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Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Day 239 - The beast and the beauty – a journey from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow

The Beast

I've heard so much about this new bullet train from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow with the cryptic name Sapsan (nobody could decipher it for me and I interpreted it as some sort of abbreviation). It's fast (250 km/hr), it's modern-looking, it's comfortable, it's clean, it has wi-fi, TV's, and fresh flowers on each table, and I'm finally on it!

I was so impressed by the looks of the train that I was compelled to finally look up its story on the know-it-all www.wikipedia.org. And what a story!

It is named Sapsan after falcon-sapsan (lat: falco peregrinus), famous for the speed of its flight.

Those trains were developed by Siemens specifically for the Russian railroad. The current fleet of eight speedy falcons cost €276 mln, plus the German Siemens is contracted to maintain the trains for the next 30 years for additional €354 mln. Ever since its launch in 2009, Sapsan has become a mass-media celebrity for whatever reason; it has its own blog and a Twitter account (!!!). There's even a series of cartoons with the character Sapsanchik: with the help of this particular media tool, the creators are trying to attract the public attention to some interesting railroad news, popular tendencies and current issues.

The train can technically develop the speed of 350 km/hr, but it usually moves at the rate of 250 km/hr. Still very fast, and what's amazing – you don't really feel it, unless, of course, you look out of the window to enjoy the scenery flying by…

The Beauty

The scenery is stunning. I have been so unbelievably lucky with the "golden autumn" here this time: the colors, the temperature, the sky. Every time I got out of my house for the past three weeks, I busily – by habit – set out rushing toward my destination, but the delicious smell of foliage made me stop, smile, and literally breathe in the moment, this gorgeous season, my favorite. Sentimentally, I recited different Pushkin's* autumn poems in my head (surprisingly and luckily, I still remember every word, diligently memorized a long-long time ago at school).

*Hmmm, wanted to quote a poem by Pushkin in English here, but realized that not much of his work is translated into any language. Strange on one hand - Alexander Pushkin is a grand Russian poet and writer of the 19th century who is considered to be the creator of the literary Russian language. But understandable on the other hand – the incomparable mastery of his verse has eluded translation, so much of his wit and wisdom is still unknown to the world outside Russia. Apparently, there's even a special project by Julian Lowenfeld, an American poet-translator (also a lawyer, a playwright, and a composer!), aimed at acquainting the world with the literary genius of Pushkin. Unfortunately, the autumn poem whirling in my head is still not part of his translated collection, but there are some poems there that you might find interesting.

And now, on the train, flying through this wonderful foliage – woods, villages, fields dressed in their seasonal tri-color apparel of nature's transition – the insisting green of the stubborn summer, the devastated yellow of the treacherous fall withering, and the violent red trying to outdare the imminent winter – envelope me with a vibrant joy.

Again, I'm sad that I cannot write poems. A haiku-like (I'm not really following the rules of haiku here) is all I'm capable of for now:

Бесконечная железнодорожная полоса влечет меня в сонм будущих воспоминаний. Осень прекрасна неумолимостью движения.
The eternal railroad draws me into a host of future memories. The fall dazzles with its relentless movement.

The Journey from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow

Once upon a time, Aleksandr Nikolayevich Radischchev, a famous Russian writer of the 18th century, wrote his main book "The Journey from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow". The work, often described as a Russian "Uncle Tom's Cabin", is a polemical study of the problems in the Russia of Catherine the Great – the powers of nobility, the serfdom, the issues in government and governance, social structure and personal freedom and liberty. He somehow managed to publish this openly anti-government work, but it was immediately banned and the writer was sentenced, first to death, but then to banishment in eastern Siberia. The book was published freely in Russia only in 1905. In the book Radishchev takes an imaginary journey between Russia's two main cities, with each stop along the way revealing various problems. The author was not a revolutionary, but rather a philosopher who realized the necessity of public enlightenment, the importance of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

I'm no Radishchev and my travel notes are very different from his, but I cannot help but think about similar issues, just on the personal level. Now both countries I consider my home are more or less publicly free and educated, yet – sadly – we so often forget the necessity of our personal enlightenment, the importance of pursuing the happiness that is authentic and not induced by some stupid societal norms. How do we change that, I wonder…

Monday, September 27, 2010

Day 238 – My new travel dimensions

I'm going to Moscow tomorrow to hang out with Olga before I start my South Africa / Malaysia adventure. The weather forecasts in both destination countries upset me: South Africa – 65-70 F, Malaysia – 90 F. I wanted to take a really small suitcase (my mom's – I don't even have anything small like this, I have never traveled light in my lifeJ) because I'll be moving around the countries a lot and I don't want to drag my monster suitcase everywhere with me, but how I am I supposed to fit clothes for two different seasons in this toy accessory!!!

