Truth and Beauty

At the very end of my shift on the 31st, a code was called that resulted in three restraints. That was how I exited 2015.

They say your year will go the way you entered it. I entered it with warmth. I was surrounded by people I've known since I was ten. I called my family in Arizona. I messaged those who I wanted to carry with me from 2015 into 2016.

My first conversation of the year was
Eloosha, with a smug look: Huh, doesn't feel very different.
Me, insistent on magic: almost like New Years is an artificial time construct, you jerk.

traditions carried for generations: Oranges or clementines. Champagne. A table laden with food. Ирония судьбы (The Irony of Fate) playing in the background. Saying goodbye to the Old Year before saying hello to the New. Family. A New Years tree. Sparklers and fireworks. Snegurochka and Ded Moroz. Gifts. Love.

First Day of the Year, discussing bunnies as secret illigal pets during college
"I only ever saw two bunnies at Yale, one was named Truth and the other Beauty, and one of them almost certainly overdosed on cocaine" (which one though, is unknown)

I woke up the next morning and knit for a little bit before falling asleep and waking up with everyone else: all of us soon transitioned to one bed, a lump and warmth and promises to try to stay horizontal for as long as possible. Liza said "my new years resolution is to keep my heart over my head for as long as possible". Eloosha said "I think with my hands". I tucked those away.
Wasting time to the fullest with cuddling and music and late brunch. 
The next morning I woke not in my own bed yet again, and read Autobiography of a Corpse (Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky translated by Joanne Turnbull, 1920's) while surrounded by sleeping beauties.

I made it back to my apartment eventually, only to go back to the same company for a conversation that lasted hours, a midnight visitation and trying to breathe and be brave.

Misha and Nastya

Misha got married to Nastya, and Nastya got married to Misha.

In a magical house filled with handmade decorations, and a backyard filled with people I've mostly met before but whose names I can never remember and good food and plenty to drink and vases filled with flowers.

To my American (and some other non-Russian?) readers: There was a "vikup": a traditional ransoming of the bride before she is given to the groom. In this case, the three friends of the bride came up with questions and challenges, and kept the bride hidden away in a room on the second floor. Each question the groom answered correctly, he gained a step. He could ask for help from the team he assembled, but if they could not answer the question, or complete the task, they had to pay up. What is her grandmothers full name (including the patroym), what is her favorite store, what animal does she think you are most like?

Eventually he got her.

cranberry tincture

Once I started reading Moscow-Petushki this winter, my mind turned to making an infusion – specifically, one with cranberries. You could also make it with other things i.e. black current or lemons or something more complex like oхотничья. My mother sometimes makes a nastoyka by simply cutting up horseradish root and putting it in vodka. Julia told me her brother puts apple pie filling in drinking spirit and that the result is very effective.

You would think a recipe with four ingredients would one have only one or two versions, but I’m almost tempted to make a flow chart because everyone seems to combine the ingredients in a different order. Most of the contention comes with the timing of the sugar and water. From what I gather, if you make the quick version and only have it sit for a few days, you can put the water and sugar in early on. Otherwise, put it in later.




You will need:

-A 3-liter vessel (I used a Carlo Rossi wine bottle)
-1 liter of cranberries, fresh or frozen (~600-800g)
-1 liter of spirit (95% 190 proof. They sell at liquor stores, I think Everclear is the most easily available brand. This stuff is prohibited in some states, including my home state of Massachusetts. If this is the case, you could just get vodka and omit the water)
-300-500 g of granulated sugar (1.5-2.5 cups – one recipe didn’t use any sugar.)
-1-1.4 liter water (depending on how strong you want it. A few recipes said to make the sugar-syrup with ~700g of water and then at the end fill the 3 liter vessel to the top. Some recipes said there’s enough water in the cranberries: a version that results in something quite a bit stronger. A few recipes underscored the importance of using quality water. )
-Scrim aka cheese cloth aka gauze
-A strainer
-A funnel

1. In one recipe the guy picks his own cranberries on a bog and then freezes them for a bit to make them drier. In another, someone adds a bit of sugar to the cranberries and waits for them to ferment a bit – ‘to the first foam’. Either way, you have to press them so that the skin splits. Some people cut each cranberry individually with a knife, others just chop it up in the food processor, though this potentially makes it more difficult to strain later. One woman actually said that you have to poke each cranberry individually with a needle, preferably multiple times, which seems a bit neurotic. I just smooshed them with a wooden spoon.
2. After this you cover the cranberries with spirit. Some say put the sugar and/or water in at this step, though this makes the end result weaker (for more details, look up Mendeleev). If you only want to wait a few days, you can add the sugar and water now. If you are willing to wait longer, put off

   first strain

   the sugar and water, and let the cranberries sit for a while in the spirit: time indications ranged from a couple weeks to a few months. Some say to mix it occasionally
   during this step. I kept putting off the last steps so mine sat around for five months.
   
