torgovyy tsentr obuv’ siti (Shoe City Shopping Center)
Poem about Rus’–the messenger
I’ve been his messenger for some time now.
And brown letter in my hand, walking across the wet morning field,
I feel like I’m hanging from a golden chain.
Of course I read them,
just like I steal a moment to spread my body across the exotic carpet,
like I hide fruit under my clothes.
Someone told me to tell him, if every bone in his body is split in two
and tears well in both his eyes,
I wouldn’t even know to deliver letters to a damp and quivering slope that was once a man.
Of course I read them, just like when I am almost alone at night,
I stare into the fire and cry tears of gold.
Someone told me to tell him that he alone split the cosmos down the middle
and caused a deadly rain of stars
and does he even know? And does he feel sorry?
Can you chase smoke away? Have you ever tried?
Someone told me to tell him that he’s a mold-covered boulder
that should be hewed again and again and again,
that there’s a nation of men ready to kill him one hundred thousand times over.
I return at night. The moon hangs from a starry chain.
I feel like I’m a prairie fire
the moment before it explodes in a flood of light.
the way there
Palm Sunday
Living in a Place of Beauty
I grew up in a place that I consider to be incredibly beautiful. America’s Pacific Northwest is a temperate rainforest between the Pacific and the Cascades filled with mountains, waterfalls, beaches, and old-growth trees, where the landscape remains green and growing all year long. When I travel (which has mostly been in the US), I am accustomed to measuring the beauty of a place by the grandeur of its natural features, comparing a new place to my home. For example, during my first year in Northfield, Minnesota, I was constantly aware of the aspects of the landscape of Minnesota that were different from what I was used to. To the annoyance of all my friends, I moaned and groaned constantly about the extreme weather, starkly delineated seasons, overall flatness, and absence of conifers.
Last weekend our group traveled to Vladimir and Suzdal, our first exploration outside of Moscow. On the train and bus rides, I watched the landscape pass by, and made my usual quick judgement of the aesthetic beauty of this new place. It was very flat and (at this time of year) colorless. If you took away the ancient cities, this area would not look too different from the area around Northfield, which I complained about above. But looking back, my overwhelming impression of Vladimir and Suzdal is that they were incredibly beautiful. Here, I encountered a new type of beauty, one that I have not seen since the last time I was in Europe. Unlike in Oregon or Minnesota, the modern residents of these ancient cities live surrounded by the beauty of old, glorious, manmade architectural creations, a very different daily experience of beauty than mine, which is composed of monumental natural features.
In Portland, the skyline is nice, I guess, but it can hardly compete with the snow capped peaks of Mount Hood and Mount Saint Helens that rise above it. Any Oregonian would probably agree with me that buildings such as our beloved “Big Pink” in downtown can hardly compete with one of our natural wonders, such as Multnomah Falls or Neakhahnie Mountain. These buildings are mostly big rectangles of metal, glass, and concrete, built without reference to the natural world. The natural landscape surrounding Vladimir and Suzdal, however, is both integral to these cities and outshone by the ancient constructed wonders within them. For example, Suzdal’s original fortress was purposefully built in a bend in the river to take advantage of the natural moat, and Vladimir is situated atop a cliff overlooking a river, another natural defense. Suzdal’s bend in the river is just another bend in the river, until you take into account the fact that people maintained a fortress here for a thousand years.
Residents of Vladimir can take a bus and attend service at a the Svyato Bogolyubsky Monastery just a few yards away from the same staircase where Andrey Bogolyubsky was murdered in the 12th century. Compare this to the American West, where I am used to considering structures that manage to be 200 or more years old to be ancient ruins to be revered and preserved as historical museums. Now in Russia, I am getting used to everything being so old that I wasn’t surprised when our tour guide in Suzdal pointed to parts of a church that were built in the 18th or 19th centuries and declared them to be “modern.” Although many have been destroyed, Vladimir and Suzdal are still full of these colorful and intricate monasteries, cathedrals, and bell towers: throughout the centuries, buildings have been added in new styles and reconstructed when they were destroyed. Nevertheless, many are still being used for their original purpose. We visited, for example, the Church of the Intercession on the Nerl in Bogolyubskovo, a UNESCO World Heritage sight. Here, original walls held beautiful modern icons, and alongside the tourists, worshippers were still practicing.