I put all the clothes I want to take with me on the bed. Look at the mini-suitcase. Realize that there's absolutely no way this can fit. Sigh. Take half of the original pile and put it back in the closet. Look at the suitcase again. Maybe… This time I make a real attempt to fit everything in. Fail. Sigh. Take half of the remaining pile; put it back in the closet. Try again. Sigh. Try again. Sigh. Try again. Fit whatever fits… Sigh… Sigh… Sigh…

In "Eat, Pray, Love" Elizabeth Gilbert tells the Brazilian guy (her future husband) that she cannot stay on Bali for a long time participating in different parties, because she only has one black dress. To which he responds, "You are young and beautiful, you only need one black dress". Modest as ever, I try to use this line as a consolation.

But honestly, I'm super impressed with my new travel dimensions. Here's a visual aid to understand the "usual" (black) and the "new" (grey):


Sunday, September 26, 2010

Day 237 - “Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.” (Mark Twain)

Last night's show at the club BARS owned by my friend shocked me by the fact that apparently it is now appropriate to use obscene language "at large". Dmitry Xrustalev, a pretty famous nowadays Russian actor and a host of the Comedy Woman show (advertised as the first and only intellectually humorous show for women by women, although ironically - probably on purpose - hosted by a man), openly cussed out from stage, sometimes as an "unbeeped" punch line to a joke, and sometimes just because.

This made me feel a little uneasy. You have to understand that the Russian mat (profanity) is VERY different from its English counterpart. If in English it is not such a big deal to say "fucking aye", for example, in front of your mother (at a certain age, of course), the Russian equivalent of this expression is 1,000 times more offensive, and if I dared use it in front of my mom, I would have been surely renounced on the spot. On one hand, it is regarded as a mauvais ton for women to curse, while men are sort of "expected" to use this language. At the same time, ironically enough, the Russian filthy expressions can also be considered "sophisticated", if your personality and demeanor allows for an elegant use of those. Female linguists (yours truly), for example, are famous for this "elegant use" of the obscene language and it is regarded "sexy". But anyway, the curses have traditionally been very colloquial, backstage, censored, and that has always been the pull of using them... Hence my shock of this sudden public delivery. Oh well.

The show itself was very enjoyable though - electric cello, saxophone, various erotic pirouettes. Not bad at all...


Saturday, September 25, 2010

Day 236 - Enjoy your universe "through the looking glass"

Loft Project ETAGI (floors), a pioneer of loft-design in St. Petersburg, opened up in 2007. Conveniently located in the very center of the city (Ligovsky prospect) in a 5-storey industrial building of a former bakery factory with preserved original interior (concrete pillars, a drilling machine, cast iron blocks) and hosting several art exhibits at a time, a boutique of vintage clothes, LoftWineBar, and a cafe, it naturally attracts thousands of visitors on a daily basis.

The exhibition we went to with my friend Vera and her 7-year old son is called Through the looking glass and is geared toward educating children on elementary physics through various cool objects that you can touch and play with (a description of each exhibit includes instruction on what steps to take to achieve a certain result, and then a plain-Russian, yet scientific, explanation on what exactly happens to create this particular effect). Children and adults alike are mesmerized by a myriad of mirror installations, "dancing trees" (metal shavings in reality) illustrating the works of magnetic fields, the magic of shadow and light, giant soap-bubbles that you absolutely cannot stop blowing, and much much more. Our two-hour physics lesson today flew by as if it lasted only ten minutes.

One of my favorite exhibits was a practical way to "create your own universe" by pulling on a rope of some kaleidoscope-like device (the upper right picture below presents MY universe). I just loved the instructions urging you to "take your time while creating your space, be attentive to the slightest movements of all the elements, enjoy your universe". This should really be the motto for all our actions, as obviously, we do create our own universe every day, every second of our life.

Apparently, similar exhibitions are hosted all over the world, but with this one you could make no mistake that you are in Russia: upon finishing our rounds we went up to the roof to enjoy the view from the top and take in some fresh Indian Summer air; and what do we see if not this:

No comment...

With my benign OCD love of symmetry I finished the day with a study of self and the room of my childhood through the looking glass.


Friday, September 24, 2010

Day 235 - Retro Disco

We decided to have a girls' night out at a Retro Discotheque held by the resto-club Petrovich. It was beyond enjoyable! The songs from our childhood that we still know all the words to, the dance moves from the 80's, some more enthusiastic girls even stylized their hair and clothes to that time period! We were thrilled.


The concept of this place is best described on their website: "The club concept was based on the image of the main character of Bilzho's cartoons published in the Kommersant, while the concept of the interior was prompted by the ironic nostalgic feeling for the good old Soviet times, for our joins past. The interior is filled with familiar everyday objects of those times, mostly gifts of club members, and art objects created in the style of that unforgettable epoch. The food, well-known from our childhood, is served on plates decorated with Bilzho's cartoons. The club boasts a very special atmosphere, home-like, cozy, impregnated with humor. Petrovich is a museum, a restaurant, and a home every customer is striving to return to".


