images of home

On my walk home today, I was struck by the strange but distinct realization that St. Petersburg is starting to feel like home. I’m beginning to know where things are and how to do just about anything I need to do. Of course, it will be a long time before I can do these things gracefully- my Russian still needs a lot of work- but I no longer feel overwhelmed and helpless. I’m also no longer paralyzed by the idea of sticking out like a sore thumb as a foreigner. This may be partly due to the fact that the temperature has dropped recently, so local women are no longer walking around half-dressed; but I think it’s more likely because several people now have come up to me on the street to ask directions, thinking I’m from around here. (Not that I’ve been able to help them… but being asked is always exciting.) It used to be that when I walked around, I’d practically run everywhere I went because I was afraid of being noticed, of being picked up by the militsia because I wasn’t wearing high heels or something. Now I’m more comfortable, I’ve slowed down, I now longer fear getting lost or picked out of the crowd. So as I take more time, I notice more things- the sale at the computer store, the old man in the shoe repair shop, the menu posted outside Crazy Sushi, proclaiming that “We Have Shrimp!” Thus, the feeling of being at home. I can chat with my coworkers about who has the best produce, or that one great book shop on Nevsky Prospect; I can hop on the metro to get all over town; and best of all, I can now walk for a half hour without being exhausted or getting blisters. (Or course, I have been wearing tennis shoes everywhere… but still…)

Among my recent accomplishments was getting some film developed and scanned to CD successfully. You may recall from my last blog that when I dropped off my film, it was quite an ordeal language-wise and I left the store unsure of what was really going to happen to my film. But when I picked it up last week, it turns out that the broken conversation managed to get the point across. So, as promised, here are pictures of various landmarks around the city.

First, a few shots from the White Nights bridge raising that we went to after first arriving-

Here’s the crowds waiting, overlooking the Neva river-



This is the Peter and Paul fortress on the opposite bank of the Neva- the first main structure in, and the center of, St. Petersburg. Nothing in the city is higher than its tower. Isn’t the lighting amazing for 2:00 AM?



Here’s the view from the bridge of the Hermitage and the East bank of the Neva-



These are the fireworks and fountains signaling that the bridge is about to go up-



The fully raised bridge-



And the many boats filling the river, which was almost empty a few minutes ago.



Since the White Nights, it’s generally been too hot out to want to go anywhere, but a couple weeks ago, at the tail end of the G8, it was finally cool enough to inspire going out and looking around. First stop was the Memorial for the Leningrad Occupation. During WWII, St. Petersburg, then Leningrad, was occupied by the Nazis; it was under siege and completely isolated for nearly 3 years. No supplies were able to get into the city, and many of its citizens fled. Several years ago this memorial was built to honor the soldiers and citizens who stayed and protected the city.

Back of the memorial…



Center of memorial...



Soldiers and tower with the years of the occupation...



Memorial from the front.



Underneath the memorial, there’s also a museum with artifacts from the time under siege, mosaic murals, and names of soldiers who died. (I think. I couldn’t read all the information, since it was in Russian and all.)

Inside the memorial…



Speaking of Leningrad, after visiting the memorial I made my way to Victory Square, a large public space with fountains and a gigantic statue of Lenin.

Victory Square… note how huge the sculpture is compared to the people…



Fountains and statue...



We want YOU!



After I admired Lenin’s likeness, Jonathan got off work and met up with me at the Summer Gardens. The first public park in St. Petersburg, installed in 1704, the garden is also where Peter the Great had his summer home. While we wandered through the park, the city sprung one of its unpredictable summer showers on us. We’ve since learned to carry umbrellas with us at all times, but for the moment, one of the garden’s over-200-year-old trees provided decent shelter. Walking through the garden reminded me of a Romantic-era promenade, with upstanding members of the public taking their afternoon excursion. People scattered when the rain came, but when it stopped a few minutes later, everyone mysteriously reappeared.

The main path through the park…



A statue after the rain...



A flower bed in the garden.