I am glad to have spent time outside of Moscow in these cities of old Russia. I felt a great sense of awe at the beauty, age, and significance of their monuments, and I am happy to report that here on the other side of the planet, like at home, people get to experience truly unique and beautiful sights every day.
Vladimir, a city of new and old
Vladimir is a city with an ancient history, founded well before Moscow (three quarters of a century or longer, the precise year is debated), that was the most prominent city in Medieval Rus after the decline of Kiev and before the Mongol invasion. Raised by the Grand Prince Andrey Bogolyubsky to great prominence as the capital during the 12th century and containing churches and cathedrals that have survived since then, Vladimir now fulfills the role of a grand tourist attraction. I imagined surely something else must happen there, but nobody talks about it; all anyone cares about is how Alexander Nevsky’s remains were buried here until 1704 and that Bogolyubsky was murdered on a stairway in this cathedral. Which, I mean is understandable. Why would visitor care about the fact that the area is the seat of its principality, contains a university, and is known for producing electrical machinery? Masha Nordbye mentions this in passing in our reading (1) , but when I first perused it, I cared more about the Cathedral of St. Demetrius, built in 1193, than this.
The issue is that by reading all of this history and more or less ignoring the present situation, somehow in my mind I created the expectation that I was traveling to a 12th century city, in contrast to the modernization of Moscow. Suffice to say, I was not surprised when I left the hostel the first morning and the first thing I found was this:
What is it? That’s not entirely clear from the picture, but it clearly is ancient. In fact, it is made out of concrete. It leads to some sort of old industrial area under one of the most popular 12th century modes of transportation: the train. All right, I’m being silly now, but you get the idea: my first impression of Vladimir was not of some historic city of princes, but rather of a very modern, and frankly, rather run-down place. This is, in fact, a road, and I saw several cars pass it, but it has numerous cracks and was covered with water. Several nearby roads were dirt and not even the nicest dirt roads I’ve ever seen; a bit rocky.
This was a complete departure from Moscow where the roads are constantly being washed and the benches always being repainted, and the roads are in excellent condition. I imagined we must be staying in the outskirts of town; however, another 5 minutes of walking took me to the main street. At 8 in the morning on a Saturday, it was totally deserted. Here, the conditions were better (i.e., there roads were not covered with water-filled indentations), but the architecture still did not amaze; it looked like pretty standard rows of flats and shop fronts. The whole effect was not helped by the fact all of the trees had been, well, recently trimmed (see photo), and for some reason had the bases of their trunks painted white. Disillusioned, I returned to the hostel an hour earlier than expected, not entirely sure what to think.
The rest of this day was spent in the even more ancient town of Suzdal, which feels much more like an ancient town, probably because there are 40 churches and a population of only about 10,000. Of course, some Eleventh-century peasant would be totally alarmed seing a car rolling past one of his churches, but the architecture was much more as expected. After a long day of walking around Suzdal, we returned to Vladimir and appropriately ate pizza for dinner.
Suzdal
The next day, we toured the sites of Vladimir and I finally got to see the promised historic churches and cathedrals, from the legendary Uspensky Cathedral where princes were crowned to the white marble of the Cathedral of Saint Demetrius. Looking through these places, I began to get a feeling of the centuries of history imbued into their walls, but with the acute realization that this time had long passed. And while in the end I got some grasp of the history, I felt that the current Vladimir, which melds medieval history with contemporary industry, I barely understood at all. I could see, though, that Vladimir is a completely different city than Moscow. Where Moscow is always rushed, bursting everywhere with color and noise, Vladimir is more spread out, with fewer tall buildings and a more rural feeling. But one thing is the same: among the historical sites, contemporary Russia also abounds. From the industrial concrete in Vladimir to American fast food joints along the Arbat in Moscow, the present is just around the corner. Actually, though, there’s plenty of concrete and run down neighborhoods in Moscow, and Vladimir has a McDonald’s. There are some modern things in every city, it seems.
