Sagaalgan

Sagaan haraar! Sagaalganaar! These words echoed throughout Buryatia on February 22, the day that marks Sagaalgan, Buddhist New Year and the first day of White Month. Sagaalgan may be the most important Buryat holiday and marks the transition from winter to spring. As Sagaalgan approached, I began to wonder how I would be taking part in the celebrations, until I received a call from my research advisor. "Brian, we are bringing Japanese Santa Claus to Buryatia for Sagaalgan. Do you want to travel around on the bus with him?" "Uh, sure..." "Also, you're going to judge buuzy with me." "Sweet."
So, I showed up on Soviet Square on Sagaalgan to judge buuzy. There was a huge stage set up in the center of the square, where people were singing traditional songs and dancing. As I was waiting, the mayor of Ulan-Ude spoke, and then the four fairy-tale heroes came onstage. These were to be my travel companions, so I'll give you some background info.
Our first hero is Sagaan Ubgen, Bely Starets, or White Old Man. This character is associated with Buddhism and makes appearances every year around Sagaalgan. The man who played Sagaan Ubgen was a dignified old man who was in the Red Army in the 1960s and was involved in theater for much of his life.
Our second hero the Evenk Matushka Zima, or Mother Winter, Tugeni Enyoken. The Evenk are a minority population that mostly live to the north of Baikal. Unfortunately, I didn't have much opportunity to speak much with Mother Winter, but I know that she is a recent graduate from Irkutsk.
Our next hero is Sohk-Ireya, Old Man Frost from Tuva. The man who played Sohk-Ireya is Edward Ondar, a famous actor from Tuva as well as an excellent throat singer.
Finally, the most surreal hero was Yamamoto, the Japanese Santa Claus. This man, whose full name is Paradise Yamamoto, first worked as an automobile designer for Subaru. After he got tired of that (or something), he became interested in Mambonsai art and music. A few years ago, he became the first Asian to become an accredited Santa Claus. It was an absolute pleasure to speak with this man.
So, as I mentioned, I was to judge buuzy (traditional Buryat meat dumplings). While this experience was fully delicious, it was not super interesting, so I'll just note that I gave the highest marks of anyone, which clearly reflects on my lack of buuzy expertise.
After the judging, I went to the Ethnographic Museum with the fairy-tale heroes. The Ethnographic Museum was packed with children waiting to see Santa Claus and the other Christmas characters. I was also surprised to see many of my fellow riders from the hippodrome, who were there to drive horse-drawn sleighs for the heroes. The ethnographic museum consists of several old homes that were relocated due to the increase in Baikal's water level after the dam installed for Irkutsk Energy. Each of these homes represented a different culture of the region. There were representative contingents of each culture to meet the heroes and offer each a small meal. These included Old Believers, Eastern Buryats, Western Buryats, and Evenks. This experience represented much of what I believe makes Buryatia a wonderful place: all major cultures and peoples were represented without any attempts to show one culture more than another.

