I would first like to apologize to all of you avid readers
whose thirst for Russian knowledge has gone un-quenched during the past month
or so. It turns out that the crazy party atmosphere of Rovaniemi, Finland was
just too much for my body to handle, and I have thus spent the past week with
an ear infection somethin’ fierce and screaming in an elderly fashion at the
young Russian hooligans to speak louder so that I could attempt to understand
their mockery.
So, here’s the down-low: as you would probably rather work a
bake sale with Nicholas Cage than read about every excruciating detail of my
travel week, I’m going to pick out a highlight or two from each of the places
which has had the opportunity to be blessed with my presence. I will also
include some fun and colorful pictures for all the visual learners who are
overwhelmed by the sheer amount of text.
The first destination was the magical city of Kiev, Ukraine.
Unfortunately, as I am the last to know about anything ever, and also due to
some technical difficulties in the life of Alyssa Lindley, I was too late to
sign up for the evening flight and was thus put on the “God’s not even awake
yet” plane (aka 7:30 am on what is possibly the most questionable airline of
all the questionable airlines there are in Russia.)
 |
| It's a good day to die. |
Unfortunately, we were only given about 22 hours in the city
before boarding an overnight train to Moscow, so although it was quite
beautiful, it kind of passed in one tired, borscht-filled blur. Churches (many
churches) were explored. A hill was climbed. Delicious food was consumed. In
general, merriment was had. Here are some pictures.
 |
| In which I try to get artsy but fail as I suck at all things photography-related. |
Probably one of the most interesting experiences we had was
in the catacombs, which are still active and open to worshipers We and what
seemed like about two hundred others were lead underground into small tunnels
containing the dead bodies of saints and monks. While it was a struggle to make
my way through hallways that are not specially designed for the
horizontally-challenged, I managed to endure without injury to myself or
others. Most people carried candles to light the way; I don’t think they
trusted us Americans to hold anything with a flame on it, so we simply relied
on others’ firelight and our imaginations. Apparently an American girl’s hair
caught on fire, so perhaps it was good we weren't given candles.
 |
| Add 20 pounds and a bigger block of cheese and this would probably be the most accurate picture of my time in the Catacombs. |
On another, more serious note, my group and I had the privilege of
visiting Kiev’s amazing Museum of the Great Patriotic War (WWII.) Growing up in
America, we've always kind of learned that it was the good ole’ U.S. of A. who
won World War II. In Russia, though, people think differently; I can’t tell you
how many times I’ve been asked during random encounters with Russians, “So, we
hear that in America, you think you won
World War II!” (Okay, I probably can tell you—it’s around four. Maybe a few
more since my comprehension abilities at the beginning of the semester
resembled those of a cow with a concussion.) Now, I’m not saying that’s not
true, but I’m also not saying that it is true—in the end, I think it was a
combination of the efforts of all the Allies. Except for France, maybe; France
was kind of like that alternate on the basketball team who sits on a bench the
whole time but still gets to go to awards ceremony when the team wins the
championship. At least, that’s my humble opinion expressed through my professional
analogy-writing abilities. In any case, the museum did allow us to see one of
the world’s most devastating wars through the eyes of someone else; a change of
perspective can be helpful sometimes. However, I'll hop on off the soap box, as
some would say.
At about 5 pm, we boarded our overnight train to Moscow. As
I said before, my body is somewhat sensitive and would probably be the first to
go in the case of a world epidemic, so I was almost immediately hit with motion
sickness. The conductor, who didn’t seem to actually be conducting anything,
seemed to take a special interest in our group and attempted to entertain us
with a teething ring whose origins are still unclear. At one point he tried to
put it on my ring finger. The wedding is occurring next month; save-the-dates
will be sent out posthaste.
 |
| Me and my future husband. Sorry about the calves/thighs. |
In all seriousness, though, Moscow was actually pretty
incredible. I say “actually” because, to tell the truth, pretty much everyone I
talked to about it beforehand said it was big, gray, kind of grim, and incredibly
Russian. But you know what? I think it’s time to bring back a little segment
that hasn’t been seen by the likes of this blog in a while. That’s right—it’s
FUNformation Time! In case you aren’t
familiar with Russia’s geographical history, Moscow was first referenced in 1147 by a little man named Yuri Dolgorukie. This, as you hopefully know, was
the country’s capital until an even littler man by the name of
Peter the First (Пётр Первый, or Pyotr Pervii,) came along. If you remember one
of my earlier blog posts, he was the very same rapscallion who collected
fetuses in jars and hammered out sticks of iron. Along with his unhealthy
obsession with pickling, Peter had a certain liking for European culture and,
when he became tsar, completely reinvented the Russian capital (which he
immediately moved to St. Petersburg.)
