Hey there... I guess this blog seems a little ridiculous now that I've left Tuva, left my teaching, and am just traveling for pleasure, but I will write a bit nonetheless. I've temporarily surfaced in Krakow, a city that has more in common with the West than the East (I think, though I'm no expert). I had fajitas for lunch, with peanuts and have a lot of freedom. It's a different life from the one I was living in Kyzyl. But it's a season of change and movement, so it makes sense :)
After my last post I spent a couple days with a friend from college and her family in the Estonian countryside. It was really good, personalized my impressions of Estonia and I was able to ask some questions. My friend's grandfather happened to be a amateur historian and former manager of the local kolhoz (collective farm), so not only did he speak excellent Russian, he also knew a ton about local history and relationship with Russia. I enjoyed the granfather's stories and also tasting the honey from his beehives. As a gift he gave me his four novelllas he wrote about beekeeping in Estonia! Maybe oneday I will learn Estonian and be able to read them!
I also visited some of my friend's family in Tartu, and happened to luck out and get to go to an Estonian Song Festival. For more information, check this article out:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Estonian_Song_Festival
It was really interesting to say the least!
Then I went to Riga, and I have to say that something about Riga really resonated with me. I didn't know what to expect--mostly went there because it was on the way and I was curious about the art noveau. Well, I was quickly taken in by Riga... the mix of Soviet and pre-Soviet was really charming. The streets were wide and dark and kind of mysterious. The people were really friendly! I really recommend Riga... few cities have called my name like Riga did (maybe it's because Riga and Riley both start with R?)
Then I caught a plane to Krakow, where I've been for the past couple days. Krakow is the first place I've been that feels somewhat like home, probably because there are lots of American tourists here and also an infrastructure that has developed to cater to their tastes. Don't get me wrong--the historical stuff is amazing. But the roiling boiling crowds remind me more of Disney Land or New York city than another country. But the history here is really interesting, and hearing/trying to read Polish has been lots of fun. I'm staying at a great hostel that's really homey--I've enjoyed talking to people there and finding new friends to wander the city with.
It's weird to think that two weeks ago I left Tuva! But I also had some good news, which is that I'm coming back in August to work as a coordinator for an American study abroad program in Siberia. So I'll be able to visit Tuva and stay close to people there :-))) This is really good news for me, even though it's another change in life that's so big I can hardly start to comprehend. But I've found Siberia a pretty stimulating, interesting environment for the past year, so I'm excited to continue the adventure. Plus, the job is pretty sweet--I get to organize hiking trips around Baikal. Talk about a dream job...
I'm off to Slovakia tomorrow and then to Prague, which hopefully is not Krakow no. 2 (if it is, it will be ok though). Then back to Russia for a couple days, then HOME!!! At long last... I'm ready to see my materik (motherland) once more! But for now, kabanchiki, I'll keep on trucking... I've still some miles to go tonight, before I reach the town-o :)
Peace,
Riley
June 17, 2010
June 10, 2010
Broadcasting Estonia!
Terre! That apparently means "Hello" in Estonian!!
Well, I am in Estonia... its a big change after nine months in Kyzyl! I have just been relaxing, moving through a bit of culture shock I think. Things went well with the trip here. Moscow weather was great and I lucked out and got to see a few other fine ETAs who magically were also visiting. I took a train to St. Petersburg, stuck in a whole compartment of art students. I didn´t realize before this that artists had to carry so much stuff! These guys were pretty epically loaded down with odd shaped easels and bags as they took the train, presumabley to paint the wonderful cultural landmarks, bridges, statues, palaces, monuments, museums of St. Petersburg.
After a day of sleep-deprivedly wandering St. Petersburg streets, I caught a night bus to Tallinn. I was a little nervous for the border crossing, but was pleasantly surprised. There was a little station set up, just like at the airport. They marched us all off the bus at about 3am to stand in lines and get stamped. I slept the rest of the bus ride, except for at one point when the cheery Estonian border guard (what a contrast from the sulky Russian ones!) woke me up. I guess I was really struck by the contrast. The Estonian guard was thrilled I was an American and super friendly, while he was cold to the mostly other Russian passengers on the bus. The Russian guards thought I was suspicious and took longer with my documents than other passengers, but in the end did all the stamping and tearing of things which I needed. I came to Estonia because I was interested in learning more about politics of language, and I haven´t had to look far to have some interesting experiences...
The next part of my journey was a little surreal. Showing how tired I was when I left Russia, I didn´t wake up when the bus arrived... a nice motherly Russian lady shook me awake. It was 515am in Tallinn and pouring rain. The bus station was on the edge of town, I was supposed to catch a tram to the center, but trams werent running. I didn´t suppose the hostel wanted to see me that early either! Luckily, I wasn´t alone. A Russian girl about my age was standing nearby. We made friends and decided to walk to the center of the city. This girl spoke very fast and was very friendly. I started to pull out my map to plan a route to the center but she shook her head."Proidyom, potom podumaem!" she said. This literally means, "letś walk through it, then we´ll think about it!" She set off down the nearest road, and shoulding my pack I jogged after her.
If the last few months have taught me anything, its that I should expect coincidences. Turns out that my new friend was from Siberia, in fact, she was from Minusinsk, one of the towns nearest to Kyzyl! We drank their tasty fizzy water all year in Kyzyl. Her father worked as a driver on the road to Kyzyl in Soviet days, now he is a pensioner. So we had a lot in common, which made our walk pleasant, which was lucky, because it turned out the road that my new friend had picked was actually leading us further out of town to the cemetary and prison! We ended up walking for several hours, making a huge loop around the city. Luckily, Tallinn is not a huge city. We were quickly soaked and I was starting to think about finding someplace to wash up and have a rest, when we came to the ferry terminal, which was an ideal place. We set up our soaked things to dry and we shared our food for a tasty breakfast. Then we explored old town a bit, then I was running out of energy so I said goodbye and found my hostel. But it was great to meet a Siberian friend in Tallinn, also cool to see the city through Russian eyes for the first few hours. One thing I think I will always remember is the look of awe on her face when she saw the bike path and cried out "oh, wow! a real velosipednaya dorozhka!" One of the things most lacking in Russia is infrastructure, and I guess witnessing this young Russian person of my same age meet their first bike path with awe and wonder was tender and pulled at my heart strings. It made me think.. what would my students think of Estonia? Probably most of them will never leave Russia, a great number will never leave Tuva. The difference in wealth of our countries (well, between Estonia and Russia... but America as well) is striking and a bit heartbreaking!
Then I slept. Tallinn is a cute city. The old town is very medieval. I wandered into a festival of childrens choral singing, so ever corner I turn theres a choir of young Estonians in national costumes. Its great. I also rented a bike one day and spent a whole day riding my bike on the seacoast. After nine months of not riding a bike, the experience was poetic!! I really missed riding a bike in Tuva. Estonia is a lot like Ohio in some ways. They have great bike paths.
I guess the logic in my choosing to visit Estonia had to do with wanting to compare language politics in Estonia with those in Tuva. I have only been here a couple days, but already the comparisons seem very apt. Historically there is a connection as well, because the two regions were both annexed by the USSR in the same post WWII land grab, though people didnt realize that the independent country of Tannu-Tuva was gone for several years, whereas I assume people noticed about Estonia (Im not much of a historian!). I have been speaking mostly Russian in daily life, and have been getting mixed responses. Theres an obvious generational divide with language abilities, the younger generation of ethnic Estonians knows Russian much less well than the older Estonians. Many of the Russians I meet have a bit of an accent. Im no expert in Russian accents, but I hear a difference from both what I would call standard Russian, Moscow Russian, and Russian as spoken by Tuvans (obviously). Some of the people are a little cold to me at first, but then if I explain Im an American that just happens to know Russian its a 180, and suddenly theyre really charming and interested in me. I guess the situation with Russia is something like Tuva, except Tuva is still part of the Russian Federation, and so the prestige of Russian is still somewhat higher-its affiliated with the state apparatus.
Well see how Latvia compares! My next few weeks will be busy-Estonia, Latvia, Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic, then back to Russia. Tomorrow Im going to the south to visit a friend from college and her family, so hopefully I can get some more language politics insight into Estonia. And also seeing friends will be nice... I think solo traveling is really healthy for me right now, as it gives me so much time to reflect on the past year in my life, to meet people on the way and just sort of relish the freedoms I didnt have in Tuva. But its definitely a little stark without company-I have been talking to myself some the past couple days as I was biking around, and its a weird mixture of Russian words, English words, and Tuvan words. I think this is culture shock really, although I suppose its a possibility that Ive lost my marbles. Hopefully it will fade soon... my grand plan in taking this trip was to induce my culture shock in advance of actuallly going home, so that when I go home Ill immediately be able to enjoy being home... well see if it works or not!
