“To Remont”

Ремонтировать (remontirovat’) is a Russian verb, meaning “to repair”.  Ремонт (remont) is the corresponding noun, and when you walk around the streets of Moscow you see numerous kioskfronts advertising ремонт обувы, ремонт сумок (remont obyv – shoe repair; remont sumok – purse repair), or simply high construction fences with a big handpainted sign that simply says “ремонт”.

Among Russian-speaking Anglophiles, the word “remont” is also used in everyday English conversation, but when used in English, the noun and the verb both have a secondary connotation – to “remont” something is to repair it in a way that it will never be fixed.

Here in Moscow it seems that everything, from shoes to purses to the plumbing in my dormitory to the Delovoi Center being built on Kievskaya, is in a permanent state of half-construction.  Maybe it’s a quality (lack thereof) thing.  Maybe it’s an economical thing – as long as something is never quite fixed, someone will always have to be working on it (and receiving a paltry paycheck to do so).

But in the six months I’ve been here, it seems that this task of “remont” is never complete, and there’s nothing to be done about it.  You adapt to the system, and accept the fact that if (when) something breaks, you will have to get it “remonted”, and you do so with full knowledge that engaging in remont is a process, not a task.

If they were actually fixing anything, we would use the verb to fix.  If they actually made something better, we would use the verb to repair.  If the hammering on the roof of our dormitory ever had any hope of ceasing, then I would say they were remodeling our facitlities.

But our building is under remont.  And according to an aged visiting French professor, it has been since 1956.

“Вы замужем?’

The question is “Are you married?”

The correct response is “Yes.”

Note that the correct response is not necessarily the true response, especially in my case (sorry, Mom).  But in Russia, no matter whether you are speaking to a man or woman, a “No” answer will send the conversation in one of three directions:

• “Why not?”  In Russia it is common for girls to get married as young as nineteen or twenty.  The trend is less rampant in Moscow, where career-building takes precedent no matter your gender, but the general mentality maintains that a woman in her early twenties should be settling down.  The “why not?” really means “So, what’s wrong with you?”  The questioning, along with the unstated judgement,  intensifies if you also answer “No” to the followup question, “У вас есть молодой человек?” (“Do you have a boyfriend?”)
• If you are speaking to a man, even if he is married, he will start hitting on you.  But sometimes he does this anyway, even if you answer “Yes” to the initial question.
• If you are speaking to a woman, especially a woman over the age of 60, she has a grandson you absolutely have to meet.

Many Russians, and some Americans, maintain high hopes that I will find a Russian man and settle down in this country (or whisk him, and his grandmother, to The Promised Land (which, by the way, in this case  is not Israel)).  I can almost guarantee you that will not happen.

There is something about the men in this country – maybe it’s the lack of deodorant, maybe it’s the blank look on their faces as they ride the metro – that I find incredibly unattractive.  I don’t know if its them per se, or if its the fact that this society really is quite chauvanistic at heart.  Maybe the mantra was equality for all during the USSR days, but through that time men remained in a primary role in this society, and the woman is viewed as his second.

At any rate, whatever it is, I don’t want a part of it.  When I see the rare happy couple walking down the street, I smile and am happy for them.  But it is rare that I see a happy-looking couple in this city.  Maybe that’s why I shun the idea of becoming part of one here.

Kiev

Independance Square

Any given street corner in Kiev

Pecherska Lavka with view to new Kiev

St. Sophia’s Cathedral

Outside St. Sophias

View of Dnieper

Monument to 1932-33 famine

Stretching runner

Monument to the Unification of Russia and Ukraine

Kiev monument to 1932 Famine and Pecherska Lavka

Khachapuri and Georgian Wine – Taylor is happy

People Walking by St. Sophia’s

Maydan Nezalezhnosti – Independence Square, site of 2004 Orange Revolution

Taylor on the Peace Tank

Pecherska Lavka – Kiev Caves Monastery

It has been on my list of places to go this whole year.  Finally, this past weekend, along with Judith, the other Rotary scholar, I made it to the golden city of Ukraine.

