Sunshine and Effigies

Many of you have expressed your concerns about how I’ve been able to handle THE RUSSIAN WINTER. While the cold is certainly no joke, the mythical proportions the winter here seems to take on in the foreign mind (mine included) is a bit amusing. Are there places in Russia where temperatures drop to ungodly -50C, snow piles higher than an elephant’s eye, and the sun itself seems to go into prolonged hibernation? You betcha. Is Vladivostok one of them? Nope!

Situated on a little peninsula jutting out into the Pacific, Vladivostok soaks up all the brilliant summer sunlight in the winter months while the ocean freezes over and somehow thus keeps the grays at bay. It’s only after the temperatures really pick up in June and July that the cloud cover, fog, and general darkness come. (And hopefully, I’ll be back on a California beach before that happens!) So while the season’s temperatures are nothing to scoff at and the occasional winds are enough to inspire quite legitimate awe and fear, my “Russian winter” has also been drenched in an uncanny amount of golden sunshine and clear blue sky.

Today—another of those golden blue days—about a hundred foreign students and teachers gathered in FENU’s Russian School celebrate the Russian religious/folk holiday of Maslenitsa. The week-long festival commemorates both the beginning of Orthodox Lent and the pagan celebration of the sun and winter’s end. A colorful troupe of folk musicians danced and sang sheepish students from China, Japan, and Korea around the central foyer and out on the street for everyone’s favorite past time: burning effigies! All of this much to the bemusement of every local television station crew in Vladivostok—every one of which came out to report on the day’s “breaking news.” (I even got to make my television debut with some deeply insightful commentary comparing the properties of Russian and American pancakes…)

As the flames devoured Lady Maslenitsa (the colorful dummy representative of Winter who had been propped up in the hallway all week), we happily devoured the traditional sun-like blini (golden crepe-like pancakes) to welcome the spring and warm our tummies.

Considering how generous Lady Maslenitsa had been with the sunshine here the past few months, I can’t help but think the whole affair a bit unjust. But mm, those blini sure were good…

Alive and well and strolling on the Pacific

For the past several weeks, almost all of the emails and messages I've received have run something along the lines of: "Are you alive?," "Where have you disappeared to..?," "Send an update!," "Lose 20 lbs. in 20 days!"

The alarming tone throughout certainly warrants response.

Firstly, an apology. I spent about a month and a half constantly on the go, and though I've been back in Vladivostok for a good two weeks now, I've been mostly hibernating, avoiding thought, etc. The interim has also seen the start of a new year (both calendar and lunar), a new academic semester, and yes, that's right: a new hair-do, too. Exciting times. I am very sorry for the neglect and any worry I might have caused by failing to update more regularly!

Secondly, does anyone else find it rather offensive that perfect strangers have no qualms about yelling at you to lose weight and how via the world wide web? Right.

Anyway, because the gaping hole on this blog gives quite the misleading impression that I didn't do diddly over the last three months or so, I'll be working to fill it in a bit with "many impressions" and фотки from my time in South Korea, China, Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, and Moscow... while also endeavoring to keep you folks updated on the ongoing Vlady fun on more than a quarter-yearly basis.

Returning to Vladivostok and my teaching responsibilities this month has been strongly reminiscent of my first arrival last September-- complete with chaos, confusion, and a seemingly brand new cast of characters. On a good day, I tell myself that the only thing I'm missing for round two is the soul-shaking fear of what I had gone and commited myself to this year. On a less-than-good day, I realize that while I'm no longer squeaking in irrational terror at every turn, the excitement of being somewhere entirely foreign and new has also dulled a bit.

But just a bit.

It seems that a large part of getting used to my life in Russia is realizing that there's really not all that much to get used to-- that is, the one constant is inconsistency. This is more likely a reflection of life as a temporary visitor with an end date stamped on heart, mind, and visa, than life generally in Russia, but there is no doubt a bit of the latter, too. A loaf of bread costs something like 14 rubles one day and 24 the next. The popular cafe down the road is packed with customers one day and a gutted pile of rubble the next. Friends come, and they leave; we come, and we leave.

There's not much solid ground for this Southern California girl to stand on... except on that, the absolute least likely of spots: atop the frozen surface of the Pacific Ocean.

... What?!

How's that for a looking glass world on the other side of Siberia? of the planet? A good day, a less-than-good day-- everyday, there are these tiny explosions of my former understanding. And this new year, I'll try to be better about sharing them with all you.

My, what big guns you have!

The past weekend was rife with reminiscences of wars past and present. On Friday evening, the American Consulate hosted a charity gala for children with HIV/AIDS. The AIDS epidemic has hit Russia particularly hard, and it seems that the growth rate per capita here is now the highest in the world. A frighteningly large percentage of those affected are young children. There are a few hospices in the region that take care of some of these kids, and the proceeds of the event went to support one of them.