The next morning, we set out for Baikal. We made our first stop in a Monastery in Troitskoe, a village in the Pribaikal Region of Buryatia. They are currently rebuilding the monastery, as it was used as a mental hospital in the Soviet era. One of the monks gave us a tour around the place. We then went to the shore of Baikal in the Kabansk region. Our first stop was a shamanist holy site up on a hill overlooking Baikal, Usan-Lobson. There, we danced in a circle around an evergreen tree. Finally, we got to the hotel in Enkheluk, which is one of the most well-known tourist towns in Buryatia.
In Enkheluk, the heroes participated in an event called Sagaalgan on Baikal. There were more than 60 kids there to play games and see various cultural performance. Unfortunately for me, this meant standing outside in deep snow for several hours, something my shoes were not exactly made to handle. After hearing my distress, the director of tourism of the Kabansk region reached into her purse, pulled out two sanitary napkins, and stuck them to the soles of my shoes. It worked. Apparently, Russian hunters and ice-fishers use this technique quite often.
After the games, the fairy tale heroes went ice fishing for about five minutes, but then they got too cold and decided to move on. This is when me and some of the other tour operators got separated from the group. We dropped by a Ministry of Extreme Events camp on Baikal and had some tea while we tried to regroup. After we left and were walking down the road, I saw something that I will never forget. At an intersection about 300-400 meters in front of us, a four-wheeler wizzed by. This first ATV caught my attention. A few seconds later, Santa Clause went flew by. Then Father Frost from Tuva. It was too surreal.
As we caught up with the other tour operators, we began to go on a tour of various hotels in the town. The first we went to was a hunter's cabin that one man had made entirely by himself. It was completely awesome. Then, we went to a hotel called Sakura (the owner went to Japan once), which was nice, reasonably priced, and they were building a nicely sized pool. The next hotel was the first hotel I've seen in Buryatia that was absolutely as nice as a brand-new Marriot, or something else of that calliber. It was filled with big-screen LCD TVs, tasteful decor, and they even had a Wii in the lounge. But the prices were ridiculous. The owner spent a nearly uncomfortable amount of time drooling over me, the American. As we left, one of the women who owned a different local hotel that I hadn't gotten to see, was quite let down. She was worried that the competition of such a nice hotel would make it difficult for her to do business. She asked me to come by and check out her hotel and give her advice. Which I did gladly, as she was an extremely friendly woman. I really liked her place and told her to call it a Bed and Breakfast in English. And now I'll shamelessly advertise for her: http://na-baikale.ru/ If you want to go to Baikal, stay with her. If you tell her you know me, she'll probably be even nicer than she already is.
That evening, we ate dinner at the hotel and I heard some of the most wonderful toasts that I've ever heard. But that's typical of life here in Buryatia, especially when the subject is Baikal.
The next morning, we got up early and went to a children's home. Again, we saw many different cultural presentations and the heroes got to interact with several children, which was really cute. When we got back to Ulan-Ude, I was very disappointed to say goodbye to the heroes and tour operators. Of course, several of us exchanged contact info, but such a magical few days may never repeat itself. Although, in Buryatia, you never know what can happen.

Moscow-Vladivostok

After my time in Kazan, I flew to Moscow, where all of the Fulbrighters were gathering to have our final orientation. It's actually quite disappointing that this will be our last time all together as a group. For those of you Fulbrighters that might stumble upon this post, thanks a lot for your presentations in Moscow. You helped me get mentally prepared to return to Ulan-Ude and really get some work done. Other than the orientation, I had a wonderful time in Moscow going clubbing with the Fulbrighters (and having adventures at Subway) and eating Georgian food.
I then flew to Vladivostok with two other Fulbrighters. There were several remarkable parts of the travel experience itself. First off, I've never flown out of Moscow Vnukovo airport. I was assuming that it just barely be a step up from the Kazan or Irkutsk airports, but it was actually the nicest airport I've been in in Russia. Completely new, huge, and without the insane crowds of Domodedovo. Secondly, I take great efforts to avoid flying on Russian planes, especially Tupolev planes. So, when booking this flight, I made sure to book on the Airbus plane. Unfortunately, as we approached our plane, it was the Tupolev version of the Boeing 767/Airbus A320. "Ok," I told myself at a slightly panicked pace of thought, "these planes fly all the time without too many crashes." After getting on the plane, all seemed fine. It looked almost exactly like the interior of an A320. "I'll survive this." My chair was the most uncomfortable chair that I have ever flown in. "No big deal, it's just a chair. At least they cut costs here and not somewhere else, right? Right?" After deicing and other pre-takeoff activities, we were at the end of the runway (sidenote, this is the first flight I've ever been on with no English). As we began speeding up, all seemed fine. Regular acceleration, not too bumpy. But then we left the ground. My ears immediately began popping. Weightlessness. "We're falling out of the sky. I'm going to die." The only way I can really describe the next 10 minutes of the flight is "hurtling through the air." I don't know how Boeing or Airbus does it, but my ears pop a little and everything feels under control. This was the first time I could actually tell that I was speeding through midair at upwards of 500 miles an hour. And then we reached cruising altitude (which was much lower than I've seen before). And then it was the smoothest 9 hour flight that I've ever been on. Landing was pretty uneventful as well (except I've never been in a ruder crowd at a baggage claim.)
We slept almost all day thanks to jetlag (Vladivostok is 8 hours ahead of Moscow). When we finally made it out, we went to the central square, which contains the biggest middle finger to the West (in this case, East) that I've ever scene. For those of you unfamiliar with the history of the Russian Civil War, after Russia left World War I and the Bolsheviks claimed power, the territory of Russia was embroiled in one of the bloodiest conflicts in world history. The main participants were the Red Army, the Whites (monarchists and democrats), and the Allied Intervention (Japan, USA, UK, etc.). Vladivostok was occupied by Japan. The occupation of Vladivostok by the Red Army in 1922 is considered by most historians to be the end of the Russian Civil War. The main square has a large statue facing East with text honoring the partisan forces who defended the city from intruders.
That night, I had the best sushi I've ever had. We then spent much of the night getting to know the other guests at the hostel. There was another girl from Ulan-Ude and several Koreans. There's a ferry that runs from South Korea to Vladivostok, so Vladivostok is a popular tourist destination for Asian tourists.