Anyways. Thats about all to write for now... I guess the last story to close this email could be to say that Im writing at an Estonian public library. In Estonia, a library is a very political building! I got a one day reader card to use the internet and when I was filling out the card in cyrillic letters, the librarian told me in her best librarian voice "We only use Estonian letters at this library!" "Oh," I said, and proceeded to rewrite my name. But it seems like kind of a strict policy... last time I checked the Russian population of Estonia was pretty large, something like 40% or so! But who knows. Certainly I admire the Estonians a lot for using nonviolent protest to get their country back! Just read about the Baltic Way if you want a shock (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baltic_Way) And a part of me wonders if Tuva would be like Estonia if the Tuvans were able to do the same thing to get their freedom.
Anyhow! Post-sovietly yours,
Riley
Well, I am in Estonia... its a big change after nine months in Kyzyl! I have just been relaxing, moving through a bit of culture shock I think. Things went well with the trip here. Moscow weather was great and I lucked out and got to see a few other fine ETAs who magically were also visiting. I took a train to St. Petersburg, stuck in a whole compartment of art students. I didn´t realize before this that artists had to carry so much stuff! These guys were pretty epically loaded down with odd shaped easels and bags as they took the train, presumabley to paint the wonderful cultural landmarks, bridges, statues, palaces, monuments, museums of St. Petersburg.
After a day of sleep-deprivedly wandering St. Petersburg streets, I caught a night bus to Tallinn. I was a little nervous for the border crossing, but was pleasantly surprised. There was a little station set up, just like at the airport. They marched us all off the bus at about 3am to stand in lines and get stamped. I slept the rest of the bus ride, except for at one point when the cheery Estonian border guard (what a contrast from the sulky Russian ones!) woke me up. I guess I was really struck by the contrast. The Estonian guard was thrilled I was an American and super friendly, while he was cold to the mostly other Russian passengers on the bus. The Russian guards thought I was suspicious and took longer with my documents than other passengers, but in the end did all the stamping and tearing of things which I needed. I came to Estonia because I was interested in learning more about politics of language, and I haven´t had to look far to have some interesting experiences...
The next part of my journey was a little surreal. Showing how tired I was when I left Russia, I didn´t wake up when the bus arrived... a nice motherly Russian lady shook me awake. It was 515am in Tallinn and pouring rain. The bus station was on the edge of town, I was supposed to catch a tram to the center, but trams werent running. I didn´t suppose the hostel wanted to see me that early either! Luckily, I wasn´t alone. A Russian girl about my age was standing nearby. We made friends and decided to walk to the center of the city. This girl spoke very fast and was very friendly. I started to pull out my map to plan a route to the center but she shook her head."Proidyom, potom podumaem!" she said. This literally means, "letś walk through it, then we´ll think about it!" She set off down the nearest road, and shoulding my pack I jogged after her.
If the last few months have taught me anything, its that I should expect coincidences. Turns out that my new friend was from Siberia, in fact, she was from Minusinsk, one of the towns nearest to Kyzyl! We drank their tasty fizzy water all year in Kyzyl. Her father worked as a driver on the road to Kyzyl in Soviet days, now he is a pensioner. So we had a lot in common, which made our walk pleasant, which was lucky, because it turned out the road that my new friend had picked was actually leading us further out of town to the cemetary and prison! We ended up walking for several hours, making a huge loop around the city. Luckily, Tallinn is not a huge city. We were quickly soaked and I was starting to think about finding someplace to wash up and have a rest, when we came to the ferry terminal, which was an ideal place. We set up our soaked things to dry and we shared our food for a tasty breakfast. Then we explored old town a bit, then I was running out of energy so I said goodbye and found my hostel. But it was great to meet a Siberian friend in Tallinn, also cool to see the city through Russian eyes for the first few hours. One thing I think I will always remember is the look of awe on her face when she saw the bike path and cried out "oh, wow! a real velosipednaya dorozhka!" One of the things most lacking in Russia is infrastructure, and I guess witnessing this young Russian person of my same age meet their first bike path with awe and wonder was tender and pulled at my heart strings. It made me think.. what would my students think of Estonia? Probably most of them will never leave Russia, a great number will never leave Tuva. The difference in wealth of our countries (well, between Estonia and Russia... but America as well) is striking and a bit heartbreaking!
Then I slept. Tallinn is a cute city. The old town is very medieval. I wandered into a festival of childrens choral singing, so ever corner I turn theres a choir of young Estonians in national costumes. Its great. I also rented a bike one day and spent a whole day riding my bike on the seacoast. After nine months of not riding a bike, the experience was poetic!! I really missed riding a bike in Tuva. Estonia is a lot like Ohio in some ways. They have great bike paths.
I guess the logic in my choosing to visit Estonia had to do with wanting to compare language politics in Estonia with those in Tuva. I have only been here a couple days, but already the comparisons seem very apt. Historically there is a connection as well, because the two regions were both annexed by the USSR in the same post WWII land grab, though people didnt realize that the independent country of Tannu-Tuva was gone for several years, whereas I assume people noticed about Estonia (Im not much of a historian!). I have been speaking mostly Russian in daily life, and have been getting mixed responses. Theres an obvious generational divide with language abilities, the younger generation of ethnic Estonians knows Russian much less well than the older Estonians. Many of the Russians I meet have a bit of an accent. Im no expert in Russian accents, but I hear a difference from both what I would call standard Russian, Moscow Russian, and Russian as spoken by Tuvans (obviously). Some of the people are a little cold to me at first, but then if I explain Im an American that just happens to know Russian its a 180, and suddenly theyre really charming and interested in me. I guess the situation with Russia is something like Tuva, except Tuva is still part of the Russian Federation, and so the prestige of Russian is still somewhat higher-its affiliated with the state apparatus.
Well see how Latvia compares! My next few weeks will be busy-Estonia, Latvia, Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic, then back to Russia. Tomorrow Im going to the south to visit a friend from college and her family, so hopefully I can get some more language politics insight into Estonia. And also seeing friends will be nice... I think solo traveling is really healthy for me right now, as it gives me so much time to reflect on the past year in my life, to meet people on the way and just sort of relish the freedoms I didnt have in Tuva. But its definitely a little stark without company-I have been talking to myself some the past couple days as I was biking around, and its a weird mixture of Russian words, English words, and Tuvan words. I think this is culture shock really, although I suppose its a possibility that Ive lost my marbles. Hopefully it will fade soon... my grand plan in taking this trip was to induce my culture shock in advance of actuallly going home, so that when I go home Ill immediately be able to enjoy being home... well see if it works or not!
Anyways. Thats about all to write for now... I guess the last story to close this email could be to say that Im writing at an Estonian public library. In Estonia, a library is a very political building! I got a one day reader card to use the internet and when I was filling out the card in cyrillic letters, the librarian told me in her best librarian voice "We only use Estonian letters at this library!" "Oh," I said, and proceeded to rewrite my name. But it seems like kind of a strict policy... last time I checked the Russian population of Estonia was pretty large, something like 40% or so! But who knows. Certainly I admire the Estonians a lot for using nonviolent protest to get their country back! Just read about the Baltic Way if you want a shock (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baltic_Way) And a part of me wonders if Tuva would be like Estonia if the Tuvans were able to do the same thing to get their freedom.
Anyhow! Post-sovietly yours,
Riley
June 1, 2010
Наконец-то!
It’s a rainy, stormy day in Kyzyl. Great giant blue clouds surround the city, making the new-burst green leaves shimmer with the wind coming before. The flood waters are rising, the river tall and brown, swollen with melting snow from the distant taiga. Seasons changing , seasons in the life of this city yet to come, that I will not be apart of. Spring has sprung and summer is coming, but for me it’s parting with a tinge (well, maybe more than a tinge:)) of sadness.
Things I will miss about this city, this place, this little home I have found are many. I will miss the image of the mountain Dugeh, the articulated shape I’ve come to known from many angles. Just the image, the form of the great mountain, visible right from my window, I will miss its constant shape.
I will miss the insularity of community, running into people I know on the street three or four times a day, seeing a familiar figure or walk from a bus window--maybe a middle aged plump lawyer with her daughter from my fitness class--and the way this makes me feel connected to the people and the stories of this city.
I will miss my students; the eager faces, the sleepy faces first period, the way all the girls spend breaks between periods intently scrutinizing their nose in their hand mirrors. I will miss the jokes, the company, the family they have become. I will miss their essays, miss reading the stories of their lives and youth in the taiga, in their unique and ever-changing land.
I would like to pause here, just to say there are a few things I won’t miss: sazha (the coal soot in winter), winter cold, the smell of really ripe twice-drunk men on the minibus, and the way people take departmental politics seriously and end up hurting each other. I suppose these things I won’t miss are good things; it means less missing!
