Back to the Big Theater

Today was my first day back in Moscow. And the first (from what I've gathered) snow of the season. The Motherland was either trying to get even with me for being away too long, or else attempting to give me an authentic welcome back. And nothing seems authentically Russian quite like snow.

Despite a healthy dose of jet lag and the early signs of a cold (my inferior sinuses are always outraged when I decide to fly internationally), it looked and felt great to be back.

What I loved most about my first day back? First, the language. It didn't flow as smoothly as it once did, but spending a day in Russian felt so invigorating. Stepping into this country and into another language almost feels as if I'm able to take on a different identity. Or at least unlock a part of me that can only exist on a small scale in the States. 

Second? The routine. I love returning to a theater where I know how things work...or how they don't on occasion. I loved popping into the cafeteria for a piroshki and some cucumber salad as I did on many a day last year. I know this city, this metro, and some of the personalities that you're bound to meet in a day. When I was purchasing my metro pass and the cashier decided to give me grief about not having the exact change, I may have even smiled inwardly. While outwardly giving her a little dose of attitude in return. It's just the open communication that exists in these parts.

Mostly, I loved getting back to work. Not only do I absolutely love my job, but I love the people that I've developed  relationships with because of my job. And seeing my Moscow family made me feel right at home. 

An added love? Being back to my blog. And getting updated on reading yours! I can't begin to give you all of the updates that come along with a 4-month absence, but I imagine some of them will work there way into this sphere eventually. For now, I'm going to continue the battle with jet lag. By going to sleep.

Behind the Scenes at the Bolshoi: Part 1

Once upon a time, I decided to enter a blogging contest for expats based on the theme "Working Abroad." You see, I think I have a pretty fantastic job and decided it was worth sharing a few of the details. Apparently it didn't make the contest cut, however, so instead you get exclusive reading rights here! Enjoy!!!

...

Putting my experience at the Bolshoi Theatre into words seems impossible. I could describe the magic of a holiday evening spent mesmerized by Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, captivated by the exquisite movements of the Russian ballerinas. Or perhaps reminisce about the first Russian opera I saw in the exquisitely renovated theatre, The Tsar’s Bride.  But while those evenings spent at the Bolshoi will always be vivid in my memory, they are only the beginning of my story.

You see, unlike most Americans who spend an evening at the Bolshoi, I work here.   

I’m a pianist/vocal coach and while I enjoy every evening spent in our theatre, the real show (and sometimes the real drama) takes place behind the scenes. Where exactly? I spent the first month of my employment trying to figure that out.

What the public sees of the Bolshoi Theatre is only the beginning. Two stages, an administrative building, 6 stolovayas (cafeterias), an atrium, more confusingly-placed elevators than I’ve managed to count, and enough rehearsal spaces and offices to house an insane number of employees, which include a ballet company, opera ensemble, chorus, orchestras (yes, plural!), security guards, custodial staff and the ever-powerful babushkas who fiercely guard the keys to said rooms—ALL of this is connected with an intricate maze of tunnels that seems nearly as perplexing as the Russian language itself.  

My first week trying to make it to my coachings with singers involved more than one conversation that went something like this:

-       Aleksey, I’m so sorry that I’m late. I’m in the theater…somewhere. I should be there soon. (This was the English version in my head. I cringe to think of what actually came across in Russian at that point.)

-       Where are you now?

-       Somewhere near the atrium???

-       Should I come get you?

-       No, no. I’m sure I’ll be right there.

Twenty minutes later I’ve finally found my way back to the centrally located atrium where I bashfully wait to be found and led to work. Even though I’m already “at work.” I quickly learned this conversation was best modified to “Come find me please!” Much less Russian and no venturing unaided into the Russian matrix.

The Bolshoi maze itself may not be enough to compete with stage antics, put in my opinion there are daily dramas that do. And no, I will not be talking about acid attacks. Although this is tangentially related….you see, post-acid I was often asked if I felt afraid as an American working at the Bolshoi. Answer: yes. Was it related to the acid? No.

I’m terrified of the key guardians.