Last but not least... we finished our day by leaving the park along the Fontanka River…





and made our way to the Church of the Savior on the Blood, probably one of the most famous landmarks in all of St. Petersburg.

The church as viewed from the Fontanka…



Up close...



Look at the incredible detail!



Another angle.



Really, this thing is so enormous it can be seen from miles away. This view is just off Nevsky Prospect, the main shopping thoroughfare, looking down the Griboedov Canal. In the background, behind the bustling crowds, you can see the crowning onion domes.



That evening we did and saw so much more, and that was just one day. This weekend we plan to see even more, including Peterhof, with its famous fountains. I have many, many more pictures, but I figure I should stop here so my bandwidth can handle all of this. Also to save some for future blogs! Hope you’ve enjoyed this mini-tour of just a few of my city’s sites.

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

Many people have been commenting that it’s been too long since I’ve posted a blog. I thought I was going at a pretty good pace, but I guess the frequency has dropped off a bit. Well, I have many excuses- wait, reasons! I mean reasons!- as to why it’s been a while.

Reason #1- G8. Okay, so I really wasn’t personally, deeply involved or anything, but it seemed to bring everything in the city to a screeching halt. (Everything but street cleaners, that is.) So why not me too? Incidentally, I did get to see President Bush’s motorcade, from about 3 feet away, as it screamed down the street. Even if I had been able to make out the man himself, it was definitely NOT the highlight of my week. As for my insights on G8, since I was in the city that hosted it, well, I don’t have any. I can’t understand Russian news enough to get the local take on the event. And for the brief moments when CNN is on AFN, all they’ve been showing is Bush swearing and talking with his mouth full. That’s not being a good diplomat! Tsk tsk!

Reason #2- Friggin’ dial-up. How much longer can I milk this?

Reason #3- My previous MySpace rant about all the friend requests from strangers kind of backfired. Since then, I’ve been getting actual emails from people. Cool people. Lots of them. Which is great, on one hand, but hooo, it takes a lot of time. See, I’m trapped with dial-up… no? Not good enough anymore? Rats.

Reason #4- I started working. It seems to be one of those jobs that I always end up with- the kind that affords me a fair amount of internet time- but, when I started I was given many lectures about how I have No Expectation of Privacy, which freaked me out and makes me nervous about doing anything online but, say, reading the news. And playing Typer Shark. Nothing will keep me from Typer Shark.

Reason #5- I’ve started cooking more often. I don’t like cooking, really at all, but I’ve discovered that if I have a craving for something, I have little choice but to make it. The joy of mayo-slathered, gristly meat has started to wear off. Aside from bistros, there are of course regular restaurants, but most are ghastly expensive. So, cooking it is. And, actually, I have become so desperate to eat something raw and fresh that I’ve been going to sushi places. Those of you who really know me know that I am NOT a sushi fan. And, I realize “Russian Sushi” sounds like a recipe for “Gastrointestinal Disaster.” But, so far I haven’t had any problems, and I’m so thrilled to eat something light that I’ve been choking down California rolls on a weekly basis. Aside from the sushi, chopping and sautéing and baking at home it is.

