Posts tagged with "Siberia"

«Моё первое русское лето» [My first Russian Summer]

Posted by josefina 4 Comments
Jul 6 2010

Russia is white not only in winter: during summer she’s («Россия» is after all a feminine noun!) covered in what I like to call «летний снег» [summer snow]. Other people call it simply «белый пух» [white down; fluff; fuzz]. The real name for it is «тополиный пух» [poplar fuzz] – and no Russian summer is complete without it!

Today I was reading through our next guest post by Sam (which will be posted here on the blog on Thursday) and the beginning of it brought me back to every summer I ever spent in Russia, but especially «моё первое русское лето в Омске в 2005 (две тысячи пятом) году» [my first Russian summer in Omsk in 2005]. Even though Yelena and I had already decided that we would not have more than one guest post per month by our readers (really, we have the best, most attentive, interesting and creative readers any blog could ever ask for!), she sent Sam’s post to me together with such thrilled comments from her that I couldn’t but throw myself over it and read it straight away… Anyone who’s ever been to Russia between «в конце июня» [the end of June] and «в начале июля» [the beginning of July] remembers that – strangely enough, despite degrees between 30 and 40 C – the ground was white, covered in something fluffy. And what is worse: before the «белый пух» [white fluff] arrives safely on the ground, it is everywhere in the air around you (for some reason it sticks wonderful to lipstick… but even better on lip-gloss!) and causes many a Russian to spend a large part of their summer vacation sneezing. This is nothing else but the dreaded «тополиный пух» [poplar fuzz] which comes from a tree called «тополь» [sing. poplar] in Russian. Surprisingly many Russian cities today have «тополя» [pl. poplars] as the most common tree in public parks. Before my first Russian summer I was not familiar with this tree at all; I don’t think I had seen it before in my life. «Летний снег» [summer snow] was a new, foreign concept to me. I noticed the ground was covered in this white fluff, that many of my Russian friends in Siberia (where I lived at the time – «ах, сладкая юность!» [oh, sweet youth!]) suffered from terrible allergic reactions and I had to ask: «Почему?» [Why?] They told me it was because this particular tree grows very fast and can become ‘full-grown’ within three, four, five years. I joked: «Находка для пятилетки!» [A find for the five year plan!]. They didn’t find my joke very funny – because it was true.

A photograph from 2005: «лето в Сибири» [summer in Siberia] and a scene from the «река Иртыш на закате» [river Irtysh in sunset].

Many things surprised me during my first summer in Russia. I had arrived in Siberia «в феврале того же 2005 (две тысячи пятого) года» [in February that same year 2005] by train an early morning when it was «минус 35 (тридцать пять)» [minus 35 C]. For two months it was so very cold; probably the coldest winter in my life – at least until the winter of 2009/2010 «на Урале» [in the Urals] – and I could not even picture me how Siberia looked underneath all of the snow. When the snow still hadn’t begun to melt and it was already the middle of March, I started to seriously doubt there would ever be «лето в Сибири» [summer in Siberia]. Then it came – «вдруг!» [suddenly!], as «Фёдор Михайлович» [Fyodor Mikhailovich (Dostoevsky)] would have put it. The snow melted – «хлоп!» [bang!] The heat arrived – «хлоп!» [bang!] The trees bloomed – «хлоп!» [bang!] All of the sudden it was «выше 30 (тридцати) градусов тепла» [more than 30 degrees warm] and it was only the beginning of April… That’s when I realized that «в Сибири не бывает весны» [in Siberia there is no spring] – something that I afterwards tried relentlessly to explain to people living in other places, where the seasons are four. Most of them still can’t seem to fathom that in Siberia there are really only two: «зима и лето» [winter and summer] – «зима ледовая и лето жгучее» [an ice winter and a burning summer]. The weeks between the two are only «переходные стадии» [passing stages]. But the spring heat was only the a preview of what the summer had in stored: the temperature rose to «около 40 (сорока) в июне» [around 40 C in June], and «в середине июля было 45 (сорок пять) градусов» [in the middle of July it was 45 C degrees]. The asphalt felt soft underneath my feet when I walked; and after that I’ve never complained seriously about the Russian roads being so outstandingly poor. After all, when they’re frozen half of the year and almost melting the other half – what do you expect?

