Relationship Status: It's Complicated

Fear not. This post will not be spent trying to explain the complexities of my dating life. Or hilarities, depending on the date. And my level of optimism...But today's relationship is one I've spent a great deal of time analyzing and evaluating. And I think it's time for some input. So here goes!

Technology.  You may have heard of it?

I've generally been a fan. But I have to see, moving to Russia changed our relationship. I picked up a new Russian phone and number and opted for the least expensive option...a cell that was functional for calls and texts. And even has a calculator feature as a bonus! My new gadget was affectionately referred to by my friends as the "iPhone 7." It may not have controlled the speed of the metro or foretold the future, as we jokingly claimed, but my baby Nokia got/gets the job done. And frankly didn't even have to be used all that often.

Enter separation from phone.

Phones nowadays often mean Internet. The iPhone 7 did not, however talented she may have been. In our office in the theater, there was a computer where I could access the Internet or (post-Christmas and my iPad!) wifi, but I maybe popped my head in there once at the beginning of the day and once at the end. When I was home in the evenings and the Internet was functioning, I was admittedly very attached to Skype, email and the blogosphere. It felt like I was able to access a fraction of my other life that didn't really even exist in Moscow.

On the whole though? Add significantly increased Internet separation.

I just spent a little over four months Stateside... 

...got a new fancy phone...Internet and all...and discovered: I love technology! I love being connected, easy to access, and constantly informed by Google as to the meaning of all things. BUT while I loved receiving all of the information, I really didn't care to be participating in it. I've become a person who doesn't like to answer her phone (alright, that wasn't really new), finds responding to texts often ridiculously annoying, and can easily delay email responses for days. Clearly blogging was nowhere in the picture.

For someone who is her own business, these are not the best of reactions to the medium that is the source or all employment/income. 

And the technological disenchantment hasn't really come to an end. Don't get me wrong, I'm still VERY appreciative for the connectedness. I think it's just the excess that seems to create a constant sense of overload. That, I'm not handling very well. Being in Russia taught me a lot about the  necessity of relationship investments that provide a healthy return. It felt like the technological equivalent of one of my juice fasts being here...a serious cleanse that revitalizes and reminds you what's really important for your well being. And my technological time when it was limited felt focused and meaningful. Maybe? Here's where you can insert your diagnoses.

I love technology. But I really don't right now. Solve that one. 

I'm hoping for a dose of insight from Russia Round 3!

My Life. It's News.

Almost. Or not really at all. My life in itself is as newsworthy as whatever you may read on this blog. BUT there have been interesting news events colliding with my existence this week.

Meteor, anyone??? While there's a lot that happens in Russia that I wish got similar international press, it is refreshing to have people remember that: A) Russia exists. It may seem like stating the obvious, but sometimes it feels like the sphere of existence for many does not extend past Europe. (NOT going to open the debate about which continent Russia belongs to!) B) I live here. Special thanks to all who were concerned/curious to find out if I had any interaction with said meteor.

I did. Via YouTube. Here's what I saw:

There are definite advantages to everyone in the country having dashboard cameras my friends. Just for a frame of reference, Chelyabinsk in the Ural Mountain region where the meteor hit is about a 23 hour drive away, so no excitement in these parts. And for any of you who haven't looked at a map in a while, I check out Russia almost once a day, often only to reconfirm how MASSIVE it is! Check it out the next time you have a minute!

Next up, remember My New Life: The Cruise Edition? Well, the very ship which supplied me with a continuous flow of frozen yogurt, did not perform quite as well this time around. Let's just say I'm counting my blessings that the days I passed on board included a functional sewage system.

My favorite quote from one of the passengers: "I want a hot shower and a daggum Whataburger." I don't blame the individual on either account. There's something so purely Texas about that line though that I couldn't help but smile. Unfortunately, the article that contained this has been "updated" so that I can no longer provide you with effective linkage proof.

Last, but not least in the news category: I've been nominated.

I found out via my SPAM mail yesterday that I've been nominated for a blogging award! Something to do with international exchange program blogs and the qualifications/nomination process seems unknown. Here's the thing: I have very mixed feelings about promoting my blog. Any of you other other bloggers out there dealt with that identity crisis? Somehow I don't mind and actually LOVE when people happen across it and we make friends. But I'm slow at this game and would say that this year is the first time I've taken any measures to let the internet world know that this little corner exists.

That being said: I do have pride. Due to the SPAM delivery, I've missed out on the voting period ALMOST completely. BUT...I would like to receive a vote. Or more. Pride in this case = not being voteless. So, if you happen across this before the 17th of January at 11:55 pm CET, visit this link and check the "Stephanie Says" box. And if you do so, feel free to comment below, so I can thank you personally! My pride appreciates it.

That's all for this News Edition!

Xoxo,

SR

Petersburg and Прокофьев

Фанатик. (Fanatic).