Days 229-234 - A happy whirl of life

For the past several days I've been engulfed by a happy whirl of life. Strolls around the city parks with Elmira, brainstorming sessions with Ilya, visits to dacha (country-house), pleasant errands with Vera, teeth treatment in the best dentist clinic in the world (in my opinion) Medi, breakfast with mom, lunches and dinners with friends. Life is fully wonderful.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Another camera anniversary - photo #5000!

Days 224-228

To do something nice for my mom while I'm here, I decided to invite her on a mini-cruise around the islands located very close to Saint-Petersburg. I went on this trip once with my ex-boyfriend some 20 years ago, and back then it used to be 3 days, but now they added a couple more islands that have been discovered since and extended the trip to 6 days. I didn't know this and was very worried that I'm not going to handle the mother-daughter confinement for so long. My relationship with my mom is very respectful and loving, but she can easily drive me nuts in about 2 minutes. So when I learnt about the duration of our trip, I realized it would be a serious test for my daughterly tolerance and clearly an interesting educational lesson. And it was exactly that… And so much more!

Before I plunge into the story let me introduce the term very well known and – what's worse – deeply felt by all the Russians of my generation:

SOVDEP The derogatory term "Sovdep" or "Sovdepiya" was first used by opponents of Bolsheviks after the Great October Socialist Revolution in 1917. Literally, "sovdep" is a contraction of the Russian term, "Sovet Deputatov", "Council of Deputies", which was the government. Nowadays, the word sovdep has lost its original meaning – although kept its original derogatoriness – and is used now to describe anything in Russia (usually, service) that is subpar vis-à-vis "the civilized West".

So… If I had to summarize our island hopping trip in a sentence, this is it: "Unfortunate co-existence: where the gorgeous purity of Russia meets the disgusting pollution of Sovdep". Let me get the badness part out of my system first, so that the goodness part comes out unblemished.

The badness: On the usefulness of eavesdropping and some rant

Out cruise ship was scheduled to leave at 8PM from the River Boat Station in Saint-Petersburg. We were supposed to come one hour early to check-in. Of course – an essential element of Sovdep – there is a huge line. Resignedly, we join in. We stand there without any movement for about 40 minutes, thus slowly approaching another essential of Sovdep – never start anything on time. To pass time, I automatically start to eavesdrop on a conversation held by a couple of people behind us in line. In their world, some guy recently impregnated his secretary while being "happily" married with children; his wife still doesn't know the horror, what to do, what to do. Thank God they are going to Novgorod on a business trip, this will give them a chance to be with him and brainstorm together as friends. They can do it right upon arriving there, tomorrow. Stop! Wait a second! They are planning to talk to the guy tomorrow in Novgorod? But the ship is headed to Valaam!!! I turn around and inject myself right into their heated discussion. Aha, apparently, the ships were SWITCHED: the one that was supposed to go to Novgorod is now headed to Valaam and vice versa. It doesn't surprise me that there is no sign of any sort nearby – that is another necessary attribute of Sovdep, "if you can't figure out what's up on your own, you deserve to be left out"; I'm just happy that I am fit – among other things - for this retro version of the Motherland, and my mom and I run to the correct ship. After successful check-in we ask a legitimate question – how come there's no sign indicating this important change of plans? Apparently, they "called everybody beforehand", and since we didn't know this information, this probably means that we just didn't answer our phones… Efficiency is yet another key feature of the Sovdepiya performance style.

The room is small but very clean. I'm pretty squeamish myself, but I'm fully satisfied by the room. High marks here. The bathroom though leaves much to be desired design-wise. I should have taken a picture, but in its absence imagine this: when you open the door, the toilet is to your left, the sink is to your right; in between there's a drain covered with a shower rug; the shower head is hanging over… the sink. Do the math.

Food was a complete Sovdep-style disaster. I remember when I was little, we used to sarcastically name our canteen - kindergarten or school - dishes (humor being the only tool against suffering from the disgusting food): "cosmic porridge – oatmeal or semolina on a flat plate served semi-cold, more on the cold side, cosmic because if you try to throw it out of the plate with the same gesture you would use to launch a flying saucer, it would fly out nicely preserving its original flat-dish shape and land on its destination surface without any unnecessary splashes"; "cackies – deep fried 'meat' pies, in which the origin and content of the 'meat' filling was always unknown; it was even unknown if it was in fact meat at all, it certainly didn't taste like any meat; these pies used to be sold from the street carts and were strictly forbidden by parents, so naturally every child longed for them, although they were utterly disgusting"; "blue mashed potatoes – the name speaks for itself, for some reason, the school canteen had this very sad looking coldish bluish mashed potatoes spread in a thin layer over the same flat plate as the above semolina, usually with the accompaniment of some sort of even sadder-looking ground-'meat' cutlet". It was a sad, sad, sad time for the public food sector in the Soviet Union. Suffice it to say that all the public canteens were called "vomitoriums" ("тошниловки"). That is why there was no culture of eating out in the Soviet Union: the real feasts with delicious Russian food spread were always held at home.

