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In case you missed it, this is Part 2 of the story about old Russian names for the 12 months of the year. January through June are covered in Part 1. As for the video, it has a connection albeit tenuous to this post, specifically to one of the names for September. 

Июль (July) – the old name of this month was червен or червень. The origin of this word is particularly interesting. So if you speak Russian fairly fluently, you might realize that червень is very close to червь (worm). I don’t know about you, but when I think of worms, I think of either рыбалка (fishing) or огород (vegetable garden) with its beneficial огородные черви (garden worms). Yet while July is the perfect month for doing both fishing and gardening in Russia, that’s not where the old name comes from.

Instead, the month got its name after an insect called червец (coccid). This insect was used as a source of highly valuable red dye. That is why this word червен sounds so familiar to another seldom-used word червлёный (deep-red). So July was the month when these insects were collected for making red dye. By the way, English language has several words for this deep red color: crimson and carmine, both from the Arabic word al-qirmiz meaning a coccid; the third word is vermillion, derived from the Latin word for a “small worm”, vermiculus. (Ok, I’m totally geeking out here).

Before I move on, let me just mention that other names for July were грозник, the month of грозы (thunderstorms) and страдник, from страда (harvest time).

Август (August), my favorite month, was called зарев from зарево (blaze or glow). In this case the glow is that of sunset, but the word зарево is more often used to describe зарево пожара (a blaze of a large fire). August is not just the month of spectacular sunsets, but also of abundant дары природы (bounty of nature) from all the farming and gardening. It is the month of густоед (eating well) and was also known as разносол. Now, that’s a very useful word right there. It is no longer used in its singular form, but only in plural разносолы, meaning delicious food in general and pickles in particular. And in Russia pretty much everything that can be grown or caught can be pickled.

Сентябрь (September) was known as ревун, probably from рёв (bellowing) of animals. Why, I’m not sure, so I like its other two names, хмурень and вересень, better. Хмурень comes from the word хмурый (gloomy, overcast) and вересень from the plant вереск (purple heather).

Октябрь (October) had the name of листопад (leaf fall) which is pretty self-explanatory. The weather was getting worse and worse hence the month’s other name грязник (muddy). The plus side of the muddy and chilly October was that all the field work was done for the year freeing up time for personal life. So October was a traditional wedding month or свадебник, from свадьба (a wedding).

Ноябрь (November) was грудень. It actually comes from the word груда. Right now the word груда means a heap, but back then it also meant a frozen rut in the road. So while there was no snow yet, the ground was already frozen. It was almost winter and hence November’s other name, полузимник (half-winter month).

Finally, it’s time for декабрь (December) or студёный. Ask a Russian to think of a sentence that uses the word студёный and they will likely recite a line from a poem “Russian Peasant Children” by Nikolay Nekrasov (this line, Однажы в студёную зимнюю пору… is a meme in its own right). The words стужа (bitter cold) might not be widely used either, but the word простуда (a cold) sure is. Other than студень, December was also known as ветрозим, a compound word made up of ветер (wind) and зима (winter). Brrr….

And there you have it, all 12 months of the year. Again, for most of the learners of Russian language this information has little practical value. There is no need to memorize any of the Russian words in this post since most of them fell out of use a while ago. However, if you are curious about the history of Russian language, love obscure and forgotten words and crave trivia knowledge, then you might find this post rather entertaining.

Joseph Stalin once said, “We have to make a choice between… slavery and vodka.”

That was in 1925, just as Stalin was beginning his brutal ascent to power, crafting a regime that would industrialize the Soviet Union on the backs of slave labor. And cheap vodka.

Indeed, vodka and Russia have been bound together in a Gordian knot for half a millenium. Ivan the Terrible instituted a system of kabaks (reputedly imported from the Tatars) that allowed the state to reap huge revenue from intoxication. His son Fyodor tore down the kabaks in an religiously-inspired effort to purify the nation. But the reformer Boris Godunov, who succeeded Fyodor, saw the economic potential in strong drink. It has been a see-saw ever since.