It's what I was dubbed by one of my colleagues when I told her I was making a quick trip to St. Petersburg...to see a concert performance of Prokofiev's "War and Peace." As soon as I saw it on the Mariinsky's schedule, I knew I had to be there. And the fact that the stars aligned and I finished Tolstoy's novel just before the concert was an added bonus. Now, I don't often get nerdy and operatic in this space, so please bear with me, but some of this music has to be shared. Fanatic may not be too far off...

This doesn't have any video, but it's Vishnevskaya at the Bolshoi. So deal with your lack of video and listen away. This first scene is stunningly beautiful and I wish this excerpt began from the top of the scene and included Prince Bolkonsky's Aria, but you can find some other snippets on your own if you too turn fanatic. I highly recommend doing so.


Next up is Natasha's first ball. First, let me introduce you to the eternally long Soviet film version of "War and Peace" which I'm now working my way through. As should you.

And Prokofiev's musical portrayal. Which was one of the most unforgettable moments in Wednesday night's concert. Complete with Hvorostovsky and subtitles that make Russian seem like a beautifully simple language.


I'll ease off the linkage, but it was necessary that you be introduced to my current love. Or reminded, in the case that you've already met.

Now, St. Petersburg. Today you hear the musical highlights, because that's what has given me a newfound energy and romance with Russia. I took the overnight train to Peter on Tuesday night, got in Wednesday, napped briefly, had a lunch date and made my way to rehearsal! It's always fascinating contrasting rehearsal with performance, and the Mariinsky system is especially unique. Due to the complex nature of their schedule, rehearsals are limited and often will take place on the day of the show. (The Bolshoi will occasionally have rehearsals the day of, but it seems to be a more rare occurrence then our northern counterpart). I would love to hear some of my American singers' reaction if they were placed in said system...it's not how we typically roll. Post-rehearsal bite to eat and then it was back for War and Peace concert style. There are many performances that will stick in my memory for a lifetime, and this will be one. Watching a world-reknowned conductor in the repertoire that is considered his best and hearing the talented orchestra respond was truly stunning. And then there were the singers. Far from shabby my friends. It's not an easy sing and I was very pleasantly surprised.

Was the performance perfection? No. But that's the beauty of our art. The magic is in the creation, rather than the perfection. Sitting in the Mariinsky Concert Hall in St. Petersburg, Russia may have also added to the ambiance.

Thursday night was spend in rehearsals and performance as well, this time in Italian and in the Mariinsky theater itself. I was pretty thrilled with my seat.

I could see the stage from my box as well, but I always love a clear view of the conductor. It must come with the profession.

It's rare that I'll leave an opera early, but when catching a train is a factor, exceptions are made. So was the case with Traviata yesterday evening. For all I know, this Violetta lived.

And here I am. Back at home after a day at school and work. Tired. But inspired.

St. Petersburg: Round 2 (the non-musical) will be coming your way shortly!

Russian-American Relations(hips)

Apparently I'm not a "typical" American. Or so I was told several times today by Russian friends. When I asked for clarification on what that meant, things got a little complicated.

"You know that one American we all know? Well, he smiles." Just for the record, I smile. Maybe not in the metro, but even I know that's not allowed in Russia.

"The skirt you're wearing isn't long and it's not short. It's European style." And the jokes begin.

So, what's a typical American?

Maybe I'm not the one to ask. After working/living in Utah, Texas, Oklahoma, Michigan, Missouri, Washington DC, San Francisco, and New York City, and traveling across most of our country, I feel like the primary unifying characteristic might be diversity. I'm not going to argue that many stereotypes of our country are founded on accurate trends. We smile. Our portion sizes in restaurants are often ridiculous. We use credit cards. We plan.

But at the end of the day, we're people. And no person is typical.

I spent Monday and Tuesday in a mid-year conference with fellow Fulbright grant recipients, hearing about their research, their experiences in Russia, their cultural frustrations, but most importantly...about their passion for Russia and its wonderful people. Topics ranged from US-Russia science cooperation to the study of the Chuvash language; patterns of rainfall along the Volga river over several thousands of years (based on the analysis of an 11,800-year-old stalagmite) and the history of Cossack music. Not one project dealt with bringing any type of change to Russia, but simply understanding and appreciating all that this country has to offer.

I'm not going to say that this was a conference of "typical" Americans. But I love the thought that I was sitting in a room filled with people who might defy the standard Russian definition of "American" and who, in turn, will take home a picture of Russia that can help broaden American understanding of the Russian people.

Speaking of those American stereotypes of Russians...while I myself never assumed there were bears roaming the streets here, and never even heard said stereotype until arriving here, I have witnessed where such misunderstandings are born. I don't know what animal this is, but I couldn't help snapping a picture. Please look closely so as to not miss the tail.