3. Once you have waited, strain.

4. cranberry spirits, water, sugar water

   If you have not put in the sugar and water, you can do so after straining. Or, don’t strain, add the sugar and water, and then wait until all the cranberry stuff drifts to the bottom. Then pour the clarified drink, bypassing the need for cheesecloth. (Mine didn't really need to be strained with the cheesecloth; it got a couple cranberry seeds and that's it. Also I ran out of white sugar and used brown sugar, but I don't think that makes a difference.
5. Enjoy! Be careful, it’s stronger than it tastes. I'm ready for spring fling
   
   
   
   
   
    
   
   
   
   

main references
http://sadoved.com/domashnie-zagotovki/napitki-i-nastoiki/3240-klyukovka.html
http://forum.homedistiller.ru/index.php?topic=195.0

dual degree

At the end of last month, my housemate Jono said that they needed some more people to work at an event, and that I should come by and possibly get paid. Partially what reeled me in was that the even was a conference for dual degree programs between American Universities and Russian ones. There were 14 pairings in total, not all accredited and/fully running, but most of them were.  Bard is with Smolny in St. Petersburg.  Many of the institutions I had never heard of, but some are well known, such as Moscow State University, and The Higher School of Economics). Some pairings other pairings were lost on me – Astrakhan State University with Clark University, Irkutsk State University and University of Maryland University College, Omsk State University and SUNY Broome Community College, Tomsky State University of Control Systems and Radio electronics and SUNY Empire State College, Skoltech and MIT. So many different levels of jetlag were represented at the conference, I can say that. There were ear pieces for people to listen to the translators, who sat in a booth in the corner – two aging Russian immigrants.

There are many problems in these programs, and I suppose that’s the point of having a conference, but one of the main issues is that though the duel program is aimed at both Americans and Russians, almost exclusively the result has been Russians with dual degrees. And the difference is staggering, proportions of American to Russian graduates in programs look like this – 0:200, 0:527, 0:795, 2:1090. And of the handful currently enrolled, it sounded like they were like me – ‘heritage’ speakers. One of the supposed problems is that not enough Americans know Russian. But really, it’s probably a question of economics: why would an American want to learn Russian? The only people I know that try to do it because they are interested in Russian culture and literature, but those are not good motivators to get large numbers of Americans through the door. And anyway, none of the duel-degree programs are for ‘Russian studies’ – many of for technology or economics.  This is not true for, say, China, which is both sending students abroad, and educating foreigners. Regardless, this meant that when I did end up talking to the representatives there I got a lot of (joking in Russian) “So I assume you’re from Russia”, making a joke at how obvious it is that I am from Russia, which made my refutation of that ‘fact’ all the sweeter.

Bard 'распушил хвост' or ‘fluffed its feathers’ for the occasion, so I got to see it as I had never before. The very fact that it was inside Blithewood Manor was a revelation to me. I had never expected to set foot inside the building, and in fact when I was told go to Blithewood I dressed warmly, assuming that the event was outside. I treated the mansion as if it was filled with cement, impenetrable though present. They then took us to the Fischer Center were wine and sushi and baked brie was served, before returning to Blithwood. The part of the mansion that I was in is usually closed off even to the Masters Economics students (who usually use it) due to the art collection stored there. The will required security guards or something along those lines, and though I understand nothing about furniture, I did find Egon Schiele paintings. After that dinner was served and I came the next morning to work before they all left for NYC to continue the conference.

four days

in cycles:

In the morning I met with Frank to talk about senior project for the last time this semester. I frantically finished up some prints. The watercolors came out too pale, the citra solv barely transferred the ink. [cycle] Rehearsal, Concert. J. S. Bach's Magnificat in D and Schubert's Mass in E-flat Major. [cycle] I bumped into Lisa from Humboldt and we talked until we had to part and say good bye. She asked me how old I am and told me “oh! You’re still young”. She’s 24 and an undergraduate student: everything is slower in Germany. We talked about how sometimes it is necessary to leave the people you know to find out who you are, and how ages 16-19 or so, everything that sparkles; sparkles more furiously than it does later. She told me to tell her if I ever go to Berlin again. [cycle] I went to play mafia with some of the exchange students. All spoke Russian and some of the names were more foreign to me that others. Familiar ones where Valya and Yura and Yuliya (AUCA) Tim (Smolny). Less familiar but still comprehensible is Albina (Tajikistan, AUCA).  I had never heard before Agerim and Akylai (Kyrgistan, AUCA). We played until 3 or so and then I went to Kelsey’s room and fell asleep by 4. [cycle] 