Catherine the Great famously said it was easier to rule her subjects when they were dulled by the effects of vodka. Would that the twelfth (and final) Romanov ruler to succeed her, Nicholas II, had heeded her sentiments. For it could be argued that the tsars lost their empire because of vodka. Or lack thereof.

During the First World War, Nicholas II thought it was more important to keep the troops sober than sedated, and so a temperance law was instituted and vodka production all but halted. Problem was, the Russian State was heavily dependent upon vodka for tax revenue (in the nineteenth century, 40 percent of state revenue was garnered from vodka taxes). And any fool knows you don’t fight a war without thinking how you are going to pay for it…

So, in 1917, Russian soldiers were getting neither vodka nor timely salaries. Add a few factory strikes into the mix, and you have a recipe for Revolution.

The Bolsheviks originally maintained the vodka ban on ideological grounds (i.e. Stalin’s statement above, which hewed neatly to Lenin’s line). But the demands of industrialization being what they were (tax revenue, remember?), by the 1930s, Stalin was ramping up vodka production. (Just for the record, he was against it before he was for it.)

Koroche, since Ivan the Terrible established the first kabak, the Russian state has used proceeds from vodka sales to further both its foreign and domestic agendas. And the Russian public has repeatedly obliged the leadership by consuming vast amounts of vodka.

The results have been about what you would expect. In a long article I wrote for Russian Life magazine with Mikhail Ivanov in 1998, we cited Stephen White’s catalog of ills wrought by vodka in the second half of the twentieth century:

“…alcohol abuse became the single largest cause cited for divorce; by the late 1970s, life expectancy for Russian males had dropped to just 61 years; between 1960 and 1987, there was a population loss due to alcohol abuse in Russia of some 30-35 million persons; 74% of all murders committed in the early 1980s were committed under the influence of alcohol, as was the same proportion of rapes; in the early 1980s, 75-90% of absences from work were related to alcohol; economic production was said to drop by up to 30% following weekends and paydays; by one estimate, the economic losses from alcohol abuse in the 1980s were three times the amount taken in through taxes on alcohol.”

 Add to this the epidemic of alcohol poisoning in the 1990s, due to poor regulations (90,000 in 1997 alone), and there is no way but to conclude that Russia has savagely abused itself with vodka for nearly six centuries.

And yet… vodka is still a central part of Russian culture, an important part to toasting business deals, holidays and family celebrations. As a true vodka lover will tell you, vodka can be a very subtle drink, full of interesting aromas and aftertastes. As long, of course, as you don’t make yourself a slave to it.

Maybe that is what Stalin really meant.

 

 

About the author
Paul E. Richardson has been involved with all things Russian for 30 years. In his day job, he is publisher of Russian Life, a bimonthly magazine on Russian culture, history, travel and life. His novel Russian Rules (a thriller of sorts about loose nukes, mistaken identity and iPhones) was released in 2011, and his tribute to the running life, Running is Flying, will be published by Rodale in 2012.

This was the first electronic game I ever played and one of the only two I really got into (the other one was Arkanoid). This particular game, called simply Electronika, was extremely popular (as if there were other alternatives, right?). It seemed that everyone but me had it. This is NOT what’s being given away (I honestly don’t think I’d be able to part with it if I somehow got a console). But it is very relevant to the giveaway. Keep reading to find out how.

By the time you’ll be reading the giveaway will be over, the winner chosen and the secret revealed. But at the time of writing of this post, there are still a few hours left in the giveaway. So the only thing I can do right now is to reveal the secret prize.

I’m not exactly sure how to say “giveaway” in Russian. It’s neither a «лотерея» [lottery] nor «тотализатор» [tote board] nor «конкурс» [contest]. So I’m going to settle on «посты с бесплатной выдачей приза» [posts with giving away of a free prize]. And speaking of «этот самый приз» [this very prize], it’s about time to explain what’s being given away.