The complexity of Russian-American relations politically speaking seems unending. But politics aren't people. And, as I see it, Russian-American relationships are alive and well, containing only the universal complexities that characterize relationships in general. I love this country. The complexity of the language while mind-numbing on occasion, is brilliantly fascinating and seriously beautiful. But the best part about this place is without a doubt the people. Many of the relationships I've developed here are the type that will last a lifetime. The type where at the end of a conversation about cultural differences and frustrations, you don't really feel like you were speaking in a foreign language because you understood each other so well. The type of relationships that can be defined as anything but "typical."

--Steps off soapbox--

Side note: (hips) in parentheses was too comical an effect to eliminate once typed. But I will now forever desire to type (hips) as such purely for the visual imagery.
The end.

С Рождеством!!!

It's here!!! This morning, at approximately 7:30 am, I indulged in the final chocolate from my advent calendar! She looked lovely, and tasted equally fabulous.

I then lugged my suitcase across the frozen tundras of Moscow to the marshrut, through the metro at peak hour, and made it to my last Russian class only slightly the worse for wear.

In said suitcase: 1 running shirt, and 1 running jacket. Snow or not, temperatures at home are warmer than Moscow's offerings, and I will be hitting the pavement! Everything else? Christmas fun! I'm effectively playing Santa and taking back Christmas goodies to America for the families of several of my expat friends here in Moscow. And I did a little Christmas shopping myself...finally!

I don't know what stores you hit up this year, but here's where I made my one-stop shopping trip:

Izmailovsky Market. The temple of all Russian souvenir shopping in Moscow.

But then, why are the streets almost completely void of people?! ANSWER: It. Was. SO. COOOLLLDDD!!!! Literally, I cannot recall a colder moment of my existence. Which actually made it all the more memorable.

Trouble finding the perfect gift for that hard-to-buy-for person? Or for anyone, for that matter? We have enough matryoshkas to go around! It's what that special someone has secretly been longing for.

If a matryoshka's not really your thing...first of all, who ARE you?!? But moving along. A close second for consideration: the fur hat. Rock it. Gift it. It's big. It's bold. And most importantly, it's warm. I have yet to buy fur here people. But the thought has crossed my mind many a chilly moment. I've never really understood the fur fashion. I do know. And it's called survival, NOT fashion.

Post-shopping, the only preparation left for the big day was relaxation and taking in a hefty dose of Christmas spirit. And what better way to do so than play in a Christmas concert? I think my hands were almost warm by the time we finished...

Pictured post-concert with my friend Nastya, also known as my Russian sister. She's one of my girls here in Moscow, and we've heard that we look like sisters more times than I can count at this point. Your opinion?

So there you have it! I've shopped. I'm packed. I'm Christmas-spirited up! And now I'm going to celebrate the LONGEST Christmas Day I have ever known!

36 hours spread across 11 time zones and 3 of my favorite cities: Moscow, Paris, and Alpine, Utah!!! A 5 am taxi, 5:30 am train, 8:20 am flight, 16 hours in the air, and at the end of the day, I arrive HOME right around 2 pm. That, my friends, is the beauty of time travel!

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday Season!

My Moscow Style

Current Moscow temperature: -12 Celsius. And I'm sticking with celsius since it sounds more dramatic. For those of you not feeling the conversion, that's approximately 10 degrees Fahrenheit. Add some wind to that and...bottom line? It's COLD! While we've already experienced some comfortably cold weather, this is new territory for the season. And I'm afraid it's only the beginning of what's to come.

My sense of style is adjusting accordingly. As I peruse the Facebook or some of my favorite blogs, I find my mental dialogue significantly altered. Rather than the usual, "Oh, what a cute little dress!" or "She has REALLY gotten in shape...looks great in those shorts!", I find myself thinking, "Where's your coat?" and "Sweetheart, don't you want to put some real clothes on? Your ankles are showing!!!" Temperature in their respective location is irrelevant to my automatic thought process.

A recent girl's night out to my favorite Moscow mall (Метрополис, Метро Войковская for anyone who's in Moscow and curious) also reflected a change in my tastes. The only thing that could really catch my attention? Sweatpants. In every form. And large, oversized, cable-knit sweaters. Basically, the more it resembled a blanket, the more attractive it was.

Consider the following, and you can see what I'm envisioning. Except none of the loose, flowing business...you wrap that blanket tight around you lady!

Source: dressinterest.com via C.J. on Pinterest

(here)

(Here. Last season? Irrelevant.)

While I have yet to spurge on a blanket/sweater, I am seriously eyeing these:

The Russian's first concern when it comes to cold is footwear. They're convinced that if your feet are warm, the rest of you will follow suit. I'm not going to argue with them...they've dealt with this climate longer than I have. Winter boots are in order! BUT, are these the ones?

HESITATION:
1) They're EXPENSIVE! I don't think I've ever paid this much for one item of clothing/shoes.
2) They're UGGS. For some reason, I've long been biased against them. And I don't care much for the look of the originals. But these...
3) They're EXPENSIVE!