It was a surprisingly swanky affair-- surprising for me only perhaps because the concept of a gala is totally foreign to me-- taking place at Vlad's Hotel Versailles. A couple hundred folks from the city (includings reps from various consulates) came out to donate funds, bid on auctioned goods, and sip yummy champagne. There were a number of performances as well-- some flamenco dancers, an ensemble of adorable kids playing Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, etc.-- intersperced with the techno soundtrack and formal grandeur that seems to prevail each of the (many) holiday occasions here in Vlad. It just isn't an event without some sequins and house music. I love it.

The following morning, one of my students invited me out to one of Vladivostok's fortresses/museums. This particular fort is located less than ten minutes by foot from my dormitory and less than two from the city's main boardwalk and ferris wheel. And, I mean... wow. The inside of the fort was converted into a museum during the 60's (I think?), while the outside looks rather like a crazy bellicose sculpture garden with guns, guns, and bigger guns galore.

Originally built in the 1860's when the city was officially "founded" by the Russians, it saw numerous renovations to keep pace with the threats of both civil and world wars. While I'm sure such forts or relics of such forts exist somewhere in the U.S., I know sure haven't had the chance to hug missiles back home. A fact for which I think I'm rather thankful? The concept of encountering war quite literally on one's civillian doorstep is totally mind boggling and heartbreaking and... entirely unfamiliar to me, personally. But as I continue learning more and more about the impact of war here in the Russian Far East-- and in the Far East, generally-- through books, lectures, new friends and aquaintances, the thought (if not the actuality) has struck closer and closer to home.

I dare you not to throw your trash away in the proper receptacle in a place like this. Heh.

At noon, we waited outside for them to fire one of the guns. For all that we were waiting for the express purpose of seeing this happen, I still gave an entirely undignified yelp when it did. Such is life... one undignified yelp after the next.

Kh-Town

I realize I’ve been rather remiss in keeping up with my blog entries in the past few weeks: my apologies! Rest assured, this lapse was not because I haven’t had anything remotely interesting to write about—life in Russia is always “interesting”! The past few weeks have actually just passed by in a whirlwind of constant crazy activity, with little time to sit and process with my crippled and immobile laptop. But today I’m home keeping ailing Mac company, so I’ll do my best to sketch in some recent happenings…

The Train to Khaborovsk (11.08.07)

Last week, my friend Lena and I hopped on an overnight train to see some mutual family friends in Khabarovsk for the weekend. We were like giddy school kids on a field trip for the first four hours or so—eating, chatting, silly-photo-taking. The next 11, we felt a little more like the weary chaperones.

The two guys who had the bunk/benches above us hit it off immediately and spent the early part of the evening steadily draining multiple 2 liter-bottles of beer between the two of them. One of them, it soon became almost nauseatingly clear, had definitely not showered in recent months.* Lena and I slept with our scarves wrapped around our faces for ventilation, but that didn’t stop this fellow from waking us up randomly throughout the night to ask if we wanted to give him mp3s through our phones. At 4am I woke up to someone sitting on top of my feet, I held my breath and opened my eyes to see not our odious neighbor but an old man with an intense chronic cough hacking away over a cup of tea and me. This man was from the top bunk across the way and for some reason felt the need to sit on my bed (rather than his wife’s below) to soothe his consumptive impulses. To my expression of horror and incredulity, he paid no regard, and continued hacking away until he was quite satisfactorily done.

Reaching the warmth and kindness of the Chungs’ three hours later was a relief on many, many levels.

K(h)-town (11.09/10/11/12.07)

The Chungs are an older Korean couple who lived in L.A. for over thirty years before moving out to Khabarovsk last year to help out with some of the churches in the city and to minister to the significant Korean and Korean-Russian population there. It was both Lena and my first time meeting them in person, and from the very first moment we were welcomed into their home like daughters. I don’t know that I’ve felt quite so at ease anywhere else in my time here. Part of it was, of course, the commonality of background, language, and faith. And part of it was, I’m equally sure, the tremendous amount of incredibly delish Korean food Mrs. Chung kept preparing! We got fully incorporated into their busy schedule, and it was a real pleasure to spend time with them and a number of Korean/Korean-Russian folks in Khabarovsk through them.

