Posts tagged with "москва"

Maybe somewhere in between all the recent posts by Yelena on our blog – as well as Vickie’s excellent guest post two days ago – you might have asked yourselves: «А где же Джозефина?!» [“But where is Josefina?!”] I know there’s been a significant gap without me posting here about the wondrous world of Russian grammar (and we all know how hard it is to live for a day without learning something new and exiting about everyone’s favorite language!), but I have a reason for this – and believe me, it’s a good one! Right now «я всё ещё в Екатеринбурге» [I’m still in Yekaterinburg], but let me tell you «где я была» [where I was] a week before this: «я съездила в Москву и в Вологду» [I went (traveled) to Moscow and Vologda]. What did I do there, then? I thought that today I would tell you first about my trip «в европейскую часть Российской федерации» [to the European part of Russian Federation] by way of a couple of informative pictures. After that I’ll explain why I have chosen this particular post to introduce one of the most mysterious verbs of the Russian language: «собираться» [impfv. 1) to gather, assemble; 2) to prepare, get ready; 3) to be gathering, be in the offing; 4) to intend to; 5) to be about to]. Yes, this marvelous little verb has no less than five possible connotations and plausible ways of being translated into English! Aren’t you exited now to find out what makes this particular verb perfect for what I am about to do in less than three days: «уехать из России» [to leave Russia]?

The Russians themselves say that it is a sure sign you’re «из провинции» [from the province] if the first thing you do when in Moscow is «пойти на Красную площадь» [to go to Red Square]. I’m not ashamed to say that this is always what I do first thing when I’m in the Russian «столица» [capital] because I lived «вся моя русская жизнь в провинции» [all of my Russian life in the province]…

But this time I decided to do something I had never done before while in Moscow: «посетить музей Булгакова» [to visit the Bulgakov museum]. It’s free! Here I am standing behind the door to «квартира номер 50 (пятьдесят)» [apartment number 50], known in «Мастер и Маргарита» [“The Master and Margarita”] as «нехорошая квартира» [a not good (or: bad) apartment]. On the top floor you can visit the apartment where Bulgakov lived, but the entrance costs money.

After Moscow I took the train to Vologda, where I celebrated the birthday of my most beloved Russian writer «Варлам Тихонович Шаламов» [Varlam Tikhonovich Shalamov] on the 18th of June at the Shalamov House together with a group of young scholars from Moscow. The more attentive readers might remember that I first visited Vologda in January this year, and that this was also because of Shalamov. I try not to make all of my posts here on the blog about this writer – but sometimes he might slip in without me wanting it… «Что делать? Он же великий писатель!» [What can you do? He's a great writer!].

While being so close to «русский север» [the Russian north], we decided to hop on a bus and travel for three hours further north and visit the small town of «Кириллов» [Kirillov]. From there we took a taxi to the village of «Ферапонт» [Ferapont], where there’s an amazingly beautiful monastery that’s on UNESCO’s list of world heritage. Why? Because it has intact frescos from the 14th century!

Now I’m back «на Урале» [in the Urals] once again, and right now «собираю свою русскую жизнь» [I’m gathering my Russian life]. It feels «так странно» [so strange] that I’m about to leave this country for just as long a period of time as I have spent living here – «шесть лет» [six years]. It goes without saying that I am now very different from the nineteen year old girl I was when I arrived in «Санкт-Петербург» [Saint Petersburg] in August 2004. Yes, I’m «старше» [older], «опытнее» [more experienced] and «умнее» [smarter]. And it feels «ещё страннее» [even stranger] to think of this country now and try «собираться с мыслями» [to collect my thoughts] about what Russia have come to mean to me through the years. There’s too much to say, too much that’s on my heart, in my mind – and yet «так не хватает слов!» [there aren't enough words!]. Of course, I wouldn’t be who I am today «без России» [without Russia], «без русского опыта» [without (my) Russian experience], «без опыта жизни и выживания в России» [without the experience of (lit. life) living and surviving in Russia]. I once heard a foreigner – who had lived and worked in Russia for several years – say that he could write a book about every week he spent in Russia. I don’t know who would read such a book; but I know I could also do that  – easily! But the thing about life is that most things become apparent, clear and comprehensible to us only «в сравнении» [in comparison] and «на расстоянии» [from a distance]. And the best distance of all is «время» [time]. I had to live a couple of years in Russia before I understood what inside of me is Swedish; i.e. what has its source in my nationality, my cultural heritage and upbringing – and what is simply me. That’s why I think it is still too early for me now to say just WHAT I’ll bring with me from this country. «С годами» [with the years] I’ll come to realize what part of me is Russian… For already now I know that I’m partly Russian. One cannot live for this long in a foreign country without making it your own and yourself a part of it. If you can, then you’re not doing the whole immigration thing right!

