Posts from February 2009

«Что делать с бездомными собаками?» [What to do with the stray dogs?]

Posted by josefina No Comments
Feb 27 2009

«Бездомная собака на улице – обычное явление почти во всех больших городах России» [a stray (homeless) dog on the street - an ordinary occurrence almost in all big Russian cities]. 

To me Russia is not best symbolized by «борщ» [borscht] or «Красная площадь» [The Red Square] or «матрёшки» [‘matryoshki'; sets of nesting dolls] or «ушанки» [caps with earflaps] or «Гагарин» [Gagarin; first man in space], not even by «Достоевский» [Dostoevsky]; no matter how strange it might sound my Russia has the symbol of «бездомные собаки» [pl. stray; homeless dogs]. Nobody who has been to Russia has made it out of here without encountering at least one of them somewhere. (Perhaps some visitors to Russia were lucky enough to escape such an encounter, for example, if you only visited Saint Petersburg or Moscow for a couple of days.) When people back home ask me if I’m not afraid of living so far away in such a ‘dangerous’ country as Russia, I have always answered them, and continue to do so, in one and the same way: “The only thing I fear here are Russian dogs.” During my years here I’ve seen many ugly things and been the victim on many unpleasant episodes, but by far the worst have involved not Russian people, but the hoards of stray dogs that are to be found everywhere in this large country. If it weren’t for the stray dogs, Russia would be a much better place to live in. If I didn’t have to calculate my running routs by where I’ve seen stray dogs lately, I would get a lot more running done, for example. Today I bought my weekly dose of Russian news in the form of the superb magazine «Русский репортёр» [Russian Reporter] and saw on the cover a heartbreaking picture of a homeless dog feeding her four puppies and the headlines: «Что делать с бездомными собаками» [What to do with the stray dogs] and «Выброшенные из жизни» [Thrown out of life]. This number [№ 7 (086) February 26th - March 5th 2009] of the magazine contains two stories focusing on this huge problem in Russia today: «Убить не больно» [It isn't painful to kill] about a man who’s job it is to kill stray dogs, and «Собаки, улетающие в рай» [Dogs that fly up to paradise] about people who try to sterilize and take care of stray dogs. My opinion before reading the article mentioned last was that all stray dogs in Russia should be shot and not shown any mercy at all. This has to do with what I have seen with my own eyes – dogs attacking small children, old babushkas, terrible scars on the faces of friends from such attacks, and the lack of freedom of movement they create for all of us who are living here. In Russia, unfortunately, one cannot go wherever one might want to go. You must always be cautious, and throwing stones at dogs, as a French fellow student suggested once when we were being followed by a large group of dogs outside the Chinese market in Omsk, is impossible in larger cities because a) there are not many stones around and b) during the winter all stones are covered under heavy layers of snow. Living in Russia does make a person wiser. Russian life teaches you many things you might never have learned in other countries – how to run away from dogs, and that a woman should always walk on the pavement against traffic, never with it. Why? Because here it often happen that suspect cars stop to pick up young women, posing as taxis or just pretending to be asking for directions. Walking against traffic saves your life and should not be underestimated. This I didn’t know in Sweden. But that’s a whole other chapter in the book on the dangers of life in Russia. Let’s stick to stray dogs today.

This was my first encounter with a dog in Russia, outside an old factory in a suburb of Omsk back in February 2005. Back then I was young and naïve and didn’t know about the dogs. About fifteen minutes after this picture was taken a group of stray dogs chased me far into the woods and as I tried to get away from them I decided to run over the snow. Big mistake – the snow turned out to be about one meter above ground, wherefore I went right through it and got stuck. What saved me were a couple of rifle shots into the air from the guard of the factory nearby… Life lessons like that aren’t easy to come by and for that I’m thankful. 

The article begins with the following words:

«Растущие армии бездомных собак в российских городах вызывают вполне понятный страх у обывателя, который готов одобрить любые меры властей «по ограничению их численности». Но жестокость не решает проблемы – собаки снова и снова оказываются на улице из-за безответственности и безнаказанности бывших хозяев».

[The growing armies of stray dogs in Russian cities arouse an entirely understandable fear in the average person who's ready to approve any kind of measurements from the authorities "on the limitation of their number". But cruelty doesn't solve the problems - dogs again and again keep turning up on the streets because of the irresponsibility and impunity of their former owners.]