JUSTIFICATION:
1) I will wear them EVERY day in the foreseeable future. This is a true statement...currently I can not envision life beyond winter. Warmth is a distant memory.
2) After finding them online 2 evenings ago, I have dreamed about them every time my feet hit the pavement.
3) I read approximately 50 reviews: the woman from Alaska had me when she said that they had fabulous traction against ice! In general I don't really feel at danger in Moscow, save for my greatest foe and constant threat---the layer of ice that now seems ever-present on the streets. I've almost fallen approximately 34 times and am certain to actually do so any day now. Unless I buy these?
4) I have not purchased any clothing/shoe/accessory in 4 months. So while these aren't exactly in the budget, maybe I've unintentionally saved for them?

If you have anything you'd like to add to the JUSTIFICATION list, please feel free to comment. You're only invited to add to the HESITATION list if you provide me with an alternative comparable in look, warmth, and ice-defying traction. And then you will be my best friend.

And there you have it. Style? There is no such thing. Warmth triumphs all. This evening, that means sweatpants, sweater, and ACTUAL blanket (not the sweater version). With a cup of cocoa for good measure.

Sending warmth wishes your way!

Staying Healthy in Moscow: Is it even POSSIBLE?

People, help a girl out. Only 3 months in Moscow and I'm already on sickness #3. I will now exercise my mathematical expertise by saying that's an average of one cold per month. Except that Cold #1 lasted approximately a month, which alters the average significantly. Math aside, I am OVER it! How do you stay healthy in the winter months? Any secrets? Our winter is clearly underway, and likely not going anywhere anytime soon, so it's time to find the inner strength that has to be lurking somewhere in my immune system!

We now have a serious amount of snow accruing, and continuing to do so. I share the following picture in contrast to yesterday's. Given the darkness (I'd take pictures in the daylight if we had any) it may not be quite as apparent, but note the bench below in comparison.

It's a decent amount of snow, but nowhere near an obscene amount. So I was a bit surprised when Moscow seemed caught off guard by the pile up. We're in Russia. They know about winter right?! When I commented on the subject to a Russian friend, I got this video in response. For any Russian-speaking readers, enjoy. And for any non-Russian speakers, it's a comedic sketch on how winter is new "news" every time it comes around. You can appreciate the facial expressions at the very least.

I felt a bit caught off guard myself...of the two pairs of boots I brought to Russia, neither are going to cut it for the winter. Luckily, I have a Stateside shopping date in the near future!

Hope you're warm, healthy, and basking in rays of Vitamin D!

Снег!!!

There's something about the first magical snowfall. We've seen snow in Moscow already this year, but not the beautiful, sticking kind. I'd call it more of a muddy slush. There was a light snow falling when I left home this morning, with a thin coat on the ground, but it continued as the day wore on. And by the time I left work, Moscow was a new city, blanketed in a lovely, soft layer of white.

I could have happily wandered around the center all evening...something about this type of snow makes me feel 5 years old again. Skipping wouldn't have been out of the question, were I not aging and wary of losing my balance. Joking...maybe? After a bit of roaming, though, I decided the best way to appreciate the snow was at home. With a blanket, book, and hot chocolate.

Snuggled up in my cabin in the middle of the Silver Wood as the snow falls. (With functioning internet, as a side note.) I love this version of Moscow!

November 27: A Day Off

While my posts may be a day off due to the Russian internet crisis (if I have a problem, it must be of national proportions), today I actually had a day off! It had been a 10-day stint of work, and while that's obviously doable it's definitely not preferable. So how did I spent it?

In rehearsal. With the Russian National Orchestra. AND some of my Houston opera family. This week I have not one, but TWO visitors from H-Town and I'm loving it. One of the beauties of my profession is the traveling often required. And while I am not doing said traveling at the moment, I'm grateful that other people are! Especially in my neighborhood.

Lessons learned at rehearsal:

It's such a gift to be surrounded by talented, inspirational people.

Playing a gig at 12:30 am the night before ANY rehearsal in which you may be called upon to translate is a BAD idea.

Translating? Not an easy job. Props to all those who are good enough in their languages to do it effectively. While I did only a very little bit and had to find synonyms for adjectives that I have yet to learn in Russian, it was totally thrilling. And terrifying. Oh, this language...

While traffic in Moscow is ridiculous, it is sure lovely to be in a car every now and again. That is NOT a marshrut.

Post-rehearsal I made a visit to the opera to see another familiar face and was presented with a gift she had brought me from a true friend:

T2 was already one of my favorite people, but in sending me these from Houston, he secured his place at the top of the list. Christmas and Reese's in combination!!!

Next up was a stop at the gigantic Библио-глобус bookstore for yet another book on Russian grammar and some enjoyable browsing. I've always been a sucker for bookstores--there's something so awe-inspiring about all the information and possibility contained in the seemingly endless pages available! And this store is the real deal. If you're in Moscow, check it out!

Add a religion class in Russian to the end of the day, and this girl was seriously exhausted from a "day off." But I came home to pumpkin pie and Reese's and look forward to the sugar-enduced coma that will shortly ensue.