The next day, we took the funicular to the top of the city. A funicular is a small train that only goes up a hill. It cost about 25 cents. It took us to the top of the city. From there, it was possibile to see much of Golden Horn Bay and the Golden Horn Bridge, one of two cable-stayed bridges being built in Vladivostok (the other one will be the largest in the world).
We then descended down to the shoreline, where we found an old Soviet submarine. This sub was the most successful Soviet sub during World War II, having sunk 10 Nazi subs. You could wander around inside and see much of the original interior. I took full advantage of the photo opportunities.
That night, we got on the Trans-Siberian to head home, to Ulan-Ude. 3 days on the train is difficult to quantify. While on the train, it feels like 3 days. However, once you step off, you can't believe that three days have just passed. Most of the time on the train consisted of sleeping, playing Euchre, and watching Game of Thrones. I did venture to the restaurant car once, where I was befriended by a group of typical train-traveling Russian males and obliged to have some beers. I also managed to buy a meal and a computer charge for just one dollar (the men and the waitress were astounded by my American money). I felt guilty, but I did try to convince them to take more, and they did ask to see it in the first place!
So, that's my journey, summarized for the interwebs. Now, life is back to normal, perhaps even more so than 2 months ago. I have deadlines now, which will hopefully help me keep on task. So, if I don't post again for awhile, you understand why.