Reason #6- I have been doing interesting things. So many interesting things, in fact, that I haven’t had enough time left to blog about them. Worry not, I’ll make time soon. Last weekend Jonathan and I took a pleasant walk to some well-known sites all around the city. I’ve been meaning to blog about it, but first I have to get the pictures developed. Yes, I still use film. I have a great SLR whose picture quality is worth the wait, rather than using my pint-sized digital. Yes, I know they make digital SLRs too. But I already have the film one. And I like it. And I can’t afford a digital. So, anyway, I have to get the film developed and scanned before I can post pictures to accompany the story. And getting film developed is quite the adventure. I dropped it off yesterday and made an incredible fool of myself. I’d looked up how to say “Scan to CD” in Russian, and went into the store thinking I was well prepared. I requested a Scan to CD and asked how much it cost- then I was told it would be 5 rubles per negative. I wasn’t sure what that meant. So then I tried asking if they could do a whole roll or if I had to pick out individual negatives. I really, desperately tried. I was met with blank stares. I called Jonathan to see if he could translate over the phone for me- but the photo stuff is so random and technical he was worried he might end up telling them the wrong thing. As I was flipping through my phrase book, trying to figure out how to say “I’ll come back tomorrow with a dictionary,” the woman at the counter left and came back with someone who spoke some English. Between the two of us, I think we figured it out. Guess I’ll find out today when I pick up my order. And to round out the embarrassment, there was the extra-humiliating situation when she asked for my phone number. I couldn’t remember my cell number, so first I looked through all the options on my phone to see if it was listed, and then I called Jonathan to find out what it was. Come to find out later that there’s a HUGE STICKER on the BACK OF THE PHONE listing the number. I must have looked ultra, incredibly stupid. “Sheesh, her Russian is horrible, and she’s so dumb, she doesn’t even know her own phone number, even though it’s RIGHT THERE. Stupid blonde Americans.”

Speaking of my horrible Russian-

Reason #7- I started taking Russian classes here. 3 times a week, with actual homework. Very, very surreal. I haven’t been in a classroom in ages. The teacher is great, and I think she might actually succeed in explaining cases and genders and all to me. I’ve just been memorizing whole phrases so far- phrases such as “Please call an ambulance!” or “How much does the apple cost?” Coming up with new and different ones on my own has been pretty much impossible. If I try, it comes out sounding like “Me pancake delicious orange, please?”

And speaking of learnin’-

Reason #8- I also started taking voice lessons. From a fabulous Russian woman who is pretty insistent on my striving for perfection. Which is a good thing. She doesn’t speak English, and as we’ve established, my Russian is very bad, so Jonathan’s been coming along to translate. I’ll have to go into more detail about the lessons later- they’re truly an insight into the local mindset and way of life. Right now I actually have to leave to go to my weekly lesson.

So, I hope my list of excu- er, reasons- tides everyone over for a bit. I have no plans to quit this altogether or anything. The stories about Slavic life will continue! Patience, my friends! Patience!

eatin' good in the neighborhood

Jonathan and I have been doing our best to eat like the locals. No point in living somewhere new if we're going to just have hamburgers every day, after all.

So far this hasn't been too much of a challenge. The food here IS tasty. Practically anything would be once deep-fried and covered in mayonnaise.

Most people here are very thin. And with all the walking, no wonder. At first, when we arrived, I wondered how anyone here would become overweight at all.

Then I discovered something- food here is intensely fattening. The 4 basic food groups here seem to consist of: The Pickled Group, The Mayo Group, The Fried Group, and the Vodka group. Mmm! I can hear my blood pressure going up!

Here are a few examples of common dishes…

First of all, blini. Blini are top dog here. And no wonder, they're tasty. They're essentially thin pancakes, and you can order them will all kinds of things wrapped up in them. Mushrooms, meat, the classic caviar and sour cream, or honey. Besides getting them at restaurants or frozen at the grocery store, there are blini stands all over the place. Yummy.

Also all over the place are bistros. There are several within a block of us. I'm assuming the term bistro was stolen back when Russia was obsessed with all things French. The food is far from French, however. The average bistro has a cooler case with salads on display and a few meat items, and a small menu of more meat options. On average, the meat will be batter-dipped and fried, although occasionally just fried. It will be pre-made, so when you order, they take one out of the case and nuke it for you. Then they put mayonnaise or gravy or whatever fattener you wish all over it. Or they may put the fat inside the meat, such as in chicken kiev. Nothing like cutting open a battered, fried piece of chicken and having butter spurt out. Soooo good. After you've chosen your meat, they almost always ask if you want fries with that. Which you should get. They are thick-cut, tasty fries, usually dripping with whatever sauce is coming off the main dish. The whole plate will be finished off with a garnish of fresh dill. Mmm!