I will miss the streets of Kyzyl, the little grid I’ve come to know so well. I’ll miss the corners and nooks I’ve left unexplored--and possibility will never explore. One of my great regrets is that I never made it to the city graveyard… maybe if I hurry there is still time before I go! I have a feeling the graveyard will say a lot about history; about a town that was only founded in 1907, about a republic that was an independent country until 1944, and about a country that collapsed almost twenty years ago, making formerly repressed religions suddenly allowed, and taking away the economic support that had filled this dusty wide-open bowl of the steppe lands with life and activity for so long.
I will miss Russian products; the tastes and flavors I have come to know and love. I will miss milk with 3.4-6% milk fat! I will miss morning tea, midmorning tea, pre-lunch tea, lunch tea, post lunch tea, afternoon tea, pre-dinner tea, dinner tea, post-dinner tea, pre-bedtime tea, bedtime tea, etc. I will miss chewing watermelon orbit gum everywhere I walk around town. I will miss twelve rubles getting me anywhere I need to go.
I will miss the taste of sheep (a very Tuvan thing to say!). I will miss Tuvan soup, Tuvan toast (though French toast may suffice in the meantime), making and eating dumplings, the dream team of soy sauce and mayonnaise drenching any sort of boring dinner. I will miss feeling required to buy chocolates and sweets whenever I go to visit a friend. I will miss cheap pomegranate juice from Azerbaijan.
Some of these tastes and experiences I am sure I will be able to recreate in my new surroundings, but I fear somehow it won’t be the same. So much of what and how this place has meant to me relies on context. It’s like the hot air holding up a hot air balloon. Through all these isolated events, people, places, rituals, products, runs a thread of living experience, of the mosaic of life in Kyzyl that I have lived this year. And I will miss it muchly.
I guess this post is rather grustno (“sad”) but it’s not really. I feel ready to go; I am just observing the fact that I have had a super year in Kyzyl, and am so grateful for the opportunity--the gift--of involving my life in this distant place. I hope to take a little bit of the place with me where ever I go; and I think I will, though people in my family have notoriously bad memories, so that has me worried a bit. What if I forget all about this? Or, more importantly, what if I forget about how this place made me feel, about the new ways of looking at the world and myself I discovered here?
Anyways; clearly, leaving a place where you’ve spent a year of your life is never a simple thing. I didn’t expect it to be, and in a way I have been surprised by the richness of this goodbye; just as I have been pleasantly surprised by the richness of this entire experience. Namdolmaa is having some denial that I’m leaving; every time it comes up, she just says she’s certain I’ll be back very soon. I like hearing the certainty in her voice; it makes me think it’s true as well.
Who knows, what’s next. I can’t say I do really; but this has been a great year; as one of my good friends here likes to tell me “unforgettable.” When ever I hear that I stop worrying about my hereditary bad memory, about the dislocation and forgetting that can occur when a person travels continents. And I too am sure that not too long from now, I’ll be returning.
That’s all for now, Kabanchiki. Hope I didn’t weird you all out with my sentamentalism! I guess I will end this post (and in a sense my blog, though I will try to keep writing in next month--I’ll be traveling around Russia and Eastern Europe) with a favorite piece of poetry, “Thank You, My Land,” by Nabokov. I think the poem pretty well sums up my feelings about this year and about Russia in general. It goes like this:
Thank you, my land,
For your remotest
Most cruel mist
My thanks are due.
By you possessed,
By you unnoticed,
Unto myself I speak of you.
But in these talks
Between somnambules
My inmost being hardly knows;
If it’s my demency that rambles
Or your own melody that grows!
Things I will miss about this city, this place, this little home I have found are many. I will miss the image of the mountain Dugeh, the articulated shape I’ve come to known from many angles. Just the image, the form of the great mountain, visible right from my window, I will miss its constant shape.
I will miss the insularity of community, running into people I know on the street three or four times a day, seeing a familiar figure or walk from a bus window--maybe a middle aged plump lawyer with her daughter from my fitness class--and the way this makes me feel connected to the people and the stories of this city.
I will miss my students; the eager faces, the sleepy faces first period, the way all the girls spend breaks between periods intently scrutinizing their nose in their hand mirrors. I will miss the jokes, the company, the family they have become. I will miss their essays, miss reading the stories of their lives and youth in the taiga, in their unique and ever-changing land.
I would like to pause here, just to say there are a few things I won’t miss: sazha (the coal soot in winter), winter cold, the smell of really ripe twice-drunk men on the minibus, and the way people take departmental politics seriously and end up hurting each other. I suppose these things I won’t miss are good things; it means less missing!
I will miss the streets of Kyzyl, the little grid I’ve come to know so well. I’ll miss the corners and nooks I’ve left unexplored--and possibility will never explore. One of my great regrets is that I never made it to the city graveyard… maybe if I hurry there is still time before I go! I have a feeling the graveyard will say a lot about history; about a town that was only founded in 1907, about a republic that was an independent country until 1944, and about a country that collapsed almost twenty years ago, making formerly repressed religions suddenly allowed, and taking away the economic support that had filled this dusty wide-open bowl of the steppe lands with life and activity for so long.
I will miss Russian products; the tastes and flavors I have come to know and love. I will miss milk with 3.4-6% milk fat! I will miss morning tea, midmorning tea, pre-lunch tea, lunch tea, post lunch tea, afternoon tea, pre-dinner tea, dinner tea, post-dinner tea, pre-bedtime tea, bedtime tea, etc. I will miss chewing watermelon orbit gum everywhere I walk around town. I will miss twelve rubles getting me anywhere I need to go.
I will miss the taste of sheep (a very Tuvan thing to say!). I will miss Tuvan soup, Tuvan toast (though French toast may suffice in the meantime), making and eating dumplings, the dream team of soy sauce and mayonnaise drenching any sort of boring dinner. I will miss feeling required to buy chocolates and sweets whenever I go to visit a friend. I will miss cheap pomegranate juice from Azerbaijan.
Some of these tastes and experiences I am sure I will be able to recreate in my new surroundings, but I fear somehow it won’t be the same. So much of what and how this place has meant to me relies on context. It’s like the hot air holding up a hot air balloon. Through all these isolated events, people, places, rituals, products, runs a thread of living experience, of the mosaic of life in Kyzyl that I have lived this year. And I will miss it muchly.
I guess this post is rather grustno (“sad”) but it’s not really. I feel ready to go; I am just observing the fact that I have had a super year in Kyzyl, and am so grateful for the opportunity--the gift--of involving my life in this distant place. I hope to take a little bit of the place with me where ever I go; and I think I will, though people in my family have notoriously bad memories, so that has me worried a bit. What if I forget all about this? Or, more importantly, what if I forget about how this place made me feel, about the new ways of looking at the world and myself I discovered here?
Anyways; clearly, leaving a place where you’ve spent a year of your life is never a simple thing. I didn’t expect it to be, and in a way I have been surprised by the richness of this goodbye; just as I have been pleasantly surprised by the richness of this entire experience. Namdolmaa is having some denial that I’m leaving; every time it comes up, she just says she’s certain I’ll be back very soon. I like hearing the certainty in her voice; it makes me think it’s true as well.
Who knows, what’s next. I can’t say I do really; but this has been a great year; as one of my good friends here likes to tell me “unforgettable.” When ever I hear that I stop worrying about my hereditary bad memory, about the dislocation and forgetting that can occur when a person travels continents. And I too am sure that not too long from now, I’ll be returning.
That’s all for now, Kabanchiki. Hope I didn’t weird you all out with my sentamentalism! I guess I will end this post (and in a sense my blog, though I will try to keep writing in next month--I’ll be traveling around Russia and Eastern Europe) with a favorite piece of poetry, “Thank You, My Land,” by Nabokov. I think the poem pretty well sums up my feelings about this year and about Russia in general. It goes like this:
Thank you, my land,
For your remotest
Most cruel mist
My thanks are due.
By you possessed,
By you unnoticed,
Unto myself I speak of you.
But in these talks
Between somnambules
My inmost being hardly knows;
If it’s my demency that rambles
Or your own melody that grows!
May 23, 2010
Beginning to End
After some Job-interview induced paranoia, I’m pleased to report that my blog is back as a public website. I guess I have slacked off a bit lately--a lot has been happening that I haven’t been writing about. I guess the reason for my reluctance to write (reticence) has to do with internal calibration and preparing myself to say goodbye to the friends and faces, streets and places that have made this such a rich year in my life. Up until a couple weeks ago I didn’t even want to begin to think about it ending, but I’m starting to accept the idea. And the change in the wind has made me restless, so that’s why I haven’t felt like writing anything…
I guess the most startling revelation I had was teaching my last week of classes last week! In typical Tuva-fashion, I didn’t realize it was the last days of classes until late Wednesday or even Thursday of the week--when suddenly people asked me when I was going to give my pass-fail exam. “When’s it due?” I asked… “Tomorrow!” They answered. “Well, I’ll give the exams tomorrow…” I said with an internal shrug. Even after eight months, the logic of logistics and communication at Tuva State University continues to elude me. I suppose if I had really wanted to know when the exam was in advance, I could have found out from the Dean--but dates usually change about six times, so it wouldn’t have done me much good.