Moscow-Kazan

The last month I've had has been filled with some of the most blog-worthy moments of my time in Russia, but life on the road isn't conducive to blogging (at least in Russia, without Internet access). I recall thinking many time, oh I can't wait to blog about this, only to have that moment replaced by a new experience the next day. All I had along with me to record my trip was my camera. So, hopefully with the help of some photos, I'll be able to piece together some of my more interesting moments traveling through this unfathomably large country.
When I last posted, I was sitting in a hostel in Moscow, having just flown back to this country that I will be calling for another 5 months. Upon finishing that blog post, I embarked on one of my first major adventures of my Trans-Siberian travels. I convinced one of my Moscow friends with a car to drive me, another girl from Moscow, and another visiting friend from the States out to Sergiev Posad, the site of arguably the holiest monastery in all of Russian orthodox, the Trinity Lavra. The Trinity Lavra was founded by St. Sergius of Radonezh, one of the most venerated saints in orthodox history and the subject of one of my favorite paintings by Nesterov, and still contains his relics. The day we went to the monastery happened to be Russian Christmas Eve, so it was packed with pilgrims from all over Russia. We stood in line outside of the Trinity Cathedral (which contains the relics) for nearly an hour. Upon entering, it still took us nearly an hour to circle around the icons and get to the relics. While observing how people would light candles in front of the relics, cross themselves, and bow (because I soon would have to copy what I had seen as well as I could), I watched a man stumble up the altar. He stopped in front of the relics and managed to cross himself once before collapsing into a wailing, sobbing heap. A man who accompanied him attempted to get him to his feet, but to no avail. The main continued sobbing and clawing at the base of the gold-covered container that held St. Sergius' relics. After a few more minutes, several monks rushed in and carried the man away with extremely annoyed expressions on their faces. My two Russian Orthodox friends said that he was likely just too weak from the fasting that pious Orthodox believers often do before Christmas. My own candle lighting was much less attention-grabbing. I awkwardly crossed myself, bowed, and then waited while woman who had just cut in front me lit upwards of 10 candles.
Fast forward a few days. After my day wandering around Vladimir (which was completely non-eventful), I met an British English teacher who was taking his holidays by traveling the Golden Ring. We found out that we were both planning on traveling to Suzdal the next morning, so we agreed to band together. We hopped on the bus to Suzdal and rode through the flat, snow-covered Russian countryside for about 45 minutes. Suzdal is one of the only towns in Russia that was not Sovietized. It is filled with churches, monasteries, and old wooden cottages. It takes about 30 minutes to walk from one edge of town to the other. Very little out of the ordinary occurred during my time in Suzdal. It was really just like hopping into a time machine and seeing what Russia was like 100 years ago. Suzdal was where I began wandering places that I probably shouldn't have wandered, but I got great pictures thanks to it. For example, I wandered along the side of the small cliff that the St. Euthymius Monastery is one and ended up next to the gates of a huge, brand-new mansion with absolutely no houses near it for several hundred meters. The view from the mansion looked something like this:

I don't know much about Russian property value, but I'm pretty sure someone payed at least 10 million dollars for a place like this. My practice of wandering where I shouldn't continued in Nizhny Novgorod.
Nizhny Novgorod is the 5th largest city in Russia. It was renamed to Gorky during the Soviet era, but its original name was returned after the fall of the Soviet Union. Nizhny Novgorod is geographical interesting due to its location on the T-Intersection of two rivers: the Volga (the Russian Mississippi) and the Oka. The Oka divides the city into what I call the old side and the Soviet side. The Volga divides the city into what I call "city" and "wasteland."

Tank firing across the Volga at "Wasteland"

One of the most frustrating things about public transportation in the city is that only two bridges connect Old City to Soviet City (one of these bridges was finished only a year or two ago, I'm so glad I came after that). The Nizhny Novgorod metro has "two" lines, but right now the two ends are connected. It currently only runs on the Soviet Side. Nearly everything that I wanted to see was on the Old side. I was informed that the first metro station in the Old City will open this November. That will make getting around the city much much easier.
One of my first major concerns during my entire trip was making sure that the Gorky Train Station was actually the Nizhny Novgorod-Moscow Train Station. When your ticket says one thing and Google Maps another, it makes things worrisome. Fortunately, this trip convinced me once and for all the Google Maps is not a fit travel companion in Russia. Upon my arrival, I had little to guide me to my hostel except for my utterly worthless map from Google. So, I hopped in a cab. Upon arrival at the hostel, the hostess annoyedly informed me that I should have reserved ahead. When I showed her my receipt and reservation number, she shut up. I was the only person in the hostel.
After unpacking, I asked which places I should check out. She could only come up with the Kremlin.

Well, duh. So, I made my way to the Kremlin, stopped in the museums (which were very bland) and picked up a few maps and tour booklets. The first museum to catch my eye was the Maxim Gorky house museum. For those of you who aren't familiar with Russian literature, Gorky was extremely influential in both the late pre-Soviet era and the early years of Socialist Realism (so much so that he is considered the father of Socialist Realism). So I headed to the museum. When I walked in, it was quickly obvious that I was one of the first non-child visitors in quite some time. The fact that I was a Russian-speaking American raised the level of excitement to an even higher notch. After first eyeing me with suspicion after I requested a Russian guidebook, the museum workers quickly warmed up to me, inviting me to enter roped off areas and telling me that I was marvelous and should marry their grand-daughters. The museum itself was fantastic, filled with Gorky's library and art collection. There was even a signed picture of Chekhov on Gorky's desk. I bought all of my Nizhny Novgorod souvenirs from the museum (I have a special spot in my heart after working at a Russian museum).
Upon leaving the museum, I decided that I wanted to see the main monastery before the sun went down. This proved to be more difficult than I expected, but once again resulted in me going to somewhere off the beaten path and great picture opportunities. According to the map, the monastery was on the cliff on the Oka River, so I walked over there. Upon my arrival at the cliff, I realized that there was no path down the cliff to the monastery, but ridiculously great views of the city.