The article first describes a public meeting in the streets of Moscow in favor of sterilization of stray dogs instead of shooting them. Only in Moscow and St. Petersburg is it against the law to shoot stray dogs. In other Russian towns it is still allowed and general practice. Then we meet Zhanna, a woman in Moscow who herself catches stray dogs and sterilizes them. She keeps a group of five dogs that she’s brought back to life after they were hit by cars, she has paid for their operations out of her own pocket. Her efforts in saving poor, defenseless animals from the brutality of human society is so touching that I even forgot how scared I am of those same ‘poor, defenseless animals’. The article continues with a visit to a clinic that sterilizes animals and then keeps them in a shelter. Usually the dogs are not fortunate when it comes to finding new owners, but are put to sleep after six months. I was very surprised to find out that many of the dogs are let back out again on to the streets after being sterilized, thus eliminating a future problem rather than the present. The description of the dogs in the shelter was so touching that I actually started to cry, something I had not expected, being as I was a stern believer in mercilessly killing of all stray dogs. The article ends with a visit to Holland, where the problem with stray dogs has been solved, and that Russia should learn from Holland. Of course, Russia could learn a lot from Holland, or from any other Western country where this problem has been eliminated. The article opened my eyes to something that I have previously not thought about – where do all of these stray dogs come from? Obviously most of them belonged to a human being at one point or other in their life. In Yekaterinburg, for example, I have seen stray Dalmatians running the streets. Pedigreed dogs are not cheap, but not always the people with enough money to buy such dogs make the best owners. Of course, as the article also points out, for the problem to be solved entirely the cause of it must be eliminated, or else we’ll just end up doing what we’re doing at the moment until eternity. There must be tighter restrictions when it comes to the owners. And there must be shelters set up for stray animals in all Russian towns, not only the ‘capitol’ ones, from Kaliningrad to Vladivostok. The problem with this, of course, is as always money. Money, money, and more money – who is going to pay for the shelters?

Here in Yekaterinburg they still shoot dogs. One of the first things you might notice in any given Russian town is that there are no stray cats on the streets. In Sweden, for example, there are many cats walking outside (called ‘outdoor cats’, always belonging to someone and sleeping indoors at night). In Russia the dogs eat the cats.

However, the situation is not all bad. Even though I’m scared to death of them, and become quite terrified whenever I come face to face with one on the street, always checking to see if there’s people near by to hear me scream and come to my rescue, Russian dogs have also inspired me. The first short story I ever wrote in Russian back in October 2005 was called «Белая собака» [The White Dog]. It was inspired by a group of white stray dogs, all of them beautiful and full of pride and not the least dangerous in that aspect as they deemed it below them to even pay attention to humans. They lived in the area between my dormitory and the university, thus I passed by them every day at least a couple of times. Then one day a black truck came and shot them all. That made me feel safer, but also sad. Not to mention the fact that the novel about Russia that I’ve been writing ever since February 2006 went under the title of “Russian Dogs” all of its first six versions…

С днём защитника Отечества! [Happy Defender of the Fatherland Day!]

Posted by josefina No Comments
Feb 23 2009

It is THE holiday season in Russia right now: On the 14th of February it’s «День всех влюблённых» [The Day of Everybody in Love], then on the 23rd it’s «День защитника Отечества» [Defender of the Fatherland Day], wrapping up on the 8th of March with «Международный женский день» [International Women's Day]. Out of these three holidays – on all of which it is custom to give «подарки для любимых» [presents to your loved ones] – the two last ones are also holidays in the sense that you get the day off from work/studies!