1 Nordbye, Masha. “Vladimir.” In Moscow, St. Petersburg and the Golden Ring. Hong Kong: Odyssey Books. 2015.
Some Initial Impressions of MSU
“[T]he dilapidated condition of the University buildings, the gloominess of the corridors, the griminess of the walls, the lack of light, the dejected aspect of the steps… take a prominent position among predisposing causes in the history of Russian pessimism.”
- Anton Chekhov 1
Ah, Moscow State University, you glorious temple of learning and knowledge! So beautiful is your architecture and so beautiful your intentions. How each night, the towering peak of your main building is a glowing star, leading us home after our expeditions during the day. In the courtyard, little birds are singing, imbued with hues of golden and ivory black, lemon and turquoise; their songs remind us of the delights of the countryside, that at times can appear so distant.
In all seriousness, the main building and environs of Moscow State University (henceforth MSU) are very impressive. As I mentioned above, the building itself can be seen from far off; my first night here, a friend and I inadvertently ended up at Sparrow Hills (Воребьёвы Горы), which overlooks the river and downtown Moscow, and we never had to worry that we wouldn’t find our way back, as the building itself is visible from Sparrow Hills. And the architecture is quite a sight to behold, and that first night I was astonished by how gargantuan and, in comparison to American skyscrapers, bizarre the building is. It almost appears as if someone stuck a enormous cricket bat into the middle of a normal rectangular building, and incredibly, this design is not unique: there are another six (!) similar buildings in Moscow, constructed as one of Stalin’s projects. These are known as the Seven Sisters. Of course, I had seen pictures of them before, but in reality they are even more striking, presumably because in Moscow there are not rows of skyscrapers, but rather individual humungous buildings plopped down in with normal sized ones.
Library, behind which is the wasteland
All around MSU there are little gardens where the birds sing, boulevards lined with trees, and in the front there is a large garden with fountains in the spring and a statue of the university’s founder, Mikhail Lomonosov, surveying his creation. All of the little rows of trees and bushes are perfectly organized, and sometimes in the morning you’ll encounter the garden crew in their colorful green and yellow jackets sweeping up leaves on the paths. Traveling a little south of here, you’ll find a library, another attractive building, but behind that is what is called the пустырь, which translates essentially to wasteland. Here, there is a disorganized mess of brambles and vines surrounding a small pond of a completely non-symmetric shape, framing in the background the rumbling of heavy construction equipment. Presumably something is being built here, but what: well I can only guess. Or in this age of the Internet, I could just look it up; except that last weekend, when I first went there, the wifi wasn’t working. Right: at the most prestigious university in Russia, they can’t even guarantee reliable wifi in the dormitories. Once, another friend and I were roaming around the main building, hunting the elusive internet when we somehow wound up in the Geology department. I cannot possibly better describe this area than Chekhov does his space in the above quote: the “gloomy” corridors, the dirty walls, the lack of light, the “dejected” steps. The darkness gave the entire area an aura of sadness and and inescapable doom. My point is that on the outside MSU is like the garden, but inside it is like a пустырь.
A gloomy and dark auditorium in the main building
That might be a little severe of an assessment, although the character from the Chekhov story quoted above would probably agree. In any case, Chekhov’s language is very vivid, although I don’t fully subscribe to his thesis. The analogy doesn’t quite work anyway, as during that time the main building had not even been constructed, but that is besides the point; the idea is that there are some issues with the interior. To illustrate this again, when my roommate and I first moved into our room, after we took a shower we noticed a sizable puddle formed on the floor adjacent. We eventually realized that this was because the shower-head had broken, which took several days to fix. This finally was fixed, and then almost immediately the lightbulb had gone out. On the other hand, after two years studying at Carleton I have never had a problem similar to these, let alone two in the first week, and my friends at other comparably large universities in the United States have not reported many such problems either. Things simply don’t always work properly. That said, this hasn’t detracted that great of a deal from the overall experience so far, but has just created an interesting binary between the outside and the inside as a first impression.
1 The Chekhov quote is from “A Boring Story” (по-русски Скучный История), translated by Constance Garnett. The full text is here http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/BoriStor.shtml, and is narrated by a dying professor with a rather dim view of life in general, including his university. Although it is not directly stated the university in question is MSU in the text, it can be readily inferred, and I in fact first found the quote in Caroline Brooke’s book Moscow: A Cultural History, although she uses a different translation and does not appear to cite it.
