I know starting out here that it will be hard to say what I want to say in this post. The problem is that there are just too many words in the world. I reach for one, and I get a whole handful! How’s a person supposed to write anything, anyways?
Reflecting on my time since returning from January vacation, it seems strange, but I hardly remember anything. It’s been a blur of people and culture shocks. I guess I think that the term “culture shock” is too simple, because it’s more like living in a world that’s slightly electric, and I get buzzed from all directions all day long, from the most random things. Little miniature electric culture shocks is I guess what I’m trying to describe… and not all the shocks are immediate. Some are dull and long-lasting. More like throbs of the culture pulse. See what I mean about grasping for words??
Some concrete examples would go a long way here. Let me think… I guess Russia is a hard place to imagine for the American mind. I think of this place mostly as a country of surprises; quirky, worn-out, but still ticking along and very merrily alive. Some things here work a lot better than in America, and most of the time it’s because they simpler, more time-tested and true. For example; soups are tastier here. Radiators are cozier here--my favorite place to read in my apartment is leaning up against the radiator. Kiosks are handier, transport is cheaper. Fitness classes are more regimented and intense. Bread is fresher and tastes more home-baked. Clothing is more uniform, people dress to a code (self-imposed, society-imposed, sometimes poverty-imposed). One thing I love to notice about Russia is the patterns in housewares. There are some fantastically ulgi-beautiful rugs, wallpapers, dishtowels, and dishes. I suppose what I’m driving at is that aesthetics in Russia are a world apart from the US.
And the people. It’s a big subject, “the people.” I hope to do it justice, but I know I will fail. But I will try nonetheless…
The people are great. They’re very practical. I think that living in a country that has convulsed as thoroughly as Russia makes people really practical. Many of the people are discouraged and grouchy. I should acknowledge right here that I don’t know specifically what “Russian” population I’m talking about, because Tuva is decidedly not mainstream Russia. The Sayani mountains and the fact that approximately seventy percent of the population speaks Tuvan as a native language and identifies with that ethnic “nationality” locates my insights far from anything called "mainstream Russia.” However that idea ("m R") is bunk as well. Russia is 2.5 times the size of the US, and has significant Muslim and Buddhist populations, as well as a gazillion different nationalities, native tongues, migrant workers, etc. It’s a complicated country. Sometimes I think you can experience everything here...
Kyzyl is like most other places of about this size I guess. It certainly has plenty in common with my home town of Fairbanks, Alaska. The rhythms of the town. The really corny locally produced television ads! The way that you run into people you know EVERYWHERE (though the grid of apartment buildings does emphasize this phenomenon). The experience of living in the city is a communal one; I know because I recognize the people I share the streets with on a day to day basis. And they recognize me too; sometimes they wink, smile, or frown at the broken zipper on my backpack.
Some people do really great things with their lives, even though they don’t have a million resources at their fingertips. I’ve met some clever artists and thinkers here; people who surprise me with their ingenuity, or the fact that they have spontaneously arrived at conclusions that mirror what I learned of the fecund edge of human knowledge in 400 level courses in an expensive liberal arts college (I suppose that's universality for you!) Probably more than anything, this year is teaching me the value of having passion in our lives; basically, passion is the thing that can take a person through a hard winter. Previously I was a little more relativistic about things, but Siberia makes me believe more and more that art, music, exercise, nature; those sorts of things really do give life meaning. And they are things that nobody can put a price tag on, things that you can find for yourself no matter who you are or where you’re from.
Eh, well. I should sleep soon… Kyzyl is an interesting place. I am very glad to have the chance to live here! But the questions this experience raises are pretty insane. That’s about all I have to say… The rest is not my story to tell (that's for you, dad!)
Lots and lots of peace,
Riley
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1 comment:
Hello Riley
from Oma, Victoria, Jonny, Greg, Uncle Jim, and Aunt Connie. We are all together at Oma, gathered around your blog. Your father just called and sent us the link to your blog. We have enjoyed reading it and looking at at your photos of Kyzyl from earlier posts. I like what you said about having passion in our lives and how we can each find this for ourselves, in Siberia, Clemson, or Naperville. Love to you
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