The past couple of days I have done little else but dedicate myself completely to the verb «собираться»: here in the sense of ‘getting ready’. But «собираться» can also mean ‘to intend to’, and thus the sentence «я собираюсь уехать» may translate into ‘I’m planning to leave’ but also ‘I intend to leave’. The first sentence indicates a very direct plan to do something; the second one not so much. It only states a wish, perhaps an intention – or maybe it was said with strong emotions and tomorrow – when sober – it will not mean anything. «Собираться» is intentionally fuzzy and was probably made up by the Russians so as to confuse non-native speakers. The interesting thing about this verb is that it sometimes doesn’t indicate any action at all (and we all know that we need verbs to tell people we’re DOING something or other). That makes «собираться» different from almost all other verbs in all other languages. For example, when Russians say «Сейчас собираемся» [Now we’re getting ready] it doesn’t have to indicate any movement – it is often said and then followed by, for example, everyone remaining seated at the table and the host pouring you another glass. Or how about this dialogue:

«Почему ты не пришёл вчера [Why didn’t you come yesterday?]

«Собирался прийти, да не получилось» [I planned to (intended to, was about to) come, but it didn’t work out].

Really what this person did was not any action at all; and we will never find out exactly what his «собирание» ['getting ready', ‘intending'] constituted of. So what is the confused non-native speaker to do when confronted with such a strange verb as this one? The only good way to handle is to do as the Russians – use it to your advantage! How? For example, let’s say you agreed to meet someone at a particular place at a particular time. Then you forgot all about it. The person calls you and you’re already ten minutes late. What do you say? «Собираюсь!» [I'm getting ready!] of course! It sounds like you’re already half way there, when in reality you haven’t even put on your shoes yet. This verb always saves the day when you haven’t done something you’re supposed to have done – you can always say «собираюсь» and then continue sipping your tea.

P.S. the perfect to this verb is «собраться» ;) But do note that it is used much less frequently in colloquial speech!

Sometimes Russian Blog’s Word of the Week is solely grammatically interesting, sometimes purely culturally or historically fascinating. Seldom can our Russian word of the week be both. But this week’s word is actually both! The Russian word «время» [time] is grammatically interesting because it is a neuter noun despite ending on «я» [ya] (which is usually the marker for feminine nouns) and has a highly intriguing declension in the six cases (just wait for it!) that might confuse you the first time but is well worth learning by heart. The Russian concept «время» [time] is culturally and historically fascinating since Russia is an enormous country with a total of eleven time zones. And that’s even though the entire «европейская часть России» [European part of Russia (that's all of Russia in front of the Ural Mountains)] has one and the same time – colloquially as well as officially known as «московское время» [Moscow time]. Historically the time in Moscow has been more important than the time in the rest of the ten Russian time zones; for example, all train times are according to «московское время». Though on your train tickets you’ll see that this is written as «время московское» [the change would make it correct to translate as ‘the time is Moscow time']. On plane tickets, however, the time marked for take-off and landing is always «время местное» [local time]. In Russia one often meets Moscow time on TV (news are often broadcast according to the capital), and also on the radio – yet after a while you will have learned to ignore it and apprehend that the popular provincial saying from the Soviet times: «Что Москва? Москва далеко» [What about Moscow? Moscow's far away], is very true indeed.

If you don’t live in Moscow and listen to the radio «в провинции» [in the province] you might hear the following: «Сейчас два часа дня по Москве». Probably you understand the part about ‘now it is two o’clock [p.m.]‘ but what does «по Москве» mean? Clearly not “on Moscow”. It is actually short for «по московскому времени» [according to Moscow time].

