A Russian Spring

Hello everyone,

I hope you’re finally beginning to enjoy warm temperatures, singing birds, and budding flowers, wherever you are. If you live somewhere warm, you probably don’t understand the magic of springtime like us cold-weather people do. Spring means not having to turn your car on ten minutes before you drive it, not having to shovel the walk every other morning, and not worrying about icy roads. Of course, it also means lots of flooding, melting puddles of dirty ice, and large amounts of rain, but we’ll skip over that for now.

You’ll be pleased to hear that Russia has a spring as well! Our winter was an absolute bust – we didn’t have a White Christmas, then there were about two or three weeks of below-zero temperatures, and...that was it. The weather got progressively warmer, the snow started to melt, all the outdoor ice rinks started to shut down, the ladies stopped wearing their fur coats, and before I knew it, it was spring. My kids and I still strongly believe that the Midwest stole Russia’s winter and added it to their own. But we’ll let bygones be bygones. Though the weather maintained a steady month of hovering just above freezing, it has now finally taken a turn and I believe warmer weather is locked in.

I haven’t written about Russia in a while, not because things haven’t been happening (I'll keep the political issues at bay here, and all you need to know is that things are safe in Moscow), but because I’ve been waiting until Easter so that I could align the six weeks between two important Russian spring holidays.  Which means to start, I’m going to take you back six weeks to the holiday that marked the beginning of the Russian ‘spring’ – in spirit if not in weather.

Maslenitsa

Maslenitsa, one of the most important spring holidays in Russia, traces back to pagan ancestry. The holiday was conveniently adapted to fit with Eastern Orthodox traditions, however, and today it is once again known as the start of Orthodox Lent. It literally translates to ‘Butter Week,’ and represents the final week of winter, a nice excuse to indulge in our extra winter insulation foods (like butter) just to ensure a smooth sailing into spring. In the past, each day of Maslenitsa week was designated for special activities, such as visiting certain members of your family, going for sleigh rides, or skating in the park, with a culmination festival day on Sunday. The traditions ceased during Soviet times, but these days, there is a more of a cultural revival. Today, although Maslenitsa events are growing in popularity throughout the week, most of it focuses on the weekend activities just before Lent.

Maslenitsa blini

I did, however, begin my personal celebration during the week by eating the traditional Maslenitsa food: pancakes, or blini, in Russian. Similar to the Catholic tradition of Shrove Tuesday, pancakes mark the beginning of Lent. The pancakes in description are actually more similar to crepes, and look like very thin, flat versions of my Dad's fluffy pancakes I grew up with. The beauty of these pancakes is that you can eat them with anything – if you want them to be savory you can have butter (hence the name ‘butter week’), caviar (that's a thing here), or some kind of meat and cheese. Alternatively, you can go the sweets route and fill them with jam, sweetened condensed milk, Nutella, or whipped cream. They're even great just plain. Either way, those pancakes disappear like lightning. You could buy messes of them at the stores, at the festival stalls, or make them at home. We had them at school throughout the week, contributed by a variety of school ladies, and I made it a personal mission to embrace the cultural experience by eating a hearty amount. Each time they appeared.

The pancakes, though they very neatly lined up with the Catholic Pancake Tuesday, actually originated with the pagan festival, as they represented the bright, round shape and color of sunshine. The pagans used Maslenitsa to mark the end of winter and the beginning of spring and sunshine. No matter that usually in Russia it was the middle of a cold, snowy winter – tradition is tradition. The final day of celebration is the most exciting and official custom of Maslenitsa: the burning of the female effigy, representing Lady Winter. (In Russian, winter is a feminine noun.)

Lady Winter

If you think this is something not to be missed, you are right. After an unusually warm week, a group of us met up on Sunday afternoon at one of Moscow’s largest parks to enjoy Maslenitsa and watch the burning. Unfortunately, that became the chilliest day of the week, so after ice skating and walking around for a few hours we were freezing, but determined to stick it out until the fire. The park was packed with families milling about, mostly for the kids activities and games, but also just to enjoy the event. There was live music, singing, and dancing in the center stage, and I had fun watching a group of people (most likely due to a certain liquid influence which made them especially happy) dancing and singing in circles to what I assume was traditional music.