Do you believe that «книга – лучший подарок» [a book is the best gift]? I do! For a while Russians prided themselves to be «самая читающая страна в мире» [the most well-read country in the world]. But I realize that «труднопроизносимые имена, уменьшительно-ласкательные имена и прозвища» [hard to pronounce names, diminutives and nicknames], «предложения с деепричастными оборотами» [sentences with verbal adverb phrases], and, as one of the readers put it recently, “tantric suffering” of the characters might make Russian classical literature not so «читабельная» [readable] to many readers.

But the book that’s being given away is nothing of the sorts. It’s written in English and it’s «документальная литература» [a non-fiction book]. It is “Made in Russia: Unsung Icons of Soviet Design”. This book “celebrates the more populist and enduring work in graphic and industrial design” produced in the Soviet Union.

Years back, consumer goods «сделанные в Советском Союзе» [made in the USSR] were considered inferior to those made elsewhere. They were of poor quality and, usually, extremely unappealing. Just think of the Soviet-era underwear.  When I think of items like «колготки» [tights], «куклы» [dolls], «машины» [cars], «шкафы» [wardrobes], and many others I feel both bitter and amused.

This book reminded me of other things, the ones that were actually well-designed or at least were intended to be well-designed. Some of the designs we took for granted, such as the «авоська» bags or «треугольные молочные пакеты» [triangular milk cartons]. But all became symbolic of supposedly non-consumerist era.

So that’s the prize that is being given away in just about an hour or so.

Finally, a bit of house-keeping here – I will be randomly selecting a winner in just a little bit (by the time you’re reading this, I will already know the name). But I might not be able to post the announcement on the blog until next week. Blame it on «ураган» [hurricane] Irene. If it goes the way they are predicting, I might not have Internet connection for a few days.

Well, «друзья» [friends], it has happened again: I sat down to write «про грамматику» [about grammar] and instead I wrote about something completely different. I found this «фоторепортаж» [photo essay] on the website of «магазин Внешняя политика» [the magazine "Foreign Policy"] called, in English, “Russia’s Big Backyard.” I have opted to translate the title as «ближнее зарубежье» [the near abroad] since that’s basically what the English title implies. In the photo: a map from Wikipedia of what exactly «ближнее зарубежье» is.

I do not know much «авторское право» [copyright], which is why I am not putting any of the excellent photos in this post. Instead, I will provide links to appropriate photos throughout this post, so you can click on them if you want.

Since it is «двадцать лет после СССР» [twenty years since the USSR], many news websites are writing about what has happened «за двадцать лет» [for twenty years]. «В центральной Азии» [in Central Asia] there are «две религии» [two religions]: Christianity and Islam. There are still remnants of Soviet rule in «Узбекистан, Туркменистан, Таджикистан, Казахстан, и Киргизия» [Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan], like «этот памятник Ленину в Таджикистане» [this monument to Lenin in Tajikistan].

Unfortunately, «в сельской местности» [in rural areas], it can be difficult for people to get access to health care and social services. These countries’ political systems are not perfect, either. Most of them could be classified as «диктатуры» [dictatorships].

«Узбекистан» [Uzbekistan] has a large Russian minority, though many have left «в Россию» [for Russia].

«Казахстан» [Kazakhstan] appears to be doing the best of all the Central Asian countries. «Экономика» [The economy] has grown a lot. Unfortunately, «Нурсултан Назарбаев» [Nursultan Nazarbayev] has had power «за двадцать один год» [twenty-one years]. «Я очень хочу поехать в Казахстан» [I really want to go to Kazakhstan] just to see the world’s largest tent. «На последнем этаже – пляж!» [There is a beach on the top floor!]

I do not know much about «Киргизия» [Kyrgyzstan], except for the fact that there was a revolution there recently. Oh, and one of my friends was there recently, and she rode a horse, just like the people in this photo.