A Vegetarian in Moscow
In my twenty long years of life, I have eaten less than a tablespoon of meat. At Carleton, finding plenty of tasty vegetarian food is no problem at all. There’s a counter in the dining hall that serves exclusively vegan dishes, and those who know me are well aware of my love for tofu tacos on weekends. But when I started seriously planning for this trimester abroad, the question of whether or not I would be able to eat vegetarian without feeling terrible due to low iron and lack of protein was a big concern of mine. Thus, when it was my turn to meet with our program director Diane before the trip, I asked her with some trepidation whether or not I could realistically maintain a vegetarian diet in Russia. She assured me that in Moscow it would be easy, and the only place where I would encounter problems would be at Lake Baikal, and this had been done before and we would deal with this when we came to it.
Feeling reassured, I returned to my busy Carleton life without giving it too much thought. However, the subject came up again at dinner one night, when I confidently announced my plans to eat vegetarian in Moscow. One friend, a senior, immediately responded,
“Really? Because every vegetarian I know who went on the Russia trip had such a miserable time that they started eating meat again.”
Since eating meat “again” is not an option for me, I quickly started to worry again, and arrived in Moscow with a lot of concerns about what I would eat, especially after reading under the “Vegetarian Eating” heading in my guidebook that almost all Russian food, including salads, contains meat, and I would be better off eating only at restaurants serving other cuisines.
Today, however, I am glad to be reporting to you at the outset of my third week in Moscow, alive, well, and still not having consumed any of my fellow members of the animal kingdom. During my first visit to the extremely cheap University stolovayas, I was pleased to discover that there is always a selection of (mostly meatless) salads and yogurts before you get to the main dishes. The main courses consist of a piece of meat on rice, plain pasta, or kasha, but these are separate and you can just get the grain without the meat slab. Much of the time there is a steamed vegetable available, and if you get lucky there might be a vegetable stew. Once, there were delicious eggplant slices with cheese. Finally, there are a variety of pastries and bread.
However, although non-meat options technically exist in these cafeterias, during my first week here I quickly found that eating unseasoned grains, almost flavorless boiled vegetables (invariably carrots, cauliflower, potatoes, and sometimes broccoli), and vinegar-drenched cabbage for both lunch and dinner became monotonous, and every day the only protein I was getting was from a single serving of peach yogurt. I started to feel tired and hungry all the time. Of course, the stolovayas are not the only places to eat in Moscow, but they are the cheapest (the dinner I described above costs a little over two dollars) and most convenient for students in the dorm. Thus, I had to find strategies for eating as a vegetarian at the university (future vegetarian program participants take note!).
You can buy a freshly-baked mini-baguette for less than 50 cents at Ashan, the closest grocery store, so I have been exchanging one monotonous lunch a day out for a tasty sandwich of cheese and veggies on crusty bread. I also purchased a variety of protein-rich snacks: cheeses, almonds, sunflower seeds, etc. to munch on throughout the day. In addition, I take iron supplements. Finally, I figured out that carrying a jar of pesto in my purse to dinner to put on the pasta and vegetables makes the cafeteria meals way better. You will find that you have no problem with breakfast: every cafe (and there are many) on campus offers almost too many delicious looking pastries, and I have been happily working my way through the “daunting” task of trying them all.
Plus, the stolovaya opposite Stolovaya #1 in the main building offers blini every morning: you can get two big blini with a pile of fruit jam for about 70 cents, a delicious treat that in my home town of Portland, OR would probably set you back about eight dollars at a brunch restaurant or food cart. There are a few other types of food on campus as well: I recommend the veggie quesadillas on the tenth floor of First Gum, our class building, and the pizzeria in the main building which has a great veggie slice (way better than the famously bad dining hall pizza at Carleton!).
Outside of the university, things are not so dire as my guidebook would have me believe: plenty of restaurants have vegetarian offerings. The fact that it is currently Lent is very useful: many places advertise a “Lenten menu” for those who are going without meat or animal products which has vegetarian and even vegan options, and I have been enjoying supplementing the Russian food I eat in the university with other flavors and cuisines elsewhere in the city sometimes.