Finally, after a cold afternoon of waiting, the burning commenced. We all gathered in a large circle and waited in anticipation. There was some sort of chanting and singing that I can only imagine meant something along the lines of “burn the witch!” and the next thing we knew, she was up in flames. It was all over in a matter of seconds, after which there was cheering and clapping.

Slightly creepy? Definitely. Interesting cultural experience? Absolutely. Though snow still decided to visit us in the following weeks, in everyone’s hearts and minds: winter was over.

Lent

In between Maslenitsa and Easter we had Lent. As in America, in Russia some observe this and some don’t. The Russian Lent starts on a Monday compared to the Roman Catholic Wednesday, and they have stricter rules. In modern daily life, however, it is loosely adhered to. The only difference I noticed around town were the kinds of treats my babushka (yes, my own personal Russian grandmother) served me with coffee after tutoring on Saturdays (I didn't know how to explain to her that I always give up sweets for Lent so I just wrote it off to a cultural experience and avoided chocolate) and the stickers in the grocery stored that marked whether it was ‘Lent approved’ or not.

Thanks to trusty Wikipedia, I learned that in the Eastern Orthodox Church, for those who follow it, Lent is quite strict compared to us lax Lutherans (read more about the differences here.)

“Weekdays during Lent, members are asked to avoid meat, meat products, fish, eggs, dairy, wine and oil. On Good Friday, members are urged not to eat at all.” Therefore all “Lent” products that I saw stickers on in the grocery store were foods made with no eggs, oil, or dairy, mostly in the bakery aisle. I’m happy to report that all of my purchases happened to be Lent approved.  

Tretyakov Gallery

Vodka Museum displays

The Lenten season this year wasn’t marked with anything special other than gray skies, a snowfall or two, and business as usual at work. However, I did make sure to take advantage of my free typically-non-sunny Sundays by visiting some of Moscow’s great delights: museums. I had quite a few on my list but have since been able to check many of them off. I visited the two most famous art galleries in Moscow, along with two history museums and the official Russian Vodka Museum thrown in the mix just for fun. The vodka museum gives you a free shot when you’re finished with the exhibition.


One of the highlights of my city exploration during Lent was one particular, rare sunny day when I ventured out to the Izmaylovo Market, located on the former royal property of the Romanov family. Today, located on the same property there is a large structure known as the 'Izmaylovo Kremlin,' a mess of brightly decorated and elaborate buildings designed to emulate medieval Russian structures. The 'Kremlin' is home to a wedding hall, restaurants, and bars for wedding events, but it also holds the Vodka Museum, an open air museum and theme park for children, and one of the city's largest flea market. Quite the place.

For my unusually sunny Sunday, I decided to walk around the structures to investigate and take pictures, get my morning fix by visiting the vodka museum and taking the free shot (it was 5 o'clock somewhere, I'm sure), then do some shopping for things to take home as gifts this summer. At the market the first few aisles are heavily laden with typical "Russian' tourist products such as the matrioshka dolls (the ones that open and open and open with sets of smaller dolls inside), fur hats, and Russian decorated everything. However, in the back wooden aisles and walkways the clientele is primarily Russian speakers, haggling and bargaining for the best deal at what most would pronounce as "junk." That's the purpose of a flea market though, right? I'm sure there were many treasures among the items displayed, but I chose to do a quick browse and focus on the typical Russian items first, as the weather was deceptively chilly. I'll come back and do some better investigation now that it's warmer out, perhaps for some old Soviet books, stamps, posters, etc.

 To finish out my afternoon before I became an icicle, I walked across the park to the other side of the frozen pond, where kilometers of trail were laid out along the lake and the nearby forest. To view the entire complex from a distance put it into a wonderful perspective, and evoked a strong sense of Russian magnificence. Whether this feeling was due to the vodka shot or the beautiful sunshine I'm not sure, but it was still a lovely sight to behold and enjoy.

