Russia

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A blur of exotic dancing

 

Ann Blagdon at WI

Ann Blagdon at WI

When I saw that the prompt for the weekly photo challenge was the word ‘blur’, I was instantly transported back to a dance festival I attended in Russia some years ago.  It was the most amazing experience and included traditional dance from various ethnic groups which have settled in Russia over the centuries.  There was Greek dancing as well as Armenian, and both were wonderful.  But the most memorable was the cossak dancing.  With their boots, blousy shirts and billowing trousers, the dashing cossaks perform a truly acrobatic dance full of jumps, kicks and bends.  They really are a blur and photos are hard to take.  However, I have some super photos of a dancer that I watched closer to home.  Her name is Ann, and she gave up her day job to pursue the art of Egyptian Belly Dancing.

Ann came to our WI and gave a fascinating talk about the history, myths, legends and meanings associated with this type of dance.  She also told us about the costumes and how “Belly Dancing” got its name.  Her fascination with the dance started when her Lebanese friends in London inspired her to find a teacher.  She was learning classical Indian dance at the time. Over the last twenty years Ann has perfected her craft and she is now a very talented dancer as well as an inspirational teacher.  When Ann dances it is spellbinding, beautiful, graceful and charming. Every movement is significant and tells a story.

Her costumes were ravishing, colourful and exotic.  To cover up she wears the traditional Egyptian Galabeya.  She buys her costumes when she attends the Soukh or market at the Egyptian Hafla or party.  Most of her costumes are made in Thailand or Turkey.  According to Ann, Egypt is considered the birthplace of belly dancing, but there are variations in different regions.  She certainly takes her dance seriously.  In order to get to know and feel the spirit of the dance, she spent time living in a Bedouin tent in the Sinai desert!

She is an amazing woman and a beautiful dancer so I have picked her to illustrate this week’s post.

Ann Blagdon at WI

 

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A beautiful sight but a terrible day! What an understatement…

I recorded a TV programme this week entitled “Cosmonauts: How Russia Won the Space Race”, because it is a subject that intrigues me.

I find Russia fascinating:  The architecture, music, language, iconography, culture, and history, are all so different from what is familiar to me.  It appears exotic and intriguing.  I have been lucky enough to visit different parts of Russia several times and it never disappoints.  You can read about these visits by following these links to previous blogposts.

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The reason that this particular programme appealed to me was because of something I stumbled upon during a visit to St Petersburg in 2003.   But before I explain, do let me tell you a little about my trip to this fabulous city.

By rights I should not have been in St Petersburg at all!  President Putin was meeting the leaders of the G8 and the European Union countries for a summit meeting and to celebrate the city’s Tercentenary.  Apart from VIPs, dignitaries and invited pop stars like Paul McCartney and Elton John, no foreigners were supposed to go to St Petersburg during the celebrations so that Russians could take pride of place.  Of course I didn’t know that when I made my arrangements!

St Petersburg is built on land reclaimed from the sea and made up of 101 islands linked by canals.  Its unofficial symbol is, appropriately for a great shipping port ~ a ship, while Russia’s symbol is an eagle.

The city has changed its name several times since 1703 when it was built by Peter the Great.  During the First World War it was called Petrograd.  It was here that the October Revolution started when a cannon was fired from the battleship “Aurora” ~ accidentally I was informed.  I saw the ‘Aurora’ which was still on the River Neva.  In 1924 after the death of Lenin the city was renamed Leningrad.  Then in 1991 after Perestroika, the first democratically elected mayor of the city, Anatoly Sobchak, returned the city to its original name of St Petersburg.

Many of the people in St Petersburg live in communal apartment blocks.  Indeed the first place I stayed in was a tiny flat in one of these buildings.  It was reached by going off the main street, behind some shops and up a very dark and dingy staircase to a door which, like all the others, was padlocked, chained and reinforced with steel! Not quite the self contained apartment I was expecting!  But as I went to put my cases away it got worse – I found a strange old man sitting on a dining chair – in the wardrobe!  This is the absolute truth.  I never found out why he was there and I moved out as soon as I could.