However, my final exam was a success--I asked the students to watch the news or read a newspaper and then prepare a report about something they heard in “Current Events.” Then we had a mock-conference the next day, where each student had to present. I was scheduled for two classes at one time that period, so I brought my literature class along too; the second half of our “Current Events” conference was about literature. I think everybody had a good time; I was really proud of the students, the reports they gave and the questions they asked each other. At the very least, I was satisfied :-) Although, if there’s one thing Tuva has changed about me this year, it’s completely destroyed my sense of time. Instead of planning activities, in Tuva I have just developed a kind of blind faith that everything will fall together at the moments when it needs to. I’m not sure how well this new found faith in serendipity will suit me once I return to America, but I guess there’s nothing I can really do to prepare for it anyhow…
I have to say that the last week of classes was amazing, perhaps because I had no idea what was coming. Up until the last moments, I was just enjoying the students, laughing with them. I did stumble a bit on the last lesson of my third year class though, when I realized it was our last class. Those guys have helped me so much this year; they really were my favorite students, and some of my closest friends. Suddenly realizing that it was the last minutes of our official time together (except for the killer third-year barbecue we’re going to have this week), at the end of a lesson about Bob Dylan and Civil Rights, I played them one last sentimental song… “I Had The Time of My Life” from the movie Dirty Dancing. Tears were shed, though I won’t say exactly by whom or how much…
The last week of teaching was filled with other good moments as well. I taught the second years a class on legends where one student who always manages to be outrageous had some killer stories. First she told me about a blue cow with the head of a chicken at Lake Tere-kohl. If you see the cow, you shouldn’t tell anyone for three years, then you will become really rich. According to the student, at a holy spring near Kyzyl, there is also a race of tiny people who kidnap children, because children are tiny like them. Finally, the student told me that when you go pee in the taiga, it’s very important to face away from the moon; if you pee facing the moon you will go insane!
I’m not sure I believe the stories; but they are great examples of the weird, wild and wacky things I’ve been hearing all year in Kyzyl. If anything, this place has given me a new appreciation and even reverence for the bizarre and absurd.
Yesterday my friend Lena and I climbed the Mountain Dugee again. Namdolmaa’s son’s hair was finally cut, and I was shocked to realize that his head was only about half as big as I thought it was! The other teachers at the university will actually continue working for another couple weeks; I get to go early because I only have to give an exam for the third year, and they are leaving this year early for summer work at camps for kids around the Republic. So most of my close friends are leaving the city soon; the next weeks will be ripe with goodbyes.
In the midst of all this bittersweet ending/new beginning, I have conceived a plan for some travel that I’m not sure I’ll carry through with yet, but I think I probably will. If I follow my plan, I will leave Kyzyl forever (well, for now…) this Friday. Which seems really soon; but as my good friend Helen pointed out, I have to leave sometime. And often, sooner is better than later.
So, for plans… if everything clicks into place, I’ll go to Novosibirsk at the end of this week, then travel with Kevin to Altai for a week, just to see what they’ve got in Altai (lakes and fun, I hear). Then following Altai, I’ll head to Moscow, St. Petersburg, and set out on a tour of the Baltic states, Warsaw and Prague for two weeks, before heading back to St. Petersburg to catch White Nights and a last taste of Russia before flying home to Alaska J
Yeah, so that’s pretty much what’s up. Starting the transition out of this place and most excellent year in my life. What a great year! I have lots of positive feelings of my time in Tuva, and wouldn’t be surprised if I find myself back in the Center of Asia some year soon.
Peace Kabanchiki,
Riley
I guess the most startling revelation I had was teaching my last week of classes last week! In typical Tuva-fashion, I didn’t realize it was the last days of classes until late Wednesday or even Thursday of the week--when suddenly people asked me when I was going to give my pass-fail exam. “When’s it due?” I asked… “Tomorrow!” They answered. “Well, I’ll give the exams tomorrow…” I said with an internal shrug. Even after eight months, the logic of logistics and communication at Tuva State University continues to elude me. I suppose if I had really wanted to know when the exam was in advance, I could have found out from the Dean--but dates usually change about six times, so it wouldn’t have done me much good.
However, my final exam was a success--I asked the students to watch the news or read a newspaper and then prepare a report about something they heard in “Current Events.” Then we had a mock-conference the next day, where each student had to present. I was scheduled for two classes at one time that period, so I brought my literature class along too; the second half of our “Current Events” conference was about literature. I think everybody had a good time; I was really proud of the students, the reports they gave and the questions they asked each other. At the very least, I was satisfied :-) Although, if there’s one thing Tuva has changed about me this year, it’s completely destroyed my sense of time. Instead of planning activities, in Tuva I have just developed a kind of blind faith that everything will fall together at the moments when it needs to. I’m not sure how well this new found faith in serendipity will suit me once I return to America, but I guess there’s nothing I can really do to prepare for it anyhow…
I have to say that the last week of classes was amazing, perhaps because I had no idea what was coming. Up until the last moments, I was just enjoying the students, laughing with them. I did stumble a bit on the last lesson of my third year class though, when I realized it was our last class. Those guys have helped me so much this year; they really were my favorite students, and some of my closest friends. Suddenly realizing that it was the last minutes of our official time together (except for the killer third-year barbecue we’re going to have this week), at the end of a lesson about Bob Dylan and Civil Rights, I played them one last sentimental song… “I Had The Time of My Life” from the movie Dirty Dancing. Tears were shed, though I won’t say exactly by whom or how much…
The last week of teaching was filled with other good moments as well. I taught the second years a class on legends where one student who always manages to be outrageous had some killer stories. First she told me about a blue cow with the head of a chicken at Lake Tere-kohl. If you see the cow, you shouldn’t tell anyone for three years, then you will become really rich. According to the student, at a holy spring near Kyzyl, there is also a race of tiny people who kidnap children, because children are tiny like them. Finally, the student told me that when you go pee in the taiga, it’s very important to face away from the moon; if you pee facing the moon you will go insane!
I’m not sure I believe the stories; but they are great examples of the weird, wild and wacky things I’ve been hearing all year in Kyzyl. If anything, this place has given me a new appreciation and even reverence for the bizarre and absurd.
Yesterday my friend Lena and I climbed the Mountain Dugee again. Namdolmaa’s son’s hair was finally cut, and I was shocked to realize that his head was only about half as big as I thought it was! The other teachers at the university will actually continue working for another couple weeks; I get to go early because I only have to give an exam for the third year, and they are leaving this year early for summer work at camps for kids around the Republic. So most of my close friends are leaving the city soon; the next weeks will be ripe with goodbyes.
In the midst of all this bittersweet ending/new beginning, I have conceived a plan for some travel that I’m not sure I’ll carry through with yet, but I think I probably will. If I follow my plan, I will leave Kyzyl forever (well, for now…) this Friday. Which seems really soon; but as my good friend Helen pointed out, I have to leave sometime. And often, sooner is better than later.
So, for plans… if everything clicks into place, I’ll go to Novosibirsk at the end of this week, then travel with Kevin to Altai for a week, just to see what they’ve got in Altai (lakes and fun, I hear). Then following Altai, I’ll head to Moscow, St. Petersburg, and set out on a tour of the Baltic states, Warsaw and Prague for two weeks, before heading back to St. Petersburg to catch White Nights and a last taste of Russia before flying home to Alaska J
Yeah, so that’s pretty much what’s up. Starting the transition out of this place and most excellent year in my life. What a great year! I have lots of positive feelings of my time in Tuva, and wouldn’t be surprised if I find myself back in the Center of Asia some year soon.
Peace Kabanchiki,
Riley
May 15, 2010
Visitors from Outside
Well, this past week in Kyzyl was very, very busy because my Friends and Fellow Fulbrighters (FFFs) from Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk, and Tomsk came to town for a visit. We had a pretty incredible time, and the company was a great excuse to organize several forays into the countryside with lots of wonderful interaction with baby animals (it is spring here).
First of all, the FFFs got here on the 8th of May, the day before one of Russia's biggest (modern) holidays, May 9th-Victory Day. Now, I could go on for a while explaining about victory day, but the short story is that Russia has kept memories of WWII vividly alive and to the forefront of public consciousness. In many senses this is a wonderful and important decision; but Westerners are quick to point out that the narrative of the war as it appears in Russian media is much different from the narrative of the war presented in other parts of the world. In Russia the war is called the "Great Patriotic War" and was mainly a war between Russian and German forces. The holocaust and the Pacific front play only a minor (if they playany) role in this narrative. The Great Patriotic War is of primary importance in the national myth of Russia, used to embody Russia at its finest (and most victorious) and so plenty of government money and support flows into the celebration of the holiday. In Kyzyl we had a parade, a concert, a giant wrestling tournament, a super-disco, and a fireworks display.