Where I come from we don’t have the holidays that are colloquially known as ‘Man Day’ and ‘Women’s Day’ in the same sense that Russia does, but there are ‘Father’s Day’ (in the spring) and ‘Mother’s Day’ (in the fall). My mother used to frown whenever Father’s Day came around, always commenting the occasion with the following words: “Every day of the year is Man Day!”. Growing up as I did, I can blame my doubtful view of today’s Russian public holiday on my liberal, gender-aware, slightly feministic and rebelliously progressive Swedish upbringing. In Russia, however, things are a little bit different – especially in the way that there is a bigger difference between the sexes. One could boil it all down to Russian men being ‘real men’ who drink, smoke, open doors, carry grocery bags, bring home the dough and put their foot down whenever something is displeasing to their point of view, thus making Russian women ‘real women’ who cook, clean, stay at home with the kids, dress in overly feminine clothes even when it isn’t practical, listen rather than speak and have an incessant need to be protected by one of the Fatherland’s Protectors, i.e. Russian real men. Or Russia is a country, at least away from Moscow and St. Petersburg, that hasn’t been as influenced by feminism and equality as most Western countries. In some cases I actually like it. I like it when men hold up the door, when men give up their seats on the buses for women and old babushkas alike or get off the bus first so that they can give you their hand to hold when you’re getting off. That part I have come to like, even though it was shocking – yes, shocking! – to me at first. Now I think going on a date with a man who wasn’t Russian would be disappointing in a way – with no guarantee of flowers, and the possibility of splitting the check…

Right now I’m studying at a Master’s program in Russian literature at Ural State University. Not surprisingly, perhaps, out of the 22 students in my class there is only one boy. And I think that the case of our one male student can clearly show how different a society Russia can be for men and women respectively. Our fellow «студент» [student] or «магистрант»  [Master's student] (as we are «студентки» [female students] or «магистрантки» [female Master's students], the plural female form from the singular: «студентка» and «магистрантка») is the one who’s always asked to do anything. We’re 22 people in the group, all of whom are young, strong and healthy, and yet he’s always the one who’s opening windows when the room is too hot, or closing them when it gets too cold. Whenever we need extra chairs, he has to get them on his own, no matter how many. When a professor needs help with anything, he or she will always ask him first, no matter what it is about, and never mind that another girl is the «староста» of our group. I find it funny sometimes, at other times I realize that living your whole life here and only seeing that – I mean, that men are in charge of anything or everything – can make any girl come to believe she is really the ‘weaker half’ of humanity.

I guess the old saying «всё в меру» could be applied to a case like this. Happy holiday everyone!

Word of the Week: «Ли»

Posted by josefina No Comments
Feb 22 2009

«Поздравляем сильную половину человечества с Днём защитника Отечества!» [(We) congratulate the strong half of humanity with Defender of the Fatherland Day!]. Coming across this home-made poster on the first floor of my dormitory, I could have used the marvelous little word «ли» to pose a direct question like: «Являются ли мужчины сильной половиной человечества?» [Are men the strong half of humanity?], or an indirect: «Я не знаю, мужчины ли воистину сильная половина человечества…» [I don't know if men are truly the strong half of humanity...].

Understanding questions in Russians are no easy task for someone who has just begun learning this language. At first you might’ve been overcome with joy when you found out that Russian has «свободный порядок слов» [free word order], and you’re allowed to throw around predicates, subjects and objects as you wish. Sooner rather than later you come face to face with not understanding if a sentence like «ты придёшь» is a «приказ» [order; command] meaning the person is ordering you to come or already knows you’re coming, or if it is a «вопрос» [question], thus: «ты придёшь?», which should be accompanied by an intonation that goes ‘up’ in the end of the sentence. Russian intonation follows its own special rules, and even though there are (at least!) seven different types of intonation in Russian, it is easier said than done to tell one from the other. Learning to understand Russian intonation demands more of a learner than just know all the «ИК-1», «ИК-2», «ИК-3» [pronounced like ‘iika-adin', ‘iika-dva', ‘iika-tri'] and so on, first of all you must come to terms with the fact that Russian intonation in general sounds more ‘commanding’ than ‘asking’ in all intonations, which has caused more than one foreigner in this great nation to never turn down an invitation to drink tea at someone’s house. During my first year in Russia I didn’t get most of those questions in Russian that have the same word order as statement or imperative-like sentences. Consequentially I for a very long time agreed to everything Russians asked me, just because I thought they were ‘commanding’ me to do something or other. Later I found a very grateful acquaintance in the beautiful tiny word «ли» [conjuction: if; whether; and interrogating particle] and established a safe haven in it because now I could detect at least those questions and make up my own mind as to what to answer.

«Ли» is used in direct questions, for example: «Придёшь ли ты ко мне в гости воскресенье вечером?» [Are you coming to visit me on Sunday evening?], or «Не хочешь ли ты прийти ко мне в гости воскресенье вечером?» [Don't you want to come visit me on Sunday evening?]. It can also be used in the function of ‘if; whether’, for example: «Не знаю, смогу ли я прийти к тебе в гости воскресенье вечером» [I don't know if I'll be able to come visit you on Sunday evening].

