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| New Year's, Commies, and a Hint of Things to Come |
Monday, December 14, 2009
A sign of things to come...
Ice in the Bol'shaya Neva on a beautiful, cold winter's day... (which would be the album cover below, but Picasa's not listening to me tonight.)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Russian Weddings
Any time I walk down the English Embankment on a weekend, I can count on a wedding at the Wedding Palace. Today was no exception. On my way to Tandoor, one of the two Indian restaurants near St. Isaac's, I passed one wedding and bumped into another across the street from the Bronze Horseman. After they managed to cause an accident crossing the street, they headed towards the Horseman himself. In the little plaza around the statue, along with Peter and Catherine,* a pair of buskers** were waiting; as the party approached, they struck up the wedding march on trumpet and banjo, and from there segued into a rather eclectic mix of Russian tunes and western standards. The perfect coincidence of it all, never mind the music ringing out across the park, put a big smile on my face.
In other news, I had an enormous Indian lunch at Tandoor, left a fairly fat tip since I think I'll be going back, and bought tickets to The Nutcracker and an organ concert at the Mariinsky Theatre and the Mariinsky Theatre Concert Hall, respectively. Got the student rate on the tickets, which was a very pleasant surprise--the Nutcracker ticket alone would've cost more than the pair of them if I'd had to pay the foreigner rate.
* I think they're there every weekend. I was going to ask for a picture, but I didn't want to interfere with the wedding party. Next time.
** At least, I'm pretty sure they were buskers. They didn't have a case open that I could see, but I was giving the wedding party a wide berth. I don't figure anyone includes two old guys with a banjo and a trumpet in their actual wedding plans.
In other news, I had an enormous Indian lunch at Tandoor, left a fairly fat tip since I think I'll be going back, and bought tickets to The Nutcracker and an organ concert at the Mariinsky Theatre and the Mariinsky Theatre Concert Hall, respectively. Got the student rate on the tickets, which was a very pleasant surprise--the Nutcracker ticket alone would've cost more than the pair of them if I'd had to pay the foreigner rate.
* I think they're there every weekend. I was going to ask for a picture, but I didn't want to interfere with the wedding party. Next time.
** At least, I'm pretty sure they were buskers. They didn't have a case open that I could see, but I was giving the wedding party a wide berth. I don't figure anyone includes two old guys with a banjo and a trumpet in their actual wedding plans.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
A quiet week.
Posts have been slow, as you may've noticed, simply because I've fallen into a bit of a rut this week. The sun's coming up quite late, and going down early--it's starting to get dark before I'm out of school at 15:30 or so, and not really getting light until 10:00. That may be having an effect on my mood and energy level, or I may just be in a bit of a lazy rut of my own devise. Regardless of the cause, the routine this week has been to get up, putter around here for a while, go to school, come home, and putter around here until bedtime. Nothing much to do and nowhere to go means I've got nothing to share with you.
Still, a few things worth noting:
* Бог есть? Нет Бога? Я не знаю. Нам не важно; мне важно люди, мир, жизнь. Здесь, теперь. ("There is a God? There isn't? I don't know. It's not important to us; to me, what's important are people, the world, life. Here and now.") Probably disastrously bad Russian, but enough to get the point across, I imagine.
Still, a few things worth noting:
- We wound up in a rather cramped fourth floor room today. It just happened to have a piano, and it turns out that one of the Chinese girls can play a little. On break, she played for a few minutes; it did a remarkably good job of quieting the room. Ludmila Nikolaevna came in in the middle, and joined the audience until she finished.
- On a bulletin board right next to the room, I spotted a flyer for spbdodgeball.blogspot.com. That's right: Dodgeball (дадзбол!) here in Piter. I may just go check it out. Dodgeball's the universal language, right?
- Natasha asked me about my religion at dinner tonight. It was a touch awkward--I don't know any religious words other than Бог (God), so I couldn't really explain that while I'm more or less an atheist, it's more to the point to say that it just isn't all that important to me. (Nor my parents--she asked about you also.) After she was gone I thought of a way that I could've said it.* This happens often; it's like thinking up the perfect witty riposte right after the conversation is over, except that it happens almost every time I need to say anything at all. When I'm on the spot, I freeze.
* Бог есть? Нет Бога? Я не знаю. Нам не важно; мне важно люди, мир, жизнь. Здесь, теперь. ("There is a God? There isn't? I don't know. It's not important to us; to me, what's important are people, the world, life. Here and now.") Probably disastrously bad Russian, but enough to get the point across, I imagine.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The Idiot and the Hermitage
Yesterday saw me actually carry out my plans essentially as, well, planned.