Anyways, the FFFs were here, so we spent the May 9th holiday walking around the city together. One of the strange things about Soviet architecture and city planning is that cities are in the form of an insular grid; hence on any given day you can run into a multitude of acquaintances on the street. On the holiday pretty much the whole city and many people from the regions were walking this loopy grid we call Kyzyl, and so we ran into many familiar people. The parade was unfortunately organized to kind of loop around in a circle on the central square and there wasn't any room for people to watch... so we mostly stood in a crowd and stared at the backs of peoples' heads. The wrestling also had no seats. Fortunately, there were plenty of cool people to walk around the city with. I even learned a few things about Kyzyl that day; saw places I hadn't been to before and heard new stories.
The wrestling was also too crowded, so we went and got coffee. Later in the day we met up with some students and cooked them Siberian burritos, which were pretty tasty then the students took us to a bar, which was really neat, and on the way we saw fireworks exploding for the salute. The bar was pretty good; beer and dancing, good holiday relaxation.
The next day was also a holiday, and the students had offered to arrange a trip out to a village to show the FFFs the traditional lifestyle. I had been trying for several weeks to figure out how to make this work, and I was very happy last week when some of the students came up to me and offered to help arrange things. We paid for transport and they arranged with the shepherds, the villagers, and even brought a band of professional throat singers. All in all, it was a pretty amazing undertaking, and a testament to the potential people have when they all work together to make something happen.
We left in the bus at 11am on Monday, and drove 100 km to the village of Syryg-sep, a village where actually mostly elderly Russians live. The village has about 700 people and is located on the Kaa-xem river, one of the branches that flow together in Kyzyl to make the river Yenisei. We rented an entire huge bus, and filled it with students, musicians, and Americans (and one Nigerian, a new student to our university)... it was pretty much the perfect recipe for a good time.
Reaching the countryside, we had the chance to walk around deserted and destroyed kolhozes (Soviet collective farms). I have long had an affection for these skeletons of buildings that dot the Siberian landscape, and never before this had I gotten the opportunity to walk around inside of one. I guess the buildings are just typical abandoned buildings--whenever Russians or Tuvans talk about them, they just say "razrushenie" or "destroyed" buildings. But I find them like monuments, like memories of history preserved in the still-standing walls. I wonder how they were destroyed, and when. Did people burn them? (the pure white walls suggest they did not). Did they just knock the roofs off? I guess the process of perestroika, the rebuilding of Russia as a post-communist nation is an endlessly fascinating one. And these buildings are reminders of the fact that perestroika touched the whole country--even the smallest villages were affected.
Then we had to push our bus up a hill. Recent rains had made the road muddy and even though our driver was one of the most skilled drivers I have seen (driving is a performance art in Russia) he needed us to get out an push a bunch. There were some hairy moments when it seemed the bus might tip. A fellow with a guitar was accompanying all the swaying and heaving with appropriate music, and everybody was bemused and gleeful. Finally we decided to leave the bus halfway up the mountain and continue on foot.
We walked across the steppe for a while before coming to a small hut and enclosure of sheep. We met the five young shepherds who live there--all school boys. We met the week-old lambs and puppies and locals who came out of curiosity to inspect us. The womenfolk worked together to prepare tea and lepyoshki (a tuvan fry bread made from the traditional flour, dalgan, ground from grains that grow wild in the steppe). Everybody had tea and got to know each other, then killing a goat in the traditional way began. The Mongol horde technique of inserting a hand into the chest of the living sheep and pinching a (nerve? blood vessel? a something...) near the heart/spine was performed by the brother of one of my students, a gregarious guy who was still totally drunk from the previous day's celebration. Everybody gathered to watch the goat die and then the traditional, elaborate, and remarkably clean process by which every single part of the goat is turned into food. It was a beautiful thing to see, and I think the FFFs really enjoyed it.
We also rode horses, played with baby goats and sheep, and the throat singing band that came with us gave a beautiful concert. Generally spirits were high. It was a really good time... The students hosts had hoped that the locals would eventually get bored and leave, but that didn't happen, not least of all because Emmanuel, the new Nigerian student at the university is the first Black person most people in Tuva have ever seen. But it was pleasant talking with everybody. Eventually we bid farewell, trooped back to the bus and sang songs and passed around a jug of beer on the bus all the way back to Kyzyl.
The next day we had seminars with students and took care of our documents with the migration service.
The day after that we had a conference about exchange programs and how Tuvan students can apply to study in the US and the FFFs went to the national museum while I took a shower and spent some time with my host family.
Then on Thursday it was my birthday and we headed out again on a trip to a regional school. We visited classes, taught example lessons, rode horses, and got to meet many adorable baby sheep. Then we went back to the university for a large English club meeting about the topic of music. Then my boss took us to a restaurant and we had pelmeni and beer and colleagues and vodka, and that was how I celebrated my birthday. I didn't drink much vodka. I have spent too much time in Russia. I am totally over vodka. But I had a nice white beer, and now I am 23, so that is cool.
The next day at noon the FFFs departed and I was again left alone in the city. It was so great to see my colleagues and experience the place and people through their eyes. Anyways. It was an unforgettable week...
That's all for now from Tuva! All the best,
Riley
First of all, the FFFs got here on the 8th of May, the day before one of Russia's biggest (modern) holidays, May 9th-Victory Day. Now, I could go on for a while explaining about victory day, but the short story is that Russia has kept memories of WWII vividly alive and to the forefront of public consciousness. In many senses this is a wonderful and important decision; but Westerners are quick to point out that the narrative of the war as it appears in Russian media is much different from the narrative of the war presented in other parts of the world. In Russia the war is called the "Great Patriotic War" and was mainly a war between Russian and German forces. The holocaust and the Pacific front play only a minor (if they playany) role in this narrative. The Great Patriotic War is of primary importance in the national myth of Russia, used to embody Russia at its finest (and most victorious) and so plenty of government money and support flows into the celebration of the holiday. In Kyzyl we had a parade, a concert, a giant wrestling tournament, a super-disco, and a fireworks display.
Anyways, the FFFs were here, so we spent the May 9th holiday walking around the city together. One of the strange things about Soviet architecture and city planning is that cities are in the form of an insular grid; hence on any given day you can run into a multitude of acquaintances on the street. On the holiday pretty much the whole city and many people from the regions were walking this loopy grid we call Kyzyl, and so we ran into many familiar people. The parade was unfortunately organized to kind of loop around in a circle on the central square and there wasn't any room for people to watch... so we mostly stood in a crowd and stared at the backs of peoples' heads. The wrestling also had no seats. Fortunately, there were plenty of cool people to walk around the city with. I even learned a few things about Kyzyl that day; saw places I hadn't been to before and heard new stories.
The wrestling was also too crowded, so we went and got coffee. Later in the day we met up with some students and cooked them Siberian burritos, which were pretty tasty then the students took us to a bar, which was really neat, and on the way we saw fireworks exploding for the salute. The bar was pretty good; beer and dancing, good holiday relaxation.
The next day was also a holiday, and the students had offered to arrange a trip out to a village to show the FFFs the traditional lifestyle. I had been trying for several weeks to figure out how to make this work, and I was very happy last week when some of the students came up to me and offered to help arrange things. We paid for transport and they arranged with the shepherds, the villagers, and even brought a band of professional throat singers. All in all, it was a pretty amazing undertaking, and a testament to the potential people have when they all work together to make something happen.
We left in the bus at 11am on Monday, and drove 100 km to the village of Syryg-sep, a village where actually mostly elderly Russians live. The village has about 700 people and is located on the Kaa-xem river, one of the branches that flow together in Kyzyl to make the river Yenisei. We rented an entire huge bus, and filled it with students, musicians, and Americans (and one Nigerian, a new student to our university)... it was pretty much the perfect recipe for a good time.
Reaching the countryside, we had the chance to walk around deserted and destroyed kolhozes (Soviet collective farms). I have long had an affection for these skeletons of buildings that dot the Siberian landscape, and never before this had I gotten the opportunity to walk around inside of one. I guess the buildings are just typical abandoned buildings--whenever Russians or Tuvans talk about them, they just say "razrushenie" or "destroyed" buildings. But I find them like monuments, like memories of history preserved in the still-standing walls. I wonder how they were destroyed, and when. Did people burn them? (the pure white walls suggest they did not). Did they just knock the roofs off? I guess the process of perestroika, the rebuilding of Russia as a post-communist nation is an endlessly fascinating one. And these buildings are reminders of the fact that perestroika touched the whole country--even the smallest villages were affected.
