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 |
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