Here are a couple of other sentences using the word «ли»:

«Здоров ли он?» [Is he healthy/well?]

«Я не знаю, здоров ли он» [I don't know if he's healthy/well].

«Я ли тебе не помогала!» [As if I wouldn't help you!]

«Дома ли он, на работе ли, или где-то ещё, представления не имею» [I have no idea if he's home or at work or somewhere else].

«Сделает ли она это или не сделает» [Whether she does it or not].

«На улице то ли снег, то ли дождь» [It neither snows nor rains outside, it's something in between].

Perhaps a good idea for a future post would be dealing with Russian intonation? How about it?

Reading Russian literature: А. П. Чехов «Человек в футляре»

Posted by josefina No Comments
Feb 18 2009

Today is the day I share with you – long overdue, of which I am aware – my post on how to read a Russian short story in the original. For a long time I pondered on exactly what short story to choose for today’s post, as there is an abundance of great short stories available in Russian, all of which are worth reading at one time or other. If one does not know what one should start with when it comes to reading a piece of fiction in the original Russian, I would recommend to start with Лев Николаевич Толстой [Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy], because of the comprehensibility of his language (never mind his sometimes exceedingly long sentences!). I would not recommend starting with Фёдор Михаилович Достоевский [Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky], even though that was what I did – naturally – and never for any beginner to try their luck at reading a hefty piece of 19th century fiction straight away – again, this was the mistake I made back in 2005, when I lived in Omsk and started out my journey in Russian literature by taking on his book set in that same Siberian town; «Записки из Мёртвого Дома» ["Notes from the Dead House"] – as a scholar I must state firmly that even though most of you might not be used to seeing «Дом» in this title written with a big «Д», it is how Mr. D himself wrote it, thus that’s also what we must write. I had three potential short stories for this post, all of which I love equally – «Три смерти» ["Three Deaths"] by Leo Tolstoy, or «Золотые корреспонденции Ферапонта Ферапонтовича Капорцева» ["The Golden Reports of Ferapont Ferapontovich Kaportsev"] and in that short story especially my favorite (tiny, but brilliant!) second chapter called «Корреспонденция вторая: Лжёдмиртий Луначарский» ["The Second Report: The False Dmitry Lunacharsky"] by «Михаил Афанасьевич Булгаков» [Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov] or «Человек в футляре» ["Human Being in A Case"] by «Антон Павлович Чехов» [Anton Pavlovich Chekhov]. In the end I decided upon the last short story of those mentioned above, because of three good reasons: 1. Chekhov is the undisputed master of the short story not only in Russian, but also in world literature, 2. his sentences are almost as comprehensible as Tolstoy’s, in addition to this they are also shorter, and 3. there’s always a humoristic component. Humor always helps you to carry on reading even when you understand less than half of the words, and that’s very important indeed.

The ultimate survival kit for reading Russian literature in the original isn’t gigantic – all you need is a book in Russian (pictured above is a copy of «Повести. Рассказы. Пьесы» [Stories. Tales. Plays.] by [Живой] Антон Чехов [‘Living' Anton Chekhov] in an wonderful publication by Novosibirsk University Press called [Живая] классика [‘Living' classic]), a little notebook (here with a cover that matches the theme of its contents) to write new words with their translation in and a pen (or a pencil, if that’s what floats your boat) to do it with.

There are many ways of learning how to read fiction in a foreign language. One way is to first read the work in a translation into your native language, thus making it easier to later understand the original as you’re already acquainted with the basic story. Such a strategy can be helpful in the beginning, but it doesn’t end there – it will get more and more interesting to read fictional works in that way the better you know the ‘new’ language, because the more you know, the more you can argue with the translators and perhaps come to outright disagreement of their translation. I don’t like this method, though, as it kills the natural suspense involved in reading a piece of fiction for the very first time. I am also of the somewhat radical opinion that translators take far too much freedom in translating, and can in some instances ruin the piece of fiction. For example, I blame the first Swedish translator of «Мёртвые души» ["Dead Souls"] by «Николай Васильевич Гоголь» [Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol'] for the fact that I did not have the opportunity to fall in love with his art until I was advanced enough to read him in Russian, because the translation was so poorly done it did not deserve to have the name ‘Gogol’ put on the cover. Translations of Russian are, however, better done in bigger languages – a point that should be clearly made here.