Then we had to push our bus up a hill. Recent rains had made the road muddy and even though our driver was one of the most skilled drivers I have seen (driving is a performance art in Russia) he needed us to get out an push a bunch. There were some hairy moments when it seemed the bus might tip. A fellow with a guitar was accompanying all the swaying and heaving with appropriate music, and everybody was bemused and gleeful. Finally we decided to leave the bus halfway up the mountain and continue on foot.
We walked across the steppe for a while before coming to a small hut and enclosure of sheep. We met the five young shepherds who live there--all school boys. We met the week-old lambs and puppies and locals who came out of curiosity to inspect us. The womenfolk worked together to prepare tea and lepyoshki (a tuvan fry bread made from the traditional flour, dalgan, ground from grains that grow wild in the steppe). Everybody had tea and got to know each other, then killing a goat in the traditional way began. The Mongol horde technique of inserting a hand into the chest of the living sheep and pinching a (nerve? blood vessel? a something...) near the heart/spine was performed by the brother of one of my students, a gregarious guy who was still totally drunk from the previous day's celebration. Everybody gathered to watch the goat die and then the traditional, elaborate, and remarkably clean process by which every single part of the goat is turned into food. It was a beautiful thing to see, and I think the FFFs really enjoyed it.
We also rode horses, played with baby goats and sheep, and the throat singing band that came with us gave a beautiful concert. Generally spirits were high. It was a really good time... The students hosts had hoped that the locals would eventually get bored and leave, but that didn't happen, not least of all because Emmanuel, the new Nigerian student at the university is the first Black person most people in Tuva have ever seen. But it was pleasant talking with everybody. Eventually we bid farewell, trooped back to the bus and sang songs and passed around a jug of beer on the bus all the way back to Kyzyl.
The next day we had seminars with students and took care of our documents with the migration service.
The day after that we had a conference about exchange programs and how Tuvan students can apply to study in the US and the FFFs went to the national museum while I took a shower and spent some time with my host family.
Then on Thursday it was my birthday and we headed out again on a trip to a regional school. We visited classes, taught example lessons, rode horses, and got to meet many adorable baby sheep. Then we went back to the university for a large English club meeting about the topic of music. Then my boss took us to a restaurant and we had pelmeni and beer and colleagues and vodka, and that was how I celebrated my birthday. I didn't drink much vodka. I have spent too much time in Russia. I am totally over vodka. But I had a nice white beer, and now I am 23, so that is cool.
The next day at noon the FFFs departed and I was again left alone in the city. It was so great to see my colleagues and experience the place and people through their eyes. Anyways. It was an unforgettable week...
That's all for now from Tuva! All the best,
Riley
May 4, 2010
May 3, 2010
Haircutting Party and May Day, Ura!
This past Friday night we cut the hair of Erenzhin, the three year old son of Namdolmaa, according to local traditions. The party was kind of similar to weddings I have attended in the states. We rented out a hall, complete with catering and local pop music stars. The total cost was significant, something around $3000. Preparations for the festivities involved buying prizes from Mongolia, renting the hall, organizing the food and balloons, hand delivering invitations to 80 relatives in the city, deciding on the guest list and making sure nobody was forgotten, and making about 700 dumplings the night before. I helped out mostly with the dumplings and childcare while Namdolmaa and Muslim (her husband) ran around town trying to accomplish all of this.
I spent the day of the party out at Tyotya (auntie) Mendi’s house, in the far East end of Kyzyl. Тетя Mendi is my new Tuvan language buddy--basically a lady I am paying a couple thousand rubles to speak only Tuvan to me. I try to visit her every day, although it takes a while to get to her house so I haven’t been going every single day. It’s a nice change from my city life to visit the sector of private, stand alone houses where she lives. I have actually slept there a couple times lately--we had lots of extra people in our apartment due to the haircut party (out of town relatives) and was struck by the quietness. I am also going to be helping to plant the big garden in her yard pretty soon. I will take some pictures and put them up soon (as soon as we get to the point in our relationship when it wouldn’t be awkward) to show what a typical Siberian stand alone house (частный дом) looks like.
My presence is also supposed to be therapy for Tyotya Mendi, whose husband died suddenly back in March (I mentioned it a while ago). Apparently she’s been just crying nonstop since then and talking with a foreigner is supposed to be interesting to help pull her out of her depression. I feel a little weird about this, because it’s a pretty personal part of somebody’s life to get involved in. But Tyotya Mendi seems authentically interested in me, and like a pretty nice and sweet woman. I hope that we will be able to help each other this month…
Anyways--I was over at Tyotya Mendi’s house before the party, and then we went to the party together. One the way we stopped at a dormitory where Tyotya Mendi’s friend works as the caretaker and lets her take free showers (private houses don’t have running water usually). Lo and Behold, the friend of tyotya Mendi was also the mother of one of my students! It was pretty funny to walk into a dormitory with a lady I barely knew and walk into the kitchen of one of my students. The student, Dorzhatma and I had tea while Tyotya Mendi took a shower and I got a full tour of the dormitory. Apparently one of the rooms is occupied by the famous Kezhik--a popular heartthrob singer of the Republic. Once again, I was surprised by the connectedness of the Tuvan Republic… everybody knows everybody here! And the look on my student’s face when I walked into their kitchen was priceless J
Then we set out for the party. Relatives arrived slowly, but eventually all the tables were full. Altogether there were 85 or so guests--of all ages. Lots of children, who seemed to relax and have fun more quickly than the adult guests. At the front of the hall Muslim, Namdolmaa and Erenzhin sat at a raised table next to the artists. There were very, very many grandiose, elaborate, sincere speeches--every guest was supposed to make one. The soundboard people were super-ready with dramatic sound effects to accentuate specific moments of the party with trumpet fanfares, drum rolls and all sorts of little touches to add to the drama.
I sat at a table at first with the elders, but then there wasn’t enough room and they moved to a table at the front of the room and I stayed with Tyotya Mendi and Sveta (a cousin of Namdolmaa) and their children and friends. We drank wine and cognac. The cognac was pretty rough, and I quickly remembered how much I don’t like drinking cognac. There were lots of Russian salads, smoked salmon (yippee), caviar on buttered toast (gross!), fruit, bread, vegetable salads, and then a popular dish here which is a hamburger patty with a fried egg on top, with a side of mashed potatoes. It was all really tasty, although I would have been more excited if Tyotya Mendi didn’t feed me pelmeni earlier in the day. But people in Siberia love to feed you--it’s really kind of charming, although sometimes it can be frustrating.
The haircutting began with another big soundboard flourish (the biggest yet) and Erenzhin was put in front of the crowd standing on a chair with a special silk satchel on his shoulders. The satchel had deep pockets on either side of him--front and behind. His parents stood close by, holding the boy tightly. The oldest and most respected uncle (actually a stand in for another uncle who had gone to a sanitarium in Abakan) gave a long speech and then cut the first locks and put them in the back pocket of Erenzhin’s satchel. Then he put an envelope stuffed with money in the front pocket and everybody smiled while the sound people made another big flourish of synthesized music.
This process went on through all the relatives. Aware that I was going to be asked to give a speech, I prepared a speech in Tuva (with the help of Tyotya Mendi) and read it slowly, with plenty of mistakes, but people understood me and clapped loudly. As part of my speech I described the evolution of my friendship with Erenzhin this year and how he has been such a good teacher for me. I also invited him to come live with my family in America for a year later on, and I can’t help but wonder what that will be like if it acutally happens. It will be awesome if it does, I think--I can’t imagine what kind of a man this little boy I know so well will grow into, but I have a lot of faith, based on knowing his parents and family, that he will be a good person. Anyways… could make for a very interesting year in my life down the road aways… I’ll try to put my speech up here in translation sometime soon.