Overall, being a vegetarian (after some initial time spent adjusting) is not as difficult as I worried it might be. I have been able to try many new Russian foods, such as vareniki and cheesy potato pirozhok, and am getting enough to eat every day. I would advise future vegetarians that maintaining this diet is doable (in Moscow, at least), but you have to be a little creative and try a little harder. However, I think veganism would be a lot harder to pull off, and I would caution vegans that there is very little non-animal protein available in the cafeterias. I have not mentioned an important fact, which is that there are simple kitchens on the dorm floor, which I think I will be taking advantage of more as the term goes on. At the end of the day, I won’t doubt Diane’s advice again!
Ins, Outs and Laundry: Security etc. at Moscow State
“MSU Graduates–the future of Russia!”
–Sign, Cafeteria, First Humanities Building of Moscow State University (MSU)
A smiling group of students at graduation, holding up medals awarded with their diplomas. You wouldn’t be surprised to see this image or slogan at any American university; like them, MSU takes seriously its role safeguarding the future.
Very different from most American state universities is how seriously MSU takes the “safe” in safeguarding: the security apparatus is tightly run and vast. To get into the dormitories in Sektor E, for instance, you must present your student ID at least twice, first in order to enter the main building courtyard and then again to get into the building itself. This is certainly in keeping with the general emphasis on security and anti-terrorism in Moscow: all malls, metro stops and tourist attractions have metal detectors and security guards.
What differs again at Moscow State is that everywhere else metal detectors and guards are for the most part unobtrusive. No one slows down to walk through the metal detector. Even if you set it off, keep walking: the only reason to stop is if the guard waves you over, which I’ve seen happen exactly once in two weeks here.
At MSU, slowing down is a necessary part of the program: even if he knows you (and after a few days of entrances and exits, you’ll see a look of recognition on their faces), the guard for the courtyard will need to see your ID and sometimes even examine it in more detail. Late at night you’ll need to present not only your student ID but also your propusk, a paper pass showing you’re authorized to enter the dormitory, to the security guard within your building.
And these are just the two security positions for your main entrances and exits. To enter the academic building each morning, it’s another metal detector and ID presentation. Going back to the dorm, when you reach the floor and emerge from the elevator, you’ll see a third, para-security position. She’s typically sitting at a desk in the middle of the lounge or napping in a chair not too far away, and her uniform is more casual than a jacket or suit. This is the dezhurnaya, usually a kind but formidable pensioner, who won’t demand your ID but may force you to sign several room-policy documents you don’t entirely understand. She’s not charged with security in the access sense, but does make sure students are following dorm policies and organizes repairs. (She will not hesitate, for instance, to let you know you shouldn’t put a foot up on the coffee table). Even your laundry is protected by another dezhurnaya with another notebook: sitting outside the room of washing machines, you’re required to sign in with her after adding your own load, including the date, time and where you reside.
All this illustrates that MSU’s security apparatus is extensive, but more important still is that there’s not a single swipeable card or automatic door in the previous (hardly exhaustive) account. Security at MSU requires human contact: moving anywhere in the institution requires an interaction with someone, and often a conversation. Getting in and out of the courtyard, which you’ll do multiple times per day, naturally doesn’t require much more than a nod and some thanks. But almost anything more complicated will be much more demanding.
The first time I went to do laundry, I went up, confidently inquired with the dezhurnaya about where to go, and proceeded to receive a response I did not entirely understand. Moments later I was shouted at because she had gotten up to help me find an empty machine while I was still standing at the desk, dumb as a post. (She was justifiably curious as to why, I, the young person, was doing nothing while she was slaving away, though I recall some more colorful terms used.) Luckily my friend Claire–who is both a spit better at Russian than I am and a master at conciliation–was with me, and she showed me what to do and proceeded to apologize to the poor dezhurnaya. We put our clothes in, signed the book, and went to grab a meal in our beloved Stolovaya Number 1 (a subject for another post).
