Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall! POD

East Side Gallery, October 2008

My mom and I were recently arguing about the Berlin Wall. Well, first we were reminiscing about coming to America nineteen years ago on October 16. I don't remember much about the actual trip, just that soon after arriving in Bethesda, MD, my parents took me to Toys "R" Us where I got my first Barbie and an Etch A Sketch, and it was all wildly exciting.

So then I say, "Isn't it crazy that it's the twentieth anniversary of the Berlin Wall falling?" Here I was relying on credible sources saying the official date was November 9, 1989. And she goes, "No . . . the wall must have fallen after we came to America, not before. Your grandfather read five different newspapers, he followed the news, he would have been upset if he knew." I gloss over the part about him being "upset" and say, "No . . . I've read that it was 1989. It must have been before we came." We go back and forth. And then it dawns on us. "Maybe they didn't report it in Russia at the time?" "I guess not," she says.

From the archives:

$10 cheaper

Babushkas sing Britney Spears

Yes, well, none of my clients have subsidiaries in Russia

Today I put on a suit and went to a business luncheon entitled "Doing Business in Russia" that was hosted by the local chamber of commerce. Presumably I was sent because no one else from the office was available to go and was in no way a direct and striking correlation with my being born in the Motherland. At the event, the presentations on the economic climate, cultural differences, and practical experiences were sandwiched by awkward periods of attempted mingling and networking while hovering over the literal catered sandwiches from the Corner Bakery. With my skills in vaht yu kahl zis "networking", I may or may not be invited allowed again inside that building without a police escort. I think that I basically told one fellow networker, after he shoved his business card into one of my fists, that no, I was absolutely not interested in his travel services because we already have a travel service provider that I am absolutely thrilled with. Another Nervous Nelly told me that his ex-girlfriend's name was also Katya after I told him that I know nothing about doing business in Russia. Nervous laughter. Teeth gnashing. Off to a good start!

The presentations were actually pretty interesting. I was slightly distracted by the Pierce Brosnan look-alike at the table to my right, the vigorous nodder to the diagonal, and the loud itch-scratcher to my left. I learned that Russians are not necessarily punctual people, which shook my beliefs to the core and make me question Papa T's teachings. I learned that business in Russia is all about building relationships, and business is not just business, it's personal. I learned that having a business there can be a roller coaster ride since economic conditions can change so drastically and so quickly.

This event reminded me of an awkward Russian encounter I was going to willingly subject myself to. Back in Dublin, in my boredom and/or lonely periods, I planned and thought about all of the things I would do and accomplish once back in DC -- a list of museum exhibits (mostly all viewed), books clubs (plans in motion to have reinstated), and Russian conversation club (WHAT?!). I found this club that meets once a week at Brickskeller to practice speaking Russian. I imagine a small group of dorky Americans, who maybe took a language class or two in college or who are Russian literature or history enthusiasts, drinking beer and attempting to conjugate a verb and doing so incorrectly, maybe with one or two native Russian dorks peppered in around the table. I thought, well heck, I am not so good at kickball, but when it comes to speaking Russian, I am like a professional! I will totally be the star of Russian conversation club. I mean, I can speak Russian, English, AND English with a Russian accent, dare I try Russian with an English accent.

Basically I have not yet had the time or the cojones to make it out to Wednesday night Russian speaking club, but believe you me that you will hear about it when I do, because can you imagine the hilarity of that business luncheon, only the entire thing is in Russian, everyone is drinking beer, and I am not confined to "acting professional"?

It's Like That

(via kottke)

Matrioshka Couture

In celebration of Vogue Russia's ten-year anniversary, several designers were called upon to design outfits for the Russian Matrioshka. Here are three of my favorites:


Burberry


Ralph Lauren


Yves Saint Laurent

Procrastination

Would I ever want to move The Finer Things Club to Russia for, say 3 months?



Eep, I just don't know.

. . . Voistynu Voskres!

Yesterday was Russian Orthodox Easter. This means 5 things:

1. Greetings. When someone says to you, "Christos Voskres!" ("Christ has risen!"), you have about 3 seconds to reply with, "Voistynu Voskres!" ("Indeed he has risen!") That's a pretty hard and fast rule. I tend to play the Replier, not the Instigator role, both on the phone and in person.

2. The three-kiss hello and goodbye. A kiss hello is pretty standard for family and family friends, especially if you don't see them every day. High holidays require the three-kiss hello (and goodbye), alternating cheeks. Very awkward for me and my cousin. Also very awkward if one party forgets and only does two and the other party goes in for the third.

3. Easter eggs. I grew up without ever experiencing the joy of the Easter bunny or Easter baskets. However, there were always Easter eggs. Growing up, I used to help my mom dye the eggs on Saturday night. We would buy the Paas egg dye at the grocery store and I would get excited about giving the eggs sticker and white crayon makeovers. The last few years, my mom has gone Russian old-school and has been using onion peels to dye the eggs an interesting red/brown color. I am glad she's gone back to her roots and doesn't sell out like I would have, had it been my responsibility to dye the eggs again.