Since I couldn't post from my computer yesterday, I am now including a Turkey Day picture. This makes me laugh every time I look at it: gloriously ghetto and I SO know how that turkey feels! Long legs can be such a challenge!

Serving up sour cream

One of my favorite things about visiting, or in this case living, in a new country is discovering the FOOD! No shocker for anyone who has witnessed my mad skills in the eating department. But we are what we eat, right? In which case this method is clearly the best for researching and adapting to a foreign culture. I'm all over it.

Russian fare has its staples. Beets. Dill. Mayonnaise. Cabbage. Potatoes. The list continues. The item which has drawn my recent attention? Sour cream.

Sour cream in my American existence has been used on primarily two occasions: baked potato night and taco night. How often does baked potato night happen? Since I struck out on my own 10 years ago, maybe twice. Taco night? More frequently...maybe twice a year. But I find I'm often too lazy resourceful to purchase even a small container of sour cream that is bound to sit spoiling in the fridge after eating approximately 1 tablespoon.

How many containers of sour cream do I currently have in my Russian refrigerator? Two. And they're medium-sized. Both this evening AND yesterday I had heaping spoonfuls of this white goodness. With DESSERT. Go figure.

As it turns out, sour cream is a go-to ingredient in these parts. If you have a bowl of soup, be it borscht or several other varieties, it's going to come with a spoonful of sour cream added. And if it doesn't, you best be requesting it. Otherwise, you're not getting the real Russian treatment. Blini, our equivalent of crepes, or an anorexic pancake, are also frequently accompanied with a generous dob. Depending on the flavor, of course.

And dessert for the past two evenings? Syrniki. Here, they can be considered a breakfast meal but they're a bit heavy for my average breakfasting taste. Basically a really thick pancake made out of a type of cottage cheese, sugar, and eggs. Toss in a little flour and you're good to go. As long as you've got a side of sour cream and jam.

Which I do.

And maybe you do too. Am I the only one that's missed out on the sour cream craze previously? Please fill me in if that's the case.

Regardless of my past, I feel this is a part of the Russian culture that is definitely embraceable. Occasionally odd, but nonetheless doable. Sticking power post-Russian life (whenever that may be)? I'm skeptical, but will revaluate when the time comes. For now, here's to the Russians and their love for yet another milk product!

The Joy of Juicing

I got home from work today around 9:30 and was filled with the inevitable dread that accompanies making dinner post-normal eating hours. Until I saw that my spinach was looking like it was on its last day or so of life. And then I knew what had to be done and dread turned to joy. JUICE!!!

If you ask for a list of my hobbies, juicing will likely be included. It gives me that much pleasure. I have owned a series of juice extractors and have even successfully carted them in my luggage and onto planes. (Only one at a time, mind you...I'm not quite crazy enough for multiples. Yet.) If you don't own one, you should. That's all.

I'm normally a fan of Trader Joe's (a lovely grocery chain in fortunate parts of the USA). And when I say fan, I would happily shop there every day to buy out their supply of dark chocolate peanut butter cups. And peanut butter-filled, chocolate-covored pretzels. But I digress...juicing. Despite said love and devotion, I happened across one Trader Joe's advertisement that left a sour taste in my soul. None of that mouth business, it cut right to the core.

It felt like my best friend wanted to cut me, take my fabulous boyfriend for herself, and offer me an ugly replacement who is not a good kisser. If you're with me on this one, then yes. I did just call my juicer my boyfriend. And if you're not with me...it's likely you're not alone. It's late.

We have no boyfriend-stealing Trader Joe's in Moscow (sadly!), so I was left to my juicing joy. And proceeded to spend the rest of the evening juicing nearly everything in sight. Russia does not have a great selection of greens, but I've still managed to make a successful variation of my favorite green juice mix. (Recipe included below). This country does, however, have some shockingly huge carrots. The average-sized lemon is included in the picture for scaling purposes.

They also have an endless supply of beets, so the red juice options (and ensuing stains) are endless.

After making three batches of juice, I decided I should actually drink some. And since juice doesn't feel quite right in a coffee mug, I opted for the only other glass that came with my apartment. A shot glass. When in Russia...

If you fancy a shot yourself, try the following:

Kale (If you live in Russia, disregard this non-existent ingredient)
Spinach
1 Large Cucumber
2 Green Apples
1/2-1 Whole Lemon
Parsley (Do not accidentally use cilantro. It will not be a success and you will still feel obligated to drink it.)
Ginger

Pick your own proportions...it's part of the joy of juicing!

Moscow Mondays

Monday. To most of of you this word means work. Shackles. The end of peaceful weekend reverie. Real life and Karen Carpenter.

