More on Running in Russia

After Vladimir (a fairly small city) and St. Petersburg (a city with a fair number of large parks), running in Samara has been much more of an adventure. Occasionally I see someone else running, but it's rare and possible they are trying to catch a bus.

There are a few elementary schools by my house which have old, decrepit asphalt tracks, rutted, chewed up and great for rolling an ankle. As always, the streets are dusty and exhausted.

I found one track and field by the University of Tourism which is a bit better, half covered with those 1.5'x1.5' rubber flooring tiles you often see in looker rooms or playgrounds or on patios.

Things I've encountered while running in Samara:
-Chased by dog (x2)
-Drunken passed out person (x2)
-One drunken man falling down the stairs in front of me
-One man asking me, mid run, for 3 rubles
-10+ dog pack (x2)

Opinion page grafitti

While other hooligans are out plastering gang signs and expletives, our local troublemakers are busying drumming protest against NATO.

In two separate locations by my office I've seen the following phrases: "NATO in Russia = War," "NATO - get out of Russia," "NATO = War" and more creatively "Medveputin wants war - we are destroyed!"

I can imagine some officer in the Russian army, sneaking out at night in fatigues, painting the town red with warnings about western military alliances...

Самара

Moved to Samara. I took the two-nights train from St. Petersburg, which at 40 hours is the longest I've ever spent on a train. Luckily I put up for "Kupe", which is basically the business class of the Russian rail system, one large step up from "Platskart" which, in summer, can be an adventure for the senses.

In Kupe, four people share a closed cabin - in Platskart, 54 people share an open wagon. This is a huge difference, especially when many passengers buy and consume dried fish sold by leathery old babushkas along the tracks. Other than the layout and fish, there were three small changes I noticed: the toilet had a "hygienic" plastic cover; the tea cups came with saucers underneath; there was air conditioning. Ok, AC's a big difference.

My cabin-mates were a 20-something female and another 20-something female traveling with her 40-something father. Both girls were cute. The father, in addition to his oversized plaid capri shorts, wore a tattoo on his arm which read "Army Technical Group." This meant that I felt secure from any hooligans straying into our wagon, but nervous about my eyes straying in the cabin.

Here is the summary of our conversation over the 40 hours:

Father: "Is this Chapaevsk?"
Me: "Yes."
Father: "How long do we have?"
Me: "30 minutes."

After spending two weeks out of the country, it was good to get some language practice in.

- - - - - - - - - -

We stopped in a lot of faceless towns, the longest pause for 45 minutes. We'd climb out of the train, most to smoke or buy from the babushkas hawking beer, chips, more dried fish, berries.

At one of the longer stops on the morning of the second day, I saw two of the women conductors racing across the tracks, pushing each other up onto the platform like slapstick, then shuffle into the city as stridently as their blue uniform skirts would allow. Hungry, I wandered into the station and found a small bakery where I bought three pastries with tvorog in them. The woman behind the counter was using an abacus to calculate change.

I went back outside and sat on a bench, eating until the 5-minute departure notice. As I sat, I noticed the women conductors running back to the train in their blue uniforms and decorative epaulettes. They were carrying bags of blankets, linens and curtains. Then I notice four or five other women doing the same thing. Who knew? Ivanovo, or Chapaevsk, or Syzran - you beguiling enchantress city of the Volga, bedding capital of central Russia.

Helsinki

Fun fact: in Swedish Helsinki is called Helsingfors, which sounds to me like a medieval slayer of dragons. I uploaded some unsorted pics. Also, more were uploaded to the Riga and Tallinn folder.

Helsinki Pics

Pics from Riga, Tallinn

Howdy. Here are some unsorted pics from recent stops in Riga and Tallinn, great cities both. Onward to Helsinki!

Pics

The racism of Russian pricing

Ok, maybe not racism. But nationalism or certainly linguo-centrism.

Backing up. Last summer I was in St. Pete for a few days, went to the Russian Museum. I was with a friend whose last name is Morrison. We all had Russian student cards, which you can usually present to museums to get in for free or a very discounted rate. (Sidenote: I have not paid for a single museum this time around, and I've been to a lot). My buddy handed the woman his card, she looked at it, said: "Morrison. That's not a Russian last name" - and charged him the full amount. I got in for free.

But here's a pic I took the other day at the Pushkin apartment museum that really captures the whole stupid system. It's so transparently obvious, the scheme. Even if you don't read Russian:

Close up:

"Using of cameras in the musuem - 300rbl; Videocameras - 500 rbl"

Guess what the Russian says right above it with 100ryb and 200 ryb right next to it. Smooth Russia, smooth.

Running and kvas

Today was a long run day. It was also the Cleveland half marathon (go Nick!), so I had extra motivation for my training. It was also a glorious day, which made me immediately want to get out there once I got up. On good days, I head north to a constellation of three parks/islands with a lot of great paths and trails. Unfortunately, I didn't think about how hot it might be and how unhyrdated I was.

About five or six miles in, I really started hurting. I didn't think the sun could be so hot here. My mouth turned to paste.

These parks are swamped on the weekend with locals relaxing, riding small amusements, rollerblading, being carefree. I started to hate the new Russian consumerism when I couldn't find a single water fountain a n y w h e r e.

Sometimes when I run, I get extremely hungry for any fatty food I catch on a breeze - burgers, fries, onion rings... Today, panting and starchy, all I could think about was the 2 liter bottle of Kvas I had waiting for me in the fridge at home (still 5 miles away). Kvas, for those who don't know, is one of Russia's gifts to the world of food. It is a very low/no alcohol drink, made from grain, which tastes sort of like a hearty but sweet dark beer. It's like delicious liquid brown bread which quenches your thirst and fills you up. This is what I needed.

