Russia is complicated. You can ask any number of experts what Russia is and you will get an infinite number of contradictory answers. I'm honestly trying to think of any other subjects as intangible and difficult to describe as Russia, and I'm coming up blank. Religion generally has set texts that, while open to wildly different interpretation, are nonetheless written on paper. Physics has a huge number of different areas of study, but one concrete scientific method. But Russia, Russia doesn't have a book. In fact, it has one of the widest ranges of literature of any country in history. Russia is huge, but there is not one method of interpretation. I've been told that Russia is: art, class warfare, peasantry, autocracy, spiritual, cruel, nature, contradiction. The only concensus that I have ever found is that everyone agrees that Russia is complicated.
There are two quotes that I learned in Russian 101 that define this sentiment. Pushkin wrote that one cannot understand Russia with their mind, they can only believe. Someone else said that one can know Russia in either 30 days or 30 years. In 30 days, you get a vague idea of the country, but after that, surprises begin to throw wrenches in the theory. It takes 30 years to get to the point where each tiny detail finds its place in one's conception of Russia.
So now I've spend an entire year of my life in Russia. The last 9 months have been completely different than the 3 months I lived in Moscow. When I lived in Moscow, Russia was art, clubs, business, politics, bustling. I was a tiny speck in a city of 12 million. I was awed by the buildings, wealth, and metro. Moscow was Soviet and the Oil power crammed into one city.
Ulan-Ude is the opposite. Ulan-Ude is culture, nature, quiet, poverty, Baikal. Russia is beautiful, wild, largely untouched nature. I see bear tracks in the forest. I climb rock formations similar to those in Utah. I swim in 25% of the world's fresh water. I see shamans. I visit Buddhist monasteries. I eat omul. I see stars. I wander the steppe.
Moscow's grandeur now seems like such a waste to me. What is more awe inspiring than looking at Lake Baikal or traveling through taiga, forest, steppe, and mountains, all in just one tiny part of Russia?
I went camping last week. We climbed to the top of a rocky mountain and spent the night. The next morning, the entire mountaintop was enveloped in clouds. It was only possible to see 20 or so feet ahead. After we set out, we came across our tracks. Assuming they were from the previous day's hike, we followed them. Shortly afterward, we realized that there were twice as many tracks. We were going in circles in the fog. It was incredibly difficult to ascertain whether we had seen a certain tree that day, or the day before, or ever. We finally resorted to just following the compass and hoping for the best.
Understanding Russia is like wandering in the fog. The entire scope of the country is so large that fitting it all into your head is impossible. Even things that you've seen before change as you learn more and interpret them differently.
Eventually the fog lifted, but honestly, our hike was much less interesting after that. Hiking in the fog, crossing rivers, and seeing bear tracks had an incredibly dream-like, mystical quality. Once the sun was out, it was just a routine hike. So, here's to the fog that is Russia. May it ever remain a mystery.
There are two quotes that I learned in Russian 101 that define this sentiment. Pushkin wrote that one cannot understand Russia with their mind, they can only believe. Someone else said that one can know Russia in either 30 days or 30 years. In 30 days, you get a vague idea of the country, but after that, surprises begin to throw wrenches in the theory. It takes 30 years to get to the point where each tiny detail finds its place in one's conception of Russia.
So now I've spend an entire year of my life in Russia. The last 9 months have been completely different than the 3 months I lived in Moscow. When I lived in Moscow, Russia was art, clubs, business, politics, bustling. I was a tiny speck in a city of 12 million. I was awed by the buildings, wealth, and metro. Moscow was Soviet and the Oil power crammed into one city.
Ulan-Ude is the opposite. Ulan-Ude is culture, nature, quiet, poverty, Baikal. Russia is beautiful, wild, largely untouched nature. I see bear tracks in the forest. I climb rock formations similar to those in Utah. I swim in 25% of the world's fresh water. I see shamans. I visit Buddhist monasteries. I eat omul. I see stars. I wander the steppe.
Moscow's grandeur now seems like such a waste to me. What is more awe inspiring than looking at Lake Baikal or traveling through taiga, forest, steppe, and mountains, all in just one tiny part of Russia?
I went camping last week. We climbed to the top of a rocky mountain and spent the night. The next morning, the entire mountaintop was enveloped in clouds. It was only possible to see 20 or so feet ahead. After we set out, we came across our tracks. Assuming they were from the previous day's hike, we followed them. Shortly afterward, we realized that there were twice as many tracks. We were going in circles in the fog. It was incredibly difficult to ascertain whether we had seen a certain tree that day, or the day before, or ever. We finally resorted to just following the compass and hoping for the best.
Understanding Russia is like wandering in the fog. The entire scope of the country is so large that fitting it all into your head is impossible. Even things that you've seen before change as you learn more and interpret them differently.
Eventually the fog lifted, but honestly, our hike was much less interesting after that. Hiking in the fog, crossing rivers, and seeing bear tracks had an incredibly dream-like, mystical quality. Once the sun was out, it was just a routine hike. So, here's to the fog that is Russia. May it ever remain a mystery.
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