When talking about «время» [time] in Russian language and culture we could also bring up the Russian approach to time. What makes the Russian approach different from our own (now I mean to compare mostly with European or Western approach to time, since that’s closest to home for me)? Is it simply prejudice to say that «русские всегда опаздывают» [Russians are always late] or is there some truth to it? Speaking from my own personal experience I have to admit that it’s more than just a little bit true; even though one should always keep in mind that «все русские разные» [all Russians are different]. During five years in Russia I’ve learned that it is best to tell Russians to be somewhere at 11.30, for example, if you want to be sure that they’ll have arrived in time for 12.00. I don’t know why a majority of Russians can never be on time – is it because their lives are so full of stress? That they have too much to do? Or is it due to those «бесконечные пробки на улицах» [endless trafficjams on the streets] which we cannot even imagine before we’ve seen them (not to speak of getting stuck in one of them!)? When I discussed this with one of my professors in Yekaterinburg she said that before, «в советские времена» [in Soviet times], people weren’t at all late as often as they are now. She said it’s mostly «молодёжь» [young people; youth] that is never on time in Russia today. I couldn’t argue with her, obviously, since I’ve never lived in the Soviet Union due to being born in the beginning of «перестройка» ['perestroika' - or, more correctly translated as reconstruction; conversion; realignment; alteration]. That’s why I don’t know what kind of approach the average «гражданин Советского союза» [citizen of the Soviet Union] had. Maybe someone of you readers know more about this? Maybe someone has seen ‘time’ in both the Soviet Union and the Russian Federation?

Okay, enough with the cultural ponderings – let’s decline this noun!

A good way of showing what happens to «время» [time] in the six cases depending on whether it’s SINGULAR or PLURAL («времена» [times] – did you see how the stress just jumped from being on the first vowel in singular to the last in plural? Now that’s confusing to me!) is to give twelve sentences in which this word is portrayed in all of its twelve forms. Okay? Let’s do it then!

«ЕДИНСТВЕННОЕ ЧИСЛО» [SINGULAR]:

Nominative: «Время – деньги» – [Time is money].

Genitive: «У меня нет времени» – [I don't have the time].

Dative: «Поезд придёт в Иркутск в пять часов утра по местному времени» – [The train arrives in Irkutsk at five in the morning according to local time].

Accusative: «Какое время года ты любишь?» – [What time of the year do you love?]

Locative: «Он не ориентируется во времени и пространстве» – [He doesn't orientate himself in time and space].

Instrumental: «Со временем ты меня поймёшь» - [With time you'll understand me].

«МНОЖЕСТВЕННОЕ ЧИСЛО» [PLURAL]:

Nominative: «Что за новые времена – [What kind of new times are these!]

Genitive: «Кто сейчас помнит нравы старых времён?» – [Who remembers the manners of old times now?]

Dative: «А ты скучаешь по старым временам?» – [(But) do you miss the old times?]

Accusative: «Я-то стараюсь забыть старые времена – [I for one try to forget the old times!]

Locative: «Не будем говорить о старых временах тогда» – [Let's not talk about the old times then].

Instrumental: «Всё изменится с новыми временами» – [Everything will change with the new times].

I hope that you found these twelve sentences to be helpful and that you’ll be able to forgive me for only using the word combinations «новые времена» [new times] and «старые времена» [old times] in plural. Suddenly, while writing this post, I came to suffer from instant brain freeze and couldn’t come up with any other combinations in which you use the word ‘time’ in plural in Russian. If anyone else out there has a clue, please leave it in a comment! I love to read your comments; they help me make this blog better. And I really want this blog to be the best – the best for learning Russian and keeping one’s affectionate feelings for Russian culture in the best of shapes.

Suddenly it is that time of the year again – the time when one cannot help but feel that one is, was and will always remain a European. This feeling is first and foremost connected with an important European annual event in May: «Евровидение» [Eurovision Song Contest]. This year the competition takes place here in Russia, in everybody’s favorite capital with the red Kremlin and Lenin the mummy, and thus gives me a good reason to write about it here. Not only because after the first semi-final yesterday, on the 12th of May, it was decided that Sweden’s Malena Ernman gets to sing in the final on Saturday the 16th, and when I woke up to these news this morning I found myself suddenly caring about the Eurovision Song Contest again. Before the final there will be a second semi-final, on the 14th of May, and not until after that will we know for sure which countries will be competing for the prestigious title of “Winner of Eurovision Song Contest 2009″. And what is more important – to get the competition to take place in their country next year! For those of you who have managed to forget I can inform you of the fact that Дима Билан [Dima Bilan] won in Belgrade last year (with more than a little help from Плюшенко [Plushenko], I’d say, and I think everyone who saw the performance a year ago agrees with me] with the song “Believe” and that’s why Moscow – for the first time ever! – gets to host the contest this year. This year Russia is represented by Анастасия Приходько [Anastasia Prikhod'ko] and the song “Mamo” [Russian: «Мама»; English: "Mother"] which is sung in both Russian and Ukrainian.