The food on our cruise ship was not as dramatically disgusting as in the Soviet Union, but I started having those flashbacks not for nothing… Once I actually sent my dinner back (without receiving anything in exchange, naturally, because this cruise service is SO FAR from its American counterpart). And another time I was made part of a pretty telling scene: we had to pick our menu for the next day at dinner time of the previous day, so between salmon and pork I chose pork. When the day of this dinner choice arrived, my mom was served her salmon, and then the waitress simply retired quickly without looking at me or saying a word. I thought, well, she must be coming back soon (or at least at some point). Not really. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen… After twenty minutes of waiting I went to the kitchen and asked if they had forgotten about me. The waitress looked devastated and completely lost, "Well, you know, we had this terrible mistake… I don't know how to tell you… but… but… there is no more pork dishes left… would you like salmon instead?" No, I didn't want salmon instead, but more importantly, I wanted to know if she was ever going to share this interesting piece of information with me if I didn't show up in the kitchen with my silly demands… By the looks of it, not really, she was probably praying that I just didn't notice that I hadn't been served any dinner that night.

Oh, and one more thing on food before I move on (which I still haven't been able to do). The cruise is all-inclusive. Except alcohol – that's the usual. But for some reason juices are not included in the price either. Oh well, strange, but whatever. The first day we ordered some juices and paid for it. When I tried to order a juice for myself at breakfast, however, I was informed that "juices are not served in the morning; at all, even for payment". Why???

The ship is small but sturdy. It was pretty stormy one night, but we didn't really notice it. However, the NOISE of the ship is tremendous. As in "tremendously annoying". I wasn't able to sleep well at all. The non-stop loud crackling began exactly at bed time and stopped right at breakfast. One night, frustrated beyond belief, I investigated every inner and outer inch of our room, windows and the nearby deck. Nothing apparent. Yet the noise continued, repeatedly, incessantly.

That's all on the badness of the trip. Everything else was sheer beauty and purity of sight and soul. Of course, these annoying details stole some goodness from the whole experience, however, now I'm able to propose a good solution for the future pilgrims - if you want to travel to the holy Ladoga islands sans all the frustrations of ridiculous service and noisy accommodations, charter a private yacht.

The holy goodness

The grand impressions we received during these five days were truly unparalleled and no words can do them any justice. The northern nature, the architecture, the culture… The awe-inspiring church constructions quiet your brain, your soul, and your mouth. And in this complete silence you tiptoe around the islands, trying not to disturb the almost tangible holy presence.

The trip is routed through two lakes – Ladoga (the largest lake in Europe) and Onega (infamous for its stormy demeanor), – features "holy" islands that host various Russian orthodox churches and monasteries, and includes 5 stops:

  • Alexander-Svirsky Monastery in Lodeynoye Pole, famous for hosting the sacred relics of its founder, monk and saint Alexander Svirsky. According to the legend, his remains have healing power, so pilgrims from all over Russia flow here to pray over his body begging for health and recovery. In the midst of this majestic interior, it is not difficult to believe in the sacred powers of the place. The guide also contributes to your newborn belief with her unbelievably touching story. Some years ago she survived a pretty horrible car crash. Survived – yes, but couldn't walk at all, started using a wheelchair. Her friend brought her to pray at the remains of Alexander Svirsky several times, and voila – she can walk now! But… what's even more unbelievable. She can walk normally (if I didn't hear the story, I would have never guessed she even had any problems) ONLY on the holy islands, where she spends half a year during maritime navigation, aka excursion season. Back in Saint-Petersburg, she uses crotches…

  • Note: As we all know, the church is very much PRO-marriage. This is why I find the story of Alexander Svirsky ironically hilarious. The reason he decided to become a monk was because he, at the age of 26, had overheard his parents talking about arranging his wedding. In response, he quietly packed a few things, left the house, and WALKED
    160 KM (!!!) to the Valaam island in order to join the monastery over there, thus separating himself forever from the world of marriages and households.