As for the salads... well... produce is pretty hard to come by in these parts. Summer is extremely short, after all. And shipping stuff this far north, well, the fruit usually ends up worse for the wear. I kid you not- I was at a grocery store recently- I saw about a half a cup of raspberries, looking a little over-ripe and mushy, selling for like 250 rubles, which is almost $10. Ouch. This would NOT be a good country to try to be a vegetarian in.

Anyway, there are a few vegetables and fruits which are accessible and decent quality. First of all, mushrooms are everywhere. Cucumbers are very common (and pickles, naturally). Tomatoes, so far, have been surprisingly easy to find. What else... cabbage, carrots, potatoes, radishes, and let's not forget beets!! Bell peppers are somewhat common.. apples and cherries are decent quality and price, but I get the feeling that that's going to be a seasonal thing. Bananas are easy to find... but only if you like them bruised. Good luck finding a firm, green banana. Let's see... yeah, that's about it off the top of my head. Other produce can be found, but you'll pay in time and money.

So back to the salads- there are generally three kinds. One: a salad of beets, hard-boiled egg, and mayo. Two: shredded cabbage and carrots, usually sort of pickled. And three: a fresh-cut tomato, cucumber, and radish salad, usually dressing-free. That's my favorite. It's the only thing you'll find at most bistros that is actually refreshing, which is a necessity during the recent heat wave.

For the most part, despite all the tasty treats surrounding us, we eat at home pretty often. That, and I can't understand what most of the menu says. So I usually pick something random and order it. Forrest Gump was mistaken when talking about boxes of chocolate; after all, most good brands tell you what's in each piece. What he REALLY meant to say was: "Life is like ordering in Russian. You never know what you're gonna get." Of course, whatever type of meat it is will be friend and covered in mayo anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

A meal at home is typically very light. We've stuck to easily identifiable items at the grocery store so far. Here is a picture of my usual lunch:



What we have here is a sandwich of mustard, cheddar and salami, another of pickled herring, dill, cucumber and bell pepper, some crackers with brie, and a biscuit cookie, filled with orange jelly and covered in dark chocolate. Tasty!

Of course, a meal this light doesn't stick to your ribs much in this heat. Nor do bistro meals when I order something and it turns out to be such a creepy mystery meat that even mayo won't make it appetizing. After several days like that last week, by the time Saturday evening rolled around, Jonathan and I were in the mood for something filling and familiar. We decided to go to Carol's, a chain based in Sweden. We'd read in one of our guidebooks that there were two Carols near us- one by the Ploschad Vostanya metro, and another several blocks up the street on Nevsky Prospect. With map in hand, off we went.

First we arrived at the nearest location, at Ploschad Vostanya, and... nothing. We found the address, but there was no indication that there was or ever had been a restaurant there. We decided to press on to the Nevsky Prospect location. The walk was long... and hot... and as we got closer and closer, our stomachs began to growl audibly. Finally, we neared the address, and discovered... are you ready for this?... that it had been replaced by a McDonald's. Damn.



At this point, we were so hungry, we caved. So much for our avoid-American-food-if-at-all-possible rule. Hamburgers, it was.

Those who say McDonald's is better overseas are somewhat right. I mean, it's still just a hamburger... but definitely fresher. And neater. The Big Mac (or Beeg Mak, if you will) actually looked like it does in ads. Basically, just think of the newest, cleanest McD's you've ever been in, and that's pretty much what it's like. Kind of like McD's in small towns, where the employees still care.

Oh, and the place was PACKED. There were like 8 registers going at once for lines that were 5 people deep. Of course, it was extremely hot out and it's one of the few places with air conditioning... but I get the feeling that it was a love of Americana that brought them in. Which makes me wonder... how weird is it that the world is in perpetual conflict over religion and politics and money... but somehow we can find unity through crappy hamburgers? Planet Earth is a mysterious place.

Anyway, that's my round-up of Russian Food for now. Reports on grocery stores and restaurants still to come...

clarifications

It seems that many people so far have been reading these little travel journals I’ve been keeping, which is marvelous. However, some questions seem to keep coming up from my readers, so I’ve decided I should address them.

