vitali and the arbat
our day began with another
interview (we were late again); and ended with a lovely walk in the rain on the
old arbat.
Ingrid woke us at 4:30 a.m. and
we put her in bed with us. Two hours later Sam woke up and before he could wake
Ingrid up I grabbed him and took him out to the living room to watch a
movie.
Ingrid woke up at 8:15 a.m. and Monica with her. I guess I thought since we had an 11:00 interview, this time we'd have plenty of time to have a relaxing breakfast and still make it to the interview with time to spare. Wrong. We were still half an hour late.
Mom generously watched the kids while we walked. We arrived late (and me sweaty), but Vitali was gracious. As we sat his assistant offered us hot tea. He also spoke fluent English, so it was a relaxing meeting overall.
And what did we talk about? Russia and Chechnya (in this case, mainly Chechnya). Unlike our sources yesterday, our host today had more optimism about the quality of life in Chechnya today. There is infrastructure (some phones, water, heat); and a majority of the original separatists have joined the government.
The surprising stuff was that Kadyrov (a late assassinated true Chechen leader) considered Wahabbism (Saudi-style fundamentalist Islam) to be a greater threat to Chechnya than Russian imperialism. Much of the rest of the interview was taken up exploring the question of why this was so; since Chechens don't generally like Wahabbis. Very interesting. Monica's theory is that since most of the middle class and intellectual Chechens have fled, those remaining tend to be particularly susceptible to the appeal of Wahabbism. Vitali added that since the self-determination movement's original leaders (e.g. Dudayev) had come from the second tier of Chechnya's elite, Wahabbism had the appeal of granting them a kind of extra legitimacy and status they otherwise couldn't have had within Chechnya. Again, very interesting.
My questions about the state of Russia's military, and the impact of the two Chechen wars on the military, were answered in two ways. First, Vitali asserted that Russia was not prepared militarily to fight and win either war in Chechnya (surprising after all the experience they should have had from Afghanistan); and second, many of the officers seem to like this war ("better a bad war than no war" if you're a career soldier).
After our interview we walked back home. Monica wanted to have lunch with Mom at Akademia, and I agreed to watch the sleeping kids after we fed them lunch. But what to eat? Just as we reached Tverskaya we saw the Golden Arches and our question was answered: with two happy meals in hand and a reservation for a table outside for Mom and Monica, we made it back to the apartment, only to discover that the kids had fallen asleep right after we left, and were now waking up (great for eating, bad for the idea that Ivan could get some work or reading done).
Mom and Monica returned an hour or so later to find Ingrid and Sam watching Nickelodeon in Russian (they didn't seem to mind or even notice the change in language). I have to say I found myself watching just because it was great Russian practice (simple sentences in obvious situations).
The next question then was what to do with our afternoon. We decided (Monica's idea) to walk to the Arbat: once a busy street now blocked off to make a main shopping thoroughfare (kind of an outdoor mall). Strangely, though, the stores along the Arbat, and shops and kiosks along it, are remarkably similar: portrait and amateur artists, souvenir shops all hawking cheap nesting dolls, Russian fur hats (all nutria, but sold as mink and sable?) and military kitsch. As we walked the sky darkened and rain began to lightly spatter us.
Mom found a good artist and began to browse his paintings while we waited with Sam and Ingrid (who were messily munching faux ice-cream cones).
After what seemed like an hour Mom made her choice and we moved on down the street as the rain steadily increased.
We were all hungry and seeing as how it began raining in earnest we started seriously looking for a place to eat and get out of the rain. After walking past a couple of unpromising looking places Monica found one that looked great, and offered real Russian food that didn't look awful (tiny pastries called vareniki, which are very much like Japanese gyoza, and delicious-smelling soup with fresh dill). We ordered bread, beer, pastries, stew with boiled potatoes and pork; and Mom ordered herring with onions and potatoes. Everything was fantastic. Sam met a young Russian boy named Gryusha, who was visiting Moscow from Vladivostok, and who offered Sam and Ingrid his cheese puffs (later entertaining Sam with a toy pistol and trying out his English on us all).
The walk home seemed more pleasant somehow, even though it was still raining. I want to try and photograph Russian women and how they dress for all of you: Monica thinks they look like prostitutes but I think it's more complicated than that. Here's a glimpse of one fairly typical outfit from a woman accompanied by a man (interestingly, there seem to be far more women than men in Moscow, so women are often seen accompanying each other).
Certainly at first glance "trashy" is the word that most leaps to mind when you see a young (or even older) Russian woman in tight pants with high heels. And some of what passes for high fashion here is plainly awful at best and so silly one has to chuckle much of the time. Yet there's an inner beauty and gravitas that belies the bimbo clothing. Russian women move differently too: they move their bodies as if they're, well, women (hard to describe if you haven't seen it). Anyway it's all very interesting and I'll try and capture it on film or video for those of you who remain curious.
Ingrid and Sam were better behaved on the trip home, which took about 25 minutes in light rain. Ingrid rode on both our shoulders as I carried Sam in his stroller up and down stairs to cross major streets.
Mom was plainly pooped; though she's getting in better shape every day, and we all arrived home in fine spirits, ready to get the kids into bed, check email and make phone calls.
We have another interview tomorrow morning, but this time it's at Akademia so we shouldn't be late. Tomorrow afternoon I'd like to try and see the Kremlin.