Izmayolovo Kremlin

Women’s Day

Some of you may know that March 8^th is International Women’s Day. What you may not know is that in Russia…people actually celebrate it. Though preceded by February’s ‘Men’s Day,’ (perhaps just so that men's feelings aren't hurt) Women’s Day appeared to be more public and important to acknowledge. Smart Russia, smart. For Men’s Day, our two male teachers received alcohol and a tie. For the weekdays leading up to Women’s Day, I received chocolates, flowers, and little gift bags of cosmetics and toiletries. But for me the best part of the holiday turned out to be my half an hour walk on March 8^th to my Saturday morning tutoring session, when I passed over two dozen men walking on the street carrying flowers. There are always little outdoor flower stalls along the streets throughout the year, but I rarely see more than one or two people carrying flowers on the street. On Women’s Day, however, there were flowers everywhere. It was sweet to think that each man with flowers, no matter how curmudgeonly they appeared, had a soft spot somewhere for his special sweetheart. My girls reported back to me the next week that for Women’s Day most of them had a special meal with their families along with receiving flowers and maybe a small gift from their fathers and brothers. They were shocked when I informed them we don’t really celebrate Women’s Day in America in the same way – we celebrate Mother’s Day. One of my girls asked, to clarify, “So, if a woman isn’t a mother…she doesn’t get celebrated?” I responded by saying that usually we can say Happy Mother’s Day to most women older than us, as a general sentiment, but it did give me something to think about. She had a point – shouldn’t every woman and girl be celebrated?

Cosmonaut Day

 A brief but deserving mention is the final spring holiday before Easter this year, Cosmonautics Day. April 12th, 1961, marked the date of the first man in space, Russian astronaut Yuri Gagarin. At a time of high Cold War tension, this event made him an international celebrity and earned him the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.
April 12th was designated International Cosmonautics Day and still celebrated in Russia today with ceremonies and marches, culminating in the cemetery where Gagarin is buried. Though we didn't see the official celebrations in the city, Jen and I had plans to visit the newly renovated Cosmonautics Museum for the weekend. My students had informed me about the activities at school that week, then recommended the museum. We had problems finding said museum, so by the time we located it and saw the line outside, we decided to just take a walk around the area and enjoy the memorial structures outside. We enjoyed watching Russian families (presumably) educating their children about the statues and murals, hopefully to instill a sense of knowledge and pride in their country's accomplishment.

Easter

Finally, we conclude with Easter. Russia doesn’t celebrate Easter with the Easter bunny, baskets, or egg hunts, but they do have a few traditions of their own. Probably more practical traditions, but hey, we have fun.

Easter Kulich

The week before Easter is the time to buy or make ‘Kulich,’ or Easter bread cake. It’s sweet and has icing like a cake but includes yeast and looks more like bread. It is tradition that families can’t eat their Kulich until they have been to the Easter service and had it blessed by the priest. After church, there is a meal, decorating eggs, and, as my kids have explained to me in great detail, “egg fighting.” I’m sure that’s conjuring up many images in your mind, but what they mean is that after you have hard boiled, decorated, and admired your egg, you are supposed to challenge someone and say your egg is stronger than theirs. Then, it’s a direct hit, egg on egg, with each person holding their egg and putting their might into destroying the other egg. The winner? The person whose egg has cracked the least. Brilliant.

I celebrated my Easter a little differently, though we did decorate eggs and eat Kulich. On Easter, Jen and I went to service at the same church we went to on Christmas, after which we enjoyed a champagne reception with the other members in the sunny garden, then we hopped on the metro and met up with our friends at the banya (technically called a sauna, but it’s a little different than our saunas, so I’ll differentiate). The banya is basically a private bathhouse/sauna/spa where you show up with your swimsuit and towel, some food and drinks to share, and spend three hours relaxing with your friends in between sweating in the sauna, showering off, and soaking in the pool. You could pick your poison and sweat in the Finnish style dry heat sauna or the Turkish style steam room, then recover by plunging into the chilly pool. Traditionally, a roll in the snow would have served the same purpose but we made do with our alternate option of the pool. Needless to say, we all felt very clean, detoxified, and slightly dehydrated when we left.

