOSCOW!!
Maybe I’ll find out tonight. I am currently holed up in the Mcdonalds, hungry (I doubt the happy meals here would be any better than in the US,) and trying to finish my essay and power point presentation on the Russian Civil War, the New Economic Policy, and Collectivization for class this week. I promised myself I wouldn’t leave until I was prepared for the vocab quiz (with impossible terms like punitive agencies, livestock raising, grain procurement, surplus confiscation, and the differences between to attack, to launch a war, to inflict a defeat, to gain a victory, and to be on the offensive.) I might miss that 1 am metro.