Ingrid woke up at 8:15 a.m. and Monica with her. I guess I thought since we had an 11:00 interview, this time we'd have plenty of time to have a relaxing breakfast and still make it to the interview with time to spare. Wrong. We were still half an hour late.
Mom generously watched the kids while we walked. We arrived late (and me sweaty), but Vitali was gracious. As we sat his assistant offered us hot tea. He also spoke fluent English, so it was a relaxing meeting overall.
And what did we talk about? Russia and Chechnya (in this case, mainly Chechnya). Unlike our sources yesterday, our host today had more optimism about the quality of life in Chechnya today. There is infrastructure (some phones, water, heat); and a majority of the original separatists have joined the government.
The surprising stuff was that Kadyrov (a late assassinated true Chechen leader) considered Wahabbism (Saudi-style fundamentalist Islam) to be a greater threat to Chechnya than Russian imperialism. Much of the rest of the interview was taken up exploring the question of why this was so; since Chechens don't generally like Wahabbis. Very interesting. Monica's theory is that since most of the middle class and intellectual Chechens have fled, those remaining tend to be particularly susceptible to the appeal of Wahabbism. Vitali added that since the self-determination movement's original leaders (e.g. Dudayev) had come from the second tier of Chechnya's elite, Wahabbism had the appeal of granting them a kind of extra legitimacy and status they otherwise couldn't have had within Chechnya. Again, very interesting.
My questions about the state of Russia's military, and the impact of the two Chechen wars on the military, were answered in two ways. First, Vitali asserted that Russia was not prepared militarily to fight and win either war in Chechnya (surprising after all the experience they should have had from Afghanistan); and second, many of the officers seem to like this war ("better a bad war than no war" if you're a career soldier).
After our interview we walked back home. Monica wanted to have lunch with Mom at Akademia, and I agreed to watch the sleeping kids after we fed them lunch. But what to eat? Just as we reached Tverskaya we saw the Golden Arches and our question was answered: with two happy meals in hand and a reservation for a table outside for Mom and Monica, we made it back to the apartment, only to discover that the kids had fallen asleep right after we left, and were now waking up (great for eating, bad for the idea that Ivan could get some work or reading done).
Mom and Monica returned an hour or so later to find Ingrid and Sam watching Nickelodeon in Russian (they didn't seem to mind or even notice the change in language). I have to say I found myself watching just because it was great Russian practice (simple sentences in obvious situations).
The next question then was what to do with our afternoon. We decided (Monica's idea) to walk to the Arbat: once a busy street now blocked off to make a main shopping thoroughfare (kind of an outdoor mall). Strangely, though, the stores along the Arbat, and shops and kiosks along it, are remarkably similar: portrait and amateur artists, souvenir shops all hawking cheap nesting dolls, Russian fur hats (all nutria, but sold as mink and sable?) and military kitsch. As we walked the sky darkened and rain began to lightly spatter us.
Mom found a good artist and began to browse his paintings while we waited with Sam and Ingrid (who were messily munching faux ice-cream cones).
After what seemed like an hour Mom made her choice and we moved on down the street as the rain steadily increased.
We were all hungry and seeing as how it began raining in earnest we started seriously looking for a place to eat and get out of the rain. After walking past a couple of unpromising looking places Monica found one that looked great, and offered real Russian food that didn't look awful (tiny pastries called vareniki, which are very much like Japanese gyoza, and delicious-smelling soup with fresh dill). We ordered bread, beer, pastries, stew with boiled potatoes and pork; and Mom ordered herring with onions and potatoes. Everything was fantastic. Sam met a young Russian boy named Gryusha, who was visiting Moscow from Vladivostok, and who offered Sam and Ingrid his cheese puffs (later entertaining Sam with a toy pistol and trying out his English on us all).
The walk home seemed more pleasant somehow, even though it was still raining. I want to try and photograph Russian women and how they dress for all of you: Monica thinks they look like prostitutes but I think it's more complicated than that. Here's a glimpse of one fairly typical outfit from a woman accompanied by a man (interestingly, there seem to be far more women than men in Moscow, so women are often seen accompanying each other).
Certainly at first glance "trashy" is the word that most leaps to mind when you see a young (or even older) Russian woman in tight pants with high heels. And some of what passes for high fashion here is plainly awful at best and so silly one has to chuckle much of the time. Yet there's an inner beauty and gravitas that belies the bimbo clothing. Russian women move differently too: they move their bodies as if they're, well, women (hard to describe if you haven't seen it). Anyway it's all very interesting and I'll try and capture it on film or video for those of you who remain curious.
Ingrid and Sam were better behaved on the trip home, which took about 25 minutes in light rain. Ingrid rode on both our shoulders as I carried Sam in his stroller up and down stairs to cross major streets.
Mom was plainly pooped; though she's getting in better shape every day, and we all arrived home in fine spirits, ready to get the kids into bed, check email and make phone calls.
We have another interview tomorrow morning, but this time it's at Akademia so we shouldn't be late. Tomorrow afternoon I'd like to try and see the Kremlin.
Posted: Wed - June 8, 2005 at 10:31 PM
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Published On: Jun 08, 2005 10:52 PM
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Published On: Jun 08, 2005 10:52 PM