The Idiot: As advertised, the meal did come with a complimentary shot of vodka. The space is cozy and, as near as I could tell, complicated--a maze of small, low-ceilinged rooms filled with dark wood, low couches, and odd knick-knacks, like the half-melted stereo that was near my seat. The food was acceptable, if not spectacular, but the portion was ample. A small card at the table advertised their New Year's celebration; if I'm not doing anything else, I may wind up here.
The Hermitage: Simply spectacular. Words do not do it justice, so I won't make the attempt. For me, the highlight was the building itself, rather than the art it contained--the rooms where it still looked somewhat like what it might have in the days of the Tsars. It really is like something from a fairy tale.
On the other hand, this being Russia, nothing can possibly be made easy. Getting in means queuing up in the cold while they admit people in blocks. Once you're in, you have to deal with the cashiers. Fighting with them seems to be a popular hobby for Russians, and the line tends to be rather poorly organized--after I had the misfortune to step to a second window where a lady was fighting the cashier at some length, I wound up having to wait through several (less contentious) patrons who'd somehow managed to queue up on the other side of her. Ticket in hand, I headed to the coat check room to find that every hook was already taken. Since you're not allowed to wear your coat into the galleries (for fear you might slip a painting into it and escape, I suppose), there was no choice but to pick a bay and hope someone eventually came to claim their coat. Once finally free of my coat, I was able to head in.
Was it worth the hassle? Absolutely. But I'm not sure I'll make it my go-to entertainment of choice, even if it is free.
I left around four, and snapped a few pictures on the way back. Sometime I'll have to head to the other side of the Bol'shaya Neva and take a few of the English Embankment in the evening; they light it up beautifully.
The Idiot: As advertised, the meal did come with a complimentary shot of vodka. The space is cozy and, as near as I could tell, complicated--a maze of small, low-ceilinged rooms filled with dark wood, low couches, and odd knick-knacks, like the half-melted stereo that was near my seat. The food was acceptable, if not spectacular, but the portion was ample. A small card at the table advertised their New Year's celebration; if I'm not doing anything else, I may wind up here.
The Hermitage: Simply spectacular. Words do not do it justice, so I won't make the attempt. For me, the highlight was the building itself, rather than the art it contained--the rooms where it still looked somewhat like what it might have in the days of the Tsars. It really is like something from a fairy tale.
On the other hand, this being Russia, nothing can possibly be made easy. Getting in means queuing up in the cold while they admit people in blocks. Once you're in, you have to deal with the cashiers. Fighting with them seems to be a popular hobby for Russians, and the line tends to be rather poorly organized--after I had the misfortune to step to a second window where a lady was fighting the cashier at some length, I wound up having to wait through several (less contentious) patrons who'd somehow managed to queue up on the other side of her. Ticket in hand, I headed to the coat check room to find that every hook was already taken. Since you're not allowed to wear your coat into the galleries (for fear you might slip a painting into it and escape, I suppose), there was no choice but to pick a bay and hope someone eventually came to claim their coat. Once finally free of my coat, I was able to head in.
Was it worth the hassle? Absolutely. But I'm not sure I'll make it my go-to entertainment of choice, even if it is free.
I left around four, and snapped a few pictures on the way back. Sometime I'll have to head to the other side of the Bol'shaya Neva and take a few of the English Embankment in the evening; they light it up beautifully.
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| Sculpture and Light |
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Almost all of these were taken in and around the University, where there's a little bit of sculpture scattered almost randomly around. Plus, another Soviet relic and a couple of bare-breasted statues from the extremely wet excursion last Saturday.
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| Mostly Sculpture |
You must follow the model EXACTLY, Tomas.
Class was a bit on the frustrating side today. A daily feature of our classes with Ludmila Nikolaevna (who seems to have eaten Elena, or hid her in a closet, or something) is "Diktant," or dictation. In its most elemental form, LN will recite five sentences, and provide an outline of their structure on the whiteboard; we are responsible for writing down what we hear. This was almost the first thing I did when I changed groups, and it's one of the things I appreciate most about this group. It gives me the listening practice I so urgently need. LN has several variations of the basic format, any one of which might be the exercise for the day.
Today, she went with "Samodiktant," which would sort of translate to "Self-dictation." In this particular form, she provided what turned out to be an extremely specific outline of four very simple sentences; we were to construct sentences that conformed to the model. I immediately set to work. Reality often being my best inspiration, I wrote, "Вчера вечером, мы с подругой поехали на концерт." ("Yesterday evening, my (female) friend and I went to a concert.") When LN saw this, she quickly took issue. We've not had the preposition that I used in class yet, nor the case that it governs, and she told me that I needed to follow the model exactly--that the other stuff comes later.