My first Russian summer was special in many ways. For example, I had never before been anywhere that warm where there was no air-condition – let alone live for months in such a place! Luckily, my room «в общаге» [in the dorm (colloquial for «общежитие» [dormitory])] in Omsk didn’t have sunshine in the morning (that adventure was waiting for me in the Urals, where I lived for four years in a room with morning sun; why go to the beach when you can get a tan from the comfort of your own bed in Russia?!). The buses turned to saunas and everyone who could tried to hide in old buildings from the 19th century – which had thick enough walls to keep the heat out. But Siberia was not only smelly during the summer of 2005, she (once again, a feminine noun) was also beautiful. Summer wasn’t short – Omsk is after all located in SOUTHERN Siberia – but nature still did the best it could to make the most of it. 2005 was also the last year before it became «запрещено купаться» [forbidden to swim (or bathe)] in the river «Иртыш» [Irtysh], so we still had the opportunity to cool off that way every once in a while. Not that the Russians stopped swimming in the river in the summer of 2006 because it was suddenly forbidden…

But what perplexed me the most during «моё первое русское лето» [my first Russian summer] was something completely else: a sign saying «технический перерыв» [technical break] on the door of a tiny kiosk selling «мороженое» [ice-cream]. What do they mean? I wondered. Do they turn off the freezers during this ‘technical break’? But then the ice-cream will melt? What do they do during this break? What kind of complex technical equipment do they have in there, which is in need of breaks at least twice a day? Russia in the summer seemed increasingly mysterious to me. I didn’t find out the secret behind this sign – and many signs just like it – until one of my co-workers at the Dostoevsky Museum in Omsk had her birthday in August. The museum closed for the entire day, and a sign was placed on the door: «санитарный день» [sanitary day]. Yet nobody left work or cleaned anything – instead everyone stayed and enjoyed lots of food, vodka, cake and even dancing until late in the evening!

Another photograph from the summer of 2005: taken «на Алтае» [in the Altay Mountains], but only in the very ‘beginning’ of them, so don’t let the lack of hills confuse you… It is one of the most beautiful places in Siberia.

I think that during my first Russian summer – though I did many other things, too: I traveled to «Новосибирск» [Novosibirsk], «Красноярск» [Krasnoyarsk] and even went on «поход на Алтае» [a hike in the Altay Mountains] – cemented in me a strong love not only for this country, but for also for the Russian people. Without them, Siberia would only be a huge piece of land, a geological reality, so to speak. But with the Russians inhabiting it, this land is legendary to many – in history, culture as well as modern mythology – it’s a little bit absurd and absolutely lovely. If anyone asked me to go live the rest of my life in Siberia, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d just go. Even if I wasn’t offered to live in «Иркутск» [Irkutsk], but had to settled for some tiny town like «Тара» [Tara] instead. That’s how romantic a person I am…

Where in Russia would you go to live the rest of your life without hesitating? Or am I mad for even asking?

Russian Literature On Stage: «Поэма «Русские женщины» Н. А. Некрасова» [The Long Poem “Russian Women” by N. A. Nekrasov]

Posted by josefina No Comments
May 29 2009
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Though there are still some problems with posting pictures here on the blog we can always use videos instead! This is just the beginning – I intend on posting the whole 10 minute version of this tiny play in a couple of days – of how we staged «поэма «Русские женщины» Н. А. Некрасова» [the long poem «Russian Women" by N. A. Nekrasov] today at Ural State University. (And please be patient with me – I’m just starting to understand how to make movies out of videos!)