First, I must say that I am shocked- shocked!- that so many of you have expressed disbelief that I could be a diplomat. Okay, okay, I must admit that it’s unlikely, and that I didn’t really arrive here on my own steam. Technically, I’m not REALLY a diplomat. I’m sure many of you will breathe a sigh of relief. Now, since I am here in an official capacity, that’s what they call me, mostly for lack of a better term. But it’s not really what I do. I’m not actually negotiating peace contracts or anything. I’m merely a diplomat in the sense of representing America fairly, so when I chat with people and they find out I’m an American, that they don’t walk away thinking “boy, Americans are stupid,” or “boy, Americans are rude,” or “boy, Americans really need to floss better.” It’s sort of like being on orchestra or choir tour. As Dean would remind us, we need to Be On Our Best Behavior because, whether performing or just eating lunch, we are Representing Our School.

Second- in one of my first blogs, I mentioned the fact that we were having problems accessing our money. Many people have since wondered if we are starving to death now or what. Rest assured- we have been able to get to our cash. After a long discussion with our bank, it became clear that they don’t trust foreign ATMS with debit cards- but they do with credit cards, presumably because it’s easier to trace fraud problems on a credit card than replace all the cash in your account if someone wipes your ATM card clean. So, we have essentially been using our credit card as an ATM card, which the bank allows us to do without any extra fees or anything. Which, sure, is kind of a pain- but hey, I think we earn points this way, and it’s not like we want to try to switch banks from over here, so it works.

Third- there have been a lot of death threats to my shoes. Naturally, I appreciate the concern for my feet, but I feel that I should come to the defense of my shoes, which have gotten a bad rap. Everyone seems to think that I was traipsing about in 6” stilettos or something. While this would help me blend in more with the locals, believe me, it’s not the case. Those who know me well know that I am not the type to put up with uncomfortable footwear. Unfortunately, this means that after years of wearing only tennis shoes, I have no calluses or stamina. You’ll recall that the day I got lost and mutilated my feet, I was on my way to meet a co-worker and attend a concert, so I had to look nice. Thus, I was forced out of the tennis shoes. I chose what I thought was the next best thing: ballet flats. No heels, cushy insole- not bad, right? Well… mistake no. 1- wearing them without socks. Which could not be avoided. I currently don’t have any pantyhose. They won’t arrive until August. I didn’t predict needing them in summer. Mistake no. 2- since my Russian is still pretty crappy, the band-aids I had were for sensitive skin, and therefore didn’t hold very well. Hence, they came off after a block. Mistake no. 3- well, being a moron and forgetting my map. All of these add up to a simple fact: Leather + Bare Feet + Sweat + Walking for an hour and a half= Blisters. This would happen in ANY pair of shoes. In fact, it probably would have been WORSE in any other pair of shoes. At least, any pair of shoes that would look respectable with a skirt and cardigan. Basically, though, living in this city requires a LOT of walking. Especially since our car hasn’t arrived yet. In the days after getting lost and mangling my feet, I wore flip-flops everywhere, and even THOSE gave me blisters. (I would have worn my trusty tennis shoes, but my feet were too swollen to fit into them.) Anyway, fear not for the health of my toes. I got some Epsom salts to soak them in, some sturdier band-aids, and some sort of ointment that was the closest the people at the pharmacy could come to my pathetic translation of Neosporin. All are getting my feet on the fast track to health. Besides, soon we’ll be living closer to work, I’m building up a tolerance, and if we really have to walk somewhere far, believe me, I’ll be wearing tennis shoes and then stashing them in my purse before we arrive. So please, stop hatin’ on the shoes.

