Events and Happenings

Well the weeks are blowing by very quickly. I can’t believe that it is almost the end of September already. Classes are going well. I’m learning so much in regards to grammar, but it will take some time for many concepts to sink in. I wish I could be like Clint Eastwood’s character in the film “Fire Fox,” and “think in Russian.” This one liner from this movie is becoming very relevant to my life. The hardest so far as been verbs for motion. Russian is a very old and rich language, a fact that makes in full of words and sentence structures that a completed for English speakers to wrap their heads around (at least for me). There are 16 different ways to say “to go.” Going by air, by land, by water, by foot, by vehicle, by all these things once, by all these things many times etc. Kill myself… at least in is making sense (ironically from my Grammar teacher, who doesn’t speak English, only Russian and French). I think the days go by quickly because for one the classes and a hour and a half and two I get so tried after a day of 3 or 4 of these classes that I just pass out with return to the dorm. At three years studying (I count two years of High School Russian one year) Russian is paying off and I’m getting it better grammar wise.

As I said to my friends in the dorm, “I only come out of the university and the dorm on Friday and the weekends.” The rest of the time is spent, working on grammar assignments (in-between then, I also go to the market and buy food etc.) I speak Russian much better than I read or write so I need the practice. So, to my friends in the dorm, I’m not bipolar, I promise. This weekend was also long because of several reasons. On Friday night we had a “niva (beer) party” at one of my favorite pubs in the city. It started at 8:30 in the evening and lasting until 2:30 in the morning. We party like pros here, as the beer is good, its cheap and the company is great. I love hanging out with them all, we really do have a great group this year. I’m surprised we didn’t drink the pub dry that night, as the owner nicely asked us to leave as he too wanted to go home. So, we walked a little bit and ate shashlik at a nearby stand. It got very cold at around 3 in the morning so the food was much needed. We then headed back the the dorm and I was thinking that the security wouldn’t let in, as the dorm closes at 11 in the evening, once outside after 11, you’re suck out until 6 in the morning (there is a rumor that this changed last year). Well, to my surprise they did indeed open the doors for us and we all piled into the dorm and walked out to our rooms.

On Saturday, I was in a very happy mod as I was going to see my friend Tanya, I first friend I made at university two years ago. Tanya is what I like to call a “four-foot tall firecracker.” She is honest, straight forward, and is not afraid to let her opinion be known, qualities that I admire about her. She graduated from Pyatigorsk the same year I graduated from Hastings and it was so nice to meet, and caught up in person. We met up a “Pizza Neopolitano” (the local pizza place a block down from the university). I saw her and we both embraced and were so excited to see each other. Tanya said “it was like a dream.” We stayed there from 4 in the afternoon to around 7, talking about old memories and people from two years ago, about the search for jobs, and the like. It was a great moment. Tanya is in the process of getting a job and has applied for several positions. The most frustration thing is that many employers care more about looks than experience (two qualities that Tanya isn’t lacking in). It pains me to see a talented young woman suffer because employers are pricks (excuse that last, its just how upset I’m about it). We took a walk through the city on the way bus stop. I saw her off and walked to the dorm with happy spirits, but it got cold again that night.

After to nights in the cold, on Sunday morning I had the throat cold from hell. I don’t get ill often, but when it does it is like a sucker punch to the gut (in this case my throat). I rested for all of Sunday and Monday to recoup. Now I’m also back on the horse. Today is the first of English Club as well. I’m think we’re going to had a good group this year. Tonight we are going over travel terms in English for the Russian students who will attend, I’m talking about Disney Land as place to travel and see. It should be a lot of fun.

The 24th of September marks the start of Eid al-Adha, or the “Greater Eid (in English the “Feast of Sacrifice”),” commemorates the willingness of Ibrahim to sacrifice his son Ishmael as an act of obedience to Allah- and Allah’s mercy in putting a lamb in Ishmael’s place at the last moment. Muslims believe that the very moment Ibrahim raised the knife, God told him to stop, that he had passed the test, and to replace Ishmael with a sacrificial ram, similar to the Biblical tale of Abraham and his son Isaac. Eid al-Adha also marks the end of Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Saudi Arabia.