In the early 1870′s Nikolay Nekrasov wrote a long poem – known in Russian as «поэма» – called «Русские женщины» ["Russian Women"]. It is made up out of two parts; part I is called «Княгиня Трубецкая» [Princess Trubetskaya] and part II «Княгиня М. Н. Волконская» [Princess M. N. Volkonskaya]. It was the first part that we played today at Ural State University here in Yekaterinburg. Being as it is a ‘poem’ it is all in verse with rhyme, and even though that might sound like impossible material to use on stage, one might be surprised to find out how well it actually both works and sounds. The basic story of the first part is that princess Trubetskaya decides to follow her husband who’s a «декабрист» [Decembrist] and has been sentenced to exile in Siberia in the small town «Нерчинск» [Nerchinsk] north-east of Irkutsk. But because she’s a woman traveling alone – her chaperon got sick on the road but she continued ahead – and because she’s a princess, a general receives firm orders from Saint Petersburg to detain her in Irkutsk and send her back home. He tries to convince her in any way he can that it is impossible for her to join her husband in Siberian exile. First he says she’s just a child with impossible, romantic ideals, then he threatens her that she must give up her nobility. None of this works, since Trubetskaya is determined to help her husband. The general says: «Бежите вы за ним как жалкая раба!» ['And you're running after him like a pitiful slave!'] to which she answers with the famous phrase: «Я не жалкая раба, я женщина – жена!» [‘I'm not a pitiful slave; I'm a woman - a wife!]. Since nothing else seems to work he tells her that she’ll have to go «по этапу» [under guard; under escort] and «под конвоем» [which also means under guard; under escort] by foot. He explains that she’ll walk there together with thieves, guarded by Cossacks with guns, thinking this will scare her off. But no, Trubetskaya says: «Иду! Мне всё равно» [I'll walk! I don't care], and then the old general caves and promises to take her to her husband on his on wagon within three days.

This poem is a truly well-written piece of historical literature for all of us who still can’t seem to get over what happened in December 1825, or just for those of us who are in awe of how their wives left everything behind in the Russian capital to join them in their Siberian exile. Russian women are truly exceptional!

Every year in late May or early June our «Международный театральный коллектив» [International Theatrical Collective] of foreign students puts up small plays like this one here at Ural State. Learning a role in a Russian play is very useful for learning first and foremost phonetics, especially if the play is in rhyme. In 2007 we played «Беда от нежного сердца» ["Sorrow because of a Tender Heart"] by «В. А. Соллогуб» [V. A. Sollogub] and «Медведь» ["The Bear"] by «А. П. Чехов» [A. P. Chekhov]. In 2008 we staged the comedy «Горе от ума» ["Woe from Wit"] by «А. С. Грибоедов» [A. S. Gribojedov] (but not all of it of course! Only the most important – and hilarious – parts). This year, in addition to Caleb and me in “Russian Women”, four Chinese students staged a scene from «Ревизор» ["The Inspector General"] by «Н. В. Гоголь» [N. V. Gogol']. If you’re a student of Russian language at a university you should try to make also your faculty put up a play each year! It is not only fun but also educational. When I think back on how my phonetics skills in Russian used to sound like before I started acting in 2007 I feel very grateful to my amazing university and the initiative taken by our lovely teacher Tatiana Smirnova, who helps us with practicing every year. Do try this at home!

Tomsk Trip – or Traveling Siberia by Train

Posted by josefina No Comments
May 25 2009

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This is a video I shot on the «Иркутск – Минск» [‘Irkutsk - Minsk'] train «где-то между Омском и Тюменью» [somewhere between Omsk and Tyumen'] in Western Siberia. On Sunday morning on the train I got bored and decided to play with my phone for a while and found out that it can film videos! I did not know that before. (After all, I’m a girl and my phone is pink so an abundance of different functions was not a priority when I purchased it). At first I decided to film the Siberian woods for as long as possible and to stop once a village approached. I filmed Russian trees and huge meadows for twenty minutes and then my hand got too tired to go on and I was forced to stop my experiment. I won’t post that tedious video; this video is much more interesting. I would’ve wanted to put music to it – «немножко Чайковского подошло бы очень хорошо» [a little bit of Tchaikovsky would've fitted very well] – but I’m afraid I’m not technical enough to do that…