In Soviet times everyone had to have a job. I’m assuming this is where some of the Russian systems originate, including that of “the keys.” (I feel like there should be music accompanying their mention). In the American opera world where I came from, doors to rehearsal spaces were either left unlocked, opened by stage management pre-rehearsals, or even by myself. Occasionally even with my very own key.  But I’m not in Kansas anymore, as a quick glance at the spidery alphabet on signs everywhere affirms, and here every room has a key that is carefully guarded in one of three offices. Often by at least three people. You give them your name, your room number, your signature, some blood, a pledge of your first-born child (maybe I mistranslated that one) and try to justify your very existence as they glare suspiciously at your clearly foreign name. But then they hand over the key and you can finally give a deep sigh of relief.  It seems like the terror is over.

But forget to return it, and it’s really only the beginning.

I don’t know that I can write this in a way that can truly communicate the seriousness of the key system, but the first time I found myself at home—about an hour away—with a theatre key in tow, I felt slightly sick. The second time was even worse. And the third? As I am still living to tell this story, you can assume it didn’t take place. Chided by colleagues, seriously cursed by the key guardians (I can only assume all that unintelligible Russian was foul language) and even slightly shunned by one singer for my stupidity, I came to understand the importance of a Russian system that I never mastered. After Round 2, my rehearsal space was shamefully (but much to my relief) always opened by custodial staff.

I could go on about the culture of the Bolshoi cafeterias, the tradition of greeting everyone you pass in the hallway, the ballerinas running around in sweat pants and slippers…not the ballet kind, but the massive, foot-warming kind…and opera singers testing out high notes in the elevators, heard from floors below. Horses waiting backstage for an entrance, neon-colored frog heads bobbing through the hallway, and the never-ending construction that seems to take place in the tunnels…it’s all part of the scenery for the stage of daily life at the Bolshoi. It might not be as glamorous as the first time I set foot in the theatre, and it definitely doesn’t feel as surreal as my first moment performing on stage, but it’s this daily life, with its details and dramas that will truly make this job unforgettable.  It’s life backstage. At the Bolshoi.

День Победы: May 9th

On Victory Day here in Russia I ran into a group of French tourists on the metro. I was thrilled to momentarily return to my first language love, and helped them locate the next metro stop they wanted to see...people actually tour the metro here. And with good reason! But we'll file that topic away for another day. My friends expressed their surprise at the extent of the Victory Day celebration they were witnessing, despite having their own fête de la victoire on May 8th. They were not alone.

Victory here is a BIG deal! It starts off with a serious display of machinery at the Victory Parade. You can take a quick peek (or watch the entire thing!) to get a feel. In case my earlier posting on tanks left you wanting more, this is it!
Impressive, right?! I didn't brave any crowds to try and witness this one in person, but rather enjoyed some clips from the comfort of my own home...a precious morning off does not need to be rushed! Besides, I needed to save energy for the day's itinerary.

First up, a stop at Сад Эрмитаж. It's a lovely little park where you find another one of Moscow's opera theaters, Novaya Opera.  But there was no opera on tap for this girl today, location aside. This park tried to create some 1940's flair in modern Moscow with an old car display, a concert of war songs and dance, some youth dressed in military WWII costume, and plenty of Russian military men on hand.  

My favorite moment while here was this sweet couple that started to dance to the older tunes. To think of all this veteran witnessed and all the changes this couple has seen over the decades is unfathomable. But to see them caught up in sweet remembrance was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as Nastya's picture as a little boy turned out. I'm only sorry I didn't work harder to squeeze my head through the child-sized hole provided.

Next up, was a quick photoshoot in the courtyard of the Moscow Museum of Modern Art...a courtyard shared with the Moscow cafe that offers my absolute favorite tea: ginger, mint and lemon.

 Even on a day off escaping this beautiful Bolshoi tends to be an impossibility. Especially on Victory Day, given that one of the city's long-standing traditions takes place here. Directly in front of the theater, veterans gather to greet crowds. In yet another beautiful Russian flower tradition, veterans and others who lived through the war are presented with flowers from anyone and everyone. Of all the day's events, seeing this tradition was one of the most touching. I don't know who these people are on every other day, but seeing them recognized in such a way at least one day of the year is truly beautiful.