In nations and regions, Eid al-Adha is a public holiday that involves animal sacrifice, prayers and family gatherings. The day begins with morning prayers (alas, there is no mosque in Pyatigorsk, so the people have to pray in doors or in the street), followed by visits to family and friends and the exchange of food and gifts. Muslims are obliged to share foods and money with the poor so that they can take part in the celebrations. I hope to go to the market and purchase some halal products during the time of the hoilday. Two years ago, a got a fresh chicken, so maybe I can find something similar. There is always something better in the taste and quality of halal meat. The process of the blood bring drained with like that of a fresh deer (if any of you have been hunting), though the throat of the animal in question is ceremonially cut.

Here in Pyatigorsk we have a Muslim minority in the city, but in the surrounding regions, especially to the south, the affiliation of the population is 55% or higher to Islam. I love living in a region that so culturally, ethnically, and religiously diverse. On the the State Departments website, the caption of the Caucasus region is highlighted in red, reading “Travel not advisable, extremely dangerous,” etc. I had to say that sometimes I feel safer walking the streets here then in Omaha, imagine that. It’s all fear mongering and propaganda. We fear the most what we don’t understand and in this case what we don’t want to understand. Anywhere I go, I try to assimilate to the local culture, respect their traditions and not “ugly American.” From my experience, most Americans couldn’t live here for a semester, let alone a year (in my case, going on two), because of the culture shock, lack of understanding and the unwillingness to expect anything other then what is “American.” On a side note, I heard of Presidential Candidate Ben Carson’s remarks on Islam. Regardless of context, I thought this as a very foolish statement to make. I had a fellow student ask me into if I “felt that way about Muslims.” I said “of course not,” as “we have freedom of religion in my nation, I right I value very much.” It sad to see how one comment 7,000 miles away and impact a person.

Well that it for the moment, cheers to you all in the States and around the world.

The Land Between Old and New

So, after all of the paperwork and fast paced life of moving into a dorm, I can happily say that I’m settled into my room and have developed what I hope are long lasting friendships with my international peers. Being apart of a community is very important and even more so when you live 7,000 miles away from your old one. This is the part of living overseas and within a dorm that I like so much, the fact that you meet people from all parts of the world, from all walks of life and they all have their own unique stories and perspectives. We also share a common bond it that we’re all foreigners in the Russian Federation, studying Russian. A bond that is like glue which slowly (or quickly) sticks us together. Our community here at obshchezhitiye No. 5 (the obshaga) is a very diverse one like the last time. You know who you are… 3 French, 1 English, 1 Spaniard, 2 Egyptians, 1 Brazilian, 2 Americans (including yours truly), a girl from Kazakstan, and a lot of Chinese students (to be honest I’ve lost count of them all). Other students may arrive at anytime, adding to our international collective (“you will be assimilated, your distinctiveness will added unto our own” etc. personally, I think we’re more appealing than the Borg). We celebrated the birthday of one of our
group mates and it reminding me of all the wonderful times in the that kitchen in the 3rd floor were we, cooked together, ate together, laughed together, danced together, and drank together with the tinkle in our eyes of the ridiculously funny and rewarding chats we had. We danced the night away. Who needs to go to a club when the club can come to you. I also had some cultural experiences that night as well in Egyptian regalia and dancing. Thanks to Hesham for that.

As is customary, when out together as a group (at one point were 20 of us) we walk around the city and find a place to eat, drink and chat. We had dinner at my favorite Shashlik (kebab native to the Caucasus region, similarly prepared, but with different spices and methods of cooking) restaurant in Pyatigorsk. It was a great bonding time outside of the dorm that didn’t involve several liters of beer, just a glass this time around. It was so good to eat lamb shashlik again, one of the things I missed the most. One of my friends is a vegetarian however, but I won’t feel guilty, they have Greek salads here. Meat is a staple in Russia, but Connie’s managed to find a good store the can cater to her needs.

I showed Connie some other parts of the city a few days ago. The weather could be better, a cold front has moved on a lite mist blanketed the city. It has also rained, making the region cold and wet, fall is on the way. On the bright side, the moist air with help the birch trees here change their leaves into magnificent reds and oranges in October and as a matter of fact, some trees a changing now. Taylor had asked me in her letter from September to pick some pretty leaves and press them, I’ve found a few bright red ones when walking with Connie and her friend Maddy (visiting from Moscow) up the foot hills of Malshuk. The view was just as I remembered it. The vistas and the steppes rolling across the horizon and Mount Jintu standing in the background. It was to bad that the clouds and mist prevented us from seeing Mount Elbrus. I saw him when the weather was hot last week, and as customary, made a wish upon making eye contact. It feels different when you know the history and native legends of a place. You feel more connected and apart of the place you live in. These stories about the Caucasus mountain range are a wonderful oral tradition, and have been pasted down from generation to generation. Author David Hunt, through his scholarly work, has translated and cataloged over 100 different myths and legends from various groups in the Caucasus. As I’m more familiar with the Kabardinian legend of Elbrus, Beshtau and Malshuk, I will tell you these variant, as told to me by my friend Elberd Kotsev.