My other favorite part of Nizhny Novgorod was the Chkalov Staircase. It is the largest staircase on the Volga River (what does that mean?) and was built in honor of World War II. According to one booklet I read (I have not managed to find other information confirming this), the architect was given a blank check by Stalin to build the monument. However, once it was built, Stalin decided that the architect had actually spent too much and sent him to the GULAG. At least the staircase is actually pretty sweet.

After 2 days, I hopped on the overnight train to Kazan, the capital of Tatarstan and the home to the most Fulbrights of any other city in Russia. After a non-eventful train ride, I arrived in Kazan. I spent most of the first day sleeping and relaxing after two weeks of constant awareness of where all of my belongings were. After that, I began exploring. Kazan is super wealthy. Tatarstan has a lot of oil, and that oil money goes towards building new buildings, renovating museums, ice hockey arenas, and more. Therefore, much of Kazan is absolutely beautiful. It also has a mosque in its Kremlin.

Kazan has the nicest grocery stores I've been in in Russia as well (just throwing that out there). I spent most of my time with the other Fulbrights, just seeing how they live. In terms of actual style of life and workload, they live very much like me. But in terms of social circles, the existence of other Fulbrights in close proximity is difficult to resist. While they all have Russian friends, they also see each other fairly regularly. It doesn't help that all Fulbright fellows are awesome by definition (at least in terms of how easily we all get along with each other). Kazan gave me a good opportunity to compare my experience with that of multiple other Fellows. My quality of life might be lower here. It might be way colder out here. But I have no temptations to hang out with other Americans because there really aren't any. It's an interesting little exchange that I was only superficially aware of when I chose Ulan-Ude, but my travels have made it much more visible.

Home for the Holidays

There's no place like home. I'm allowed to say that because I'm from Kansas (or is it the other way around?).  But it really is true. And it's not even just being back in your hometown, it's about being back in your own country. Where people grew up watching Sesame Street and The Rugrats. Where I can have a conversation with a customs official or store clerk and not have to worry about language or cultural faux pas. Where I can drive and know that 1st street is after 2nd street (except in DC). And especially where I know exactly where to go to find food.
That being said, I'd like to elaborate on the meaning of vacation. For me, vacation is still associated with summer and freedom from school. During the summer, I would relax at home, see friends, and swim way too much. When I got older, I began to work during vacation. On Wikipedia, vacation is pretty much defined as taking a trip somewhere. I was actually really surprised by how short the article is, considering how many various definitions of vacation I have floating around in my mind. So, disregarding everything Wikipedia has to say, which I know is heresy to this blog, I posit that vacation is merely an escape from the normal. For your average American family, that means taking a three hour drive and sitting in a hotel in a tourist trap. For school kids, it means time off of school. And for your average adventurer in Russia, it means going home.
I have to say that I by far prefer my vacation. Whenever you leave your comfort zone, a level of chaos enters the equation. Now, of course, this level of chaos stays very low in places like Branson or Breckenridge. But think of the number of Hollywood comedies about disaster vacations. Those comedies are so funny because we can always relate. Once you leave the comfort of home, Chaos gets stronger and stronger. Of course, there are comedies about coming home for the holidays as well, but don't those always end with the family getting closer?
When you live in Siberia, Chaos reigns supreme. The equivalent of a State Capital Building in Buryatia caught fire 2 days before I left. Think about that. Last winter, they wanted to put an ice skating rink on Soviet Square in the center of town. No one thought to hire an engineer to make sure the rink was flat. No one noticed that the water was gather along one edge of the rink until it was too late and the wooden gates broke, letting loose a flood of water that led to the entire center of the city being covered in several inches of ice. My friends who work in a kiosk on Soviet Square were entirely unable to open the door of their store. That's where I live.
The United States is ruled by institution and order. You may disagree, but often times our frustrations are the result of too much double-checking and oversight. I think our rules of the road are an excellent example of this. Our roads are well-constructed and orderly. Very few people run red lights. But people hate seeing cops because of speeding tickets. In Russia, when a cop pulls you over, they want a bribe. We in America hate getting caught. In Russia, there's very little you can even do about it. If you follow the rules in America, there's little that can happen to you. And our roads are not the nightmare that Russian ones are.
So coming home to familiarity and order led to some of the most relaxing two weeks of my life. I drove around. I lay around. I played Skyward Sword like there was no tomorrow. And I basked in the utter lack of concentration that speaking English requires.
But when I landed back in Moscow, my heart began to pound and I felt a rush of adrenaline. It was similar to the feeling that I would get before a really great 200 Free. I knew I was back in my element. I understood every word of Russian, I knew every bureaucratic procedure, I knew how to travel on the subway. While I was in the States, I spent most of my time playing a game. In Russia, getting from point A to point B is a lot like solving a puzzle in Zelda. You have to study the map, but when you get to a key intersection, you find that it's closed off. So you go through your bag of items and pull out the ones you need to get around this roadblock (Russian language, knowing when to wait or when to find another way, etc.). And when the puzzle is solved, it's way more satisfying that anything that could be found in a videogame (much like getting through Skyward Sword is way better than anything in any other videogame).
Being home was perhaps the best vacation I've ever taken. But living in Russia is the best step I've ever taken in real life. And realizing that yesterday may have been the best part of the vacation that I took.