I think I’ve mentioned a few times already how surprised I was at first to encounter so many Korean-Russians here in the Russian Far East, generally. As I make my belated efforts to learn more and more about Korean history (Prof. Cumings found his way onto the shelves of the Am Corner here in Vlad) and simultaneously meet more and more Korean-Russians whose families arrived here through Sakhalin Island and/or Kazakhstan, my surprise has turned into real fascination and curiosity. Perhaps a legit research topic for my Fulbright grant…? Maybe, maybe. If anything, it’s been an interesting personal journey to contemplate hyphenated Korean identity in Russia, U.S., or anywhere else for that matter—especially as I’m evidently here as an official “American” representative. Two lovely Korean girls here in Vlad somehow concluded that despite my lack of Korean language skills, I am of their own, and they regularly insist: «Ты не иностранка! Ты кореянка! Мы знаем что твоя душа кореская.» (You aren't a foreigner! You're a Korean! We know that your soul is Korean.) Every time they say this, bits and pieces of Core Sosc readings and questions about the construction/inherency of racial/ethnic/national identity fly through my head. But it warms my (Korean?) heart to hear it anyway. ☺

The Other Capital

Khabarovsk is the capital of Khabarovsky Krai and about the same size as Vladivostok (700,000 people). And that’s where, in many ways, the similarities seem to end. While Vlad twists and turns up and down narrow, convoluted, and craggy streets, Khabarovsk is made up of clean, wide, freshly paved streets and walkways lined with lovely older buildings and plenty of well-maintained parks and open spaces. One friend put it simply: “It’s like someone actually took time to plan the city!” Khabarovsk, like Vlad, has an embankment—a nice stretch of quiet walkways and parks along the Amur river, ideal for those sensitive solitary strolls. No half-naked giant mermaids popping out of the water or colorful ferris wheels and shashlik stands every three yards. But perhaps that’s where crazy Vlad might come out on top. There is something charming (on a good day) about the haphazard (de)construction of this place, the sidewalks that disappear one day and the misplaced skyscrapers that show up the next, etc. The Vladiness of Vlad is, in large part, what keeps life so "interesting" here, I guess! :)






*You may think I’m exaggerating, but there are a few students in the dormitory who—despite the individual bathrooms in each room—nonchalantly say they only shower the few weekends they go home during the 16-week semester. Yummy! Heh.

The Unity of Other Peoples

(So yes, here is more of me catching up on the backlog of events here in Vladivostok...)

The 4th of November was День народного единства (roughly translated = Day of the Unity of the People) here in Russia. A fairly new holiday, the day marks a much cherished long weekend and culminates in all sorts of festivities: parades, parties, Neo-nazi marches...

Um, yeah. All of the foreigners in the dormitory at DVGU were strongly advised not to leave the building. At all.

So my girlfriends in the obsh and I decided to make our own national(ities') holiday. Each of us had the task of cooking something tasty from our homelands. Zhenya made a delish Chinese stew and fried some calimari (опасно!), Nadia made some pork stir fry, Julia an amazing Korean dish whose name (yeah, I know, shame on me!) I can't remember, and I made one rather sour kimchi jiggae. Only because I couldn't find all the ingredients for apple pie until a few weeks later. Seriously! ;)

Zhenya and Julia stay home to avoid random violence on the street only to battle it in the kitchen. Who knew deep frying could be so dangerous?

The lovely Nadia.

What's not to understand?

The temperature began dipping early this month. The days of warm 80deg sun cooled into days of a crisp 60. Cooled, but by no means cold. So you can imagine my surprise to see women busting out the fur-lined parkas, boots, and hats. Surely, these Russian folks are aware that it's only fall-- that there's a long winter yet to come. Surely, it's silly to be wearing full winter gear for a slight autumn chill.

Last weekend, it began to rain-- a nice, dreary October rain. The Friday night korean food crew bundled into a city bus to 1-ая речка (first river) per the usual... just as the rain began to crystalize into little pockets of slurpee-like goodness. We feasted on galbi-jim, pa jun, and fried chicken to celebrate one of the girls' birthdays... until the power went out. Entirely. Once we finished our impromptu candle/cellphone light dinner, we scurried outside to find the cosmic 7-11 machine gone absolutely beserk, spitting ice and snow with alarming ferocity. Back in the dormitory, the power had, of course, gone out too. So Vladivostok sat in the dark and waited to see what the morning would bring.

Saturday, the snow swirled down in a heavy flurries, uncertain of which way to fall. Sunday morning, it finally settled down like a white sheet neatly covering every street and hill. Up in the hills, the snow sat at least a foot or two thick. On the way up the hills to church, we saw little kids gleefully sledding down snowy slopes on plastic trays and a few snowmen in the making. On the way back down the hills, a warm burst of sunshine had already washed away the snow entirely.

By Monday, the green slopes and golden leaves and 60deg days were back. And the wise Russian women continued walking up and down the streets of Vlad in their fur-lined parkas, boots, and hats.