Poetry performances were given by people of all ages. (Note: I LOVE that Russians memorize poetry!!! I have yet to meet a Russian who can't recite at least one!) We witnessed an 8-year-old's admirable performance. Russian is all the more impressive when I hear children speak it.

Last stop in the city is by far the most popular on the 9th...Поклонная Гора (Poklonnaya Hill) and Парк Победы (Victory Park). The crowds were out here in full force, reveling in the holiday sunshine. Unfortunately they had completely depleted the ice cream and water resources at ALL the vendors' stations we passed!

We passed on the evening salute, and instead ended the day with a sister slumber party and watched the Soviet wartime film, Отец Солдата. The story is that of an older Georgian father who's journey begins when he sets off to visit his injured son in a hospital. He eventually finds himself at the battlefront and, when he does finally find his son, the scene which unfolds is unforgettable. Rather than give away the entire plot, I'd encourage you to find this film and turn on some subtitles. While the version below likely won't do much for you, this movie for me was truly unforgettable. 

Sunshine, my sister, some interesting insight into Russia's experience and remembrance of WWII, and lots of victory made for a pretty fantastic holiday! 

A

Жди меня...Wait for Me (Simonov)

Tomorrow, May 9th, is Victory Day in Russia, commemorating the Red Army's victory over Nazi Germany. It's like Memorial Day in the States times 50. The majority of the country will have Thursday and Friday off work and the list of events is unreal. Not to be left behind, we at the Bolshoi are doing our fair share to contribute and our Young Artist Programme will be doing a concert of popular songs from the war.

We had a private performance of this concert today with several army officials present and it was my first time hearing the project. (Not surprisingly I was not picked to oversee the concert of Russian war tunes). It was stunning and yet another insight to the beautiful Russian culture.

As I listened to the war songs and watched the video display, I was touched. But tears came to my eyes when I saw the reactions around me. You see, while war songs often may seem like patriotic propaganda, the truly beautiful ones are far more. They don't express patriotism, but rather humanity. The emotions felt in times of suffering, sacrifice, and great loss are universal. The horror of war and the reality of its effects on individuals can be understood by all, regardless of nationality.

One of the program numbers, this beautiful tune and its text have been haunting me since hearing...LISTEN!!! You won't regret it. The poem, "Wait for me", is by poet Konstantin Simonov, and unfortunately I wasn't able to find an English translation that I liked...as it turns out it's seriously difficult to do a good rhyming translation! So, here I offer my own, rhyme-less version. Somehow less seems lost and, while it's far from professional or smooth, I hope you can see through the flaws to the beauty of these words.

Жди меня, и я вернусь.
Только очень жди,
Жди, когда наводят грусть
Желтые дожди,
Жди, когда снега метут,
Жди, когда жара,
Жди, когда других не ждут,
Позабыв вчера.
Жди, когда из дальних мест
Писем не придет,
Жди, когда уж надоест
Всем, кто вместе ждет.

Жди меня, и я вернусь,
Не желай добра
Всем, кто знает наизусть,
Что забыть пора.
Пусть поверят сын и мать
В то, что нет меня,
Пусть друзья устанут ждать,
Сядут у огня,
Выпьют горькое вино
На помин души...
Жди. И с ними заодно
Выпить не спеши.

Жди меня, и я вернусь,
Всем смертям назло.
Кто не ждал меня, тот пусть
Скажет: - Повезло.
Не понять, не ждавшим им,
Как среди огня
Ожиданием своим
Ты спасла меня.
Как я выжил, будем знать
Только мы с тобой,-
Просто ты умела ждать,
Как никто другой.

Wait for me and I'll return.
Only, really wait.
Wait when yellow rains
Bring sadness,
Wait when snow flies,
Wait through the heat,
Wait when others don't wait,
Forgetting yesterday.
Wait when from far-off places
Letters don't come.
Wait when all who are waiting together grow weary.