Despite this I found St Petersburg as a city incredibly beautiful.  I was there during the period of the “White Nights” when the sun never really sets and the night is as light as daytime.

I was spellbound by the beauty and grace of the canals, rivers and bridges; I was overawed by the beauty of the churches, the cathedrals, and the mosque; I was impressed by the well-kept parks and gardens; I was overwhelmed by the sheer scale and grandeur of the architecture; And I was mesmerised by the Hermitage and countless other museums stuffed with cultural treasures. To me St Petersburg seems to have the best bits of London, Rome and Bruges all rolled up in one great city.

The Hermitage Museum is of course world famous for its outstanding collections which cover every aspect of art, history, geology and culture. I was overwhelmed to see Rembrandt’s masterpiece, “Return of the Prodigal Son”.  This painting is huge and it was placed just inside a vast room but facing double doors so that as the visitor steps into the room through the doors, it seems as if she is stepping into the painting to be welcomed and forgiven by the loving father.  It was truly an emotional experience.

Having asked a Russian friend to rescue me from the tiny flat with the ‘lived-in’ wardrobe, I stayed in a luxurious apartment block next door to where Alexander Pushkin, Russia’s best-loved poet, lived and died after being shot in a duel.  Daily I walked up and down the worn stone stairs which Pushkin himself would have climbed.  I also visited the flat where Fyodor Dostoevsky lived and wrote Crime and Punishment.

By default I got to enjoy St Petersburg at its best with a full programme of activities planned for the 300th anniversary.  The Festivities started in earnest during the last week in May, the 27th being the official birthday, and continued throughout June.  Celebrations included a parade of ancient ships on the Neva, folk festivals, sculpture projects, orchestral concerts, fireworks on the river, sailing competitions, sports events, laser shows, a carnival procession, and art and history exhibitions.  Most of the events were outdoors and free!  There were new gardens being planted with countless trees, and rose bushes specially bred to withstand the very low winter temperatures.

Huge stages were erected in Palace Square for Alexander Rozenbaum and Elton John’s concert, and while I was there Paul McCartney and his then wife, Heather Mills, arrived to launch a new children’s charity.  Very appropriately Heather Mills announced she was expecting her first baby!  Sir Paul also received an honorary doctorate from the University.

Now to get closer to the point of my blogpost I will tell you about my visit to the St Peter and Paul Fortress where the first stone was laid for the foundations of the new city.  It was a memorable visit in many ways.  Firstly, I didn’t realise until I saw the blue and white flag flying on the fortress, that St Andrew is the patron saint of St Petersburg as we’ll as Scotland!  This fascinated me, especially as I know that our St George is also the patron saint of Moscow!  It’s a small world isn’t it?

The weather was also very memorable, as there was the most amazing storm while I was at the fortress.  Following a lovely start to the visit in glorious sunshine, there was torrential rain, thunder and lightning, then hailstones to follow!  I got soaked to the skin and took refuge in a deserted low building,  a sort of museum that was unknown to my Russian friends, and was not advertised or publicised in any way.  It turned out to be a real gem full of information, photographs and technology about early space exploration.  It was the actual building where the solid and liquid fuels were first developed for the rockets which enabled space travel.  Inside this museum, which surely would have been secret until very recently, we saw the actual Sputnik artificial satellite and all the technology that went into developing it.  I was amazed by how small and cramped it was.  There was also a display dedicated to Laika, the first dog to go into space and the preserved bodies of Belka and Strelka, the first two dogs who survived being in orbit.  Among many other fascinating displays of capsules, docking vehicles, probes, rockets, and space shuttles, there were the remains of the Luna and Soyuz spacecraft, and a display about Yuri Alexseyevich Gagarin (1934-1968) who was a Russian cosmonaut and the first man to orbit the earth, in 1961.  There was also the actual St Petersburg flag that had been on the Mir Space Station for 161 days.  The flag was returned to earth in time for the tercentenary.