4. Easter egg game. I am not sure I know the universal rules of this game, so I cannot speak for other Russian or Greek families. In my family, everyone picks an egg and the tournament begins. Playing against one opponent at a time, you hold up your egg, your opponent holds up his/her egg, and you basically hit your eggs against each other. If your egg cracks, you are a loser. However, you get to eat your egg. If your egg is whole, you play the winner of the match-up sitting next to you. The game keeps going until there is one winner. Sometimes, if the game is played at lunch, the winner might even keep the winning egg until the dinner-time game. Honestly, the whole thing lasts like 10 minutes. My mom usually wins, she's sneaky. This year, Papa T was the champion. I am not sure if this means that Jesus likes him best or that he had frozen his egg ahead of time.

5. Kulich. This is traditional Easter bread that we eat for dessert. [If you take it to midnight Mass, the priest will bless it. He will also bless your eggs.] Now I don't really like kulich to begin with, which makes my mom's cruel game extra cruel. She makes her own and also goes to the Russian grocery store and buys a kulich made by one of the ladies who works at the store. We are then asked to compare and contrast and declare hers to be more delicious.

Propaganda

Someone on metafilter posted a link to the Soviet Museum where I found more propaganda prints with which I would like to paper the walls of our apartment. I've already won one large-scale battle in the war of apartment decoration -- Fred, the alligator head, is no longer prominently displayed on the bookshelf. Cry me a river.

What are the chances of me getting some Soviet propaganda prints up on the walls? Retro fierce! Try and tell me this one won't make the room more "homey".



I probably don't even need to mention that it comes with a golden nugget of advice: BUNS DON'T GROW ON TREES. REMEMBER, LITTLE BOY. BREAD -- IT'S HARD WORK!

The Last Shadow Puppets

I recently discovered that Alex Turner, the lead singer and songwriter of one of my favorite British bands, the Arctic Monkeys, took time off from the band to form a duo with another British front man, Miles Kane from The Rascals. The result is The Last Shadow Puppets, and their first single is titled "The Age of the Understatement".



On first watching the video, it seemed so bizarre to me. And that's when I realized that all of the imagery is Soviet, and it looks like it was filmed in Russia. On first listening to the song, I kind of liked it. And that's when I realized that it reminds me of "Bremenskie Muzikanti", a Soviet cartoon from my childhood. We also used to have a record player and a record of this cartoon/movie, and I used to listen to the "Bremen Town Musicians" for hours. Behold the wonders of YouTube, as it has a clip:

International Women's Day

Papa T called me this morning to wish me a "Happy March 8", otherwise known as International Women's Day. In Russia, it is an official holiday. I suppose it is sort of a mix between Mother's Day and Valentine's Day, although it is not limited to girlfriends, wives, and mothers. There is a lot of flower-giving involved.

Hooray for womanhood!

Lenin's Tomb

At this juncture, I would like to impart some knowledge to you about the finer things of Russian culture though some photos of my trip to Russia with my dad two summers ago.


Sunrise in St. Petersburg. My dad and I took an overnight train from Tver (town in between Moscow and St. Petersburg where my grandmother lives) to St. Petersburg (or Leningrad as it used to be called during Soviet times). We arrived early in the morning, in time for the sunrise. Putin is originally from St. Petersburg, so this city got much attention and funds pumped into it from the government to build it up and make it "beautiful". The facades of the buildings and whatnot look nice, but the insides are still old and decrepit.


Hardwood floor at the Hermitage, one of the largest museums in the world. It has one of the oldest art galleries, and one of its 6 buildings, the Winter Palace, used to be the official residence of the tsars. We were so exhausted from our trip, we did not do this place justice. Next time I make it to St. Petersburg, the first place I am going to is the Hermitage Museum.


Peterhof. This is another palace of the tsars. If the Hermitage is the rough equivalent of the Louvre in Paris, this place would be the counterpart of Versailles. It's also known for its gardens and fountains.


Sipping Bochkarev beer at Peterhof. Moscow and St. Petersburg were experiencing a heat wave during the two weeks that we were there. At some vendors and shops, a bottle of beer was cheaper than a bottle of water. Brickskeller in DC actually has this beer on their list. I ordered it once, and they had it in stock, and that was pretty exciting.


Onion domes of the Church of the Savior on Blood in St. Petersburg. This church was built on the spot of the assassination of one of the tsars. It is gorgeous.


Full body shot.


Lenin's Tomb on the Red Square in Moscow. We stood in line for over an hour to see Grandfather Lenin's waxy body on display in the dark chamber inside this building. The guards strip you of everything - coats, purses, wallets, cameras, keys, phones, everything. Then you are led into the chamber, which is pitch black except for the dim light on the body. You make one circle around the body and then leave through the back door. Whole thing takes about 5 minutes. Probably one of the creepier things I have experienced/seen. Stalin's body also used to be on display, but it was buried after his atrocities were revealed to the public. We saw his grave as well.


Dinner at grandma's. Yes, old-school Russian people put rugs on the walls. Yes, Uncle Vitya is not wearing a shirt. Boy, this is quickly becoming the "drinking club" blog.


Self and Papa T, my travel companion.