What I couldn't say, though I wanted to, was that while the class might not know the instrumental case, I do. (Not particularly well, but I know it.) If I don't use it, I tend to forget it, and what other chance do I have to use it, but when an opportunity presents itself in class? This is the second time I've run up against this instance on slavishly following the model, and it reinforces the importance of getting out-of-class experience with this language. If I only follow the models in class, I might be able to construct painfully simple sentences in any of a limited number of rigidly defined forms; I won't be able to speak the language (unless I'm lucky enough to need to say one of those limited things). I know I'll make mistakes if I'm running out ahead of the class--I make them even with the stuff we're currently working on, now and then. But I want to make them, and I need to make them if I'm going to learn.
It also makes me think that it may be time to hop up a level again. The only thing that really holds me back right now is my vocabulary and my weak listening comprehension; I'm nearly certain that I already know all of the grammar in at least the first of our textbooks. Maybe in another month I'll feel like I've got the vocab to skip ahead again. Or, if I can find a conversation partner, maybe I can just treat class as an extremely simple review and move ahead on my own…
Today, she went with "Samodiktant," which would sort of translate to "Self-dictation." In this particular form, she provided what turned out to be an extremely specific outline of four very simple sentences; we were to construct sentences that conformed to the model. I immediately set to work. Reality often being my best inspiration, I wrote, "Вчера вечером, мы с подругой поехали на концерт." ("Yesterday evening, my (female) friend and I went to a concert.") When LN saw this, she quickly took issue. We've not had the preposition that I used in class yet, nor the case that it governs, and she told me that I needed to follow the model exactly--that the other stuff comes later.
What I couldn't say, though I wanted to, was that while the class might not know the instrumental case, I do. (Not particularly well, but I know it.) If I don't use it, I tend to forget it, and what other chance do I have to use it, but when an opportunity presents itself in class? This is the second time I've run up against this instance on slavishly following the model, and it reinforces the importance of getting out-of-class experience with this language. If I only follow the models in class, I might be able to construct painfully simple sentences in any of a limited number of rigidly defined forms; I won't be able to speak the language (unless I'm lucky enough to need to say one of those limited things). I know I'll make mistakes if I'm running out ahead of the class--I make them even with the stuff we're currently working on, now and then. But I want to make them, and I need to make them if I'm going to learn.
It also makes me think that it may be time to hop up a level again. The only thing that really holds me back right now is my vocabulary and my weak listening comprehension; I'm nearly certain that I already know all of the grammar in at least the first of our textbooks. Maybe in another month I'll feel like I've got the vocab to skip ahead again. Or, if I can find a conversation partner, maybe I can just treat class as an extremely simple review and move ahead on my own…
Gogol Bordello
Last night: Gogol Bordello. What to say? As usual, Hutz & Co. played their hearts out. The setlist had a fairly lengthy digression into something like a samba medley in the middle, with Eugene and Pedro playing that… uh, tin can thing? The upshot was that we got a few less GB songs than we usually would have, but the show and energy were up to the usual level of excellence. The venue was large, with good sound. Smoking was notionally prohibited, but you actually had cigarette girls wandering around selling (of all things) Chesterfields. Unlike concerts in the states, the time listed on the tickets was actually the time the first act went on stage. Venues in the states, I encourage you to adopt this practice.
Our seats were a bit further back than we'd expected--we paid extra for "VIP" tix, which means that we had a place to sit if we were so inclined. All Robin knew when she bought them was that they were in the first row; she didn't know and had no reason to suspect that the VIP section was in the very back of the hall. Nor was there any reason to suspect that it would be peopled primarily with the most sedate people I've ever seen at a concert. They didn't stand up, they didn't dance, they didn't sing along, they usually didn't even applaud. Towards the end we did wind up with a couple of guys dancing like crazy in the aisle--maybe it was the liquor.
Minor complaints here--for the most part, a good time was had by all and it even got out early enough to make the metro (though Pl. A-Nevskogo closes early, for some reason).
Our seats were a bit further back than we'd expected--we paid extra for "VIP" tix, which means that we had a place to sit if we were so inclined. All Robin knew when she bought them was that they were in the first row; she didn't know and had no reason to suspect that the VIP section was in the very back of the hall. Nor was there any reason to suspect that it would be peopled primarily with the most sedate people I've ever seen at a concert. They didn't stand up, they didn't dance, they didn't sing along, they usually didn't even applaud. Towards the end we did wind up with a couple of guys dancing like crazy in the aisle--maybe it was the liquor.
Minor complaints here--for the most part, a good time was had by all and it even got out early enough to make the metro (though Pl. A-Nevskogo closes early, for some reason).
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