Wait for me, and I'll return.
Don't wish well to those who know by heart,
That it's time to forget.
Let mother and son believe
That I am gone.
Let friends grow tired of waiting,
sit by the fire,
And drink bitter wine
in the soul's remembrance.
Wait. And together with them
Don't hurry to drink.

Wait for me and I'll return,
In spite of all the deaths.
He who didn't wait for me, then let say:
"He had some luck."
They won't understand, having not waited for them,
How from amidst the fire
With your waiting
You saved me.
How I survived, we will know,
Only you and I -
You simply were able to wait
Like no other.

Happy Victory Day Celebrations to those in Russia. And to all of us...happy remembering. Here's to humanity!

Moscow Mondays: Christmas Take 2!

The beauty of arriving back in Moscow on the 3rd of January was that as our holidays were ending, theirs were really only just getting underway. And people here take their holidays and relaxation very seriously, a la Russe. As in, the normally swarming metros feel almost void of people and there's a Christmas tree on every corner (in the center anyways). Except that they're not Christmas trees...the major Russian holiday is New Year's. Orthodox Christmas falls on January 7th, and while everyone is celebrating at that point, it's primarily due to the fact that they just never stopped celebrating New Years.

I love it. I came back to Moscow and it felt like a different city. Especially since the weather had warmed up significantly in my absence.

Christmas Day (Round 2) I took to the streets to check out the holiday makeover. And to walk...it's a popular Russian pastime. During daylight, it was lovely. In the evening, it was stunning. And seriously cold. My friend Nastya found us a Russian "mythology" tour of the area around the Kremlin. Most of the stories and history were presented in an "official" version and then several variations of myths followed. Needless to say, my sense of Russian history is all the more confused. We cut out of the 2.5 hour walking tour a bit early. There comes a point when nothing makes it worth being out in the cold for even a minute longer. We were there.

Besides, we had business to attend to: my first Russian cooking class! Pilmyeni are delicious and fortunately not overly complicated to make. They're also something you can cook and eat pretty much immediately, which is an added bonus. And ultimately, I think cooking makes the best possible souvenir. It's always fun to bring a piece of a country home with you that you can recreate. When I find myself homesick for Russia (assuming a time when I'm not living here), I'll have a comfort food to bring me back home!

And of course a Russian cooking class would NOT be complete without a matryoshka apron.

While, we couldn't fit everything into Christmas Day, the weekend before we also enjoyed a holiday highlight: The Nutcracker. If you ever decide to brave the cold and visit Russia during the winter, try to hit it up over the holidays. And DON'T miss our Bolshoi Ballet performing this classic. If you live in Moscow, add it to your bucketlist. The set is stunning, the dancers are fantastic, and there's nothing quite like seeing a Russian classic while on Russian soil. When in Moscow...

I'm chalking up Second Christmas as a success. While it's back to work for most of the Russian populace today, never fear...Old New Year's and another day off is just around the corner! After all, the best holidays deserve to be celebrated twice!!!

'Tis the Season

So...when did December happen?!? Someone told me the date yesterday and I was seriously shocked. Not just as in, "Wow, I knew it was the 7th, but I just can't believe how fast this week has gone by!" but rather, "Wow, I really have no concept of time and fully believed it was somewhere around the 3rd." It happens when you don't look at a calendar.

My main regret in being so acutely unaware? The neglect of my Christmas decor.

When I say decor, I'm using it in the singular sense of the word: this advent calendar is my one and only. Unless you want to count the mounds of snow outside my cabin.

This chocolate beauty was purchased in Germany in mid-October on my way back from San Francisco. We always had an advent calendar growing up...mom's was hand-sewn and crafty, and unfortunately neither of those descriptors are in my personal vocabulary. BUT chocolate is. So when I saw this (and was informed that it would be infinitely more expensive if available in Russia), I got a jump-start on the holiday season.

And then, forgot. About a ***calendar filled with chocolate***!!! Who is this person!?! I hardly know myself anymore! Answer: One who keeps way too much chocolate in the house. To the point that a chocolate calendar is left huddled in the corner, wanting for attention. NO LONGER! I successfully got up-to-date with little effort, and threw a Reese's shaped like a Christmas tree into the mix for good measure.