An hour and a half later (high efficiency washers mean that laundry day is a long haul here) we came back and grabbed our clothes, deciding to dry them in our rooms rather than risk an introduction to the Russian dryer. As we were leaving, I was struck by a thought: the dezhurnaya, whose name we didn’t even know, really had gone out of her way to help us through the confusion. I turned back just as I passed a desk and gave a loud “Spasibo vam!” (thank you, formal) in her direction as we left, knowing that this probably wasn’t the way things were done but hoping she wouldn’t mind. She turned around and looked at me for a moment, not quite sure that I had said it, and turned back to her desk, shaking her head just slightly. Needless to say, the charm of this human-centric system can be oblique if you’re used to Minnesota nice. But the professionalism and attention to detail is indisputable, and if you act with a little common sense and patience (let’s hope I take my own advice), the results are excellent–my clothes have never been fresher.
A Beginner’s Guide to MSU
I have been in Moscow for two weeks now. Somehow, these two weeks have been the longest and shortest of my life. Each day I learn something new about Moscow. I feel currently confident enough to explore on my own. Thinking back to my first day, I felt like a lost puppy. Before my arrival, I had almost no expectations of what my life was going to be like as a university student here. I scanned various articles, trying to imagine and depict what my new life was going to be like, but failed to grasp it. Even now , most of my beliefs I had about living here have been completely false. However, some still stand true, including the most obvious differences between life at Carleton and life at Moscow State University. For example, Moscow State is a vastly larger university, with around 36,000 enrolled students. It is located in a large metropolitan area with most students live off campus in apartments. On the other hand, Carleton is a small, residential college located in a quiet town. In Moscow, students explore the city, go to bars, eat out, drink at cafes etc. In Northfield, social life consists of going to class, the library, and your dorm. Not to say I do not love Carleton, but living in a metropolitan area does have it perks.
Similar to most European universities, most students do not live in dorms, but rather in apartments throughout the city. However, there are dorms available, like the one I am currently residing in. This dorm houses mostly international students. For example, my first two days I was rooming with a Danish girl who was studying journalism. In my dorm. I live with a German girl who is studying psychology. I have met various other students on my floor, ranging from a PHD student who has been here for three years to a French teacher who has been here for only three months.
There are noticeable differences that have stuck out to me since arriving. My first day, I noticed, in order to get into the building, students have to go through a security bar scanner and present your student ID to a guard there. Honestly, this took me aback at first as it wasn’t anything I had experienced at Carleton. However, now I know that going through security scanners are pretty common here and are found in shopping malls, museums, or any other school building. Following this I walked to my dorm building, again where I had to present my student ID to a guard to enter the elevator. The people who work here take their positions very seriously. I have exited the building, made eye contact with the lady working at the desk, and returned within one minute and she will look at my ID for a good forty five seconds as if she has never seen me. Following this, when I arrived at my floor, in order to obtain my keys to my room, I had to meet with the floor woman who has a desk in the middle of the lounge. There is someone always working in the lounge and I have even seen mine sleeping on the couch here in the middle of the night. She then took out a big notebook and flipped through it to write down my information before handing me the keys to my room. At this point, I was becoming familiar with the non-electronic system the university uses. This is in stark contrast to Carleton, where almost everything is done electronically.
In terms of classes, the building in which I take all my classes is about a seven minute walk from my dorm. Surrounding the building are students hanging out in circles, talking, some smoking in proximity to signs that say, “Don’t Smoke”, running, and even playing sports. When you first enter the building, on the left is a huge area with hangers for students to hang up their jackets . These wardrobes are common throughout places in Moscow including restaurants, museums, buildings, etc. At first, I was very hesitant to use it as I was scared that I was going to lose my belongings, but now I feel accustomed to it and appreciate them. I even wish they were used in Northfield, so I would always have a place to store my ankle-length coat every time I entered a building.
My final observation are the elevators, currently, the bane of my existence. Elevators here do not wait for anyone or anything. They are ruthless and consistently close on people. I am now getting used to preparing for my sprint in and my fight out of them. While nervously waiting for one the other day, I encountered the Lyman of MSU. Being used to Lyman’s warm greetings, I immediately approached him for a pet. In return for my affection, I was greeted with a nice, loud, hiss. Following this the floor lady told me not to let him get onto the elevator. So, I very bravely picked him up and carried him off. This was a proud moment for me as the whole time the cat was complacent and didn’t fight back. So, hopefully, like Moscow, we will gradually warm up to each other.
