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| Helsinki |
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
A Night at the Opera, Pt. 2
Again, I've been lax in my posting duties, but other than getting ready to leave, I've not been up to all that much.
Last Monday the country, and with it the University, returned from its two-week long winter holiday, and I dropped by the office of the not-quite-Dean to discuss my departure. I told him that things weren't working out as I'd hoped, and also that I had a bit of a medical issue that I needed to have taken care of in the States. I also mentioned that I didn't want a refund, with which he immediately took issue. "You mean you DO want a refund!" I explained that while I wouldn't object if they insisted on returning my money, I wasn't expecting it, wasn't going to fight for it, and certainly wasn't planning to make my departure contingent on it. He would hear none of it, and drew up a list of documents that I needed to get him by the end of the week so that I they could properly refund my unused tuition. This led to what felt like a week of madly dashing about, though looking back, the biggest hurdle was setting up a Russian bank account. My friend Peter helped me with that over the course of two nights, followed each night by several pints of fine local ale in a nearby cafe. It was, in fact, a thoroughly pleasant way to pass a couple of evenings. I also picked up my train ticket to Helsinki, and made the reservation for the plane trip back home. When it was all done, I dropped everything off with the university. If everything goes smoothly, I should have my money back at about the same time I leave.
The only other excitement has been a couple of trips to the Mariinsky Theatre--first for a performance of the Nutcracker, then for The Marriage of Figaro. The Theatre itself is stunningly beautiful. I've got some pictures, taken on the second trip, but none of them even begin to do it justice. Really, I don't know if you can understand without being there. There is so much gold leaf, so many reliefs and sculptures, the (I presume) frescos on the ceiling, the chandelier--it's overwhelming. Like the Hermitage, it's easy to imagine that you're in a fairy tale--to close your eyes and see the glittering lights of Tsarist society sitting in the same places 150 years ago.
As to the performances themselves, I'm afraid I have less to say. The Nutcracker, while beautiful, failed to move me in the way that Die Zauberflöte did. I know ballet is supposed to tell a story through dance, but in this case, the story seemed to consist of a series of excuses to have people within that story dance. The dancing was beautiful, and skillfully executed, though I lack a point of reference to say whether the performance was outstanding in the world of ballet.
The Marriage of Figaro was something of a disappointment as well, though I suspect that I may be chasing what I had at my first performance of Die Zauberflöte for a long, long time. As compared to that opera, Figaro was harder to follow, with more characters getting up to quite a bit of what I can only call operatic hijinks. (It's a comedy, after all.) There seemed to be less singing, and more recitativi--talky-singing with just a harpsichord for accompaniment. And none of the songs approached the "transcendent beauty" of even the least of the songs from Die Zauberflöte. At the end of the day, it was a learning experience--I'm still new to this opera thing, and I've got to figure out what I do and don't like. And it was something to do on a Monday night when I'd otherwise have just been sitting around my room, continuing my epic search for the End of the Internet.
This weekend, I'm going to drop by the station to make sure of where I need to board the train. Past that, I don't know--maybe lunch back at the Hunting Hut, for old times' sake, so to speak. Then it's just two more days of class, one day of getting ready, and I'm off to Finland. Can't come soon enough!
Last Monday the country, and with it the University, returned from its two-week long winter holiday, and I dropped by the office of the not-quite-Dean to discuss my departure. I told him that things weren't working out as I'd hoped, and also that I had a bit of a medical issue that I needed to have taken care of in the States. I also mentioned that I didn't want a refund, with which he immediately took issue. "You mean you DO want a refund!" I explained that while I wouldn't object if they insisted on returning my money, I wasn't expecting it, wasn't going to fight for it, and certainly wasn't planning to make my departure contingent on it. He would hear none of it, and drew up a list of documents that I needed to get him by the end of the week so that I they could properly refund my unused tuition. This led to what felt like a week of madly dashing about, though looking back, the biggest hurdle was setting up a Russian bank account. My friend Peter helped me with that over the course of two nights, followed each night by several pints of fine local ale in a nearby cafe. It was, in fact, a thoroughly pleasant way to pass a couple of evenings. I also picked up my train ticket to Helsinki, and made the reservation for the plane trip back home. When it was all done, I dropped everything off with the university. If everything goes smoothly, I should have my money back at about the same time I leave.