The Hambo Lama and Getting Sick

Several weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to go to the Ivolginsky Datsan during a Buddhist holiday to see the body of Hambo Lama Itigilov. Itigilov is quickly becoming one of the most important religious attractions in Buryatia, and for good reason. The Hambo Lama died in 1927, after beginning a death meditation. Prior to his death, he had asked some of the other lamas to exume his body after several years. In 1955 and 1973, his body was unburied, and the lamas of the datsan shocked to find that the Hambo Lama was not subject to macroscopic decay. The lamas were unwilling to divulge the existence of the body to the Soviet authorities and the body was largely unknown until 2002, when his body was moved to the Ivolginsky Datsan. Now, his body is revealed once a month, on Buddhist holidays.
I went with several friends to the datsan. Upon our arrival, we took the rice that we had brought with and walked around the datsan, spinning the prayer wheels and sprinkling rice at each wheel. It was a pretty cold day and my hands went numb very quickly. When we arrived at the main temple, we removed our hats and scarves and entered. At first, I didn't even notice the body of the Hambo Lama. It wasn't until I began to move about the temple that I saw that the Lama was placed near the far wall in the center. He was sitting in what looked like a refridgerator with a clear door that was open. He was draped with cloths and ribbons and when you walked by, a lama would offer you a cloth for you to place your forehead on. It is said that if you make a wish, it will come true. I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I saw. The body certainly did not look like it had been dead for most of a century, but it was still fairly indistinguishable. The face was mostly just plain skin, it looked almost like peach playdough. However, it cannot be denied that the temple had a very profound sense of importance, majesty, and peace. I kept trying to ask myself if being a tourist there was sacrilege, and I honestly never felt like too much of an outsider. Religious tourism is such a tricky subject.
Other than my visit to the Ivolginsky Datsan, my life has been rather bland recently. I fell ill and was accused pretty much everyday of not dressing warm enough, and I was given more suggestions on how to get well than I could possibly remember. Something worked, tho, and after about two weeks I was back to my usual self. I have also been on TV about 3 times in the last month. Once with the group in Kyakhta, another time just for being a foreigner at the university, and the other time at the opening of a clinic for invalid-children with the NGO that I translate for.
Now, I know the big news recently out of Russia is the elections. Honestly, in Buryatia it still feels like all of that is happening in a different country. I even have a few friends who worked as election monitors for various parties, such as the Communist Party, and they told me that they saw nothing fraudulent at all. While it would certainly be interesting to be in Moscow or St. Petersburg, it's nice being somewhere safe, where I don't have to worry about involvement in political events because there really aren't any.
As for the weather, well, it's cold. The sun is out for about 7 hours a day, maybe 8, but it doesn't rise until about 10 now. The forecast says that -35 windchills are in the near future. We've finally gotten some real snow, and it's beautiful outside. Today and yesterday have been in the 20s, and it's been great to be able to walk without gloves. Siberia is Siberia, however, and it will not be getting any warmer for 4 to 5 months. But part of why I chose to come is for the adventure of new places, new weather, and new temperatures, and I'm certainly getting what I came for.