I started fantasizing that I would see one of those old Soviet drink machines, the kind where there's a communal cup and you probably pay a kopeck, like the one here:

All those giddy people in the parks with their balloons and Pepsi Max. I bet in Soviet days runners didn't have this problem, I bet the communists respected a good amateur athlete.

Coming down Petrogradskaya, hitting the final stretch, what do I notice? About ten different people carrying the same brand of kvas. At first I thought I was hallucinating, my mind taunting me and projecting my innermost desires. But then I had a revelation, the kind of inspired insight certain agnostics must get when they see the Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese. These kvas bottles must mean something - it can't be just a coincidence! Sure enough, at metro station Gorkovskaya, two young, blonde haired angels were handing out free bottles of the glorious elixir as part of a promotional event. Even the branding was apt - "Russian Gift."

Maybe capitalism works after all.

Dostoevsky Metro too depressing

Moscow's renowned for its themed metro stations - the molecular designs at Mendeleev or the martial statues at Partizanskaya.

They're building a new stop, named in honor of Dostoevsky. It hasn't opened yet, apparently behind schedule. Why? Well, some are speculating that the murals are too depressing - that riders don't want to see a man raising a gun to his head or Roskolnikov attacking two women with a hatchet. 

According to the Moscow Times, a psychologist "warned that the murals could make the station a popular place to commit suicide."

No fish restoran

This ad for the Casa del Myasa (House of Meat) serves up a nicely rhyming bilingual title, two alphabets and three languages:

Kunstkamera

Even though I still have a paper left to write, I'm occasionally dragged out of my apartment by a feeling of human solidarity. When that happens, I make sure that it's to see something really unique so I don't waste any of the time I could be sitting at my black Ikea desk.

Today I went to the Kunstkamera - the first museum founded in the city, by Peter himself. If I remember correctly, it was free in Peter's day and he even offered refreshments to patrons as an incentive to visit and learn. By virtue of my Russian student card, it was free for me too (take that German tourists!).

It's not your average museum. Peter was into oddities, he collected any weird and unusual thing he could get his hands on. And all of these specimens were put on display in the Hall of Monsters (what it's called, to this day). Here you'll find stuffed two-headed calves, the skeleton of a giant, drawings of court dwarfs and an obscene number of misshapen fetuses in jars.

Here is a very blurry picture of another cool exhibit - all of the teeth Peter personally extracted from subjects while learning dentistry:

(To the right of the tooth-rack, you can also see a head in a jar.) For me, the strangest part wasn't so much seeing the unborn and multi-limbed, as the fact that each of the display cases with human parts also contained one taxidermied exotic animal. Here are some fetuses with a sea turtle:

Peter offered monetary rewards for any citizen who would bring an unusual or rare specimen of the natural world for his museum. In doing so, he hoped to wean his subjects off superstitious beliefs, that they would see how diverse and unusual creation is. It's only fitting that he contribute something himself. Below, a plaster of his face, taken after death:

The museum isn't limited to the Hall of Monsters - there's also a whirlwind tour of exotic peoples and tribes. I felt a touch of stolen pride when I came across the Iroquois display...

...complete with a small placard about lacrosse...

A riddle

What time was it when this picture was taken?

11pm! White Nights approach!

Soon I'll be able to tan while I sleep! Awesome!

Victory Day, take 65

Even if a couple days late... Happy Victory Day! Or as Russians might say through Google Translate, "I congratulate you with our day of great victory!"

Rocket launchers were rolling through Red Square, veterans were collecting flowers, banners hung from every lamppost... and there were too many people to see anything. I went around 10am to the parade on Palace Square (a little late) and got to commune with the crowd and the backs of peoples heads.

Luckily one of my friends nabbed a good spot, so unknown to him I've taken some of his pictures from Facebook and posted them here as my own. Behold:

Also, this isn't from the parade, obviously. It's his apartment building. Just an example of the kind of poster that's been ubiquitous through April and early May.

Also there are some great pictures of rocket launchers superimposed on Orthodox churches over at Foreign Policy.

Cool day, May the Third

 Today's a cool day for three reasons, the most important of which is that it's my brothers birthday. But it's also a day off in Russia from the May Day holiday weekend - if you were in Russia bro, you wouldn't be at work right now!

Also, today was the first day that sunset hit 10pm! 10pm! Crazy! White nights here we come!

!

For all the Ithacans...

The plot thickens - another contender:

Incredulity, mainly

Here's an article from the Moscow Times, appropriate for the day I did my first 10 miler of the season: Joggers Battle with Dogs, Locals and Incredulity.

Some great observations in the article that really ring true.

A former Moscow Times reporter: “If I ran through after 2 p.m., I’d get heckled by groups of men drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. A couple times, some of them sarcastically jogged along with me, laughing uproariously. They thought I was hilarious.” (Haven't had this experience yet, but I've imagined it happening a hundred times. I know one day some teenager is gonna be drunk and want to make a scene for his girlfriend.)

Representative from the Russian Athletics Federation: “We have nothing to do with people who just run around outside for exercise.” (Frank, but true. Provides a good tone for the article.)

A former NY Times correspondent in Moscow: “A television documentary warning Russians against associating with Western journalists showed some film that the secret police surreptitiously took of my daily 3-mile run through the city. 'While pretending to engage in ‘physical culture,’ the announcer ominously explained, I was really carrying secret messages between the United States Embassy and nefarious Russian dissidents.”

I guess I can't complain to much about the pollution and stares - never had the KGB on my ass!