RUSLAN ASB Video Part 3

The third and final installment of the "Spring Break in the Motherland" series. I covered The Vytegra Schools, the village, making friends with the Russian youth and personal wrap-ups of the trip. Due to time constraints on the video, I was not able to cover the submarine trip or some of the other places I didn't visit personally. Even so, I hope you guys enjoy this one. ^_^

ASB Video Part 2

Well, I've finally completed the second part of my RUSLAN ASB video series. This part includes our trip to the monastery, the first day in the Vytegra museum and our trip to the music school. Thank you to Sally, Isabella and Vasya for letting me use your cameras while mine was out of commission. <3

Day 7: Village and Lake Onega

Today we not only got to experience true, Russian provincial life, but also true, Russian weather. Today was dedicated to exploring a nearby village where the poet Klyuev spent a good part of his life. Actually, for the first half of the day we had the bluest and clearest skies of the trip. But after leaving the village, we went to Lake Onega where МЧС, or the emergency rescue center is located. It was snowing when we got to the lake and the skyline was just a gradient of grays, darkened a bit at the horizon. All of us got the real feel for a Russian winter when we walked across the complex to the museum in the middle of a white out. After a tour of the emergency rescue center, we returned to Vytegra to a huge and wonderful meal filled with many happy toasts but also sadness because it was our last night in Vytegra.

In the morning, we all got on a Vytegra bus and headed out into the country. About forty-five minutes later, we stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere where a woman and a six-year-old girl were standing in the middle of the road. From this point in the road, the only man made thing we could see was a small, wooden shrine with the orthodox cross on top where Klyuev parents are burried. The woman who met us in the road was our guide for our day in the village. She told us she meets all tourists at this point in the road to show them the small shrine before heading down to the tiny center of the village. She showed us the tiny town library before introducing us to a few of the local babushkas. About ten tiny women with colorful headscarves asked us question after question about our lives, but not the usual questions of the school children. They wanted to know things like how big our families are, how we got to their town and how much it cost, how we paid for our trip, how we pay for our education, and how much the government helps out with families. It was interesting to not only hear their questions but also hear their stories of their lives, children and grand children. Most of these women had lived there their whole lives and would never dream of living anywhere else, simply because this village is there home and nowhere else will be. They are all so proud of their tiny village, with no cell service and no plumbing. One of the women has a daughter in Vytegra, the “big town” nearby, and will occasionally go to visit her on holidays, but can’t stay away more than about three days because she misses her village too much. During our stay in the village, we were treated to a ride in a horse and sleigh, whichis the most efficient way to transport people and things around town because the roads are so poorly kept. This horse and sleigh were like none other I have seen before. It was almost the exact same kind of horse and sleigh as depicted in the Heartland art of Georgii Popov. A flat platform only about two feet off the ground, strewn with hay and without sides is attached with long wooden poles to the harness which is arched above the horse’s withers. The rider plus four to six others rode behind a strong, grey horse as it trotted us down a narrow road to a house only about five minutes from the center of town. While on our little excursion, it became clear why this form of transportation is superior to vehicles in the villages – the roads are way too narrow for two cars to pass each other and the roads are only cleared, not plowed. A car could easily get stuck in the deep snow, but our sleigh had no difficulties at all gliding across the top. Another focal point of Popov’s painting Joyful Day is the men chopping wood and the clothes hanging outside to dry. In this village, neighboring every house is a huge stack of wood, covered with snow, which is used to heat the house for the whole winter. During our tea with a few of the babushkas, they told us about how they have a giant central oven in the middle of the house that is attached to all of the four rooms of the house. This central oven isused for heating water for bathing, washing clothes and dishes, heating the house, and cooking. The painting also features a woman hanging her clothes up to dry on a line outside. I remember being surprised at this at first, because I would assume the wet clothes would freeze outside. Even though I didn’t see this in the village, I often saw clothes hung out on the balconies of apartment buildings in Vytegra, and I was still surprised. The poverty is evident in both of the town of Vytegra and especially in the village but nobody seems to be disappointed with their towns, they are all so happy to have visitors.