But here in Moscow, Mondays are my "day off." What that means in Moscow-English is that I attend 6 hours of Russian class, but come 2 o'clock...the day and this city are mine! When I first got here, I made Monday my designated "Moscow" day, picking an item off my bucketlist and making an afternoon of it. Then life and work happened, as they often do, and my afternoon of freedom became the time to clean, grocery shop, regroup and reorganize. And now the time has come to mesh these versions of Monday, in the pursuit of that unattainable ideal of balance.

While today is not yet over (there is homework waiting to be done!), I'm going to coin it a complete success. Why? Get ready for it...

I. Bought. A. TURKEY! Those of you in the USA are at this point offering a pathetic, slow clap, if even that. Turkeys are, after all, literally almost a dime a dozen. And if they're not that cheap today, they will be come Friday. BUT, here in Moscow it's another story. You can come by turkey bits quite easily, and rumor has it that you can even request a whole turkey at the market. It might still come live with feathers, but since I haven't tried that, I can't testify one way or another. I decided to try the route where I pop my head into every upper-tier grocery store I passed over the past week. (Someday it might be worth outlining the grocery gradations in Moscow...that day has not come.) Today, my efforts were rewarded. I purchased my beautiful little bird and took it to class with me. I don't have children or pets to show off, but I was thrilled to put my turkey baby on exhibition.

I had arranged to do some sight-seeing post-lessons and considered taking Indyeka out on the town as well. But like any good parent, I decided it was best to let her nap at home. By herself. In the freezer. Please take notes if this is the first time you've been introduced to this parenting style.

I headed back to the metro to meet up with one of my Russian friends/tour guide. Friendship is awesome. Tour guide and simultaneous language practice just makes the relationship that more rewarding. Not sure how much I bring to the table yet in these relationships, but I sure make a great listener!

First stop, Park Pobedy, via the famed Парк Победы metro: it's the deepest in Moscow and the 3rd deepest in the world when calculated by mean depth, at 97 meters/275.591 ft. and the deepest in the world when calculated by maximum depth. (Stephanie's Scientific Measurements are sponsored today by Wikipedia.) And the escalators are the longest in Europe...it takes around 3 minutes to surface from the underground. I fell in love with this metro station today. Yes, you read correctly. A metro station. Maybe it was the turkey bliss exuding from my being, but I think it also had something to do with the shocking lack of people and the fascinating design.

The amazing visual spiral that the reflections and patterns create is completely fascinating. It probably brings to mind all those artistic metro stations in NYC. Or maybe DC? False...the Russians win this contest hands down!

Eventually I decided to surface and see what the outer world had to offer. It's offering was cold. But I snapped a few quick shots of Park Pobedy and the Triumphal Arch before diving inside to grab some hot chocolate. And take a phone call saying that I was now to meet my Russian friend on the other side of town.

Still exuberant over my turkey child and my newfound romance with the metro, I braved the masses at peak hour and made it to Chistye Prudy. It turned out to be worth the effort.

Good company, good conversation (despite the fact that I could not remember the word for raccoon for the life of me! Critical to any conversation...) and a great city. And let us not forget: the turkey.

A Moscow Monday for the books!

Address Survey

This is not some awkward internet post where I sleazily ask you all to tell me your address so internet stalkers can put their hobby into real time. But I would like to ask the following: is there an adult out there who doesn't know their address?

Stephanie slowly and sheepishly raises her hand.

There are a few things most of us can answer without a second thought: phone number, social security number, address, and birthday being among them.

I have now lived in Moscow for 11 weeks. And today I realized I still don't know either my address or phone number. Slightly pathetic, yes? I memorized my first Russian phone number (pre-theft), but for Round 2, I just added contacts into my phone as they called. And on the occasion that I need to give out my number...I have it carefully (and slightly shamefully) saved in a text message. Why have I not memorized it? If you can solve the riddle that is my mind, I hereby award you a gold star. Apparently I find it important and perhaps even in my power to memorize a gazillion words in Russian, but can't wrap my head around seven numbers (I do know the first four). What empowerment will be mine when I can finally recite those figures by heart!

As regards the address, no explanation can be offered. I love maps. My dream is to have a nerdy study filled with fabulous books...the real kind...and a giant world map that fills an entire wall. I think this love is somehow tied to my love of language and travel. That one shouldn't be much of a riddle, so no gold star awards this time around. This love of maps should equivocate to love of knowing my location. But fact of the matter is, I don't receive mail in Russia. When filling out my paperwork, the required address is that of my registration, which happens to be my university. And I can easily explain to someone how to get here via public transportation, so...what's the big deal about this address nonsense anyway?

Google knows where I live and that's all that matters. And they probably can find you too. And take a picture of your house and show it to the world. Which is not creepy at all. But I digress...

Now that my justifications are offered and my ridiculousness has been placed on display for public derision, I am hopeful that I will find the inner motivation to be an adult. Or even a kindergartener. They seem to have this phone number/address down. We'll see if it takes me another 11 weeks!

Best Seat in the House

While my glory was brief...in total about 45 seconds of playing and 5 minutes on stage...I'm still convinced I had the best seat in the house. I love the mass of sound, color, and possibility that comes with a skilled orchestra, and performing alongside them (however brief that virtuoso recitative may have been) is always a highlight.