We woke up at 9, got breakfast and then I went to my last printmaking class. There were two bottles of wine and this is the least happy I’ve been with my art work in a while. I went home and slept. [cycle] I worked and packed and went to bed at 2am. [cycle]  

I woke up at 6 and finished packing and got picked up at 7:15, went to the train station with Agerim, and we got off at Grand Central.  I made sure to find the bus for her to get to JFK, before going my own way to Kostya’s lab at NYU. I finished my coursework there. We went wandering to get food and then we went to Bedford Stuyvesant (BedSty) where he lives. [cycle] We walked to Bushwick where Shinno’s multimedia installation was. The room looked like it used to be some industrial space, but had been redone for events. The bottom of the walls rounded off into the floor and everything was white. The show consisted of a dancer in the dark, except for a projector light. It refracted through fog, produced by a fog machine. The dancer was wearing a mask made of squares of mirror. He danced with the light, the music built up and became more frantic. It felt more like I was having some sort of subconscious experience, rather than watching something happening in front of me with a hundred other people. Esther was there too, and after the show the dj came on and we danced. The projector was still on, and it was a fun body-exploration to watch ones silhouette on the wall, a different way of entertaining ones vanity. I went to the indoor-balcony upstairs and fell asleep on the couch, which was vibrating from the bass of the music. At two Kostya and I left. [cycle] 

We went to Manhattan and I took a 5:30 bus back home. [cycle]

out with the old

English under the photo.

У Симы выпал четвертый зуб, ночью пришла зубная фея. Когда я была маленькая, зубная фея не сразу узнала, что она должна существовать. Лето; с Юлькой пошли есть суши, Макс М учил меня играть в сёги (японские шахматы). Посмотрела Казино Ройал с папой.

(Нет! Я в вторую ночь после Мосвкы с трудом заснула. Хрупкая слеза стекла в широты  атлантического океана. Мне приснился сон –

У меня было задание для русского литературного кружка, написать стихотворение. Это можно было делать с друзьями, так что я сидела в парке вмести с Илюшой, Дашой и Андреем, кажется дело было весной, и мы весело работали над этим стихотворение. Что-то остроумное, и еще там было про женщину, которая не могла не есть варение. Сдать надо было не сразу, так что мы его в тот день не доделали. Потом мне позвонила учительница , и оказалось что вокруг незаконченного стихотворение развивается скандал; его прочитали то ли тетушка из класса, то ли матер ученицы, и уже все разболтались; какой позор, такое нельзя , что оно очень жестоко к женщинам. Они его просто не поняли; оно было вполне феминистическое, варение показывала на недостатки общества. Так что мне пришлось идти в парк с Андреем искать бумажки, а там сторож с большим подозрением к нам относился, мне нужно еще было достать мою копию Мастер и Маргарита (он: в 2008 году был новый выпуск я: у меня не эта...хотя, нет! вы правы, у меня новый выпуск...) после чего стала показывать что я там написала в книге и еще Илюша забыл в парке свое пальто и все это лежало в коляске из магазина.

после чего я проснулась, так как у меня очень мерзли ноги.)

 

Sima’s fourth tooth fell out and the tooth fairy came. When I was little, she didn’t know she was supposed to exist, at least not right away. The first week of summer has been spent well; I went out for sushi with Yulka, Max M started teaching me how to play shogi (Japanese chess). Watched Casino Royale (the new one) with Papa - probably not the best James Bond movie to start with.

(No! The second night I was back from Moscow it was hard for me to fall asleep. A fragile tear steeped from the breadth of the Atlantic Ocean. I had a dream—

I had a poetry assignment for a Russian literature class. I could write it with friends, so I was sitting in a park with Eloosha, Dasha and Andrey. It seemed like spring, and so did  our mood. Something witty, something about a woman who could not stop eating jam. I didn’t have to hand it in the next day. Later I got a call from my teacher, and it turned out that a small scandal had developed around the unfinished piece. It had been read by one of the women in class, or a mother of one of the students, and already everyone was gossiping; how horrible, how could one say such things, it's so cruel to women. They simply had not understood; it was quite feminist, the jam was supposed to point to the inadequacies of society. So I had to go back to the park, with Andrey. The guard there was very suspicious of us, I had to pick up the composition, my copy of The Master & Margarita (he said; in 2008 there  was a new edition me: I don’t have that one…wait! You are right, I have the new edition) after which I showed that I had written something in the book and also Eloosha had forgotten his coat at the park and it was all in a shopping cart.