  • Kizhi island, home of the famous architectural marvel – "puzzle" wooden churches built without any nails. Why no nails? That is a good question. Apparently, during that time – the 16th century – iron was very expensive, and people tried to avoid using it when possible. Plus, as I was informed, if you are a good carpenter, you try to be efficient in your workflow and introducing nails is an extra step that does not provide any value added.
  • Petrozavodsk town, the capital of Karelia, the territory currently divided between Russia and Finland. I didn't expect much of this place. The name literally means "Peter's factory town", so I imagined something quite industrial-looking. I was so wrong. A beautiful little town with a picturesque lake embankment on one side and innumerable parks on the other. During the foliage season it is such a pleasure to just walk around, listening to the murmur of the golden leaves rustled under your feet. One peculiar fact: there used to be a big Russian drama theater here and a theater of Finland, but for some reason the City Hall decided that having two theaters is way too much for the 300,000 inhabitants, and closed down the Russian one; so if you want to see a play now, you have to go to the other theater where all the shows are performed in the Finnish language with synchronized translation. To my taste, a bit too complicated, and makes absolutely no sense. Of course, there are a lot of art-studios and independent theaters, but the big Russian stage loved by theater goers of Petrozavodsk, is no more…

  • Mandrogi village, only several years ago declining like all the Russian villages until some businessman "re-discovered" it and realized that due to its central location on the main holy islands route it could easily be used as a picturesque pit-stop for tourists, thus reviving the village and milking it like a cow (the prices of souvenirs are sky-rocketing!). Now a promenade around this little island and a BBQ / Russian dance party is offered to all the cruisers in this area.

  • Valaam archipelago, best known as the site of a still functioning 14th century monastery and its natural beauty. Absolutely unbearably indescribably surreal beauty…

P.S. The mother-daughter experiment
The very fact that I'm writing this post to the background accompaniment of my mom rattling some pots and pans in the kitchen signifies that we have both passed the confinement test. The experience was somewhat trying, with its blessings and frustrations, but in the end I came out confident that if there were a Mother-Daughter Survivor psychological reality show, our tandem would have had pretty decent chances to win the race.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Day 223 - Foliage

I cannot stop thanking my lucky stars for the incredible Indian summer that was apparently timed specifically for my visit. Foliage is beautiful. And so is life…


Day 222 – “There is nowhere to go but everywhere” (Jack Kerouac)

I spent all day today planning my next travel step. Thank God my friend Sveta owns a travel agency here in Saint-Petersburg. It makes everything so much easier! Still, thinking up a good trip is a lot of work. But there's no doubt it will be all worth it. So… here is the schedule:

  • September 29th – a speed train will take me from Saint-Petersburg to Moscow in only 3 hours (700 km!).
  • September 30th – Moscow – Cape Town, starting a 10-day tour of South Africa.
  • October 9th – Johannesburg – Kuala Lumpur, for a 3-week trip all over Malaysia.
  • October 29th – back to Saint-Petersburg.

This trip's kicker is that, in fact, it consists of two separate "PR Tours". A PR Tour is a promotional tour for travel professionals, during which they have to evaluate the hotels they are staying in (all 5-star mind you!), the service and the excursion programs on location, so that they can expertly recommend everything experienced to their tourists upon arriving back home. One can only imagine the level of service during such trips! Let me experience it first-hand though and report right back.

Day 221 – Shrooms anyone?



One of the greatest Russian country-side activities is mushroom picking. It is such a shame that people don't do it in the US. Mushroom picking is so relaxing and peaceful and sometimes very rewarding.

We met at 9AM with my friend Ilya and his friend from work today. Yes, today is Thursday, but as far as "dull dusty office – incredible freshness of the Indian summer" choice is concerned, apparently it's a no brainer. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard that we were going almost to Pskov – it's over 200 km from the city. Saint-Petersburg is surrounded by woods and there's absolutely no need to go that far, but of course it's much cleaner, fresher and in every which way better. So why not, I guess. For three and a half hours we drove and drove along an unbelievably picturesque road, occasionally making pit-stops for the purposes of snacking on the standard Russian camping food set – boiled eggs, boiled unpeeled potatoes, pickles, pan-friend cold drumsticks – and admiring the quietness of the forest.

On location we took our baskets and off we went into the woods. Very few things can compete with the meditational power of the quiet forest. Stepping into it, you suddenly forget about time, your worries miraculously disappear and you set out on a journey – with self, to self, if only for a few hours. I honestly didn't expect our trip to be so prolific. I'd thought it would be more of a pleasant forest walk and less of an actual mushroom yield. Boy, was I mistaken! After only a couple of hours our baskets became too heavy for dragging along and we would just leave them at the road nearby to make short trips into the woods with little plastic bags or simply carrying bouquets of awesome "noble" (as we call some of them) mushrooms in our hands on the way back. In about three hours all our available receptacles had been saturated and we were forced to return home.

That part of the trip was not as much fun though: between Ilya and I we had about 400 mushrooms picked. It took us about 4 hours of non-stop work to separate them in groups (different kinds of mushrooms are good for different things – soups, fries, pickles, etc.), clean them, wash them, cut them up, boil them and package them into zip-lock packets for deep-freeze. This is exactly what people have been doing for centuries in the Russian villages preparing for the winter months.