“Beshtau, was strong, brave and honorable, the perfect Caucasian man. He was a skilled warrior with the heart of the Narts (legendary heroes).

Malshuk, embodied the perfect Caucasian woman. She was graceful, strong, noble, and beautiful. Few man were worthy for her. She fall in love with Beshtau and he with her and they stood strong beside one another, a strength that only can form between a man and woman.

Elbrus, who was chief among them, the tallest and proudest of them all, become jealous of Beshtau and Malshuk’s union. In a fit of rage, he took his shashak (a Circassian saber, literally meaning “long knife”) and cut Beshtau into five pieces. This we have the five peaks that make Beshtau.

Elbrus then took Malshuk as his own, but Malshuk averaged the memory of her lover by taking her own shashka and cut Elbrus’ head in two, thus making the twin peaks of Elbrus. Malshuk in her grief, lay beside her dead lover, Beshtau, again creating the bond of strength between men and women in death as well as in life. Thus this is way Beshtau and Malshuk stand side by side. Beshtau, his five peaks making Pyatigorsk (literally meaning “the five mountains” in Russian).”

I’m not sure about the legends of the mountains back home, as know one has shared then to me, but when I look a the Rockies when in Colorado, I see beautiful formations, but that is all. When I see Elbrus, Beshtau, Malshuk and Dombai, I don’t just so the rock, I see a powerful figure, a supernatural entity, who’s story has be told for thousands of years. This is what it means to be a “gortsy” or a highlander, this is it means to be Kavkaz (Caucasian). These various people and their traditions are modern expressions of a bygone era, of folklore, of ritual, and of oral tradition that seldom have a chance to shrine in the modern, secular world today.

Walking around Pyatigorsk was a joy, even if the weather is bad. Going to market in of itself is a day long trip. I was so happy to very my hands filled with spices from the Uzbek market. I smelled the rustic smells of fleshly baked Armenian lavash, (a flat bread, sometimes filled with cheese), home made osetinsk piro (a pie with meat or cheese or spinach, made by the Ossetian ethnicity), bastegh (best described as “fruit leather,’ like a fruit rollup), and of course shashlik.

The sight of mountains of paprika, cardamon, turmeric, nutmeg, mandarins and apricots filling tents, the Georgian Churchkhela (sausage-shaped candy made of grape myst, nuts and flour), hanging from the ceiling, air drying. All of these fresh products that taste so good and are highlights of many different ethnic goods all in one place. The rynok or “market” is the life blood of the city, supporting small business, cultural institutions and provides jobs for hundreds of bakers, cheese makers and everything in between. It is a shame that we don’t have such an institution as the rynok, thank you big business and the FDA.

After spending most of the morning at the market, we headed to my favorite restaurant in Pyatigorsk called Jazzve cafe, a rustic looking outside with a modern coffee shop interior. The word Jazzve is the Armenian word for a briki or turkum (a copper or tin cup to brew coffee in the traditional Armenian, Turkish and Greek way, a cultural item that spread with the Ottoman Empire). Small “divans” or couches are where you sit and the cafe is styled like that of the old Ottoman coffee houses (I love the mixing of Russian, Turkish, Armenian and Caucasian cultures in this city) and their menu has a lot to offer from Armenian coffee to beer and blini (Russian pancakes) to sushi. It is also a hookah bar (kalyan in Russian) and I indulged in the Ottoman tradition like a professional (I’ve been called the “dragon” by many people. Thank you to Nassim for teaching me my first year here). This also brought back good memories. Connie, Maddy and I talked about anything and everything. I love good conversation, a concept that sometimes lacks back in the States as people are too impassioned by their own ideals and won’t stop to listen.

After tea and kalyan, we walked to the city center where I showed Connie and Maddy some of the historical buildings on “Board Way Street and Artists Street, fellowing the Russian poet, Mikhail Lermontov’s route he took with in Pyatigorsk during the 1830’s. In his epic novel “A Hero of Our Time” he charts his main characters movements in the city and it is very cool to have a written guide to where he was when writing this piece. It also happened to be Pyatigorsk’s 235th birthday and we caught the beginning of the festival. I bought myself a t-shirt from the event as I didn’t get two years ago.