The only other excitement has been a couple of trips to the Mariinsky Theatre--first for a performance of the Nutcracker, then for The Marriage of Figaro. The Theatre itself is stunningly beautiful. I've got some pictures, taken on the second trip, but none of them even begin to do it justice. Really, I don't know if you can understand without being there. There is so much gold leaf, so many reliefs and sculptures, the (I presume) frescos on the ceiling, the chandelier--it's overwhelming. Like the Hermitage, it's easy to imagine that you're in a fairy tale--to close your eyes and see the glittering lights of Tsarist society sitting in the same places 150 years ago.
As to the performances themselves, I'm afraid I have less to say. The Nutcracker, while beautiful, failed to move me in the way that Die Zauberflöte did. I know ballet is supposed to tell a story through dance, but in this case, the story seemed to consist of a series of excuses to have people within that story dance. The dancing was beautiful, and skillfully executed, though I lack a point of reference to say whether the performance was outstanding in the world of ballet.
The Marriage of Figaro was something of a disappointment as well, though I suspect that I may be chasing what I had at my first performance of Die Zauberflöte for a long, long time. As compared to that opera, Figaro was harder to follow, with more characters getting up to quite a bit of what I can only call operatic hijinks. (It's a comedy, after all.) There seemed to be less singing, and more recitativi--talky-singing with just a harpsichord for accompaniment. And none of the songs approached the "transcendent beauty" of even the least of the songs from Die Zauberflöte. At the end of the day, it was a learning experience--I'm still new to this opera thing, and I've got to figure out what I do and don't like. And it was something to do on a Monday night when I'd otherwise have just been sitting around my room, continuing my epic search for the End of the Internet.
This weekend, I'm going to drop by the station to make sure of where I need to board the train. Past that, I don't know--maybe lunch back at the Hunting Hut, for old times' sake, so to speak. Then it's just two more days of class, one day of getting ready, and I'm off to Finland. Can't come soon enough!
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| Snow; the Mariinsky Theatre |
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Too lazy to describe these pictures in any real detail. They're mostly self explanatory anyway. The nighttime tree is behind St. Isaac's; the daytime one is in Palace Square, by the Hermitage. And the cat was at the Hermitage as well, playing with snowballs.
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| Peter at Night, New Year's Decorations, the Hermitage Cat! |
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Vodka and Decisions.
It's been a while since I've written here, for the fairly simple reason that there's just not been much to write about. Things settled into a remarkably dull routine of class and internet, with decent meals and maybe a museum on the weekends. Trust me, it'd be as dull for you to read as it was for me to live.
There's been a little bit of excitement lately, though, and a fairly momentous decision. First, the excitement. I don't know whether I've mentioned it or not, but the big holiday here is New Year's, not Christmas; Christmas is celebrated later, due to the fact that the Orthodox church still follows the old Julian calendar, and so far as I know, it's still primarily a religious rather than secular celebration. Wikipedia tells me this dates back to the first World War; Christmas celebrations were seen as German. So instead of Santa Claus and a Christmas Tree, we've got Grandfather Frost (and, apparently, his totally hot granddaughter) and… well, a New Year's tree. (I don't know its name.)
New Year's Eve, I wasn't doing anything. I don't feel comfortable going out to hang out in random Russian bars and cafes on my own, and besides, it's just not as much fun solo. Just before midnight, there was a knock on the door of my room; I opened it and found Sasha, who invited me over into the room next door, Natasha's. As it turns out, this is also where the flat's common area is; Natasha's bed is up in a loft. The kitchen table, which I'd noticed missing from the kitchen earlier, was in the middle of the room, set with olives, some sort of seafood salad, bread, some very odd meat dish, and of course vodka. Natasha and Zhenya were there as well, and they invited me to sit down--and from there, several shots of vodka were had, plus Medvedev's New Year's message (didn't understand a word), and champagne. It was, overall, a pleasant little surprise and made New Year's nicer than I'd hoped or expected.