I feel very Russian today. And very tired – I came home at 2AM after all this fun. But the home-fries with chanterelles were to die for, and once again good food makes it all worth it!!!


Day 220 – The Wonderful Saint-Petersburg Metro

Traffic in Saint-Petersburg now is the same as traffic in New York. This gives me an opportunity to re-explore the city's subway system. Fortunately, it is super clean and beautiful. Saint-Petersburg subway is a real museum featuring typical Soviet designs, exquisite decorations and artwork making it one of the most elegant metros in the world. Due to the city's unique geology (Saint-Petersburg was built on a swamp – real great legacy for the health of its inhabitants), the metro is very deep. The deepest station is apparently 105 meters (!) below ground. On average, it takes about 3 minutes to go up/down the escalator.

As much as I love the physical beauty of the Saint-Petersburg metro, I must share some facts that make this service less attractive:

  • The subway system doesn't really cover the entire city. Also, there are huge gaps in between stations: my University, for example, was located in between Vasileostrovskaya and Gostiny Dvor stations, and it is a 25-minute walk from either.
  • It starts working at about 5AM (depends on a station) and stops at 1AM. Not terribly convenient compared to its NYC 24-hour counterpart.
  • For some reason, nowadays there are huge crowds at any time of the day. I understand the rush hour, but seriously, don't people work around 2PM, for example??? I'm stunned.

Day 219 – Home. Confused

I traded Saint-Petersburg for New York 12 years ago (well, to be exact, I spent my first year in New Jersey, but I successfully blocked that period out of my mind). Since then, I go back to visit my mom and my friends every year. It used to be every half a year at the beginning before my nostalgia dissipated.

For the first three years in the States, I was so profoundly home-sick that it was a complete torture for me to convince myself that my new address choice had been the right one. I'm not even sure why exactly I didn't pack up and go back. Most likely, it was the curiosity to see what would meet me at the end of nostalgia mixed with the total lack of energy to pack. Larisa, a wonderfully pragmatic friend of mine, spent many a lunch (luckily, we worked near each other) drilling the same maxim into my brain, "From the experience of many of my friends, the first three years in a new country are very difficult and soaked with home-sickness, but if you manage to tough it out, the reward is amazing. Just trust me!" I didn't. I just switched to my auto-pilot to go through the motions. All the energy I could possibly summon was invested into my emotional survival in the surreal sadness of the nostalgia-world I had created for myself. It is so strange for me to look back to these times now. On the outside, everything in my life was good. I had a husband, I had work, I had friends, we went to parties and weekend getaways, and long vacations, we drank, we ate, we had fun. The inside of me was painted gray though. I don't think I was depressed. I was just extremely sad, bouncing on the thin border separating me from real depression. Only during my trips to Russia would I suddenly come back to life… And then – one sunny morning somewhere around my 3-year anniversary in New York – BAM – I woke up knowing, "I am happy here!" It was a miracle. Of course, the process must have been gradual, but I really haven't noticed it. Larisa was absolutely right. The prediction worked! Some years later, I was telling the same exact thing to my friend Erica who was temporarily moving to Dubai at the time with her husband. And what do you know, after the three years of nostalgic sap, she was back to her normal cheerful self as if nothing happened. Why three years, I wonder… And I also wonder if there is a formula for multiple moves (not that I'm contemplating). After all, the experience you gain while creating a new comprehensive life for yourself in a new country should count for something and hopefully can be factored in to decrease the number of sad months. ¡Ojalá!, as the Mexicans say, "Let's hope so!" (just in case, you never know).

Before that momentous day it felt like there were two distinct "ME"s, and now I finally became ONE again, my Russia-grounded colors slowing finding their way onto my NYC self-portrait. After the mix reached the 50/50 mark, it balanced there for quite a few years: I considered both places home, I could be happy in either.

Today though it has become very clear to me – "I am from New York". Don't get me wrong, I still love being here, hanging out with my friends, being force-fed by my mom, enjoying the beauty of Saint-Petersburg. All of this is absolutely fantastic! It's just not home anymore. This is very confusing: every time I leave my mom's apartment, the one that I had lived in till 19, I breathe in the painfully familiar smell of yellow leaves on wet asphalt… I have always called it "the smell of home". What should I call it now? I have never smelled it anywhere else in the world, or even in Saint-Petersburg for that matter, just near my childhood apartment. Maybe now Saint-Petersburg is the "home of my childhood"?..