So, what's happened in the week that managed to escape my notice?

In order of random thought:

1. I have a roommate. He has yet to make himself visible, but I've heard him scurrying away overhead. My Russian neighbor/colleague refers to him as "Jerry." I. Hate. JERRY!
People, I've dealt with a mouse or two in my time...I'm OVER it. My neighbors on the other side can't understand my disdain. Today I was told how adorable, small, and cute little mice can be. If I was starving to the point that I needed to eat a rodent, I might find them somewhat attractive. Otherwise, get thee hence!

2. A holiday part to kick of the Christmas season!!! Two years ago, I was in Moscow for the first time. And attended a Christmas party at the home of Lyuba, the English teacher for some of our Bolshoi artists. It was one of the most magical evenings in my life, albeit that I understood approximately 25% of what was being said. The singers all broke out some American Christmas carols, and then followed them up with Russian, Ukrainian, and Armenian folk songs. Fabulous food, fascinating company, and an overall sense of awe at the foreign cultural experience that was that evening.

Fast forward two years. Same house. New and familiar faces. Understanding about 90% of conversation and actually engaging and playing a part in the evening that I had before only witnessed. Music, food, friends...and a reality check. Two years ago, I never would have envisioned that I'd be where I am today. And therein is the true beauty of life. The unexpected. Twists and turns that occasionally bring you around full circle.

For the others, this picture was a joke. But in my case, this was how I felt sooner than I should have. I'm a fading flower post-midnight it turns out. (Really, that should read post-10 pm, but that's slightly embarrassing).

3. I got fired by my Russian teacher. No joke. She had had enough of meeting with me at the early hour of 8:30 am and informed me that her complexion and health were suffering because of it. She tried to pass me off to three of the other teachers (these are individual courses) and I was flatly refused each time. Word has it there might be one who's willing...which would be convenient, given that I'd like to learn this language someday.

4. I started studying. For real. This was before getting fired. And after. It's exam month my friends. And while grades might be irrelevant in this stage of life, academic performance and the challenges therein will never lose their attractiveness. So it's back to the books. I have a serious amount of grammar to master.

5. Snow. It deserves its own number here.

And that's a December snapshot. What's your month looking like thus far? Hopefully it's chocolate-filled! 'Tis the season!

Stop and Smell the Roses

C’est un métier que j’ai appris dans ma jeunesse… quand j’étais malheureux… Je dois peut-être aux fleurs d’avoir été peintre.
~Monet

I love flowers. And I love French. Combine the two with a dash of Monet and it's parfait. When I was twelve, I had a corner of our backyard designated as my flower garden. On my first trip to Washington DC, I purchased some flower seeds from Mt. Vernon and couldn't have been more excited about a souvenir. (I purchased = "my parents purchased" for a 12-year-old). And while I have not had a flower garden or even a house plant since, I still fall for flowers. Luckily, they're a thriving part of the Russian culture and after two concerts this week, I have a lovely bouquet on my kitchen table. In a totally classy plastic Pepsi bottle vase. (Unfortunately/Fortunately shrouded in the picture below).

But while I may have flowers, I'm missing a piece of my 12-year-old self. I had two gorgeous bouquets in my apartment last week, and while I remember walking into my apartment one evening and smelling that it was time to throw them out (gross...I know), I don't actually remember ever smelling them. Or really even giving them a second glance. Except to avoid tripping over the bouquet I strategically placed on the floor. Slightly pathetic, no?

I don't need to go back to the 12-year-old Stephanie who likely sang and talked to her flowers...I sing and talk to myself and others all day...but since when did life get too busy to take a minute and inhale the amazing scent that has made me smile so many times before? And how did I manage to go an entire week without really even seeing them?

Life is full, when I'm optimistic. Other days it's just flat out overwhelming. But a little reminder to slow the pace ever so slightly never hurts, and I'm going to use this round of roses as a healthy little reminder of perspective, balance, and simple enjoyment.