Sadly there was no printed material about this museum and we were not allowed to take photos or film so it was just another wonderful moment to drop into the bottom of my memory.  But the thing that struck me most and has puzzled me since, was that it displayed in great detail the co-operation that had existed between the USA and USSR since the early days of space exploration.  I always thought that there was deep rivalry between the two superpowers but it seems there was actually a lot more co-operation than people generally knew.

So I watched the programme and it was confirmed!

I learned that rockets were being built as early as the 1930s but it was the 1945 Hiroshima bomb that kick started the Russian drive to build a rocket as a weapon because they felt threatened.  The Russian Sergei Korolev was part scientist, part engineer, part manager of the project.  By 1957 he had developed the R7 rocket which was 9 times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb but hopeless as a missile because it was too big, too heavy and too slow.  But it was kept for space exploration which was Korolev’s passion.  In October 1957 this rocket would carry and launch the first satellite to orbit the earth.  It was named Sputnik, which means ‘fellow traveller’.  It travelled at 18000 miles an hour and beamed radio messages back to earth.  Nikita Kruschev was president of USSR as it was then and he asked Korolev to develop and launch another satellite for the 7th November holiday.  To everyone’s surprise this was Sputnik 2 and it carried a passenger, the ill-fated stray dog Laika.  Although she had a capsule with food and water, the cooling system failed and poor Laika died of overheating within 6 hours of take-off.

By 1961 a man was prepared to be launched into space.  As everyone knows, his name was Yuri Gagarin and he must have been incredibly brave.  It took him just 11/4 hours to circle the earth.  His re-entry was alarming with flames rushing past the windows and a burning smell in the capsule followed by ejecting at 7000 metres above the earth.  However he landed, off target but alive, and he became a world hero.

In 1965 another satellite, Voskhod 2 was launched by the R7 rocket, this time with two men squeezed into the capsule.  Once in orbit around the earth one of the cosmonauts went through the air lock and drifted in space 500km above the earth.  He was almost lost as his space suit expanded due to the greater air pressure inside it.  His hands and feet were tingling and he knew he would not fit back through the air lock unless he took drastic action. So risking being starved of oxygen, he had to release air from his suit and get back into the raging hot air lock as fast as possible.  He did it but lost 6kg in that one day through sweating.  On the return trip the cosmonauts again had to eject and landed in a forest where they had to wait for 2 days to be found ~ no GPS or mobile phones then!

Unfortunately things started to go badly wrong in USSR after these triumphs.  The genius Sergei Korolev died in 1966 aged 59 after a routine operation.  In 1967 the cosmonaut, Vladimir Komarov, in Soyuz 1 was killed on re-entry. Yuri Gagarin was killed in a plane crash in 1968.  And in 1969 an explosion wrecked the N1 rocket and the entire launch complex.  The worst disaster happened in 1971 when 3 Russian cosmonauts were asphyxiated on re-entry due to a technical failure.

Meanwhile the USA was forging ahead realising a successful moon landing in 1969.  This was a great achievement but did not lead to further exploration, whereas the USSR was working towards manned space stations where people could live, work and carry out research in space.  By mid 1980s the first permanent orbital station was ready.  It was called MIR which was taken to mean peace, world or village; but actually “the word “mir” referred to a Russian peasant community that owned its own land”.   On MIR cosmonauts could live and work for over a year.  In 1991 as the MIR space station orbited successfully overhead the USSR disintegrated here on earth.  Money for the space programme was cut, indirectly causing another near disaster.  The cargo ship bringing supplies to the MIR space station crashed into it knocking out the electricity.  For a while the cosmonauts observed the sheer beauty of countless stars, polar lights and a spectacular aurora, from a position of the total darkness and absolute silence that can only be found in space.  One of the astro-physicists on board that day was an Anglo/American called Michael Foale, who recently retired.  In the TV programme he repeated the comment that it was “a beautiful sight but a terrible day”.  After this the MIR space station was abandoned to its fate and it burned up eventually when it re-entered the earth’s atmosphere after 15 years orbiting the earth.  It is amazing to think that over 100 cosmonauts or astronauts, male or female, from 12 different countries visited MIR.  MIR brought together two superpower adversaries from a long “Cold War” and taught them how to co-operate.  Mir also showed that we can live and work in space if needs must.  Men and women of courage can overcome terrible problems, and survive life-threatening situations by working together.