Pool and common area 

After the banya, we went back to Brendan and Robb’s, our trusty holiday hosts from both Canadian Thanksgiving and Christmas, and had a lovely Easter potluck and a second round of egg decorating. As always, when you are away from home your friends become your family, and Easter this year was no exception. Most of us will be parting ways and moving on at the end of May, so we reflected on the past seven months and talked about how to make the most of our last few weeks together. I’m anticipating the time flying by, and as always will try to appreciate everything to the fullest as the days slip away.

Easter 2014

With that, I hope you all had a wonderful Easter with your family and friends – please enjoy the rest of your April and start anticipating warmer weather and the coming of…dare I say it? Summer.

A Hop Over The Pond.

Hello everyone,

Happy Spring! I hope this finds you well, though I hear Minnesota just got another strange snowfall…will it ever end? This is a prequel to my overdue Spring post (stay tuned next week) with a quick write up of my most recent adventure, a three day driving trip through Ireland. It came and went in the blink of an eye, but as always, the memories will last forever.

Up until March, I had no plans whatsoever to go to Ireland. Here’s what happened:

Me, sending a message one morning before work: “Chelsea, have a great time in London this weekend!”

Chelsea: “Thanks, do you have any recommendations?”

Me: “Blah blah blah London! Have fun!”

Chelsea: “Thanks! Have you been to Ireland? We could use some tips for our trip there too!”

Me: “No, I’ve never been! When are you going to Ireland?”

Chelsea: “Next month! Want to come?”

Me: “…Yes!”

Welcome to Ireland.

Boom, we set up a trip in Ireland. Three weeks later I headed to the airport after teaching my classes on Friday night and flew out early Saturday morning. Thanks to a four hour time difference and a layover in Amsterdam, I landed mid-morning in Dublin on Saturday and was expertly picked up by Ben, Chelsea, and Baby James – the same crew from my Germany trip in January. I say expertly because this was no ordinary ride – this was a pick up in a car that had the steering wheel on the right side of the car, then was maneuvered on the…left side of the road. Two kinds of backwards, but Chelsea managed it like a pro. They had arrived in Ireland the day before and had a wonderful adventure at Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland before returning to Dublin to pick me up and head south.

Ireland, the beautiful green land of fields, cliffs, and castles, was a place that I knew I’d go to someday, I just didn’t think it would be during my stint in Russia. However, between the relatively cheap ticket prices, the novelty of sharing a car and hotel room with my friends, and the opportunity to go before heading back to the States this summer (therefore an investment, as I wouldn’t have to pay for a trans-Atlantic flight in addition to Ireland costs, right?), I figured it would be worth it. The other novelty I was blessed with was Ben and Chelsea’s flexibility and generosity to allow me to have some input and help plan the trip. After the initial excitement over booking the trip, it turned out that I not only had some tips for our portion of the trip, but I also had a mapped out itinerary in my mind which I had developed when I was about fifteen years old. They were ready and willing to work around what I wanted to see while combining it with their wishes. Put simply, I got lucky in all aspects.

Irish Countryside

Also, as I learned during our time in Germany, Ben and Chelsea, (and Baby deserves an honorable mention for this as well) are pretty fierce travelers. They aren’t scared away by driving time, the occasional straying from directions, or the inevitable getting lost here and there. With a rough plan in mind, we made it work and got the most out of our days. Luckily, Ireland is so beautiful that even during car time we were able to ‘see things’ and enjoy the countryside as much as visiting sites.

So, what did we see? 

At Blarney Castle

Blarney Castle – Though blantantly marked ‘for tourists' these days, we braved the stigma and made it our first stop on the way to the southwestern coast. The castle, dating back to the 15^th century, is actually in ruins now, but it has remained a permanent fixture due to the famed “Blarney Stone,” the origins of which are unknown, and legendary at best. What is known is that this small-ish slab of limestone was permanently built into the castle walls around 1446, and most likely due to the ‘sweet talking’ of the Irish Lord of Blarney, who was able to hold off Queen Elizabeth and her troops from crossing to Ireland and taking his lands during the period of British rule, the term ‘blarney’ became a common synonym for ‘beguiling flattery.’  