I was somewhat surprised that Erenzhin didn’t actually lose much hair at the party. Most people just took small snips and he came out looking a little ragged, but still with most of his hair. I guess he will get a proper haircut later in the month, but his parents are trying to limit the stress the child experiences. People in Tuva have a really unique relationship to haircuts. One thing I was surprised to see before the ceremony was Erenzhin’s father consulting a pocket Buddhist calendar that lists good days to get your hair cut in 2010. This reminded me of a similar calendar I saw in Buryatia last summer. Really interesting. Also, the biggest insult you can give a Tuvan man is to grab his ponytail (if he has one). This tradition goes back to the Mongol years at least.. And women seems similarly concerned about their hair. Some of my female students have written really insightful essays this year about the feelings of stress they felt when their hair was cut at age three (traditionally it happens for girls as well). And many many Tuvan women seem to never cut their hair (after the three year old party), at least not before marriage/children. Instead it runs in thick single or double braids down past their waist. There also seems to be some stigma attached to women who die their hair other colors. In talking to people, in friends and acquaintances, it seems to happen usually after a trauma or life changing event of sort--maybe the loss of a child, maybe a rape. Interesting, really. I’m very intrigued by the Tuvan relationship to hair. And I have to say that I’m somewhat conforming to these ideas as well--I haven’t cut my hair since last summer, and I like it that way. Here my hair seems connected to my identity, and trying to do anything to change that would be like trying to change who I am! Maybe I’m going kind of spring crazy or something…
The party then really got going, as the tables finished their first or second bottle of hard liquor and the dancing started up. Dancing was pretty fun. The sound board people even played “Rock around the Clock” specifically for me--as well as many of my favorite techno songs from the minibus and the singer who was there did a little throat singing too. One thing I liked about the party was that the ages seemed to mix together very freely. Also, it was nice to see the whole family clan together at once. I was surprised how many people I knew--people who had at one time or another this year stopped through the apartment and said hello. I felt pretty comfortable at this party for that reason, though I was definitely still a little bit on the outside. But I’ve gotten used to those feelings, and they don’t bother me as much as it did when I first got here; I guess I’ve made my peace with being an ethnic and cultural minority, and come to appreciate the ways in which it’s pretty cool as well.
As people started to leave, I was invited to the elders table where the grannies of the family poured me several too many shots of vodka and started scheming about which nephew would make an ideal husband for me. The respected males of the family gave me a taste of the sheeps’ rump (there was boiled sheep as well), which is the fattiest and tastiest part of the sheep, and always goes to the most respected man of the family. They told me that you can tell in a man is kind of not, by whether he shares any of the rump meat. Then they explained to me the theory of the Tuvan family--how it was like a clan, everybody sticking together and helping each other. It was pretty enjoyable, all in all. I always enjoy talking with older people.
Then we ate cake, and started to look for taxis home. We waited on the street for a while, used the outhouse in the street for the reception hall (there weren’t toilets) and eventually I went to Tyotya Mendi’s place to sleep because all the out of town relatives were crashing at our place. I was glad to get to sleep. Even happier to wake up the next morning, take the 15 bus back home and get a shower and clean clothes, and a cup of hot coffee from our Turkish coffee pot.
Then I got a phone call from the student who I had surprised in her kitchen the day before, inviting me to attend May day celebrations with her. I shrugged off my hangover and met her at the park, where I was immediately shocked by the huge crowd of people. We paid the 5 ruble entrance fee and made our way deeper into the park then I’ve ever been before to the stadium for “Huresh”--Tuvan wrestling. The student managed to talk us in for free, because she works part time as a journalist, and we found seats on the steep wooden bleachers.
The ceremonial pageant to start the wrestling was already beginning, with enormous wrestlers in blue and red underwear and embroidered waistcoats stretching out and hopping around at the end of the stadium. In the center there was a patriotic reenactment of how the partisans joined the independent country of Tannu-Tuva to the Soviet Union during World War II (Victory day and the 65th anniversary of the war’s conclusion is coming up in a week). Then there was a parade around the stadium with camels (!!) and carts covered in patriotic slogans from the Tuvan ASSR and people dressed in old Red Army uniforms. Later Namdolmaa told me that it was actually her Uncle Alyosha who designed and directed the whole pageant. It was neat.
Then the wrestling began, and it was cool, although I had more fun watching wrestling in the villages of Buryatia last summer. Here the wrestlers were far away and there were three or four matches going on at once. It was harder to keep track of everything! The judges were wearing the Red army uniforms, which made everything interesting and kind of old-school.
Then the president of the Republic made a speech and so did the oldest veteran of World War II, an elderly Tuvan babushka who left after the ceremony to fly to Moscow to take place in the all-Russia parade commemorating the war next year. Apparently this lady is some sort of grandma of Namdolmaa’s as well. Tuvan Republic is really just one big family… My student-journalist friend was a lot of fun, and I had fun with her friends. Then we went out to the park to get some shashlik (grilled meat) at what was essentially a big, all-city barbeque. We ran into lots of other students and eventually got tired and went home. It was a fun day; a lot of excitement in a short period of time.
I have spent the last two days since then resting. I taught some private English lessons today; realizing how much I’ve enjoyed working with different high-schoolers in Kyzyl this year, how I’m going to miss them pretty soon. I have hopes that one might be able to study in a US university, but I know it’s a long shot. People of all ages are pretty cool, and I really value the ones I have gotten to know this year.
I guess one more interesting thing happened, which is that I saved a stray kitten from some hungry dogs and then spent a couple hours trying to find it a home. Eventually I couldn’t and my phone battery died. I abandoned the kitten inside the Philharmonic Hall ticket office, hoping that the ticket seller or someone would take pity on it (feeling a little like I was abandoning baby Moses or something). Then when I got home and charged my phone, I found out my librarian friend wanted to take the kitten and went back to look for it; but it had somehow disappeared. I guess it was a little tragic, but also the kitten had some nasty little bugs, and I was kind of worried about my librarian friend getting bugs in her house! It was an interesting moment for me, probing the feelings that people in Tuva have for stray animals. Also, Namdolmaa thought it was pretty funny when I explained in the US that we have orphanages for homeless animals. I don’t know which system is better, though. Just different.
The other thing that has happened is that Erenzhin has gotten a place in Kindergarten here, which is seriously hard to do and was only possible through the interference of powerful relatives and some well placed bribes. So the boy is moving in with us permanently! Which should be a lot of fun, but also means that home will be a little more interesting (read: less restful). I think I am up to it however; the street is warming up and getting nice, and I think I’ll be too busy to notice much anyways, plus it’s awesome that he can finally live with his mom and sister--that sort of separation is hard on a little kid.
So that’s pretty much what’s up in Kyzyl. I’ll try to get some pictures from the weekend up soon. This week is plagued with holidays at both ends--we only work three days, and then only four next week. Other Siberian fulbrighters are coming next weekend, which should be a bit of a whirlwind, but kind of fun. Anyways. Tomorrow my third years and I are going on a picnic too, which should be great. Now that spring is here, I’m all about canceling class to stroll around town with my students! And practice our English, of course J
That’s all for now. Lots of love from Kyzyl,
Riley
I spent the day of the party out at Tyotya (auntie) Mendi’s house, in the far East end of Kyzyl. Тетя Mendi is my new Tuvan language buddy--basically a lady I am paying a couple thousand rubles to speak only Tuvan to me. I try to visit her every day, although it takes a while to get to her house so I haven’t been going every single day. It’s a nice change from my city life to visit the sector of private, stand alone houses where she lives. I have actually slept there a couple times lately--we had lots of extra people in our apartment due to the haircut party (out of town relatives) and was struck by the quietness. I am also going to be helping to plant the big garden in her yard pretty soon. I will take some pictures and put them up soon (as soon as we get to the point in our relationship when it wouldn’t be awkward) to show what a typical Siberian stand alone house (частный дом) looks like.
My presence is also supposed to be therapy for Tyotya Mendi, whose husband died suddenly back in March (I mentioned it a while ago). Apparently she’s been just crying nonstop since then and talking with a foreigner is supposed to be interesting to help pull her out of her depression. I feel a little weird about this, because it’s a pretty personal part of somebody’s life to get involved in. But Tyotya Mendi seems authentically interested in me, and like a pretty nice and sweet woman. I hope that we will be able to help each other this month…
Anyways--I was over at Tyotya Mendi’s house before the party, and then we went to the party together. One the way we stopped at a dormitory where Tyotya Mendi’s friend works as the caretaker and lets her take free showers (private houses don’t have running water usually). Lo and Behold, the friend of tyotya Mendi was also the mother of one of my students! It was pretty funny to walk into a dormitory with a lady I barely knew and walk into the kitchen of one of my students. The student, Dorzhatma and I had tea while Tyotya Mendi took a shower and I got a full tour of the dormitory. Apparently one of the rooms is occupied by the famous Kezhik--a popular heartthrob singer of the Republic. Once again, I was surprised by the connectedness of the Tuvan Republic… everybody knows everybody here! And the look on my student’s face when I walked into their kitchen was priceless J
Then we set out for the party. Relatives arrived slowly, but eventually all the tables were full. Altogether there were 85 or so guests--of all ages. Lots of children, who seemed to relax and have fun more quickly than the adult guests. At the front of the hall Muslim, Namdolmaa and Erenzhin sat at a raised table next to the artists. There were very, very many grandiose, elaborate, sincere speeches--every guest was supposed to make one. The soundboard people were super-ready with dramatic sound effects to accentuate specific moments of the party with trumpet fanfares, drum rolls and all sorts of little touches to add to the drama.