Lake Onega

Leaving the Motherland to visit the Fatherland to return to the Homeland

We left Vytegra around 9 am for Petersburg. It was a long bus ride, but I was able to get most of my school work done, and then some. Unfortunately, when we reached Petersburg our drivers got lost for a good 2 hours-never trust small-town drivers who have never been to the big city to not get lost. After situating ourselves in the sports complex on Vasilievsky island, we decided to split up to spend our last few hours in Russia. Some went to a well-known Georgian restaurant, others went to the Moscow train station to see its architecture, and Monica and I went to Nevsky Prospekt to do all the book shopping for our group.

Navigating the bookstore was a ton of fun. There was so much great literature and interesting books! I wanted to buy the entire Iconography section of the store. Tolstoy and Pushkin both had entire shelves reserved for their books. So, after buying 4 copies of Ann Karenina, a book by Pushkin, another by Kropotkin, and Peter the First by Alexei Tolstoy, all in Russian. We didn't want to walk all the way back to the hotel from Nevsky Prospekt, so we decided to take the metro trains. Using the metro was an exercise in impromptu Russian, but we were successful and got back to the hotel safely.

After leaving for the airport at 3:30 am to catch a 6am flight to Frankfurt, we had a layover of six hours before our flight to Detroit-which we used to explore scenic downtown Frankfurt-am-Main. Having lived in Germany, I was extremely excited to return. Strolling down the Main riverbank, early Sunday morning in Frankfurt is an extremely peaceful and relaxing experience, just what we needed after 8 action-packed days in Russia. Finally, it was time to return to the airport and to leave for Detroit. The flight returning home was very pleasant, especially as the Lufthansa stewardesses were very interested in Americans that were learning Russian and (in my case) knew some German.

While in Vytegra, the Music School invited us to a private show and the youth folk ensemble taught us a favorite children's game. The game is fanty, known to the English-speaking world as Forfeits. The children go around in circles, holding hands, singing a song about a beatiful young deer who sits in the center. As they go around, one by one they place a piece of jewely or any kind of found object in the deer's box. Next, the deer picks out each object at random, asking, "Chto delat' etomu fantu?" / "what to do for this forfeit?"

Russian Fant comes from the German Pfand 'pledge, security,' which, unsurprisingly, is the word Germans use for this game. In terms of Russian, though, fant is still a nonce word; it isn't used outside of this game. (Obviously you can use it outside of this game, but then it is kind of like saying Go fish! in English when, for example, you don't know the answer to a given question.)

Andrew and Will were lucky enough to have had their turns.

Go play with your friends! Happy Fanting!

(the music school building)

(part of the concert that preceded the children's folk song & dance; note the huge bass balalaika!)

Highlights from the Trip

(Allow me to preface this post by stating that 20-something-hours of wakeful traveling may have gotten the best of me. While it is great to be back in [still snowy] Ann Arbor, I insist it is still better to reflect on the trip and internalize the feelings that will last in us even as every tiny detail seeks recluse from our recollections.)

Last Thursday morning, our well-clad group headed out of Vytegra and deeper into the heartland. The reason for our journey was a certain poet by the name of Nikolai Klyuev; his birthplace is none other than the unannounced village of Makachevo. Klyuev's home, large by the standards of its time and place, now acts as the cultural center for the villagers. (I think we determined that the baby blue exterior was not the original color of the home.)

The village library boasts over 220 registered users (an impressive percentage of the total population of 380). Although it is small and cozy, the library indeed offers a wide variety of works. Much to my surprise, Sergei found a publication featuring an essay by one of the University of Michigan's own professors: Omry Ronen in the 2011/1 edition of Petersburg's literary monthly, "Zvezda." It was great to see something familiar and recent in a place that was as of yet unknown to me.

But we soon grew to know Makachevo in its details. The earliest date of the village's mention comes from 1654 merchant records; in the early 20th century, it held 6000 average inhabitants. In the following decades, though, over four hundred villages perished indefinitely due to war. Today, a cluster of only nine remain home to a total of 380 persons. Tan clay, birch-lumber, and roof-tiles provide for the village's main industry. Among the farm homes and wooden fences, there are two stores, one post office, a school, a childrens' playground, and an out-of-place apartment complex. Since the nearest church is 10km away, people often view religious services on television broadcast--virtually every household has a TV, and some a computer as well. Consider this against the lack of running water or plumbing systems! The town is not modernly sustainable--and as we are told, "young people almost never stay." The statistics speak for themselves: there are only nine children in school, and only across grades 1-3; there will be only three children starting grade 1 in the coming school year. Young adults most often move to Vytegra or Vologda, of course.