It has been an amazing few weeks and I’m in the swing of things. It is so good to be back here on the “Frontline of the Caucasus.” My love and regards to all of you.

Week 1, Back in 5gorsk

1. As I left Omaha to board my fight, many emotions were going through my mind. When one travels this far from home and for this long, feelings of excitement, uncertainty, and regret flow through. Of course, most of these feelings happen at various times during the jouney. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a goid traveller, always have been, but the older you become, the more conscious you are of how important your role in your home is and how important certain relationships are to you. It is like having a hole in you chest that you cannot fill, even with the best of memories that you collect when half way around the world because of the simplest fact thst the people closest to you are not there to share these moments with you.

My flights over all were not difficult and when arriving in Moscow Sherematyova, I wasn’t upset and flustered like duting my first time there. It helps when you have been in the same airport mant times and know where to go. Immigration was a breeze as my name is already in the Russian governments system. I walked in snd out of Customs with no problems, get my bags scanned and my registration (arguably, the most important piece of paper that you withh ever have in Russia), was filled out quickly, signed by me and stamped in the dark blue ink, making the process easier this time around. In and out in 10 minutes. Maybe a new record. I was then able to re-check my bags in a timely fashion and not feel rushed. I was also able fed very well on all my flights ( Delta even give out cookies on the flight from Omaha to Minneapolis), which made life easier. Of course by this time in my journey, I was beginning to feel fitgued by it all. The flight from Moscow to Mineralnye Vody was exciting as I was looking forward to being back in the Caucaus again. Looking out the window, my spirits were raised when I saw them. The shapes of familiar formations were getting bigger and bigger and we descended.  Beshtau, in all his glory stood as proud and tall as ever, his five peaks rasing into the air. The sun was setting and the shadows from the various mountains or “gorka”   in Russian (meaning a singular mountain, not apart of a chain) that dot the front range of the Caucasus (also known as the Nogay steppe) seemed to stretch across the green colored plains. We chapped, as is the custom when landing on landing on Russian soil and slowly exited the plane we glew in. I breathed in the crisp Caucasus air and headed to claim my bags.

I waited for a few minutes for the taxi driver to so up from the University. He arrived in a white, unmarked car and shuffled over to me, asking if I was the “one.” I reply the I “was indeed the one,” and shook hod big, winkling hand and we departed from the airport to Pyatigorsk. He started asking me where I was from and the like. I chatted with him and the hard, guttural Caucasian Russian. It was a normal conversation and not one of those that is common among taxi drivers thst involves dirty and distastful jokes about women or sex. I was very relieved. I then asked him if you liked lezginka (the national music of the region), while we were driving amongst Beshtau’s base. He turned his head and looked at me with both surpise and happiness and said “You’ve been here before?” I replied “Yes, of course,” and he then fipped on his radio and started playing the song “Assa,” nice and loud. We drove with the windows down, the breeze flowing through the car, the beat nice and loud. It was one of those moments that are “snapshots” in time, perfect in everyway. I felt blissful. We then saw Malshuk, Beshtau’s lovely wife (according to Kabardinian legend). At her feet, facing west is Pyatigorsk, nestled between them. The sun had set when we arrived by the famous (or infamous) Dorm No. 5 (known as the obshaga) a place that is filled with wonderful memories for me. I was then flooded with those events, a slide show of imagines for all the people that were there in 2013/2014 when I was here last. I honestly was hoping for my old room on the third floor but, I can’t pick and choose. I live on the fifth floor, room number 264. I’ve made it my home, with some photos (including the one of Taylor and I at the Henry Dorly Zoo) and my Confederate Battle Flag which hangs above my bed. I live in a block with two other people. My roomate arrives 4 days ago. His name is Martin, a native of the State of Georgia who studied at the University in Chicago. This is his first year learning Russian. My blockmate is a Frenchman named Alex. He was here when I arrive on the 1st and he is very friendly. It was strange not to have my buddy William here, a moment that slowly sunk in. This is the same place, but different people and though it woukd becfun and I would make wonderful memories here, it would never be the same as the first time. Hopfully when Alina and Vika return from working on the ship this summer, things will start to fall back into place.