Kyakhta

My last week has been a little more adventurous than the previous month. The highlight, as you can probably tell by the creative title of this post, was my trip to Kyakhta. Now, as I'm sure 95% of my readers will not know what exactly Kyakhta is, I'll give a brief history. Kyakhta is a settlement on the border between Russia and Mongolia, and when it was built, between Russia and China. As such, it was one of the most strategic trade towns on the planet during the 18th and 19th centuries. During the 1800s, Kyakhta was one of the wealthiest settlements in the world due to the massive tea trade that went from China and through Russia to the rest of the world (they preferred to transport tea by land, so it wouldn't get wet). Kyakhta has one of the most beautiful churches in Siberia (it had more, but they were destroyed), as well as a museum that many call the Siberian Hermitage. With the opening of the Trans-Siberian Railroad as well as other trade routes, trade began to slow down in Kyakhta in the late 19th and early 20th century. The Revolution sealed the deal. At present day, Kyakhta is not even a shadow of its former self, mostly serving as the border crossing point for those traveling to Mongolia by car.
I was invited to travel to Kyakhta by Rada Dambaevna, who was bringing a group of Russian journalists to meet a group of Mongolian and Chinese scholars and tour companies traveling the Tea Road. We left at 7am, which is well before sunrise at this time of year, and began making our way south. One pleasant surprise was how good the roads were, at least the first 150 km or so. When we arrived in Kyakhta, we had to wait for the Mongolian-Chinese delegation to cross the border. Once they got across, we went to the main museum in town. This museum is an incredibly good museum. It is small by American standards, but by Siberian standards it was huge. And the density of exhibits was something that I've rarely seen. Unfortunately, I didn't really have time to just wander and look at the exhibits as I pleased. The museum had prepared a tea drinking ceremony for our group, modeled after the ceremonies that merchants participated in a century ago. We sampled several interesting Chinese teas, but by far the most interesting part was how Buryat culture and Russian culture intermingled in these ceremonies. While I didn't see photographic evidence of this being the practice used 100 years ago, it is yet another example of the strength Buryat culture has in the area, particularly in tourism. I couldn't help but think that during the Boston Tea Party, the colonists dressed up as Indians for some reason or another, but it certainly wasn't out of respect for native culture (I think the only reason this popped into my head was tea). I am constantly (pleasantly) surprised by the attention to Buryat culture here. This continued during a presentation at the Decembrists museum in Novoselenginsk (a town just north of Kyakhta). Several of the school children in town put on skits or read monologues, many focusing on the partnership between Russians and Buryats centuries ago. It was both heartening to see kids in this near ghost town taking an active role in their museum, as well as to see the focus again on the cooperation between peoples. Is it propaganda? Perhaps, but unlikely. But it's still better than most places.
I'm also tutoring a local artist in English. His name is Zorikto Dorzhiev, and his art can be seen here. He is going to London in a few weeks to put on an art show, and Miami in about a month. He's extremely friendly and quite interesting. His art is technically very good, and I really enjoy his style that mixes traditional Buryat art with contemporary art.
Finally, I'm horseback riding more and more here in Buryatia. During the month of November, we ride without saddles, so I fell off a horse a few days ago. If you fall off a horse, it means you bring a cake next time to prevent yourself from falling in the future. While the stables provide an excellent opportunity to ride and relax a little, I also get to interact with several area children. Their questions are always entertaining. My favorite so far is how much ice cream costs in the US. When I told them that they could get a small ice cream cone for one dollar, they freaked out at how expensive it was. I hope I didn't ruin the American dream for them...