After that I woke up because my feet were freezing.)

End of Winter Break

Bottom Version is in English

На самолете обратно из Мосвкы, на моем месте уже кто-то сидел. Пожилая парочка старалась мне сказать, что они поменялись с мужчиной который седел на два ряда впереди. Я решила им не объяснят, что это не он не мог с ними поменяется моим сидением, и спросила у стюардессы не-ту ли других пустых мест. Пока она проверяла, другой стюард мне предложил шампанское. После этого меня посадили рядом с молчаливым тренера борьбы.
После этого мне стюард предлагал мороженое и еще шампанское.
Он спросил «где ты живешь»
Я ответила «бостоне, учусь в Нью Йорк»
«Это для меня слишком далеко, я живу в Синсинати. Не знаю, может мы придумаем, как сделать что-бы сработало.»
Почему-то после этого, я все равно думала что он голубой. Но когда он решил потрогать мое ухо, я поняла что я не права.Он мне дал косметичку и карточку с телефоном. Нет, Джейсон, нет.
Я долго искала автобус домой, и совсем не ожидала что в Нью Йорке будет минус.
В гостях меня спросили «а там не страшно?» Наверно те, кто иммигрировали сюда более двадцати лет назад, хотят знать что они это сделали не зря. Нет, не зря, я думаю, но не в страхе дело...
Я навестила свою школу, у многих учителей родились дети. Я говорила с учительницей фотографии про то, что не смотря на то что школа считается хорошей, она очень ант-интеллектуальная. И почему люди вступают в брак; вопрос который я обсуждала еще с...пятью люди.
Вот, теперь я дописала, две временные линии слились.

__

On the plane back from Moscow someone was already sitting in my seat. The elderly couple tried telling me that they had switched with the man sitting two rows in front of them. Rather than explaining to them that he couldn't have swapped my seat, I asked the stewardess if there were any empty seats.While she was checking а steward offered me champagne. After that, I was seated next to a silent coach wrestling.After that I was the steward offered ice cream and more champagne.
He asked,
"Where do you live"
 "Boston, studying in New York State"
 "It's too far for me, I live in Cincinnati. I do not know, maybe we'll figure out how to do something to work out."
After that I still thought he was gay. But when he decided to touch my ear, and I realized that I wrong. He gave me a cosmetics bag and his card. No, Jason, no.
watched Brave and Ruby Sparks (movies I was willing to watch on a tiny screen)
I searched for a bus home; I didn't expect it to be below freezing in NYC.
When I went to a party with my family, one of the adults asked "Isn't it scary there?" Perhaps those who have immigrated here over twenty years ago want to know that they did it for a reason. I don't think they did it in vain, but the reason is not fear...
I visited my high school, many teachers just had babies. I talked to my photo teacher about that, despite the fact that the school is considered good, it is very ant-intellectual. And I asked about why do people marry, the question which I had discussed with ... five people over break.

There, now I have finally caught up on writing about the trip, the two timelines have merged.

we'll meet again

dinner at curry house with Shinno and Bianca

I’m back from Bard. Goodbye’s and sweet promises to meet up over the summer. 

Last movies:

1.       大紅燈籠高高掛 (Raise the Red Lantern – Chinese): we watched the first half with Chinese subtitles. Kelsey did most of the translating since she studies it, and Kalena helped with her knowledge of Japanese.  I watched the rest on my own after I found English subs.
2.       Trainspotting!
3.       About a Boy: because we needed to watch something that did not require any thought to process. Finals, after all.
  

Papa picked me up on Monday and we got home at 3am. The next day I drove Mama to the airport (she’s in Moscow now!) and when I came back Yulka had picked up Sima from gymnastics. We sat on my bed listening. Today I picked Sima up from school because he got sick but he’s on the bed next to me reading Calvin & Hobbes now.

A month ago I had a dream that Shinno and I were walking around this red city. Except at some point I realized that, even though we were walking straight, we kept coming across the same guy (someone who goes to Bard) looking through a dumpster. The city was actually one small planet.  The guy was trying to salvage items to sell – I’m not sure to whom, it seemed to be just us three on the planet, even though there were quite a few buildings to live in. When I asked Shinno about the dumpster guy, he said “he finds enough to sell throughout the week, and then on Thursday’s, he’s gone” – meaning that by Thursday he would save up enough money to shoot up on heroin.