Next, the decision. As I mentioned above, things here haven't exactly been interesting. Through one thing and another, my life's mostly turned into class and looking for the end of the internet, and I could do that at home. (Haven't found it yet, but I'm afraid I'm getting close.) Like a friend said, it's a bit of a waste of a foreign country. And as another friend pointed out, if I'm just doing this for myself, there's not much point in staying if I'm not getting what I want out of it. (Note the common theme. This trip's practically bashed my head in with how important it is not to go it alone.) So if nothing goes horribly wrong, I'm cutting this whole thing short early. I'm looking at a train to Finland at the end of the month, and after a few days visiting a friend there, from Helsinki home. Once I'm home, I can find something meaningful and rewarding to do with my time there, and oh yeah, I can see some of those friends, maybe even the ones that live places other than Cincinnati. I've got some ideas for both of those things. I'm nervous about the whole thing--this being Russia, nothing would surprise me, right down to them saying I can't leave because I have a multi-entry visa that doesn't expire until July. We'll see what happens when I talk to folks at the school about it next week.
Today, I get to go to the doctor. This is really scary--I really don't want to have to have anything medical of any significance done here. As to what I might need medical attention for, well, you're really better off not knowing.
Wish me luck.
There's been a little bit of excitement lately, though, and a fairly momentous decision. First, the excitement. I don't know whether I've mentioned it or not, but the big holiday here is New Year's, not Christmas; Christmas is celebrated later, due to the fact that the Orthodox church still follows the old Julian calendar, and so far as I know, it's still primarily a religious rather than secular celebration. Wikipedia tells me this dates back to the first World War; Christmas celebrations were seen as German. So instead of Santa Claus and a Christmas Tree, we've got Grandfather Frost (and, apparently, his totally hot granddaughter) and… well, a New Year's tree. (I don't know its name.)
New Year's Eve, I wasn't doing anything. I don't feel comfortable going out to hang out in random Russian bars and cafes on my own, and besides, it's just not as much fun solo. Just before midnight, there was a knock on the door of my room; I opened it and found Sasha, who invited me over into the room next door, Natasha's. As it turns out, this is also where the flat's common area is; Natasha's bed is up in a loft. The kitchen table, which I'd noticed missing from the kitchen earlier, was in the middle of the room, set with olives, some sort of seafood salad, bread, some very odd meat dish, and of course vodka. Natasha and Zhenya were there as well, and they invited me to sit down--and from there, several shots of vodka were had, plus Medvedev's New Year's message (didn't understand a word), and champagne. It was, overall, a pleasant little surprise and made New Year's nicer than I'd hoped or expected.
Next, the decision. As I mentioned above, things here haven't exactly been interesting. Through one thing and another, my life's mostly turned into class and looking for the end of the internet, and I could do that at home. (Haven't found it yet, but I'm afraid I'm getting close.) Like a friend said, it's a bit of a waste of a foreign country. And as another friend pointed out, if I'm just doing this for myself, there's not much point in staying if I'm not getting what I want out of it. (Note the common theme. This trip's practically bashed my head in with how important it is not to go it alone.) So if nothing goes horribly wrong, I'm cutting this whole thing short early. I'm looking at a train to Finland at the end of the month, and after a few days visiting a friend there, from Helsinki home. Once I'm home, I can find something meaningful and rewarding to do with my time there, and oh yeah, I can see some of those friends, maybe even the ones that live places other than Cincinnati. I've got some ideas for both of those things. I'm nervous about the whole thing--this being Russia, nothing would surprise me, right down to them saying I can't leave because I have a multi-entry visa that doesn't expire until July. We'll see what happens when I talk to folks at the school about it next week.
Today, I get to go to the doctor. This is really scary--I really don't want to have to have anything medical of any significance done here. As to what I might need medical attention for, well, you're really better off not knowing.
Wish me luck.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
In a bit of a rut.
The initial shock, I'm pleased to say, has entirely worn off. I'm entirely comfortable wandering around town, bumbling my way through interactions with shopkeepers and cafe employees, and I even managed to get myself a haircut. I'm still a bit shy of walking into restaurants without checking them out in the SPb InYourPocket or online first, but that's just because I really don't know enough food words to reliably navigate a Russian menu. On the other hand, I did manage to eat lunch without an English menu at a pleasant little cafe, Супвино, today; French onion soup and pasta with meat sauce were not difficult to puzzle out.