Consequently, St. Petersburg is now known as the “Venice of the North,” and
decidedly “European” (or at least, it wants to be. It can talk to me when it
does something about the hordes of old women in head scarves trying to sell me
strings of dried fish off the back of a truck.) While it was helpful for Russia
to change up the routine a bit, it meant that a kind of cultural division
formed between the two cities; those who like the European style tend to prefer
St. Petersburg, while the people who do things the Russian way enjoy Moscow.
 |
| Perhaps what I was expecting. |
Now that that’s done, or now that you’ve gotten bored and
started to look up videos of adorable chinchillas doing tricks, let’s move on
to some descriptions of Alyssa’s Titillating (Moscow) Adventures. The Red
Square, which was the setting of Soviet and soldier parades and is the home of
St. Basil’s Cathedral, was absolutely beautiful. Naturally, we talked loudly in
English and took the most touristy pictures possible. These touristy pictures
follow.
At one point, my friends and I were unknowingly pulled into
a National Unity Day ceremony in which we laid red carnations on the steps of
St. Basil’s. While we are not actually Russian, I hope the all-seeing Putin
forgives us and smiles upon us for being culturally appreciative. Pictures follow.
Aside from that, we visited churches (surprise, surprise,)
parks, monuments, a few too many souvenir stands, some museums, and, of course,
the all-powerful Kremlin. In case you don’t know, the Kremlin is like Russia’s
Great Wall of China, except a tad smaller and occupied by Rootin’ Tootin Putin
and his band of merry men (aka Prime Minister Medvedev.) Much to my sadness, we
did not get to meet the world’s most unsmiling president (he was probably
nursing his back back to health after flying with the cranes,) but we did get
to see a museum with dresses and glass eggs and carriages and weapons. Also, in case you’recurious, here’s a link to 50 pictures of Putin being a badass. Don’t get me
wrong, I’d take Barack over Vladimir any day, but I bet you’ve never seen a
shirtless Obama riding a horse or posing next to a tiger in camouflage.
However, Barack does get some brownie points by being able to take family
pictures in which he doesn’t look like he wants to jump off a cliff.
 |
| Here's one for the Christmas card, Svetlana! |
I won’t spend a long
time talking about Finland, but I would like to let you know that I met the
real Santa Claus. Our conversation went something like this:
Us: Hello!
Santa: *silence*
Us: So, how are you, Santa?
Santa: *more silence* Where are you from?
Us: Oh, we’re from America. You have a lot of presents here!
Any of them for us?
Santa: Do you know who’s going to be the next president?
One of the last remaining parts of my childhood died that
day. I also fulfilled my life-long dream of riding a sled pulled by the majestic
beasts we call huskies. As my friends thought it was too cold, I trucked it out
solo and spent the afternoon rolling euphorically on the ground with a kennel
full of puppies. I think even the woman in the crocheted dog sweater pitied me
a bit. Also, on a side note, I discovered Finnish cheese. This photo depicts
how I spent the remainder of the trip:
Other than that, my vacation in the party capital of the
world was pretty calm. We visited an awesome museum, went on a day-long hike,
drank some of the most delicious hot chocolate ever made, ate at what is
supposedly the Northern-most McDonald’s, watched Balto, and saw the Northern
lights. Pictures follow.
Well, I suppose that about sums up my travel week. Sorry
about taking so long to put it up; I know all of you were checking the internet
at least seven times a day to find out what’s going on in my oh-so-exciting
life. I promise the next one will be more exciting and more prompt—thanks for
reading! And to all my American friends/family, see you in a few weeks!
PS—on a side note, it’s been snowing here like the
Abominable Snowman in a dandruff commercial.
 |
| My walk to school. |
PPS--
 |
| What is love? |
No comments:
Post a Comment