July 22, 2007 || Kronstadt, Money Honey

What to write about this weekend...

Well, it started on Friday, the day where I did nothing, including not going to a banya like I'd intended, and fell asleep early. I woke up around 2 and kept waking up about every half hour, so I think the going to bed early balanced things out; I also meant to get up early and try to buy Harry Potter 7 from the English bookstore, but all my waking up in the night had left me vaguely tired once morning came around and everything was fine, so I fell asleep for a good hour and ended up sleeping late. When I called, the lady told me that all the books had been sold, (for over $40 apiece) but they were expecting a new shipment next week, and they would have many more copies then (this time, for ONLY $40). I told her thanks, hung up, and decided I could wait until I get back to the States. Besides, I had a Nabokov novel to work on until then--after reading Reading Lolita in Tehran I was really intrigued by Nabokov as a writer, being unable to find Zemyatin's We at the Dom Knigi outlet Masha and I visited on Thursday, out towards the edge of the city, I grabbed Lolita (the only interesting of the 10 books they had in English there). So now, perhaps one day I will collect all my memoirs and title them Reading Lolita in Tehran in Russia or maybe Reading Lolita in St. Petersburg Thanks to Reading Lolita in Tehran (I seem to have forgotten that "brevity is the soul of wit" and I'm so wiped out that my jokes don't even make me smile, so don't feel bad if you don't get it).

Saturday--only yesterday--I met Masha by Anichkov Most and we rode the metro out to a far north metro station, where we took a marshrytka to Kronstadt. Now, you must know that I'd had two, very differing introductions to Kronstadt: one, from Niel and my guidebook, which painted it as a sort of old and boring relic from the times when Russia's navy (when anyone's navy, in fact) was significant; and Masha made Kronstadt seem like a place of endless relaxation, calm and quiet and clean (a regular antithesis to Petersburg). I am happy to say that it is a bit of both: quiet green parks littered with maritime reminders of its storied and clanging past, and fountains in the shapes of forts that children run across while music plays. A bit of history, just to give a background--and by this I mean I'm going to relate the details about Kronstadt's history that I find most interesting:
Kronstadt has been home to some of Russia's most important revolutionary origins, including the leader of the Decembrist rebels (Bestushev), the leader of the People's Will (Sukhanov), where numerous revolts took place. The Bolsheviks referred to the Kronstadt sailors (crucial to carrying out the October Revolution) "the pride and glory of the Revolution" and were astounded when the sailors later revolted against THEM. From the guidebook:

" The eighteen-day Kronstadt Sailors' Revolt of March 1921 went under the slogan "Soviets without Communism." Their manifesto demanded freedom of speech and assembly, with the abolition of the Bolshevik dictatorship and an end to War Communism. Only the ice-locked Gulf (zalif) prevented the rebel cruisers Sevastopol and Petropavlosk from steaming into the Neva basin and holding St. Petersburg hostage. With a thaw imminent, Trotsky warned the rebels: 'Only those who surrender unconditionally can count on the mercy of the Soviet Republic' - but few of them responded.
Two hours before dawn on March 8, 45,000 white-clad Red Army troops advanced on Kronstadt, across the frozen Gulf, unnoticed until they were within 500m of the fortress, when a third of them drowned after Kronstadt's cannons ruptured the ice. The next assault was spearheaded by volunteers from the Tenth Party Congress, who laid ladders between the ruptured ice floes and then swarmed across to establish a beachhead. The fortress was subsequently stormed on the night of March 16-17. Besides the thirty thousand killed on both sides in battle, 2000 sailoers were executed on the spot and many more sent to the Gulag (although 8000 managed to escape across the ice to Finland). The sailors were posthumously pardoned in 1994. "

Also, I think it is relevant to add that Kronstadt remained a significant military location through much of the last century; until 1992 foreigners were not allowed to set foot on the island. When I mentioned this to Masha, she nodded her head, saying "That's right, this was a closed city. But it's an open city, now." And for a moment it struck me how odd those terms sounded--if you said them in America we would understand immediately what was meant, but I think there would be a lag while we tried to fully comprehend them. With the exception of "Area 51" I can't think of any entire cities in America where foreigners are not allowed (and Area 51 is such an exception in and of itself). It took me a second to do the math, too, and figure that Masha lived in Kronstadt during its closed period. Realizations like that--like when we were walking through a birch forest on Thursday, just after discussing the Russian word for "mutt" and just before discussing Russia's Olympic mascot for the 2014 Games, we somehow hit upon Stalin and Masha talked about how her mother lived through that time, how she was afraid constantly. And it's just hard to put into perspective--that world we read about in stupid Tom Clancy novels or think we learn about from James Bond, really happened and really had impacts on real people, who are really quite like us. To digress a bit, that day we also stopped at a Chainikoff and I had (wonder of wonders!) cold tea and (really?) a hot sandwich. I was overwhelmed. We talked about Russian and American music, and TV, and their obvious merger, MTV. I asked if Russia still had music on MTV--they do--and started to describe to her the horrors of a show called "Next." "It's--it's just a stupid show. It's a show without a point," I said. Now imagine MY horror when she came back and said, "Oh, there's a show like that, without a point, on MTV. My friends and I just can't believe it--it would never happen in Russia. For example, in the show, three boys sit in a van while one girl goes in their houses and looks in their rooms and closets..."
Yes. Room Raiders. In Russia. Let us add "really stupid MTV shows" to the list of things not to export to other countries, shall we?