Random Thoughts and Excursions

I must once again apologize for the infrequency of updates. As I get more and more accustomed to life here, I find less and less blog-worthy. However, I think I can find some of the interesting tidbits and expound upon them.
The most interesting thing that I've done since my last update is travel to Moscow for Fulbright orientation. Although I have lived in Moscow, I had a very different perspective on Moscow this time because I've lived in the provinces for nearly 2 months now. After getting used to 5-story apartment blocks and very few new buildings, arriving in Moscow and taking the train to the city and seeing 30-story apartment blocks and new buildings everywhere felt like a new experience, even though I had seen this same route 2 months ago. I couldn't help but look at construction projects and think: they could take 1% of the money out of Moscow and send it to Buryatia and they could make an extremely good start at overhauling their roads. Or they could tax the countless Bentley, Ferrari, Maserati, and Porsche owners and achieve the same result. Our conference in the US Embassy and Carnegie Center did little to assuage my sentiments. A particularly disturbing fact was that much of the Russian elite owns large properties outside of Russia, so when the system begins to truly fall apart, they can just leave. I also have a much better idea of how Moscow prices compare to the rest of Russia, or better, how there is no comparison. In my 3 days, I spent more money on cheap, dinky meals than I would spend on two weeks of full meals here in Buryatia. On the other hand, customer service in Moscow has skyrocketed in the last few years (at least if you look ethnic Russian). This is a very heartening trend. I honestly couldn't say where I would rather live. I just feel guilty saying Moscow at this point (interesting how living in Buryatia has made Moscow a guilty pleasure). One huge difference between Moscow and Buryatia: in Moscow, I get on the metro and am surrounded by millions of frowning people. In Buryatia, I get into a taxi and have a long conversion about the Siberian soul. There's just something about the attitude people here have about their homeland that really speaks to me.
I've also gotten to attend two interesting cultural events, mostly thanks to the contacts that I've made. The first of these was an ethnic musical spectacle by the group Baikal. I got to go to this because one of my colleagues at the museum knows the director of the Buryat Opera and Ballet Theater personally, so I got to walk backstage and then sit in one of the box seats in the incredibly beautiful theater (made by Japanese POWs during WWII). It was a night of amazing music and very interesting folk dance. The other event was a ball held by the Orthodox Diocese in the area. I felt like I was in 19th century Russia. It was a very cool evening, even though I am a terrible waltzer.
One of my side projects now is helping a local NGO apply for a grant. Their purpose is to protect patients' rights in hospitals, particular those of disabled children. It's been getting me more and more interested as I work on it and I really hope that this group gets the funding. I'm just translating into English and helping with some of the more logistical parts of the application, but I am starting to feel part of this cause. In the US, it's hard to even imagine a doctor trying to extort a patient, but it's common here. Future Fulbright applicants: take note. This issue is growing in importance as more and more people realize that corruption doesn't have to be a fact of life.
I'm honestly not sure what else I have to report. Classes continue. Work at the museum goes on (they did want me to sell tickets to my friends, which I failed at. Not much of a salesmen, as my parents quickly learned doing school fundraisers). I continue to make new friends, and continue to be surprised by how everyone really does know everyone here. And more and more often, people tell me that they've heard of me but didn't know what I look like. I'll try not to let celebrity status get to my head. Weekends continue to be the same. Friends have birthday parties. I learned how to make buuzi (Buryat meat dumplings) last weekend with a bunch of European volunteers. I think my American buuzi were better than the French ones. I actually met a girl whose mother is a PhD candidate at KU; she's lived in Lawrence for five years and just graduated from Lawrence High. Sometimes this world is so small it's scary.
Ok I'm just rambling now. I promise I'll try to update more often.