After all, no other way of transportation in Russia feels as unique and genuine as the train. When in Russia you should take the time and make the opportunity to travel at least for a couple of hours by train – it is definitely worth it. Not everyone makes it all the way to Siberia, but if you do then you’re in for a real treat: no other railroad in Russia is as legendary and loved by tourists around the world as the «Транссиб» which is short for «Транссибирская жедезнодорожная магистраль» [Trans-Siberian Railway] («БАМ» which is short for «Байкало-Амурская магистраль» [Baikal Amur Mainline] might be more legendary within Russia and among Russians, but it is surely not loved by foreign tourists – for obvious reasons). But – and more than a few of you might find this hard to believe at first – for most Russians traveling by train is not romantic. Traveling by train is cheap and available to most as the Russian railroad serves all the cities that used to have their own airports during the Soviet Union but don’t anymore because their populations can’t afford to fly. That’s why you’ll always find less foreign tourists and more Russians on the trains actually trying to get to their «дядя Серёжа в Тайге» [uncle Seryozha in Tayga] or «бабушка Вика в Хабаровске» [grandmother Vika in Khabarovsk] or, why not, «троюродной брат Тимур с молодой женой Валей и новым малышом в Новосибирске» [second cousin Timur with his young wife Valya and their new baby in Novosibirsk]. Especially if you decide to go cheap and buy a third class ticket – «плацкарта» as it is called in Russia. If you travel this way you’ll get to share a square about the size of an average bathroom with six more people. If you pay twice as much (more or less depending on the train and the distance you’re going) for a bed in a «купе» [compartment (on a train)] then you’ll share the space with four other people. If you’re really wearing your spender pants – or just find privacy too valuable a thing to sacrifice even for hours and hours of long conversations over tea and vodka with the locals – you can travel «люкс» and share the compartment with only one other person. This other person might be Russian so excluding tea and vodka is never a possibility.

Usually I travel «в плацкарте» – for obvious reasons (students have never been known to be rich) – but for going to Tomsk and back this year I decided treat myself to a ticket «в купе». I don’t know if it was worth the extra rubles I paid for a little less noise and a little more comfort, but at least I can’t complain about my compartment company. In Russia there are a lot of trains going here and there and back again and north and east and west and south and so you’ll never actually – unless you’re taking the long road – on a train from the beginning to the end, but in between two stations. Both to Tomsk and back from Tomsk this year I traveled on the train that goes between Irkutsk and Minsk every two days: between Yekaterinburg (which is still known by its Soviet name when you buy train tickets – «Свердловск» [Sverdlovsk]) and Novosibirsk. This journey takes about twenty hours. Once you get to Novosibirsk you have two ways of continuing north-east to Tomsk: either take «электричка» [the commute train] or «автобус» [the bus]. Both of them cost about the same and take around five hours to get to Tomsk. On my way to Tomsk I chose the commute train but on the way back I was persuaded by Russians to try the bus. Never again! The road between Tomsk and Novosibirsk is in terrible condition and the buses are victims and witnesses of this truth. I thought many times that I was going to die right there and then. But I didn’t. Слава Богу! [Thank God!]

The conference in Tomsk went very well; just like last year it was a pleasure to see so many foreign students gathering to discuss science together in Russian. According to statistics, students from 39 countries and 42 Russian universities participated in this year’s «Всероссийский Смотр научных и творческих работ иностранных студентов». My «доклад» [report; lecture; talk; paper] on the first translation of Dostoevsky’s “Siberian Notebook” into Swedish received third place in the conference, but that’s not what I’m most proud of. In connection with the conference they published «альманах» [literary miscellany] with poetry, essays and prose together with photos and paintings by foreign students. In it they dedicated almost a 100 pages to publishing my novel in Russian – «Во всех комнатах твоих» ["In All Your Rooms"]. At first these news shocked me. Just the idea of such a thing seemed shocking to me! But now I’m starting to get used to this new fact of my life – that I’m a published writer. In Russian. In Siberia. That’ll be something worth to tell the grandkids about, don’t think?

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