The weekend weather seemed to set the crazy and unpredictable pace for the week that followed. Up until last week, my schedule had been far from full-- my sole task was to teach 5 hour and a half English classes a week and hold one office hour. All at once, I've become responsible for three hours of morning Russian lessons on days when I don't teach, three more English classes in the evenings, a number of lectures and presentations at the American Corner, and putting a rather pricey gym membership to good use. Throw in the craziness of daily life in Russia-- e.g. being stopped and harassed by the police for being Asian, being stopped and harassed by student teachers for being American, unannounced schedule changes, pickpocketers on the bus, inexplicable traffic on the streets, random power outages, and the freakish inconsistency of weather-- and, believe me, it was ALL thrown in this week-- and you have my first real Russian meltdown. The effects were thankfully mitigated by all the goodness of daily life in Russia, no doubt-- the comforting tea and chocolate chats, some super enthusiastic students, and the general kindness and generosity and support from colleagues, hallmates, and friends all around.

During all of this, I had exclaimed to a Chinese friend here that I just don't get this weather. She laughed, patted me on the back, and repeated a sentiment I've come hear over and over in the past few months: "Что ты не понимаешь, Ира? Ето Россия." ("What don't you understand, Irene? This is Russia.")

Asian Russia

I live and teach on the humanities campus of DVGU, where the department of foreign languages, the Oriental Institute, and the Russian School for foreigners are all located. And though I encounter it regularly, I’m always quite startled to come across Russian teens spouting rapid-fire Japanese or Mandarin or Korean with the foreign students— or each other. But then spending my evenings chatting in Russian with students from Korea and China and Japan is just as delightfully odd, I suppose!

Last weekend, two Korean girls took a group of us from Russia, England, Japan, and the U.S. to an amazing Korean restaurant here in Vladivostok. The food was certainly good, but the most remarkable thing about this place was that it was actually the inside of a good ol’ Soviet block apartment belonging to an older Korean couple! No advertisements, no signage—just a non-descript apartment buzzer for those in the know—ie: the entire Korean population of Vladivostok.

Sunday night, some of the Japanese students on my floor organized a sushi party. Sanai and Yuko, two incredibly sweet and enthusiastic girls who embody the notion of “kawai” better than any wide-eyed cartoon character I’ve ever seen, coached me and two Russian girls studying Japanese at the Oriental Institute in the art of rolling and slicing sushi, while others deep-fried chicken (a staple food of folks from any nation, I’ve come to realize). We spent hours eating together and playing countless Russian and Japanese card games whose rules I still don’t think I know.

A few days ago, my friend Lena and I saw the Китайский Цирк (Chinese Circus) at the local circus theatre. Sitting in the giant, dilapidated Soviet concrete complex was a bit of a trip in and of itself—watching young (too young?) Chinese acrobats bend and twist and flip in a number of unthinkable ways was just insane. (Watching the Russian audience watch the Chinese acrobats was pretty interesting too. But more on that later?) Every once in a while a random Russian duo would appear on stage to swallow knives, whip each other, and taunt crocodiles for good measure, too. Not quite the shrooms and Cirque de Soleil combo a la Knocked Up, but it was really almost as weird.

Last night, I tried my hand at making Korean pancakes. While I was painstakingly translating and following the instructions on the mix, a few of the girls from down the hall swooped in and rescued me from culinary disaster, throwing in an impromptu egg and some salt and mixing up a storm. These same girls taught me how to make kimchi jiggae a few weeks ago. At the end of my year here I might not be able to speak or read or write in Russian properly, but I bet I’ll be able to make a mean Korean dinner!

I realize that a lot of this post has centered on food. For those of you know me well, I’m sure you’re not surprised! But really, it’s pretty remarkable to consider the kinds of goods that are readily available at the local markets. I was resigned to a year of frozen blini and pelmeni, when behold— the ChocoPies on the shelf… the tubes of wasabi… the rice cookers and sushi mats… even that crazy aloe jelly drink stuff from the Taiwanese super back in California! One of the Japanese teachers even suggested that I try eating my pelmeni with a bit of wasabi: “О! Вкусно!"

My students might not ever have been to the U.S.—might not have any desire to go to the U.S.—but they’ve all done a ton of shopping across the border in Sufenhe or vacationed for weeks at time in Harbin or Seoul. I’ve done my share of late-night reading with the Lonely Planet: China guide I borrowed from a friend here to plan for my own winter vacationing (and by the way, I would love any tips or advice on travel throughout China/Korea/Japan? if you have any!). For all of the strange xenophobic tensions (and they, no doubt about it, do exist), it seems there’s also a palapable fascination with East Asian culture. And fascination or no, there's no denying that glorious box of ChocoPies on the supermarket shelf.