And while I have played for auditions on the mainstage previously, tonight officially marked my company debut with the Bolshoi Theatre. So I'll take that recit and run with it. Additionally, this evening was also the first time I saw my name in a program in cyrillic. They can't make up their minds on how to spell it here: Родес or Роудс. And since neither are actually correct pronunciation-wise, I prefer the first. I think it looks prettier. And we all know that's what really counts. :)

Mind your Makeup

"Is everything okay? You look so sad."

"Are you not feeling well?"

"You must be really tired."

"What's wrong?!?"

"Something's the matter. Are you unhappy?"

And the list of questions go on. When expressed with genuine thoughtfulness and concern at an appropriate time, they can be just what you want to hear. And when would be such an appropriate time? If you are actually feeling unwell, tired, upset, or unhappy.

Asked on any other occasion, these questions are only infuriating and will effectively serve to MAKE you upset, unhappy, unwell...etc. You get the idea.

I'm pretty sure I heard all four of the versions mentioned above today. And while I started the day a bit tired--it happens at the end of the week people--by the time it hit 2 pm I was beyond irritated. And why all the questions?

I was not wearing makeup.

People, give a girl a break! I made the mistake of going all out and both brushing my hair AND wearing makeup on Thursday, so apparently doing neither today was too much of a contrast to handle. (Exaggeration: I brushed my hair and put on lip gloss.)

No mascara?!?
She must plan on crying non-stop all day and was worried it would smear.

Hair slightly frizzy and un-straightened?
She's really given up on life, hasn't she???

Why wasn't she smiling during orchestra rehearsal? She's American isn't she?
I think all the joy has been sucked up from her soul.

I, for one, don't see much of a contrast between my made-up self and my au natural look. I present the following for your consideration, and dare you to try and detect a difference.

Baffled? That's what I thought.

Alright, so maybe makeup does make a difference, but let it be known that it is not reflective of my inner state of mind. In all actuality, when I'm most tired or even down (it does happen despite my American status), I tend to dress up. So as to look life in the face and say "Is that the best you've got?" But I have been reminded today and will be careful to remember in the future, that the transition from au natural to made-over...or vice versa...must be subtlety performed. A day with lipstick and glasses (aka no mascara) can more smoothly flow to a day without lipstick and slightly frizzy hair. And that can nicely transition into wearing my pajamas and slippers at work. All the ballerinas are doing it, so I might as well.

False. I will not go to work in pajamas. But I will continue to go in without makeup on occasion. But let us all take a moment before we begin questioning someone's state of well-being and simply ask: "might it be that she's simply not wearing makeup?"

Thank you,

Yours Truly

One Vote for Hibernation

In case you didn't know, today is Thursday. I offer this reminder because...I forgot.

I like to think that I am not alone in my forgetfulness. Opera World has an odd schedule with sporadic free days and an ever fluctuating schedule, which can be both a blessing and a curse. In this case the latter, as knowing what day it is loses its significance. Monday isn't dreaded when it's your day off. Saturday isn't the weekend and Wednesday isn't a halfway marker. It might seem like a ridiculous justification, but it's one of mine.

And I need justification. In forgetting that it was Thursday, I stood up my Russian teacher for an 8:30 am Russian lesson. I was even awake and functional at the hour, despite a late night rehearsal yesterday evening. And when I say functional, I mean it in every sense except that of knowing what day of the week it is.

Not only does it get difficult to remember days of the week, but now time is also becoming an issue. In this case, I believe my excuse is legitimate.

Exhibit A:

Any time the sun rises after 9 am and sets just after 5, I'm convinced that having an accurate sense of what time it is becomes an impossibility. Beyond a sense of time, I also have a very limited desire to do anything productive. I really have only one thought on my mind: hibernation. Let's take a lesson from the Russian bears, which are unfortunately scarce in Moscow.

So, in the end, I blame my forgetfulness on humanity's refusal to hibernate. It's the only logical explanation! Back me up?

Language and Listening

On Sunday night I was walking to a concert with one of my дорогая's (daragAya or "dear" seems to be the equivalent term of endearment found in English phrases such as "Hey lady" or "Girl, it's been ages!") and was surprised when she asked me, "Could one of those English guys be your millionaire?"

Oddly enough the content of the question was not the surprise. My quest for a millionaire is a frequent topic of conversation. It might have been the first joke I was able to make in Russian, which makes it nothing short of monumental. But the real surprise for me was my answer to her question: "What English guys?"

I hadn't heard the English.

This was a stark contrast to my first month in Moscow, during which my senses would instantly clue into any stray English sound that happened across my path. I haven't suddenly become fluent in Russian and oblivious to English, but I think there is a significant transition which has taken place from hearing to listening.