Another way of doing it is to constantly look up new, unknown words as you read. I recommend this method for those of you who are comfortable with breaking the flow of the language from time to time. For some this might even be necessary, especially if your knowledge of Russian is still basic enough for one page to more than satisfy your daily dose of new knowledge.

The third way, and the way I ‘preach’, is to read the whole short story straight away without stopping, underlining words you don’t understand as you go along, and only to look them up in the dictionary once you’ve finished reading the whole thing. This method can be applied to a novel if you check new words after each chapter. After you’ve finished, you start going through the story from the beginning and look up the words you’ve underlined. Some people like to write the translations straight in the book, between the lines. I am not a fan of this method, as I like to keep my books ‘clean’. I try to keep my underlining, exclamation points and question marks to a minimum so that the books might be used again by someone else in the future. Instead I use small notebooks (size A6, for example) for new words. During my four and a half year of studying Russian I have filled over twenty small notebooks with words and sentences, and I’m not ashamed to confess that I’ve probably written 25% of those words at least twice in them, perhaps even more. One of my old roommates, a Japanese girl, liked to mark the words she looked up straight in the dictionary, so that she would feel bad if she was to see that she had looked up one word twice. I don’t do this, for the same reason as mentioned above – I believe books should be allowed to live unmarked far beyond their owners.

Chekhov’s short story «Человек в футляре» ["Human Being in a Case"] was first published in the magazine «Русская мысль», number 7 for the year 1898, as the first in his ‘small trilogy’ containing also the two further stories «Крыжовник» ["The Gooseberry Shrub"] and «О любви» ["About Love"]. The story was very popular, and the expression «человек в футляре» [a person who's all bundled up in clothes or other materials in order to be protected by them from the outside world, thus being a ‘human being in a case'] became a «нарицательное имя» [common noun] while Chekhov was still alive. It has the frame story of two hunters resting for the evening in a small village, and one of them decides to tell the other one a story about his neighbor, a certain Belikov, a teacher of Greek language. Despite the fact that Belikov was a true ‘human being in a case’, always dressed in galoshes and carrying an umbrella with him at all times, even when there wasn’t a single indication it would rain, he was once close to marriage – to a Ukrainian girl, the sister of one of his fellow teachers. Here’s a piece of the description of Belikov in Russian:

«…Он носил тёмные очки, фуфайку, уши закладывал ватой, и когда садился на извозчика, то приказывал поднимать верх. [...He wore dark glasses, a jersey, stuffed his ears with cotton, and when he got on a carriage he asked to be lifted up.] Одним словом, у этого человека наблюдалось постоянное и непреодолимое стремление окружить себя оболочкой, создать себе, так сказать, футляр, который уединил бы его, защитил бы от внешних влияний.» [In a word, this person had a constant and insurmountable yearning to surround himself with a shell, to create for himself, so to speak, a case that would isolate him, protect him from external influences.]

In the end there’s, as always with Chekhov, a twist that makes one ponder on one’s own existence as a human being in this society of ours. Happy reading everyone! Next time we’ll try some other short story, perhaps it’ll be time for Tolstoy then…

«С днём Святого Валентина!» [Happy Valentine's Day!]

Posted by josefina No Comments
Feb 14 2009

As always when politicians make the covers of doubtful gossip magazines, I was mighty intrigued to see the following «Дмитрий и Светлана Медведевы: Как они построили свою любовь» [Dmitry and Svetlana Medvedev: how they built their love] on my favorite, uh, not really, gossip magazine called: «Стархит - журнал Андрея Малахова» [Star Hit - the magazine of Andrei Malachov (whoever that is?)].