Yet this is not to determine a sketch of a surrendering village. Makachevo is visibly lasting. The women to whom we spoke--the local babushkas and future babushkas (and those future babushkas of even farther-off babushkas…)--expressed an enduring devotion to their Makachevo. A voice from our curious group asked what a favorite part of life in this village was: "Bce!" answered an aged woman in a fast breath. Many of the older residents visit their relocated children/grandchildren and, while doing so, swear to grow homesick for Makachevo by their first or second night away!

Based on our afternoon stay alone, I easily and eagerly trust this sentiment. It is an incredible place to be; it offers a coveted quietude. The frost covering the hay and the snow along the wood deposit nature across the congruous cabins. During our visit to Babushka Tania's, the warmth of her hospitality and of her stove (equally tangible), emitted a naturally contagious feeling of at-home-ness. It didn't hurt that the tea and food--like the atmosphere--were absolutely worth holding onto forever.

This trip has again and again been occasioning realizations about Russia and about ourselves. Andrew and I were discussing it over a lunch a few days ago--mainly, a sort of existential bafflement that underscores each moment of the trip. First, we zoom out of bodies and briefly imagine ourselves as points on a map; next, we invite in the hows, the whats, the whys for questioning (rather, they all come without explicit invitation and startle us); finally, we find no answers. Spring break in provincial Russia challenges the popular search for recognizable meaning in all that we do. Case and point: there is no rhyme or reason to how we all found ourselves on a spontaneous horse-and-sleigh ride through the village. But we sure did and we enjoyed it!

On the drive home from the airport earlier today, popular consensus suggested the visit to Makachevo as one of the best moments of the trip :)

Vytegra Day 5: Makachyevo, and МЧС

Yesterday we left Vytegra for Makachyevo, the village in which Klyuev's parents are buried and a shrine is dedicated to them, and by extension Klyuev himself. After the shrine, we met the villagers of Makachyevo, who recited for us some of Klyuev's poetry, and then engaged us in a Q & A session. Leaving Makachyevo, we visited the Department of Emergencies (МЧС) station on Lake Onega, where we experienced the full of fury of the Russian North with the lake effect and snowstorms streaming off of the second largest freshwater lake in Europe.

When we arrived at the shrine outside of Makachyevo, Tamara Pavlovna and Alina Vladimirovna gave us a rendition of the history of the site, how it was an old cemetery containing Nikolai Klyuev's parents, how the chapel that was residing next to it was blown up by the Young Pioneers in the 1960s ,and the stones of the Church's rubble were used to create an large sign on a nearby hilltop saying “Lenin”. Having spent much of my time interviewing Russians about the Orthodox Church in Russia, I was more saddened than surprised to witness this desecration with mine own eyes. The villagers in Makachyevo gave a similarly soviet-influenced story of the state of religion in their village, how there was no church for the 380 villagers, that the nearest house of worship was Vytegra, km away. They mentioned how a church-television channel was very popular in he village-those that are unable to participate in the services because of distance or illness can watch on television the divine liturgy. Going to Miki we finally experienced the famous stereotype of Russia: that it is a barren winter landscape of bitter cold and strong winds. Trying to walk from the school to the station museum was an exercise in stoicism as Onegan winds tried to cut us to pieces. To end our tour of the facility, the МЧС showed us their impressive display of emergency rescue vehicle hardware. They had everything from snowmobiles to airfoils to enormous trucks and even small military-grade patrol craft. I couldn't help but think that this tour of government property would not have been possible for Americans under the Soviet Union or the Russian early years.

Makachyevo had some astonishing contrasts. The village was extremely poor, there was no running water, out houses were the norm, and 100 rubles bought almost a kilo of candy. At the same time, the villagers told us how all of them have televisions, satellite dishes, and most had computers with modem internet connections. The village was proud of the collective farm that remains the largest employer in the village with 18 employees, While the village looks to have walked strait out the 19^th and even 18^th Century, the television present for teat time was giving the latest details about Libya's ongoing civil strife and how NASA had lost the surface-to-space missile, Glory. It is very interesting the Russians concentrate their resources into, allowing sophisticated technology like satellite dishes to exist along side a one-horse open sleigh (which we did have a ride on, and we did in fact sing Jingle Bells). These contrasts show how the poor infrastructure that was developed under the Soviet Union and 1990s and 2000s Russia has not kept people from striving for the the latest modern advancements in technology.