The other side of this, though, is that I'm starting to get a bit complacent. Restaurants are the one place where I can regularly find English-speaking staff, or at least an English menu; yesterday at Teplo, I had no need to utter so much as a word of Russian after saying hello. If I do need to speak Russian, it's generally limited to 'give me this, this and that,' which doesn't really get me very far outside of a restaurant or shop. And it's easy for me to just go to class, come home and doodle around on the internet through the evening, with really very little Russian passing my lips or ears throughout the day.
I can't claim to having a sure fire solution to this. But I did recently find the English Communication Club, which is devoted to Russians who want to practice English. I'm an American who wants to practice Russian, but I'm happy to make it a two-way street. There's a meeting tonight that I may or may not make it to; if I don't make that meeting, I'm definitely going to hit another one soon. Even if I don't get a lot of opportunities to practice Russian, maybe I can make a few friends. One of the things this trip has taught me is that this lone wolf thing that's my normal style is hopelessly flawed. I don't necessarily have an answer for that, either, but I'm definitely aware of it. To my friends and family back home, and my handful of friends here (should they happen to be reading this), I'm more in your debt for the support you've given me over the last couple of months than I can probably effectively express.
A couple of stray comments: Glintwein is my new favorite thing here. Mulled, sweetened wine, with or without fruit. It's incredibly delicious. Honestly, the possibility of glintwein may well do more to get me into random cafes than anything else over the next several months till the weather changes.
Came home today to find a small Christmas (New Year's?) ornament hung on my desk. It's a nice thought, even if it made a lousy picture. See below.
The river is covered with ice, though patches of open water keep showing up and its apparently still at least somewhat navigable. It took about two days for the nearly the entire surface to be iced over--from chunks of ice floating downstream on the first truly cold day after the recent warm period to what you see in the pictures below.
This week is the last of classes before a two week break for the holidays. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing for lunch over those two weeks, but I hope it's not McDonald's every day. (Or even McD's alternating with Teremok.)
The other side of this, though, is that I'm starting to get a bit complacent. Restaurants are the one place where I can regularly find English-speaking staff, or at least an English menu; yesterday at Teplo, I had no need to utter so much as a word of Russian after saying hello. If I do need to speak Russian, it's generally limited to 'give me this, this and that,' which doesn't really get me very far outside of a restaurant or shop. And it's easy for me to just go to class, come home and doodle around on the internet through the evening, with really very little Russian passing my lips or ears throughout the day.
I can't claim to having a sure fire solution to this. But I did recently find the English Communication Club, which is devoted to Russians who want to practice English. I'm an American who wants to practice Russian, but I'm happy to make it a two-way street. There's a meeting tonight that I may or may not make it to; if I don't make that meeting, I'm definitely going to hit another one soon. Even if I don't get a lot of opportunities to practice Russian, maybe I can make a few friends. One of the things this trip has taught me is that this lone wolf thing that's my normal style is hopelessly flawed. I don't necessarily have an answer for that, either, but I'm definitely aware of it. To my friends and family back home, and my handful of friends here (should they happen to be reading this), I'm more in your debt for the support you've given me over the last couple of months than I can probably effectively express.
A couple of stray comments: Glintwein is my new favorite thing here. Mulled, sweetened wine, with or without fruit. It's incredibly delicious. Honestly, the possibility of glintwein may well do more to get me into random cafes than anything else over the next several months till the weather changes.
Came home today to find a small Christmas (New Year's?) ornament hung on my desk. It's a nice thought, even if it made a lousy picture. See below.
The river is covered with ice, though patches of open water keep showing up and its apparently still at least somewhat navigable. It took about two days for the nearly the entire surface to be iced over--from chunks of ice floating downstream on the first truly cold day after the recent warm period to what you see in the pictures below.
This week is the last of classes before a two week break for the holidays. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing for lunch over those two weeks, but I hope it's not McDonald's every day. (Or even McD's alternating with Teremok.)
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| Winter in SPb |
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Волшебная Флейта
My first opera! I'm still basking in the afterglow; this may be a bit impressionistic.
Papagero! Prince Tamino stands on the stage, looking pointedly up into the audience. I notice the audience looking up behind me, and Papagero is coming down the aisle, toting feathery boxes on a long pole balanced on his head. He strides up onto the edge of the balcony, directly in front of me, and strides back and forth, singing and swinging the boxes around. (A lady in the row behind smacked one of them.) This is just the beginning for Papagero: Later, he accepts a giant glass of wine from the conductor and passes it around the audience. I don't *think* anyone had a drink. Still later, he and Papagena took two children out of the audience and brought them up on stage. Really, he was an absolute show-stealer.