Reunited with the Wunderlichs on top of Blarney Castle. 

As a result, and perhaps as a credit to Ireland’s tourism bureau, today millions of people from all over the world think that if they come, pay money, lay down backwards, and kiss the Blarney Stone upside down, they will be gifted with the ‘gift of gab’ and be able to sweet talk their way out of anything. Silly? Yes. Did we still do it? Absolutely. It was just as much fun, however, to wander the beautiful castle grounds, see the former rooms of the castle, explore the surrounding caves, and take a peek in the ‘poison garden’ in the back yard. Highlighted plants included cannabis, opium, and wolfsbane. Why someone wants these in a garden I’m really not sure, but it was interesting to see them in plant formation. 

 Dingle Peninsula  

After Blarney and staying the night in Killarney, we unfortunately had to bypass Killarney National Park and the Ring of Kerry, though we were right at the entrance to both. Next time. Instead, we headed northwest to an equally beautiful national treasure, the Dingle Peninsula. When I walked out of the hotel that morning to put my bag in the car, Ben and Chelsea informed me that they had decided I should try driving a little that day, just to practice my opposites. I am now proud to report my new title of experienced ambidextrous driver. Admittedly, it took a little while to get the hang of hugging the middle lane instead of the shoulder, and I tensed up pretty much every time there was an oncoming car, but hey, practice makes perfect.

So, with my expert driving skills I took us across the peninsula through the adorable little coastal town of Dingle.  Perhaps less famous than its big brother the Ring of Kerry, the charming Dingle Peninsula has a driving loop that circles around the coast lined edge of the peninsula, and is filled with spectacular views of the coastline. It’s not very big, but due to narrow and windy roads it took more time than we thought it would. We headed straight towards the coast, and as the road rose and fell we had the luxury of deciding whether to stop by cliffs or the beach. We did both. Though cloudy at first, we soon had sunny skies, which added to the brilliant blue of the water, something I hadn't expected. My previous image of the Atlantic coast had been only dark and grey, but parts of Dingle were so blue they reminded me of the Caribbean. After a few hours of driving, numerous photo stops, and some walking, we realized time was getting away from us and we had to press on. Though our time there was short and sweet, Dingle was everything and more than I had imagined it to be all those years ago when I planned my trip. I hope I will be back someday to give it more time and do it justice.

The Dingle Peninsula

 Cliffs of Moher 

This was by far my favorite stop, and it both figuratively and literally almost blew me away (it was really windy). I wasn’t prepared for how stunning the cliffs would be. If you’ve ever seen Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince or The Princess Bride, you’ve already seen parts of them on your TV screen, but this in no way compares to actually being there. We hit the Cliffs after an already full day of driving, a quick ferry crossing (it was actually so quick that none of us realized we were actually moving across the water by the time we had parked and gotten out of the car), and in anticipation of yet another drive to the hotel that night after our stop. I’m sure you can imagine our state of being at that point in time. Luckily, it turned out the cliffs were just what we needed. We reached them late in the afternoon, with the sun hanging low in the clear skies. It was fiercely windy but tolerable, and after learning a little about the geology of the area in the nicely designed visitor’s center, we headed out for our walk along the cliffs. The first thing we saw on our left was a series of tall, dramatic sheer cliff faces that dropped off about 220 meters into the water below.

The Cliffs of Moher

After trying to take it all in and working the camera angles, we took a nice walk along the cliff-side to reveal even more jaw dropping views and bright green pastures on the other side of the ridge. While rotating turns playing with Baby on the safe side, we all managed (key word, keeping in mind the wind) to skirt along the edge to admire and gaze. It was completely open and barely roped off, which added to the thrill and untainted beauty. There's not much more to say about the Cliffs, as words simply can't do it justice. Just know that I tried to appreciate it and imprint it in my memory as much as possible. 