Saturday, September 11, 2010

Day 215


Day 218 – A FreshDirect brunch

Our farewell brunch at Poco on 3rd Street and Avenue B was delicious, but unpleasantly eventful…

Unpleasant Event #1

As soon as we sat down at a table outside (the weather was beautiful), a FreshDirect truck parked right next to us. Of course, they cannot switch off the engine because it operates the AC to keep the food fresh (hence the name) inside the truck. It was annoyingly loud. We asked them nicely to re-park, but they were complete a-holes and didn't give our request a second thought. They were parked illegally on a hydrant right under the No Standing sign by the way. After 45 minutes of this background music we called 311 and reported them. Unfortunately, the police never came, and the truck finally left after about an hour of idling loudly in our ears…

Unpleasant Event #2

Zhenya ordered eggs Benedict and they were delicious, however, after she finished eating and was leisurely leaning on the table – her glance wandering around and fixing for a moment on her empty plate – oh horror! – she noticed a GRILLED FLY masking as a burnt piece of bacon fat on the rim of her dish!!! She was devastated (understandably so), mainly because she was afraid that she could have eaten other grilled flies in the heat of the brunching moment. We complained, of course, and the price of her food was naturally taken off our bill. The psychological damage remained though…


Day 217 – The New Year’s Clue

Javier left at 6AM and I went back to sleep after seeing him off, waking up only at noon, which promised to screw up my entire day, because I felt like the day after New Year's celebration. I sat in total comatose on my couch wearing pajamas, staring at the TV yet somehow past its screen, unable to understand what time of day it is, pondering the futility of plans and resolutions. The only thing missing to complete the New Year's analogy was a tableful of leftover salads.

There is a bright side to the day after New Year's though – all your friends feel equally aimless on this day, so you all get together and wander around with the sole purpose of parking your behind in some comfortable spot to watch some good old movie (at least, this is the Russian routine). Fortunately, my vibes must have been fairly strong, as they attracted Dima, Tanya and Ronit to wander aimlessly around the city with me and eventually into my apartment for some sitting around prior to watching a great old movie, Clue.

Yet again, life is beautiful, and my fake New Year's resolution is "to have more of these relaxing aimless days in my life".



Day 216 – Sail around Manhattan



It's beautiful. Everybody should do it. I cannot believe I have never done it before.

Day 214 – One fraud claim + one couch warranty + one medical insurance bill = two complete lottery failures

During my travels I accumulated several problems that I had to deal with back in New York:

  1. Capital One couldn't figure out how to compensate me for the thousand bucks stolen from my credit card on a Bloomingdale's purchase somewhere in Florida. For some reason it was absolutely impossible for them to email or fax a fraud claim for me to fill out – apparently, these important papers can only be mailed to you. They also have what they call a "grace period of the claim", 60 days within which you have to file it, otherwise you can forget about any reimbursement. Of course, I came home approximately 90 days after my credit card was compromised. The kicker to this annoying situation is that the claim was never sent to my home address anyway, although I requested it at least three times during my multiple remote attempts to straighten things out. Interestingly enough, none of those attempts were "in the bank's system", whatever that means. So I went to the bank to deal with this crap in person. One hour later, utterly frustrated by our most useless conversation – "Mam, this is impossible that the papers haven't been sent to you" – "But I didn't get them" – "But it's impossible" – "But I still didn't get them" – "But that's impossible", – I finally managed to make them file the claim through their system. Right away I started mourning the loss of this thousand stolen dollars, so confident the lady at the bank was when she sympathetically said to me, "I am really sorry it has happened to you, but we can only put the facts in the claim and the facts are it has now been 90 days since the money was spent and we have no record of any of your calls anyway, so I'm fairly sure your claim will be denied". Brilliant…

  2. I got a phone call from my dermatologist's office informing me that my insurance didn't cover my last visit and I owe them $1,500. Reason "unknown". Now I have to call the stupid insurance, figure out what went wrong and try to convince them to pay a bill that was supposed to have been paid almost a year ago. Great…

  3. Seven years ago I got the best couch on this planet at Macy's. It came with the best warranty invention also: you can spill anything on it – food, wine, blood, candle wax, a bucket of paint – they guarantee cleaning it, and if they fail, they replace the damaged part and/or the entire couch. This goodness is extended for seven years. Of course, over the years some stuff has been spilled in the direction of the couch, nothing major, but since my super-warranty expires in October, I decided to file a claim for replacing the cushion covers. It was back in January. For the past 7 months we have been conversing regularly with the warranty department on the subject of them not having the sales receipt from the original purchase. From my part, I did everything I could to get the stupid sales receipt to them: first I faxed it – no luck, they couldn't read it, fair enough because after 7 years it did fade quite a bit; then I mailed it (regular mail) – they "didn't receive it"; so I mailed it again (priority mail now) – they "didn't receive it", although I did get a notification from the post office that it had been delivered. This exchange started to become quite ridiculous and since the damage to my beloved couch was truly minor, I decided to give up on this endeavor and just let the warranty expire without taking any advantage of it. A sad waste of time…

I hate being on hold and resolving the above would involve a lot of holding time, so I kept postponing the calls… until one day when I decided to finally plunge into the first round of battling the system. I had no doubt that there would be multiple rounds to the process. But – OH MIRACLE! – every call was a complete success: the stolen money has just been returned to my account, the dermatologist's unpaid bill suddenly got paid, and the funniest of them all, Macy's decided to replace the entire couch (that didn't happen though because they don't have the same model anymore, so I settled for… a lump sum payment of $400!). What unbelievable streak of luck! I just had to buy a lottery ticket immediately!