Today is February 14th and one of the most successful artificially-made holidays ever (worldwide!) – «день Святого Валентина» [St. Valentine's Day] or, as it is also called in Russia, for example – «день всех влюблённых» [the day of all people in love]. Today is as a rule date day Number One in most countries; Russia is no exception to this rule. If you have a prettier or more handsome half in Russia (or a Russian one, for that matter), you must take precautions and be careful to put your most romantic side to use today and a) give a romantic postcard, b) give heart shaped chocolate, c) give red or pink flowers, d) cook dinner (or e) take her/him out to dinner), or you, товарищ [comrade], might just find yourself alone with a bottle of cheap wine and an old videotape with “Pretty Woman” dubbed into Estonian next year. For those of us finding ourselves – gasp! – single on this fateful festival dedicated to ‘coupledom’, there are, however, quite a few options as how to survive without downing inexpensive alcohol and watching something with Julia Roberts. For example, one can always hang out with other single friends. In Russia on this day the tradition is to give everyone you love, no matter if you’re going steady with them or just friends with them, cards shaped like tiny hearts, all sorts of candy or just small gifts. Among women and young people this tradition is perhaps a little stronger than among men and member of the older generation. Thus being single in Russia doesn’t have to mean you won’t been shown a little lovin’ today anyway. One could also take the day to spend with some of the world’s greatest love stories, and enjoy seeing others finding the love of their life and through that receive a little hope in finding the same for oneself. For example, one can do as I did, and learn a lesson in love from the president of Russian Federation and his wife, Svetlana, from the article mentioned above in ‘Star Hit’.

Here’s the beginning of the article, or of the «Спецпроект: совет да любовь!» [Special project: love and advice!], in which the first couple confess the story of their 28 years of married life. «Дмитрий и Светлана Медведевы: Дружба, любовь, трудности… как у всех…» [Dmitry and Svetlana Medvedev: Friendship, love, difficulties... like everybody has...]. 

Not only does the article contain fascinating information about the president of this country and his immediate family, it is also full of just the right kind of phrases to use when speaking about love and relationships in Russian. Let’s sort them out and learn something new!

The couple met for the first time in 1972 (both born in 1965) when starting first class in school number 305 in Leningrad, back when that was still the name of Saint Petersburg. And «дочь военнослужащих Свету Линник Дмитрий Медведев полюбил с первого взгляда» [the daughter of servicemen Sveta Linnik Dmitry Medvedev fell in love with at first glance].

«полюбить с первого взгляда» – to fall in love; come to love at first glance; at a glance; from the first

«А в 7-м (седьмом) классе начали встречаться» [And in 7th grade they started dating].

«встречаться» – (here) to date

«подруга» – (here) girlfriend

«друг» – (here) boyfriend

«В 1989 году Дмитрий и Светлана поженились и поселились в квартире её родителей» [In 1989 Dmitry and Svetlana were married and moved into the apartment of her parents].

«жениться» – to get married; (for a man – for a woman it’s «выйти/выходить замуж») (the perfect «пожениться» is only used if the subject consists of two people, like in the sentence above).

«Через семь лет, в 1995 году, в семье Медведевых родился сын Илья» [Seven years later, in 1995, in the Medvedev family the son Il'ya (Russian variant of the name Elijah) was born].

«Когда в 2007-м Медведев начал свой подход к посту президента, его супруга была рядом, готовая помочь и поддержать в любую минуту» [When in 2007 Medvedev began his approach to the post of president, his spouse was near, ready to help and support at any moment].

«супруга» – spouse (female); «жена» – wife, genitive plural: «жён»

«супруг» – spouse (male); «муж» – husband, genitive plural: «мужей»

On the page above we see pictures from their wedding on December 24th 1989, a walk in «парк Победы» [the Victory park] in Moscow in 1996 (if the pictures was bigger I would’ve asked you to pay extra attention to Dima’s fluffy hair) and a tiny snapshot of the couple with their son who’s 12 years old and «поражён и немножко расстроен» [amazed and a little upset] that his dad’s the president.

 How many of you knew that Dima had been with the same woman all his life? I, for one, had heard something random and vague about it before, but most of the stuff in the article above was news to me. Of course, reading about such couples can make even the most cynic of us believe that true love can last a lifetime. And that hitting the highest layer of society doesn’t mean we must all automatically start dating models. I know in many ways Dima’s just a political puppet, and that Putin is the one really running the show, but on a day like this that’s alright. Because Dima’s has stayed true to his childhood sweetheart and to me, the incurable romantic, that’s what means the most on a day like this. Let’s celebrate not only love today, but dedication – dedication not only to that one person, but to friends and family and all our close and loved ones.

«С днём Святого Валентина!» Happy Valentine’s Day!

Back to the Top