So, how do you best prepare for this Saturday’s big night? A good warm-up would be of course to watch all of Russia’s entries in Eurovision, something that is easily done on this excellent post by Siberian Light. Or you could busy yourself by trying to learn the lyrics to Russia’s entry by heart already now so that you’ll be ready to sing along come Saturday. Here’s the Russian version with my own little translation in English, I’ll hope you’ll get the general idea of the song:

Вышел из тени вновь [He came out of the shadow again]
Мой врагмоя любовь [my enemy - my love]
Неизбежна моя доля, [my lot is inescapable,]
Сколько сердце не готовь [how much you prepare the heart]
Но прежде, чем уйти [but before he left]
Колечком золотым обручил меня с собою [with a golden ring bethrotet me with him]
И от чар не защитил [and against goblets didn't protect]
И на волю мою душу не пустил[and didn't free my soul...]

Припев: [Refrain:]
Мама,
[Mother,]
А ты ж мне сказала
[but you told me]
Не ожидай
[don't expect]
Мама
[Mother]
А я ж тогда не знала  
[but then I didn't know]
Где та беда
[where that sorrow is]
Мама
[Mother]
А ты же мне говорила
[but you said to me]
Время вода
[time is water]
Мама, мама, мама
[Mother, mother, mother]


Любовь – беда
[love is sorrow][I will throw away my dream]
И об пол разобью, [break it against the floor]
Как сломал ты мою долю [like you broke my lot]
И оставил на краю [and left me on the edge]
Я дождём девичьи слёзы разолью[I will cry a rain of maiden tears...]

Припев: [Refrain:]

Once you’ve learned these – far from difficult lyrics – by heart it is about time to learn a thing or two about the host country: Russia. This can be done on Eurovision Song Contest’s official website, which informs you of the most crucial things you need to know about this country, including that its history is ‘long and complicated’. After you’ve done that, you can move ahead and read up on Patricia Kaas, France’s entry, and worry about how your country (if you’re not a very patriotic Russophile/Russian and can’t imagine voting for anything but the Motherland) will ever be able to stand up against this superstar on one and the same stage. You could also buy (or download) the whole “Eurovision Song Contest 2009″ album and irritate members of your immediate family, friends and close neighbors by putting these 42 excellent examples of ‘Euro pop’ on repeat all week long. After all, Eurovision is about two things: 1) listening to music of questionable quality without any shame, even dancing to it if you’ve managed to completely clear yourself of any shame you might’ve had left after downloading the album, and 2) voting for your neighboring countries. The last one is colloquially known as ‘friend-vote’ in Europe and this year they’ve decided to try to limit this phenomenon by giving the jury an equal chance to choose the winner. 50% of the votes will be from watchers/listeners, while the other half belongs to the jury. Otherwise Norway and Sweden always give each other the highest scores, as does Ukraine and Russia, and the country that wins is the country with most neighboring countries. (Now I suppose nobody’s the least surprised that Russia scored it last year?)

Generally speaking, every European country, just like European citizen, has its own point of view on the Eurovision Song Contest. In Sweden it is a bigger deal for us to choose our own entry, as we have four semi-finals and one final within our own country, and come May most Swedes have already had enough their own native ‘Euro pop’ to care about the ‘real’ finale. And thus the final contest in the middle of May is viewed by most as an excellent opportunity to gather family and friends around the TV to watch other country’s entries and make ironic comments. The ironic comments are such a large part of Sweden’s relationship to Eurovision that even papers, blogs and TV channels try to outdo each other by making the best ironic comments. I haven’t noticed such an ironic tone in Russian media, but that could be because Russians don’t see Eurovision as a game on life and death, as Swedes do. Which is easy to understand once you’ve contemplated the fact that it was there that ABBA got their big breakthrough with “Waterloo” and we as a nation can’t let go of the dream that something like it could be happen again…

«Смотрите Евровидение на своё здоровье!»

Who do you think would be a worthy winner? And what do you think about Russia’s entry this year? Does it have a chance?

Back to the Top