Last, but not least, I’ve had requests for examples of the Russian equivalent of Engrish or Spanglish or whatever you want to call it. Actually, I’ve coined a term for the Russian equivalent: “Englishky.” It’s hard to transfer into a blog, though, unless you know how to read Cyrillic. Most of the time it’s not that it’s necessarily bad English… it’s just that it’s really funny to carefully sound out something in Russian and then suddenly realize that it’s an English word. For example… a few blocks from us is a sign that reads:



So the first time I saw it, I stood there, carefully saying to myself, ”Ahhhh..oooo... d… eeeeeeee….ooooooooo…. Oh. Audio Video!” At which point I notice the big “JVC” sign next to it. Duh. Or, another favorite, one of the many gambling places with this sign:



”D...jjjjjjjjjj....aaaaaaaa....k.. p...oooooooooo... Oh! Jackpot!” Ha!

Really, this is great fun- it’s like learning to read all over again. Remember when you were a little kid, and you’d just learned how to read, and it was like every sign was magic? That’s what it’s like, especially when it turns out to be a word you actually know. Bonus fun is had from saying the words in a thick Russian accent once you’ve figured them out. “Mahk Dahnahldz! Beeg Taystee! Da!”

Unfortunately, as I’ve stated above, it’s hard to translate this goofiness into a blog, except for my few readers who know Cyrillic. On the rare occasion, though, that I find actual English that has been translated from Russian, I’ll pass it on. I did get a little gem the other day- the Mariinsky Theater website (www.mariinsky.spb.ru) has some pretty funny English translation. For example, when I registered on their site so I could buy tickets, I was greeted with this message:

“We congratulate you! You was successfully registered in our system. After an input in system, you can pass in section ‘Tickets’ and to create the order.”

Hee hee! Of course, I can only imagine what I sound like when I try to buy band-aids in Russian…

a night at the ballet

Jonathan and I have been up to a lot in the last several days. We’ve tried out some new restaurants (heck, everything here is new to us), we got a look at our future apartment (not quite as spectacular as we’d hoped, but the much shorter commute is well worth it), we learned how to use our washer and dryer (it’s more complex than you’d think), and most excitingly, we went to a ballet at the Mariinsky Theater last night.

Upon our arrival, we were warned that the Mariinsky would be closing soon to undergo maintenance and renovations. Apparently it will be closed until some time in 2008, so we had to go see something now, or we’d never get the chance. (Our apologies to those who are planning to come visit us… guess we won’t be taking you to any world-famous ballet while you’re here. *sniff*)

Since Jonathan’s schedule is so bizarre and unpredictable at the moment, when we found ourselves with free time Sunday evening, we decided we’d go see whatever was showing. Every night there’s a different show, and sometimes two- an opera starting at 6:00, then a symphony starting at 10:00. All part of a festival called “Stars of the White Nights,” but I get the feeling that non-stop cultural entertainment is sort of the norm here. Last night happened to be a production of Adolphe Adam’s “Le Corsaire,” or, “The Pirate.” I was pleased that we’d get to see a ballet; no offense to operas or symphonies, but ballet is really what the Mariinsky is known for. So, we figured out the bus schedule, I planned an outfit around my tennis shoes and carefully wrapped and bandaged my feet, and away we went.

Before the show we decided to have dinner at “The Idiot,” a vegetarian-friendly restaurant near the Mariinsky. Apparently “vegetarian” is not synonymous with “healthy” here. Our meal started with a complimentary shot of vodka- my first official Russian vodka shot! Hooray! It was definitely a good vodka, and went down smoothly, although it immediately went to my head, so I was relieved that we didn’t get another with each course. Following the vodka, we had an appetizer of marinated mushrooms, which were tasty but extremely salty. Which is great for me and my low blood pressure problems, but for Jonathan (and most people), it was a bit much. Next came the main course. Jonathan had fried goat cheese patties, which were served with sour cream and honey; I had some sort of boiled cheese and raisin dumplings, which were served with sour cream, whipped cream, peaches and cranberry sauce. Mmm-mmm! Thus, with plenty of fat, salt, and alcohol coursing through our veins, we made our way back to the theatre.