Speaking of the audience: The Mariinsky Theatre Concert Hall is in the round, with seats on all sides of the stage. This includes several rows of benches that are actually on-stage, which is where those lucky kids were sitting. They brought them back out for the curtain call; their applause was only rivaled by Papagero's and the Queen of the Night's.
Speaking of the Queen: what pipes! There is simply no way that I'll be able to describe what she did with her voice. It was preternaturally beautiful--it gave me chills. If I wasn't looking at her on stage, I don't know if I would've believed that it was a real human voice.
The production was fairly sparse, but no less beautiful for it. In addition to Papagero, Pamina came down the aisle on my side, dropping her parasol just next to me, and the chorus lined the aisles on both sides, right up to where I was sitting. (NB: Opera, when performed directly into your ear, is quite loud.)
Between the acts, the percussionist gave a little impromptu demonstration/lecture about his various instruments, which started with just a small group and, by the third bell, had a substantial chunk of the audience gathered around him. It was, in general, a fairly intimate, relaxed venue. There were quite a few empty seats behind the stage; I don't know how it looked behind me.
I didn't count the curtain calls, but there were several. Never in my life have I wanted to shout "Bravo!" quite so much, but I was a bit afraid of looking ridiculous. Bravo was shouted, but I believe it was shouted by the performers themselves. Interestingly, the applause synchronized and stayed that way throughout the curtain calls--I'm not sure if this is a Russian thing, an opera thing, or just an odd happening at this performance.
In short: It was wonderful. My only regrets are not being able to understand more of it--it was performed in Russian--and that it wasn't a bit more of a Giant Spectacle sort of opera. I'm looking forward to the organ concert, also at the Concert Hall, and must admit that this is not likely to be my last opera. It might well be the last one I get into for $20, though…
Papagero! Prince Tamino stands on the stage, looking pointedly up into the audience. I notice the audience looking up behind me, and Papagero is coming down the aisle, toting feathery boxes on a long pole balanced on his head. He strides up onto the edge of the balcony, directly in front of me, and strides back and forth, singing and swinging the boxes around. (A lady in the row behind smacked one of them.) This is just the beginning for Papagero: Later, he accepts a giant glass of wine from the conductor and passes it around the audience. I don't *think* anyone had a drink. Still later, he and Papagena took two children out of the audience and brought them up on stage. Really, he was an absolute show-stealer.
Speaking of the audience: The Mariinsky Theatre Concert Hall is in the round, with seats on all sides of the stage. This includes several rows of benches that are actually on-stage, which is where those lucky kids were sitting. They brought them back out for the curtain call; their applause was only rivaled by Papagero's and the Queen of the Night's.
Speaking of the Queen: what pipes! There is simply no way that I'll be able to describe what she did with her voice. It was preternaturally beautiful--it gave me chills. If I wasn't looking at her on stage, I don't know if I would've believed that it was a real human voice.
The production was fairly sparse, but no less beautiful for it. In addition to Papagero, Pamina came down the aisle on my side, dropping her parasol just next to me, and the chorus lined the aisles on both sides, right up to where I was sitting. (NB: Opera, when performed directly into your ear, is quite loud.)
Between the acts, the percussionist gave a little impromptu demonstration/lecture about his various instruments, which started with just a small group and, by the third bell, had a substantial chunk of the audience gathered around him. It was, in general, a fairly intimate, relaxed venue. There were quite a few empty seats behind the stage; I don't know how it looked behind me.
I didn't count the curtain calls, but there were several. Never in my life have I wanted to shout "Bravo!" quite so much, but I was a bit afraid of looking ridiculous. Bravo was shouted, but I believe it was shouted by the performers themselves. Interestingly, the applause synchronized and stayed that way throughout the curtain calls--I'm not sure if this is a Russian thing, an opera thing, or just an odd happening at this performance.
In short: It was wonderful. My only regrets are not being able to understand more of it--it was performed in Russian--and that it wasn't a bit more of a Giant Spectacle sort of opera. I'm looking forward to the organ concert, also at the Concert Hall, and must admit that this is not likely to be my last opera. It might well be the last one I get into for $20, though…
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