I sat at a table at first with the elders, but then there wasn’t enough room and they moved to a table at the front of the room and I stayed with Tyotya Mendi and Sveta (a cousin of Namdolmaa) and their children and friends. We drank wine and cognac. The cognac was pretty rough, and I quickly remembered how much I don’t like drinking cognac. There were lots of Russian salads, smoked salmon (yippee), caviar on buttered toast (gross!), fruit, bread, vegetable salads, and then a popular dish here which is a hamburger patty with a fried egg on top, with a side of mashed potatoes. It was all really tasty, although I would have been more excited if Tyotya Mendi didn’t feed me pelmeni earlier in the day. But people in Siberia love to feed you--it’s really kind of charming, although sometimes it can be frustrating.
The haircutting began with another big soundboard flourish (the biggest yet) and Erenzhin was put in front of the crowd standing on a chair with a special silk satchel on his shoulders. The satchel had deep pockets on either side of him--front and behind. His parents stood close by, holding the boy tightly. The oldest and most respected uncle (actually a stand in for another uncle who had gone to a sanitarium in Abakan) gave a long speech and then cut the first locks and put them in the back pocket of Erenzhin’s satchel. Then he put an envelope stuffed with money in the front pocket and everybody smiled while the sound people made another big flourish of synthesized music.
This process went on through all the relatives. Aware that I was going to be asked to give a speech, I prepared a speech in Tuva (with the help of Tyotya Mendi) and read it slowly, with plenty of mistakes, but people understood me and clapped loudly. As part of my speech I described the evolution of my friendship with Erenzhin this year and how he has been such a good teacher for me. I also invited him to come live with my family in America for a year later on, and I can’t help but wonder what that will be like if it acutally happens. It will be awesome if it does, I think--I can’t imagine what kind of a man this little boy I know so well will grow into, but I have a lot of faith, based on knowing his parents and family, that he will be a good person. Anyways… could make for a very interesting year in my life down the road aways… I’ll try to put my speech up here in translation sometime soon.
I was somewhat surprised that Erenzhin didn’t actually lose much hair at the party. Most people just took small snips and he came out looking a little ragged, but still with most of his hair. I guess he will get a proper haircut later in the month, but his parents are trying to limit the stress the child experiences. People in Tuva have a really unique relationship to haircuts. One thing I was surprised to see before the ceremony was Erenzhin’s father consulting a pocket Buddhist calendar that lists good days to get your hair cut in 2010. This reminded me of a similar calendar I saw in Buryatia last summer. Really interesting. Also, the biggest insult you can give a Tuvan man is to grab his ponytail (if he has one). This tradition goes back to the Mongol years at least.. And women seems similarly concerned about their hair. Some of my female students have written really insightful essays this year about the feelings of stress they felt when their hair was cut at age three (traditionally it happens for girls as well). And many many Tuvan women seem to never cut their hair (after the three year old party), at least not before marriage/children. Instead it runs in thick single or double braids down past their waist. There also seems to be some stigma attached to women who die their hair other colors. In talking to people, in friends and acquaintances, it seems to happen usually after a trauma or life changing event of sort--maybe the loss of a child, maybe a rape. Interesting, really. I’m very intrigued by the Tuvan relationship to hair. And I have to say that I’m somewhat conforming to these ideas as well--I haven’t cut my hair since last summer, and I like it that way. Here my hair seems connected to my identity, and trying to do anything to change that would be like trying to change who I am! Maybe I’m going kind of spring crazy or something…
The party then really got going, as the tables finished their first or second bottle of hard liquor and the dancing started up. Dancing was pretty fun. The sound board people even played “Rock around the Clock” specifically for me--as well as many of my favorite techno songs from the minibus and the singer who was there did a little throat singing too. One thing I liked about the party was that the ages seemed to mix together very freely. Also, it was nice to see the whole family clan together at once. I was surprised how many people I knew--people who had at one time or another this year stopped through the apartment and said hello. I felt pretty comfortable at this party for that reason, though I was definitely still a little bit on the outside. But I’ve gotten used to those feelings, and they don’t bother me as much as it did when I first got here; I guess I’ve made my peace with being an ethnic and cultural minority, and come to appreciate the ways in which it’s pretty cool as well.
As people started to leave, I was invited to the elders table where the grannies of the family poured me several too many shots of vodka and started scheming about which nephew would make an ideal husband for me. The respected males of the family gave me a taste of the sheeps’ rump (there was boiled sheep as well), which is the fattiest and tastiest part of the sheep, and always goes to the most respected man of the family. They told me that you can tell in a man is kind of not, by whether he shares any of the rump meat. Then they explained to me the theory of the Tuvan family--how it was like a clan, everybody sticking together and helping each other. It was pretty enjoyable, all in all. I always enjoy talking with older people.
Then we ate cake, and started to look for taxis home. We waited on the street for a while, used the outhouse in the street for the reception hall (there weren’t toilets) and eventually I went to Tyotya Mendi’s place to sleep because all the out of town relatives were crashing at our place. I was glad to get to sleep. Even happier to wake up the next morning, take the 15 bus back home and get a shower and clean clothes, and a cup of hot coffee from our Turkish coffee pot.
Then I got a phone call from the student who I had surprised in her kitchen the day before, inviting me to attend May day celebrations with her. I shrugged off my hangover and met her at the park, where I was immediately shocked by the huge crowd of people. We paid the 5 ruble entrance fee and made our way deeper into the park then I’ve ever been before to the stadium for “Huresh”--Tuvan wrestling. The student managed to talk us in for free, because she works part time as a journalist, and we found seats on the steep wooden bleachers.
The ceremonial pageant to start the wrestling was already beginning, with enormous wrestlers in blue and red underwear and embroidered waistcoats stretching out and hopping around at the end of the stadium. In the center there was a patriotic reenactment of how the partisans joined the independent country of Tannu-Tuva to the Soviet Union during World War II (Victory day and the 65th anniversary of the war’s conclusion is coming up in a week). Then there was a parade around the stadium with camels (!!) and carts covered in patriotic slogans from the Tuvan ASSR and people dressed in old Red Army uniforms. Later Namdolmaa told me that it was actually her Uncle Alyosha who designed and directed the whole pageant. It was neat.
Then the wrestling began, and it was cool, although I had more fun watching wrestling in the villages of Buryatia last summer. Here the wrestlers were far away and there were three or four matches going on at once. It was harder to keep track of everything! The judges were wearing the Red army uniforms, which made everything interesting and kind of old-school.
Then the president of the Republic made a speech and so did the oldest veteran of World War II, an elderly Tuvan babushka who left after the ceremony to fly to Moscow to take place in the all-Russia parade commemorating the war next year. Apparently this lady is some sort of grandma of Namdolmaa’s as well. Tuvan Republic is really just one big family… My student-journalist friend was a lot of fun, and I had fun with her friends. Then we went out to the park to get some shashlik (grilled meat) at what was essentially a big, all-city barbeque. We ran into lots of other students and eventually got tired and went home. It was a fun day; a lot of excitement in a short period of time.
I have spent the last two days since then resting. I taught some private English lessons today; realizing how much I’ve enjoyed working with different high-schoolers in Kyzyl this year, how I’m going to miss them pretty soon. I have hopes that one might be able to study in a US university, but I know it’s a long shot. People of all ages are pretty cool, and I really value the ones I have gotten to know this year.
I guess one more interesting thing happened, which is that I saved a stray kitten from some hungry dogs and then spent a couple hours trying to find it a home. Eventually I couldn’t and my phone battery died. I abandoned the kitten inside the Philharmonic Hall ticket office, hoping that the ticket seller or someone would take pity on it (feeling a little like I was abandoning baby Moses or something). Then when I got home and charged my phone, I found out my librarian friend wanted to take the kitten and went back to look for it; but it had somehow disappeared. I guess it was a little tragic, but also the kitten had some nasty little bugs, and I was kind of worried about my librarian friend getting bugs in her house! It was an interesting moment for me, probing the feelings that people in Tuva have for stray animals. Also, Namdolmaa thought it was pretty funny when I explained in the US that we have orphanages for homeless animals. I don’t know which system is better, though. Just different.
The other thing that has happened is that Erenzhin has gotten a place in Kindergarten here, which is seriously hard to do and was only possible through the interference of powerful relatives and some well placed bribes. So the boy is moving in with us permanently! Which should be a lot of fun, but also means that home will be a little more interesting (read: less restful). I think I am up to it however; the street is warming up and getting nice, and I think I’ll be too busy to notice much anyways, plus it’s awesome that he can finally live with his mom and sister--that sort of separation is hard on a little kid.
So that’s pretty much what’s up in Kyzyl. I’ll try to get some pictures from the weekend up soon. This week is plagued with holidays at both ends--we only work three days, and then only four next week. Other Siberian fulbrighters are coming next weekend, which should be a bit of a whirlwind, but kind of fun. Anyways. Tomorrow my third years and I are going on a picnic too, which should be great. Now that spring is here, I’m all about canceling class to stroll around town with my students! And practice our English, of course J
That’s all for now. Lots of love from Kyzyl,
Riley
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