We went via the overnight train from Moscow.  At least once in your lifetimes, you should all have the experience of traveling in this way.   Our adventure started on Wednesday night, in a cramped bunker car that smelled overwhelmingly of kvass, BO, and dirty socks.  Our light sleep was interrupted twice by Customs officials – one set Russian, one set Ukrainian – and one impossibly early arrival time of 6 a.m. in Kiev.

Kiev is a fantastic city, and for our first two days Judith and I had fantastic weather.  We tramped from St. Sophia’s Cathedral to Pecherska Lavka, the Caves Monastery, all the way out to the World War II monument and back up to the Chernobyl museum in Podil.   The last two days of our trip it snowed, but I was still able to catch up with Victoria, a friend from Moscow, and spend that time where it should be spent – in an Irish pub, with beer.

It was a pleasure to get out of Moscow for a few days.  You know you’ve been in that megalopolis for too long when you find yourself thinking of Kiev, a city of six million people, as chill, relaxed, and laid back.  Between the Georgian food and the Ukrainian language (which I realized I know much more of than I thought I did, it was a good time).

But it also got me motivated for all the work that lies ahead.  Tonight we go back to Moscow, and for the next six weeks, I’ve got several mountains to climb.  But I’m ready for them

One good thing about this trip: I was able to get some good “research” done for the Runner’s Guide  (more on that can be seen at http://runnersguidetoeurope.wordpress.com).   Only 38 more cities to go!

No Texting During Synagogue

Purim Dinner at the Synagogue

Unless you are the rabbi. Then I guess you have a direct line to God.

I’d always been curious about the Jewish community in Moscow, but due to linguistic barriers and my own guardedness with respect to the religious side of my religion, I’d been hesitant explore much into it.  But I welcomed an invitation from Ariella, a fellow American studying at RSUH, to the Purim festivities at the Chabad Lubavitch Synagogue, just off Pushkinskaya Ploshad’.

I’d never actually celebrated Purim before yesterday, and as I passed through the x-ray machines and metal detectors at the synagogue entrance (a must in this too-often antisemitic part of the world), my understanding of the holiday consisted of a Wikipedia search and a brief summary by Ariella while I was putting on lipstick.  Basically, Purim celebrates the Jewish self-defence against the Persians in 300ish B.C., and today manifests itself as a sort of Jewish Halloween.  People come to synagogue decked out in costumes, and I will say last night was the first time I saw the Torah presented to the people by a guy decked out in disco wear.

Chabad Lubavitch Synagogue is an Orthodox synagogue – the first I have ever attended – and with attendence comes some parameters.  I was not allowed to take photos during the service proper – a restriction I silently protested, as apparently in Russia text messaging is not perceived as interfering with the prayer process.  Also, Ariella and I found ourselves restricted to the women’s prayer ring – another first, as more liberal sects of Judaism have no issues when it comes to men and women praying together.  But from my perch on the second floor of the synagogue, I quickly understood why this rather chauvanistic tradition has survived generations – from above, you have a pretty good vantage point from which to scope out the good-looking guys below.  Also, as the reading of the Purim Story takes an hour, you have plenty of time to observe those below and discern who is actually reading the Hebrew, and who is just trying to pretend they understand the ancient letters printed on the page.

Matchmaker, matchmaker . . .

Unfortunately, the cutest guy of them all was a little out of my age range.

But he'll find a good wife someday.

After the service we were all invited to the community room, where we ate our fill, drank our fill, listened to Havah Nagila and watched the people dance below.  It was a good time all around – I made some friends with some Russian students, filled up on vegetables and delicious meat, and made some plans to check out Shalom, a Jewish theater in Moscow.

Purim dinner and celebration

I’ve had a ton of cultural experiences in Moscow.  But this was a new and different one, with a special personal touch.

‘Ray Bucknell! Part . . . 5?