The state of the kitch is sad at best. There is very little in regards to utensils and bowls or plates. One of the stoves are in disrepair. Though this is a normal situation. As the phrase goings “this is Russia.” We do have a refrigerator, which os a pleasant surprise. Buying food was the first priority. In walked to the various markets that I know of, but all were closed so I decided to walk around the city to see what had changed. Not much has, only a few buildings that were construction when I was there last where finished. It is very warm here, in the mid 90’s with the dry heat, something I’m not used to. In Russian, they call weather like this in late summer, “the woman’s summer” as women can still wear dresses as its warm enough. I hope the weather gets cool soon, because I’m dying walking up and down this hills. On my walk, I get very thirsty and luckily come across a kvas stand. I purchased a large glass for 40 rubles and enjoyed the fermented rye bread drink. I love kvas, this is a seasonly drink and it’s very refreshing on the warm summer days. It was a much need pick me up during my walk around the city. I also saw the pieces for goods. The sanctions on Russian by both our nation and EU have affected the Russian economy in a few ways. Firstly, pieces have raisen since I was last there. My favorite band of sausage is 100 rubles more expansive. Secondly, because of the sanctions, foreign goods are more expansive or not available. Italian coffee is nowhere to be seen (I buy Armenian coffee anyway for my briki). Thirdly, the sanctions have inspired the Russian to buy local products, so the native foods are less expanse and more available (but, there is still a piece increase) and Russian cheese, dairy and beer industries are booming. Onions and potatoes are still dirt cheap and garlic has gone down in piece. Very interesting developments.

On my way back to the University, I stopped by the photoshop to have my pictures tsken for my ID at the University and the others documents thst I needed. I soon got my 6, 3×4 size photos printing on matt paper and headed back to the Universities main hall. I then startes the large and grievous process of registration paperwork. All the stamped documents and signed papers are all all part of Russian life, that one either gets used to or goes crazy over. The Russian’s love paperwork or at least their administration at both the local and federal levels does. You can’t complain about the DMV after going through Russian bureaucracy. I stopped by the International Affairs Office and spoke to Anna Alfredovna (the dean of International Affairs). She was pleased to see me, however, I like to keep my dealings with her to a minimum. I handed my photos that I took earlier to her and looking surprised, she said “Ian knows how this is done,” commenting on me remebering the the process of registration. I would like to thank William for his step by step directions on this during my first stay here. I now have all my doucments done. I have documents in Health Insurance (Aptechka, a common registration for insurance, taking care of the basic cold or broken leg), in “The Regulations for Foreign Citizens and Individuals with No Citizenship Who Arrive in the Russian Federation for Studies, Probation and or Teaching in SEIHPE PSLU,” (I write the full title of this document to highlight the Russian’s need to use long and overblown titles fot documents) a form thst requires me to inform the International Affairs Office when I travel outside Pyatigorsk, and finally my dorm registration, a document stating that I’m a resident of Dorm No. 5.

After I competed these documents, I decided to visit mybold friends and peers from my old faculty. Zina (one of my friends from Baku, Azerbaijan) saw me and we embraced, talked for a little and soon afterwards, many other friends showed up. Yana was the most excited, running over to hug me, we talked for a little bit too, though she is still very shy, a part of her clarm. It is good to be held in such high regard. In also saw some of my old professors, including Nina Antonova, Olga Aleksavna and Marina Getmanskaya. We talked to up like it was old times, like nothing had changed. It was a very good feeling, as this faculty is like my family. We take care of each other. I’ve also started classes, which is a blessing. The last time I was here, it took a week and a half for my schedule to be finalized. I study with two French students and a Brazilian student. We’re a good group and I look forward to getting to know them better over the next year. They’re all new to Pyatigorsk, so I showed them around and give advice on where to shop and go from goods. The six foreign students (including myself) when out for drinks (and by drinks I mean 9 liters of Maikopskya piva, a beer crafted in the city of Maikop; pne of my favorites) at a pub I like to go to, where we talked snd laughed about anything and everything from 5 in the afternoon to 10 in the evening. I aslo managed to get internet from Beeline (a Russian phone and internet service) after much frustration and good communication skills. I ended up signing up for a 18g a month plan for 560 rubles. Not bad, $15 a month for internet. A them saw my good friend Elberd Kotsev, one of the Russian students who came to Hastings in the spring of 2013. He and I took a walk up Malshuk, shared a gyro and chatted it up like old times. I gave him the coffee and tooth paste he wanted and he gave me a kilo of Russian chocolates, a good trade. All and all, a good start to a wonderful year in the Caucasus.