With yet another concert wrapped up, I'm hoping a slightly revised schedule will also aid in this week's quest. Tonight was our last of this series, and I'm looking forward to moving on to some new repertoire, new challenges, and new discoveries. A musical change of scenery, if you will. Although this scene looked pretty great, even from backstage.

While I didn't catch the view before they dimmed the lights, it's always slightly exhilarating seeing a theater from this perspective.

And while the music and art might be performed on stage, the dressing rooms (which have doubled as coaching studios in more than one company I've worked for) are often where the real discoveries are made.

So, after a brief pictorial detour, I'd like to invite you to treat yourself to some roses this week. Be they literal or figurative...I recommend both...it can only add to the beauty that is already your life!

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. :)

Life IS Grand

I had a brief chat with a friend/sister/inspiration this evening, and her response to my question "How's life?" summed up my feelings at the moment completely.

"Life is grand. Full and good."

I had been wondering how to put into words the satisfaction and contentment I'm feeling this evening, and fortunately (this late-night blogging game is getting to me) she did it for me.

Life in Moscow is far from simple. And frustrations are frequent. But at the end of the day, it's so rewarding.

One of the first difficulties in any new city, regardless of location, is finding your "people." While I am very fond of the internet for maintaining contact with my other life, live people are a necessity. In Moscow, relationships are serious work: trying to project a personality through a foreign language is no easy task. Witty banter in Russian? Let's just say it's a work in progress. But tonight, after another evening of Prokofiev in the theater (this time in Opera Land!), I stopped with two colleagues to grab some food on our way home. And as we sat there chatting, joking, and eating, doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, I was struck by the depth of feeling I had for two people who I've known only two months. Life lesson: relationships often reflect the amount of work you put into them. And while relationships in Russia haven't been easy to come by, they're better for the effort they've required. I think I'll try and take this concept home with me.

And luckily the rewards don't stop there. But this post will because it's far past my ideal bedtime of 10 pm. But tonight I'm truly grateful. For this life of mine in Moscow. It's full. It's difficult and it's good. And most especially...it's grand.

Running in Rain Boots

Once upon a time I considered myself a runner. Then I moved to Moscow, where I mostly do speed training: how fast can I make it from the metro indoors? But while the weather has impeded my running lifestyle a bit, I will have you know that I seize the opportunity to do so whenever it arises.

Take this evening, for example. The public transportation is such that if I don't make the 10 o'clock "group taxi" (this is GoogleMaps delicate way of saying "ghetto van/bus") I have to add a 15 minute walk onto my commute. And if it's after 11, no group taxi goodness. Period. It's the trolleybus and a 30 minute walk. No complaints, except for that I'm tired, it's cold out, and I've already commuted for about 45 minutes at that point. But definitely not complaining...

Well, tonight I was late. I was invited to opening night of the very same ballet which I raved about only two nights ago. I am an old woman, and would have preferred to spend my Friday night cleaning my apartment, catching up on life, and SLEEPING, but this was not an invitation to be turned down.

So I found myself facing the open road at 11:45 pm, on the final stage of my commute home. And I knew it was time for a run.

Unfortunately, I was decked out in pencil skirt, long dangly earrings, a giant coat (of course!), and galoshes. Carrying a bag with some of my music scores and my heels.

Remember the grace of those Bolshoi ballerinas?

Not. Me.

As graceful as galoshes might seem, they are not likely to be the trend which replaces the barefoot and "Five Fingers" running shoes movement. Add a seriously lopsided gait due to my load of scores, and I'm sure my lanky 6'0" self was quite the spectacle. I had the following video play through my mind at one point:

Brilliance.

I've had some awkward running moments in my life. Probably even more than I realize. This one was up there with the best of them.

But here's the thing: I love to run. It feels strange even now to freely confess such a bizarre inclination. And running purely for the fun of it, without worrying about gearing up, pace, or distance, is exhilarating.

And completely hilarious.

Blue Skies and Ballet at the Bolshoi

I woke up this morning feeling something was slightly out of place. It was oddly light. Had I drastically overslept?!? Normally in these parts time of day doesn't significantly impact our lighting...could it possibly be???