In the beginning, I was swimming in a world of sounds. Not knowing what half of them meant, and trying to tune into the fast mumbling which seemed to constitute the Russian language. I felt like I was truly trying to listen 100% of the time, but couldn't quite figure out what to focus on. Exhausting. I took a quick trip to San Francisco for a concert after 6 weeks in Moscow and found it miraculous that I could casually walk down the street and unintentionally understand the fragments of a passing conversation. Not really listening at all, just hearing. I have to say, it was a welcome relief. I think my brain was functioning someplace way beyond overload.

Working in the music business, listening is not an overrated skill. Several friends shared a recent article which appeared in the New York Times on The Science and Art of Listening. And while it obviously applies to my profession, I found it interesting in the context of language. I'm not going to get into the details, as you can read it yourself, but I will share the final quote which I loved:

“You never listen” is not just the complaint of a problematic relationship, it has also become an epidemic in a world that is exchanging convenience for content, speed for meaning. The richness of life doesn’t lie in the loudness and the beat, but in the timbres and the variations that you can discern if you simply pay attention.

While Moscow has its challenges, one of the true beauties is the amount of listening that's required. At this point, passive hearing is not an option. But if someday it should become so, I hope I don't forget the level of attentiveness that is now a necessity. While I have no intention of becoming oblivious to casual sound...an overall sense of awareness is important...there's something to be said for truly giving a conversation with a friend 100% of your attention.

It may mean you miss out on your English millionaire, but it just might be worth the sacrifice!

Grocery Goddess

I HATE grocery shopping.

Clear enough?

It just happens to be one of those "tasks" that there's never time for. And it's always a slap-in-the-face reminder of my lack of domesticity. Let it be known, I do have domestic roots and the potential to be a domestic goddess...it's one of my life ambitions...but my current lifestyle doesn't lend itself to exercising said "goddess" skills. So I look longingly at all the fun, interesting ingredients, think of my wasted potential, and head to the frozen foods section.

Moscow has some added difficulties:

1. No car. This means hauling all groceries on metro/marshrut transport.
2. #1 means that the amount I am able to purchase at one time is limited. Which means...
3. More grocery shopping.
4. Breaking the sequence chain, finding the ingredients that constitute my quick recipes can be a difficulty.
5. It's expensive. Think NYC or worse on occasion.

All of this being said, I think I may have found my salvation...

If I'm correctly translating the title, it's "The Alphabet of Taste." I stopped in today post-university, taking advantage of an evening off to put the pieces of my life back in order.

It was HEAVEN!!! They were starting to decorate for Christmas, it was clean, calm, and all the food was BEAUTIFUL! They had lovely things like fresh spinach, brussels sprouts, a wide variety of spices (the saving grace to the quick recipes!) and SO many cheeses. I've never felt so thrilled to be grocery shopping--it was like adult Disneyland. And while it may have cost a small fortune, it was worth every penny for such a novel experience. Dare we say even a turning point in my grocery shopping existence? Too soon to tell, but I'll keep you posted.

Extra bonus? As I watched them decorate for Christmas/New Year's (the latter is actually the more celebrated holiday here, as Christmas was not acknowledged during Soviet times), I realized that I live in a country where our American Thanksgiving does not exist. Translation: I can start decorating for Christmas as early as I want, and those who would like to judge me for doing so are a half a world away.

So here's to the holidays!!! And to the grocery shopping they're bound to require. I'm thinking I might be able to handle it...

Russians and Slippers

I don't believe in cold feet. In the completely literal sense. One of my favorite, albeit a wee bit strange, pastimes is soaking my feet in hot water. Ideally in the sink while sitting on the countertop. No matter how uncomfortably small said countertop may be, I will finagle it so my 6'0" self can be sufficiently scrunched to allow for soakage. Pure. BLISS. If we eliminated the stand alone sink from the market completely, I think the world would be a better place.

This being the case, I think you can understand why I have wholeheartedly embraced the Russian culture of slippers. And yes, it is a culture.

Traditionally, when you visit someone's home you're expected to take off your shoes and are offered a pair of tapochki to wear while inside. Note: Don't refuse the offer. That makes you not only completely foolish (do you really WANT cold feet?!) but also impolite.

There's more to this concept that I love than warm feet, however. Somehow taking off my shoes and putting on a pair of slippers immediately makes me feel as if I've come home. Slipping my feet into those tapochki creates a level of comfort and closeness that shoes just wouldn't allow for and, while I might be only a guest, for that moment I'm part of the household. And if you're lucky enough to be invited into someone's home, slippers are likely only the start of the generosity that abounds when Russians play host! And I'm finding, in many respects, that once they decide to let you in, you will be hard-pressed to find more loyal, giving, and kind-hearted people.

While I can fully get behind the slipper tradition, a quick shopping trip for slippers online produced some results that I am not certain I can readily support.

Bunnies? Maybe. Over-sized creepy toes? Not so much.

But slippers in general? Yes. Especially after a long soak in the sink---Don't question. Just go change your life. Now.