The outside of the Mariinsky is a rather ghastly shade of green, but the inside is really beautiful. The theatre itself is shaped like a large horseshoe, with layers upon layers of seats a few rows deep. We ordered our tickets online and got some of the last seats available for the show, which were in a box on the next-to-top level. The view wasn’t that fabulous, but the overall environment was nice, and (so we thought) we’d have privacy to chat about the happenings.

The outside of the Mariinsky…



The stage…



The seats…



Me in our box.



A buzzer sounded indicating that the show was about to start, the lights dimmed, the overture began… and suddenly there was a whole commotion around us and ushers letting people in. Our best guess is that they wait until the show starts to ensure that all paid ticket-holders have arrived, and then they start letting in people who had stand-by tickets or were late or whatever. Our box had three seats and there were only two of us in there; this made our section fair game. The door behind us opened and two very large women were ushered in and then just sort of left there, for them to figure it out. One sat in the seat next to me, and the other sat on the railing separating our box from the one next to us. We were suddenly sandwiched between about 600 pounds of babushka. They squirmed around a bit initially, playing with cell phones, unwrapping candy, etc, but they did manage to quiet down by the time the overture finished and the actual ballet had begun. Still, it was rather disconcerting.

After the first act, as soon as the lights went up for intermission, there was much shuffling and pointing and rearranging. We quickly determined that if we were going to keep our seats, at least one of us had better stay there to guard them. I’d heard, of course, that ballets and operas and such here are attended by the general public much more so than in the US; even so, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so proletarian. While Jonathan made a restroom trip, I kept watch over our seats. Several groups of people came in during intermission, sized me up, looked over the edge to see what kind of view we had, talked amongst themselves, and left again. Apparently our seats weren’t good enough to bother confronting me about them.

As intermission ended, I saw the babushkas had found seats a few rows in front of us. I guess they managed to bully themselves into a good view. We were joined by a lone man who was at least quiet and polite. During the second intermission, Jonathan chatted with him a little, and learned that our seats were considered good ones because they had good air circulation. We’d heard that heating and air conditioning were big draws to bring the masses to performances, but we’d assumed that that was long ago, like people in the US going to movies during the Great Depression for the air conditioning. But, apparently, people here are still poor enough, or most homes are too hard to maintain, that simple climate control still keeps them coming. The patrons we saw were certainly an interesting mix- the babushkas, a pair of teenagers in front of us who making out for half the show, obvious tourists, and a few well-heeled locals in suits and dresses. I wondered what the people sitting on the floor looked like, since those were really the hard-to-get seats.

The ballet itself was everything a ballet should be- impressive dancing, cheesy story line, extravagant costumes. The plot was pretty standard, including pirates, harems, kidnapping, love, you name it. Basically a vehicle for a few key people to show off- you know, The Pirate, Look How Strong He Is! The Maiden, Look How Beautiful She Is! And show off they did. I’m no ballet expert, but I was very impressed. There was, of course, also one large group number that reminded me of something from an Esther Williams movie. About 30 women on stage, dressed as flowers, flitting about in formation- then the main woman comes out, and all the chorus women get out these flower-covered horseshoe things and form a big circle around her, and then, I kid you not, behind the screen, a huge water fountain came on. It was like something out of Branson. The audience went nuts.

Speaking of which, I’ll use this opportunity to sneak in a public service announcement. As the fountain started and the delicate flowers made their various formations, people in the audience started taking flash photographs by the gross. Which, first of all, is just rude to the performers, and to the poor ushers, who immediately started running around asking people to stop and cursing tourists under their breath. But, second, and just as important, all those pictures will never in a million years come out. Attention, photo taking public: Whether you are at a ballet, or a football game, or the Olympics, or a graduation ceremony, or whatever- the flash on your camera will only illuminate things about 10 feet in front of you. Never in a million years will your tiny camera illuminate the stage (or field, or whatever) 100 yards away from you. All you are going to get is a picture of the back of the head right in front of you, with complete blackness behind. Please stop annoying everyone around you. Okay, moving on…

All in all, it was a thrilling experience. I hope we’re able to go again before they close down- I think there are still performances running through August. But at least I can rest assured at having seen it at least once.