SUN!!! It may have been short-lived, but seeing blue skies made for a magical moment. Not knowing when such an event may occur again, I seized the opportunity to document it. Please enjoy the picturesque power/trolleybus cables.

The darkness in the lower half of this picture is NOT overstated! So despite the Bolshoi Theater to the left, our new stage to the right, and Red Square straight ahead, the best sight of the day was the patch of blue!

This was not the only sight of the day worth photographing, but I do believe I would have been shunned for breaking out my flash mid-performance at the Bolshoi. And I have to say, I don't think any camera or photographer could adequately capture the show. It was my first time seeing a ballet at the Bolshoi...I live in Opera-land. And Иван Грозный (Ivan the Terrible) to music by Prokofiev was stunning. One of my favorite things about my job is working with words: I love languages and I love literature, so a libretto makes for a good combination. But watching a story unfold and considering the characters and their emotions based solely on their expressive and MIND-BLOWING gift for movement was creatively refreshing.

It also made me want to go to the gym. Not for some sudden weight-loss routine, but rather because I felt as if there most be something more my body is capable of doing if other individuals can do something THAT amazing. Like being able to touch my toes on a consistent basis. Or do a push up. I'm not going to get crazy here (obviously), but these people running around my work place might be a good source of inspiration.

If you are in Moscow now or EVER, I will say this: Do not miss seeing a ballet at the Bolshoi. It will take your breath away. And after you catch it? Head back in for an opera!!!

San Francisco Soundtrack

You may think you know San Francisco. Or have at least experienced it. But until you have seen the following video, I would venture to say...you are wrong.

You're welcome. This treasure quickly became the theme song for my few glorious days stateside (I can't leave the Russian behind!), as the two opera singers I was traveling/performing with would spontaneously break out the chorus at least 4 times a day. Often accompanied with an impromptu dance routine. The talent of my colleagues never ceases to amaze me. "Это Сан-Франциско - город в стиле диско..."

The last-minute nature of this trip/concert, and the fact that it was on the other side of the world, made my life feel slightly glamorous. For about two seconds. What was not glamorous? The fact that I did not have a passport in my possession and had NOT had one for SIX weeks, when I agreed to go. Talk about a leap of faith my friends. My university was extending my visa...and simultaneously taking a year off of my life...and claimed it wasn't ready. They still claimed this on Monday morning when I was in their office begging them to help me leave the country. After informing me that they did not have my passport, the coordinator was good enough to look through her database (aka notebook) and locate my record. She couldn't find it...I have a complicated name over here as it turns out...but I saw it on her list. Crossed off. Claiming that my passport had already been returned. Needless to say, we broke out the binder of all the passports she had gotten back and fished through the American ones. She opened each one to check the picture, and every time she did I had a mini heart attack. Not mine. Not mine. NOT MINE!!! Until the last one rolled around. I have never been so happy to see my face staring back at me.

Also not glamorous? Almost missing me flight on Tuesday morning due to the obscene Moscow traffic. I don't want to talk about it.

What was absolutely glorious:

Making calls from a fully functional cell phone.

Staying in the gorgeous Fairmont hotel.

The view from my room:

Catching up with friends. In person!

An early morning run, complete with sunrise, stunning weather, bay and bridge.

Representing Russia. And America. And myself.

Food!!! Burgers, Deep-fried French toast, eggs benedict, SALAD!, and a Ghirardelli's sundae, of course. The only food I will knock is the Thai which gave me food poisoning and kept me in bed and delirious the entire day of our concert.

Amazing. Colleagues. Almost everything that made this trip unforgettable is owed to them!

Last, but not least, the haul of American goodness back to Russia! Reese's PB cups, beef jerky, canned pumpkin for Thanksgiving feasting, choc chips...I have a handful of things I'm already wishing I'd picked up, but unfortunately my only grocery shopping opportunity fell on the day of disease and delirium. So if you're headed this way, I'm happy to pass on a list!

All in all, this rendition of San Francisco was a success. After performing in the National Archives and now SF City Hall, I can safely say I've had enough of domed acoustics, but I was happy to pass a few days in America, albeit mostly in Russian!

Это Сан-Франциско...