Galway

Galway, our last stop before returning to Dublin. We had reached our hotel in Galway the previous night after the Cliffs, and spent the next morning walking and exploring some of the city center. This southwestern city on the sea has been the subject of many a poem, short story, and novel from some of Ireland's great literary contributors.          I didn't know much about the area except that it was home to the former fishing village of Claddagh, thanks to a ring my former roommate used to wear. The Claddagh symbol, now an international symbol of Ireland, looks like two hands joining together to hold a heart in the center, representing love, friendship, and loyalty. After walking the main central street of Galway, we came to the river, crossed the bridge, and then took a lovely walk along the former location of the fishing village.  

View of Galway and part of the Bay from Claddagh Park

I learned that although the fishing village of Claddagh has existed where Galway Bay meets the Corrib River (above) since at least the 5th century, the city of Galway actually grew up next to it, originating in the 12th century after the King of Connacht constructed a fort at the base of the river. Now it is the island's sixth most populous city, and considered the "most Irish" in terms of culture and festivals. We had a lovely walk through the historical downtown, now a lively pedestrian street and square with many shops, restaurants, cafes, and of course, pubs. Galway has a lot to offer, especially with its vibrant art and music festivals, as well as a gateway to the famed Aran Islands just off its western coast. But as always, we had to move on, so after some walking time in the bright sunny morning, we said goodbye to Galway and traveled back to Dublin to catch our flights later that evening. 

 Dublin 

This is a joke. We barely saw Dublin, except for when we were trying to find parking in the middle of the

One lovely shot of a building in downtown Dublin.

center, during which there was much frustration that I won't speak of again. My flight left earlier than Ben and Chelsea’s that afternoon, so the plan was for us to leave Galway, drive the two hour distance between the two cities, explore Dublin, then I would take a bus from the city center to the airport. Due to a number of reasons, we ended up having a more difficult time with this plan than expected, and Chelsea very kindly decided to drive me to the airport instead of stay in Dublin. We all agreed that there would be more time to see the city in the future, much more easily than it would be to drive across the country again, and it had been worth it to spend more time in the countryside than the city. I did, however, still manage to see a glimpse of Christchurch Cathedral, the Liffey River, and the historical center through the car window, which was enough to satisfy my mental picture for past and future reading of books or novels set in Dublin. So with that, my introductory picture of Ireland was complete.

I’ve never considered renting a car while traveling, as I love public transport so much, but for Ireland especially it was a wonderful option. Though the GPS and I didn’t always get along, it did manage to direct us on some quiet, random back country roads (or in a case or two, someone’s driveway), which we otherwise would have never seen. Driving on these quiet roads, combined with the luxury of being able to stop to take pictures or pull over whenever needed, made for an ideal way to get around Ireland. One of my favorite parts of the trip was to constantly look out of the window to see the views of lush, green rolling hills dotted with farms and country houses. Chelsea was especially enchanted with the quaint little low rock walls that lined the roads, as well as divided some of the fields. Once we reached the coast we were amazed at the beauty and bright blue of the water, especially in the sunlight. It must also be noted that we were extremely lucky with weather, and that despite one afternoon of rain we had mostly sunny skies for the next two days.

Though it was much too quick of a trip to do the country justice, we had a wonderful time and all plan on returning in the future. On the last day during drive back to Dublin, we each chose a word that we would use to describe Ireland. Aside from the obvious “green,” “sheep,” and “Guinness,” we came up with “pastoral,” “ancient,” and (forgive me if I misquote you, Ben and Chels) “rustic.” If you combine all of these words together, you get a picture of a very very old land that doesn’t seem to have changed much over the centuries. Beginning as the mysterious land of the Celtic pagan tribes, then becoming a land converted to Christianity by St. Patrick, which then survived a series of Viking invasions, was ruled by the British for longer than some wish to recall, and is now a fixed member of the modern world, Ireland has truly withstood the sands of time while retaining its simple beauty and charm. 

But aside from its spectacular scenery, I must mention the fact that there was something else about Ireland, hidden in its hills, which gave us an inexplicable feeling during our time there. Whether we experienced good luck, divine intervention, or just happened to stumble upon a great weekend, we'll never know. But there may have been one more factor, for which we found ourselves blaming our minor misfortunes on leprechauns, keeping an eye out for shamrocks, and searching for rainbows in the cloudy skies. 

One final word to describe Ireland?

"Magical.”