Fabian, Olivia, and the trip mascot

I’m losing track of the Bucknell connections – there are more of them than I ever expected!  This week brought a visit from my old French TA, Fabian, and his girlfriend, Olivia.  They were in Moscow for a couple of days, and I had the pleasure of catching up with them, going to the Tretyakovsky Galleries, and hitting up a Georgian restaurant with them.  They left Thursday night on an epic adventure that makes my upcoming travel plans look like a walk in the park.  After spending three weeks on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, they will be spending the next 9 months going through Mongolia, China, Tibet, Nepal, India, and Thailand, before settling permanently in New Zealand.

See, for those of you who thought I was crazy – it’s not just me, it’s my circle of friends, and I guess I’m just very susceptible to their influence.

Runaway Tay

Taylor has been running, Taylor is still running, Taylor will be running.

For quite some time.

This past week I had the first big break in my young writing career.  I was approached and signed by a literary agent who is currently in the process of representing me and finding a national publishing house for an upcoming book I am going to be working on this summer.

The book is called “A Runner’s Guide to Europe”.  It will be an active travel guide in which I describe running culture and outline the best running routes in 36 of Europe’s favorite cities.  The goal of this book will be to encourage people to run, to encourage people to travel, to encourage people to get on the street and delve into the exploration of new places.  More than anything, I hope that this book can be a vehicle to spread international awareness, and international appreciation, among its readership.

You may be thinking, “Taylor, have you run in 36 cities in Europe?”  The answer is no.  I have compiled chapters on four of the cities I plan to write about, which means I only have 32 to go.

Which means that starting in June, at the conclusion of my Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship, I will be traveling from Stockholm to Sofia, from Riga to Rome, researching and writing about the best runs these, and other cities, have to offer.

There are no words to describe how excited and terrified I am by the prospects of this upcoming odyssey, which is far crazier than any crazy adventure I’ve ever embarked on before.   But it also seems like so much in my life has prepared me for, and made the perfect person, to take on this next project of mine.

So stay tuned to this blog.  There’s no telling what kind of stories I will be recounting here over the next six months.

And as to all my Colorado people – I’ll see you in September, exactly one year from the time I left.

Taking the long way around

“Well I never seem to do it like anyone else,

Maybe some way, some day, I’m gonna settle down,

But if you ever want to find me I can still be found,

Taking the long way around”.

It’s fitting that I listen to the Dixie Chicks as I write tonight.

Prikhodi Vesna!

Lighting the Masleniki

Burning the Masleniki

Let it be spring

Maslenitsa, or Butter Week (aka Blinni Week), is a Russian folk holiday,  sort of like the Western Carnival, that takes place the week before Orthodox Lent begins.  Like many religious holidays, it actually has its roots in Pagan traditions, and the week of feasting is often the last week of winter.  During this week Russians dance, play games, they sing, they celebrate, they eat lots and lots of blinni (which are sort of like crepes).  The holiday culminates on a Sunday evening, at which point in time people summon all their sorrows, their disappointments, their negative energies, and bequeath them on a giant scarecrow, the Masleniki.  Having done so, they light the gigantic doll on fire, thus burning away the bad and bringing in the good for the new year.

I went with my friends Myra, Julie, and Lucy to Park Sokolniki tonight to be a part of the festivities and the magic.  It was really quite an amazing experience to be a part of, but particularly remarkable for me at this point in time in my life.

Today is March 1, and in Russia this day marks the first day of spring.   Today is significant for me on so many levels.  First, the coming of spring means that I have seen through this Russian winter.  Already the days are getting warmer, the sun is “rising” earlier, and the outdoor ice skating is getting slushier by the day.

And as I watched the Masleniki go up in flames, I too sent out all my worries, my anxieties, my negative vibrations to it.  I’ve had a great year, and a fantastic experience in this country.  But this coming spring brings with it the grandest of my adventures to date, and I have no room in my head, in my heart, or in my backpack to carry my doubts or fears about myself into it.