You would probably be fine with speaking just Russian in all the countries I’ve mentioned so far, with one exception: «Туркменистан» [Turkmenistan]. The first president had «культ личности» [a cult of personality] that included emphasizing native culture over the Soviet-era Russification. Luckily, there is less of a personality cult since the first president died — «его преемник» [his successor] was his personal dentist, of all people. The current president «очень любит лошадей» [really loves horses].

I’ve never been to any of these Central Asian countries. If you have, please share your experiences in the comments!

I’m planning four parts for this series. «Часть первая» [Part 1], this part, is about «центральная Азия» [Central Asia]. «Часть вторая» [Part 2] will be about «Беларусь, Украина и Россия» [Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia]. «Часть третья» [Part 3] will be about «Кавказ» [the Caucasus]. «Часть четвёртая» will be about «балтийские страны» [the Baltic countries]. I originally was going to write «прибалтика», which is what I had learned to call the Baltic countries, but a native-speaking friend told me that is an imperialist term that should be avoided. Thoughts?

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Quick Reminder

Yes, the secret GIVEAWAY is still going on. It will close in just a few days, at 11:59pm EST on August 26th. So there’s still time to enter by leaving a comment either on this post or on my previous post. Remember, you can leave more than one comment. The more you comment, the higher your chances are for winning this secret giveaway.

I’m excited that so many of you liked my previous post. I am quite a «болтушка» [chatterbox] and wouldn’t blame you for getting tired of my «болтовня» [chatter]. I might not be beyond hope yet since I love listening to you just as much (or more) as I love writing on this blog. Usually I respond to the comments you leave, but this time I’m running a cool secret giveaway and each comment is counted as a giveaway entry. So I’m abstaining from commenting myself even though it’s very hard. I promise, I will answer all as soon as the giveaway is over.

«Рекламный ролик» [TV commercial] – Can you imagine watching TV without a single commercial break or listening to a radio program that doesn’t get interrupted for “a word from our «спонсоры» [sponsors]? Well, that was Soviet Union before 1991-1992 when first Western-style «появились» [appeared] on TV screens and airwaves. Here’s some trivia for you – one of the first, if not the first, Western commercial shown in Russia was a Snickers commercial.

«Поле чудес» [lit. Field of Miracles] – Ok, I know, the show itself started in 1990. But it was in 1991 when «Леонид Якубович» [Leonid Yakubovich] became its host and once-and-forever, its symbol. Without him this show, a Russian analog (way more awesome, IMHO) of American “Wheel of Fortune”, is unthinkable. Even before the show, everyone was familiar with the phrase «поле чудес в стране дураков» [a field of miracles in the land of fools] which came from a movie «Буратино» [Russian version of “Pinocchio”].

«Виват, гардемарины!» – I don’t think this title was ever officially translated into English. «Гардемарин» is, from what I understand, a naval cadet, a midshipman. Anyway, this was the second movie in a series of 3. «Дмитрий Харатьян» [Dmitri Haratyan] and «Сергей Жигунов» [Sergey Zhigunov] once again became «предметы обожания» [heartthrobs] of girls all across the country. Interesting fact – the movie was supposed to premier on August 19th, but because of the attempted coup was postponed until August 31st.

«Малиновый пиджак» [crimson jacket] – ah, I love the fact that «малиновый пиджак» phenomenon has its own Wikipedia page. It became practically synonymous with «новые русские» [New Russians], a new social element that became the butt of so many «анекдоты» [jokes]. The wiki page gives a few theories of why crimson jackets became so popular. But I recommend watching a Soviet anti-utopian satire «Кин-дза-дза!» [Kin-dza-dza!] instead. And don’t be intimidated, it has English subtitles (ok, the movie doesn’t have any crimson jackets in it, but it does show a society in which certain things, including garish clothes, become status symbols)