But back to Kronstadt. So, imagine how much of a crazy collective memory Russia already has. Now, add everything you learned about Kronstadt to it--people here live with the knowledge that their ancestors were spirited, principled rabble-rousers; that's a pretty cool legacy, in my opinion. And they still give proper reverence to most everything on the island (it was easily one of the cleanest places I've been, regardless of the fact that nowadays it's mostly a factory town). Anyway, Masha could tell me just about anything about any monument or canal on the whole island (her dad is really into history), and she was friends with the curator of the local museum, and it was almost more fun to hear stories about this one reservoir that she fell into--she was sitting on the rocks when a fish swam by, and without thinking about it, she reached out to grab it, lost her balance, and fell in--then the tales of the admiral standing on his monument, watching over the Russian navy that he had lead for so well and so long. But the coolest part about this trip was meeting Masha's boyfriend, Vladimir (Volodya, Vova) and seeing them together. I've heard a lot about it (his age, how he loves Metallica, etc) and seen pictures, but it was so different to meet him! And him and Masha have so much about them that's different--she seems very proper and nice (not letting me cross the street if the light is red) and he's a little more rough-edged, with the Metallica music and the not-quite-PC jokes ("Vova! Don't tell Jaclyn those!" "What?! They're true, and it'll help her Russian.") but they are just so cute together. We went to the beach (one of the cleanest on the Zalif) and dipped our feet in, surveyed the European-clad bathers there; saw two beautiful parks, in furtive rain and sun; a giant cathedral; saw long shiny ships floating out along a guarded dock; and had a delicious lunch which, once again, I was not allowed to pay for (Marina Nikolaevna later told me that this is Russian custom--you don't invite someone somewhere unless you can pay their way too, but I still feel uncomfortable about it).

I yawned on the ride home, while Volodya actually fell asleep, rushed home to change and wolfed down some dinner before meeting Liza downtown. We originally made for Liverpool, a Beatles bar off of Nevsky, but ended up at Money Honey, probably the only popular country bar in Russia. Popular, of course, is a relative term--the people there looked like locals (including the cat in red and a black Stetson who had feet that moved in black blurs and hands that stayed right at his waist) and the leather jacket gang, who pounded on the tables after each song. The band was actually quite good, although it took me two songs to figure out that they WERE singing in English; they were all talented at their instruments, and seemed to really get into the music (where do Russians hear country?), while the lead singer had this clean-cut look that reminded me of Johnny Cash. The bar was big, and its walls covered with knick-knacks like band posters, cowboy boots, and murals of the open West (our West, not Russia's). Everything was wood, from the uncomfortable chairs to sturdy tables to wagon wheels holding plastic candles from the ceiling, and the music was pleasantly loud. Two happy-looking toughs with sagging cheeks, receding hair and bulging Harley-Davidson jackets sat at the table next to us, and behind them this amazing couple swing-danced better than anybody I've ever seen in real life. Walking around was a really smiley, big older guy with a chopper cap on his head and a t-shirt reading "Milwaukee Wild Men" (which of course made me think of Professor Gasperetti) peeping through his weathered leather vest; he would stop at various tables and make conversation in a voice that sounded like Sam the Eagle's (a blue bird from the Muppets), which just made me burst out laughing whenever he opened his mouth.
We got to talking with the guys next to us--when I tried to figured out what a Blue Lagoon was called in Russian (big surprise, it's "Blue Lagoon"), and that made for some interesting moments. You're always wary here of being too talkative with people (not to mention big old biker types) because you never know how things will go, so all conversation was rather stunted--but they were from Moscow, and believed we were from Canada, and although we stopped talking to them when the Milwaukee Wild Man ambled over ("Have you been to Milwaukee?" "I am a Milwaukee wild man!" ...close enough), they paused their conversation in order to shout "Canada forever! Long live Canada! Russia is [crappy] [poop]!" before we left.

Today was more rest and relaxation and homework--you'd think with finals this week they'd be easing off on all the homework they're giving us, but no, if anything it's worse--although some relation of our family's came over to help do the last wall. He took a hammer and chisel to it, tapping in little dents that showered concrete all over the kitchen floor. He was really nice, and kept up a stream of conversation as he worked, and it struck me how helpful Russians are--which of course relates back to them being closer to their close friends/relations than most Americans are. Who would drop everything and come from a soccer match to spend all day schlacking tile and wallpaper to their grandma's or neighbor's or I don't know what's (missed that part of the introduction) without a complaint--indeed, with a smile that didn't have any hint of "you owe me one" behind it?

Well, for this week, we have a tour of the Baltika beer factory on Wednesday, after which Jessica and I are going to go see Harry Potter 5, and hopefully sometime during the week I'll get to Club Chaplin (a comedy club), a nice Banya, and we should be able to hit Liverpool, if I can find it in my guidebook, too. Friday is our end of year banquet, and the day the hot water gets turned back on, and the last day of classes, and my jubilee (have I explained how Russians start "jubilees" at age twenty, and then celebrate them every ten years?), and basically I'm going to be completely exhausted for Saturday, the day Curtis gets back up here, the day we have to take our end-of-program exams, the day the Rolling Stones play in town, and the night before we leave for our long trip to Suzdal, Vladimir, and Moscow. Phew. I wish we had more time, less homework!

That being said though, I also am really really looking forward to getting home--you know how it is, once that time starts approaching, you start thinking about home more and more.