And what a sore disappointment: out of 30 numbers on the ticket I didn't even guess ONE correctly! What kind of luck is that??? Out of sheer desperation I bought another ticket, and – struck of genius! – filled it out with… THE SAME numbers in each of the five rows. I must have thought that asserting the numbers in every row should somehow entice the luck fairy take my side. No comment…

Day 211 - Plane ocean

Yesterday was our "meat snacks night at the beach" (this is our loving nick-name for the Korean BBQ that Ellen cooks up for us). The night was just perfect: no wind, a clearest sky with no moon and a myriad of stars at first and then a bright red crescent appearing on the horizon and slowly turning into an orange marmalade slice as it was climbing up, Jupiter's casting a path of bright light on the ocean's surface (by the way, it surprised me to realize that in English there seems to be no special word defining this phenomenon; in Russian, for example, such a path cast by the moon is called moon path, in Spanish it's camino de plata - silver way)… In between snacking on the delicious fire-grilled morsels of Korean-style marinated meat, we played with fireworks (a somewhat illegal activity in North Carolina, yet you hear this distinct blasting sounds all the time from all directions here), sat around the fire chatting or just walked on the beach.

I came very close to the ocean and stood still for several minutes with my eyes closed. I took in the awe-inspiring splendor of the ocean at night. I listened to the roar of waves. I thought, "You can enjoy this sound literally forever, it's the most soothing sound on earth…" It was so peaceful and beautiful… All of a sudden I realized though that the sound of breaking waves is exactly the same as the sound of an airplane taking off. And I know for a fact that if I were standing next to the airport hearing to this same roar, I would be annoyed by it beyond belief. Go figure…

Days 209-213 – OBX – Food is mood OR It is what it is…

For some people food is merely fuel. Without noticing any taste, they relocate the content of their plates into their mouths, thus starting the processes of ingestion and digestion, raising glucose level, releasing insulin, secreting intrinsic factor, and that is that.

For me, food is art. Food is social interaction. Food is struggle and victory, sadness and joy, boredom and fun. Food is mood. Usually, good mood.

That is why the week of our annual food fest in OBX is so special to me. Last year, Ellen and Alex invited a group of friends (12 people altogether) to rent a house in North Carolina for a week's vacation. Our diverse team is an excellent combo of amazing chefs and avid foodies, and somewhere between a home-made pizza night and a Korean BBQ beach outing it became clear that this gourmet event was paving the way for an annual tradition.

The week's cooking schedule and approximate menu get approved before the trip. We bring our essential cooking equipment from home to ensure that the absence of special knives or blenders does not get in the way of executing our original food ideas. First thing we do on arrival is shopping, a team effort that usually takes several hours (especially when some smart pants among us insist on self check-out of our 1000-dollar worth groceries).

Of course, other fun activities happen during this trip. This time, for example, Michael and Dima got scuba-certified by Javier (hurray! now we can all dive in Cozumel, hopefully, soon!). We go to the beach during the day to swim and during the night to watch the million stars that we forgot about in the fog of the city.
But our days revolve around meals and at any time of the day (and sometimes night) you can see someone in the kitchen, chopping, boiling, stirring, kneading… Logically, the memento of the trip is… the menu:

Dinner Menu

Saturday:
Lunch (on the road) - Old Mill crab house
Dinner (on location) – Mac & cheese
Sunday: Tamales by Diana

Monday: Korean BBQ by Ellen at the beach and oysters by Dima, Michael and Javier ("bought by" that isJ)
Tuesday: Four different kinds of pizza by Dave (shrimp and artichoke, sausage, deep dish, mozzarella and basil)

Wednesday: Ellen's amazing seafood soup (that we had to eat for breakfast due to… see below)
Our breakfast spread always included freshly baked bread and some kind of yummy omelet and lunch – Bubba burgers and hotdogs made by Alex and Simon, the masters of the grill.

Argh! Our trip got cut short due to the stupid hurricane Earl!!! We were supposed to stay till Saturday, but had to evacuate on Wednesday! Unbelievable! The problem was all the food that we had left and all the goodness that didn't get to be cooked, including but not limited to slow-cooked Mexican style pork stew and grilled marinated pork shoulder. THIS was the real disaster.

Of course, the stupid hurricane died away by Thursday night, which means we didn't really have to leave… Oh well, it is what it is…