«Будильник Кашпировского» [Kashpirovsky alarm clock] – quite a few of you mentioned that you would had liked to live in Russia in the early 90s and witness the historic changes taking place. I am not sure how many Russians would agree to re-live those days, when given a chance. For most people it was the time of great «стресс» [stress] and «неуверенность в завтрашнем дне» [uncertainty about the next day]. In a country where religion was suppressed and ridiculed for decades, a new outlet had to appear in the form of «экстрасенсы» [psychics], «белые маги» [white magic practitioners] and «ясновидящие» [clairvoyants; lit. those who see clearly]. They filled the newspapers and airwaves with «массовый гипноз» [mass hypnosis] promising «вылечить всех от всего» [to cure everyone from everything].

«Алан Чумак» [Allan Chumak], for example, had weekly sessions on TV passing “healing energy” from his hands into glasses of water people set up in front of their TV sets. One of the signature promises of another hypnotist, «Анатолий Кашпировский» [Anatoliy Kashpirovsky], was his long-distance treatment of «энурез» [bedwetting], in which he talked about an internal alarm clock.

«ПК» [PC] – this is the acronym for «персональный компьютер» [personal computer], something that started appearing in more and more homes around that time. In many cases these were home-made and used a cassette player for input and a TV for output. My first computer was a version of «Синклер Спектрум» [Sinclair Spectrum] that my dad assembled from scratch. I still remember how my brother and I spent hours winding thin wire for its «трансформатор» [transformer]. I’d love to say that we used our PC to learn programming, but that would be a lie. Instead, we mostly used it for gaming, playing «Арканоид» [Arkanoid].

«Школьная форма» [School uniform] – in Soviet Union school children had to wear uniform to school. It wouldn’t be too bad if it was something attractive or comfortable, but it wasn’t. Boys had to wear a dark-blue suite with a white collared shirt. Girls’ uniforms consisted of a brown dress and a «будничный» [everyday] black or «праздничный» [special occasions] white apron. Oh, and girls had to deal with removable «воротнички» [collars] and «манжеты» [cuffs], again, black for everyday and white and lacy for special occasions. I think most kids I knew hated their uniforms or at least preferred to change out of them as soon as they could. Fortunately, sometime in 1991 or 1992 the mandatory wearing of school uniform was abandoned and we all started wearing our families’ newly acquired «благосостояние» [wealth] or lack of it on our multicolored and variously styled sleeves.

«Лебединое озеро» [Swan Lake] – this beautiful ballet is firmly associated with «Августовский путч» [August attempted takeover]. Do you know this old joke about how there were just 2 TV channels in the Soviet Union? Communist Party meetings were on Channel 1 and on Channel 2 there was a «гэбист» [KGB official] ordering viewers to switch to Channel 1. Well, ok, we did have 2 channels for a very long time and the programming wasn’t all that fun or varied. But boy, did we come to appreciate that on August 19th, 1991! On that day, by order of «ГКЧП» [GKChP] or «Государственный комитет по чрезвычайному положению» [The State Committee on the State Emergency], also known as “The Gang of Eight”, all regularly-scheduled TV programming was cancelled. Instead, all we had was «Лебединое озеро».

«Путч» [military takeover] – isn’t it a German word? Well, it sounded just right for the occasion. I’m not sure why it was chosen over «переворот» [takeover]. One of the reasons that come to mind is that it’s shorter, sounds more efficient and way more sinister. Personally, unlike «переворот», «путч» wasn’t even in my «лексикон» [vocabulary] until August 19th, 1991. Once it was all over, there were quite a few jokes that used the wordplay of «путч» [putsch] and «пучить» [experience gas].

 

So here you go, between Part 1 and Part 2 (this one), there are 19 tidbits of my personal «воспоминания» [memories] about 1991. What were yours? I’d love to hear! And don’t forget, you still have a few days left to enter the giveaway by leaving a comment either on this post or on Part 1.

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