The International Space Station ISS, was launched in 1998 to replace MIR.  This is a collaboration between the USA, Russia, Canada, Japan, Italy, France, Germany, Belgium, Netherlands, Sweden, Brazil, Malaysia, South Africa, South Korea and Spain.

I don’t pretend to understand the work that is done on this space station, and I may be very naïve, but I do think that this peaceful collaboration can only be a positive thing.

 

The Winter Olympics in Sochi and Krasnayapolyana
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The Winter Olympics in Sochi and Krasnayapolyana

As the Winter Olympics in our twin town of Sochi gets underway, I am totally glued to the TV to see how much this beautiful area has changed. I remember the many exciting journeys I made to Sochi, and Krasnayapolyana in particular almost 20 years ago. Russia was a totally different place the first time I visited. It was not long after Perestroika and there was still a gloomy rather austere atmosphere reminiscent of Stalinist times. I have written many blogs about my visits to Russia and if you would like to read them you can click on the links below. But I really feel driven to write about one particularly magical place again. This is Krasnayapolyana which is where many of the Olympic events will be held. If you went there today you could never imagine that only 20 years ago it was officially recognised as a totally unspoilt area of outstanding natural beauty. I was lucky enough to spend some time there with my Russian friends and a work colleague, Liz.
Liz and I got up very early one morning at the Hotel Moscow in Sochi. We were being taken on a trip to the Caucasus Mountains for the day. We skipped breakfast and went out to meet Igor, his young daughter Anna, the 2 Natalya’s, both Headteachers, Irena, our interpreter, and another couple. We were driven out of Sochi along the airport road in two Ladas. We followed the Black Sea coastline until we reached the ‘new’ airport which was being built by construction workers from Yugoslavia, as it was then. Apparently they never have enough money for materials so the job is taking years to complete. However, what they have built looked very modern, even futuristic, and very impressive.
At this point we turned inland towards the mountains. We could not go straight on as this was the road to Georgia and there were still Russian tanks along the border to stop refugees from the Abkhazia/Georgia conflict from coming into Russia.
From here on, the journey took two or three hours, passing some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. It reminded me of the best of the Pyrenees with shades of Canada. The colours of the ancient forests of broadleaf trees were indescribably beautiful: Reds, yellows, oranges and all shades of green glinted in the glorious early morning sunshine. Above these trees were the alpine forests of evergreen trees, and beyond those, the everlasting snows. This was the home of the Russian bear, the mountain cat, the black Ousel, the wolf and much more.
All the time we were driving along the course of the Mzymta or ‘wild river’, as its name translates. This river is icy cold, deep and treacherous, coming straight from the snow-capped mountains. I was told that there are 1 metre long red fish (presumably salmon) in this river. The road got steeper, and narrower, and more winding as it climbed higher into the mountains. There were many interesting stops; the Men’s Tears Waterfall, the Ladies’ Tears Waterfall, the ancient cave where Neolithic tools have been found, the memorial to the Red Army soldiers from Krasnapolyana who were butchered and thrown into the ravine in 1927 during the civil war, to name just a few. The road was so dangerous that we could not get out and take many photographs unfortunately.
Eventually we arrived at the village of Krasnapolyana where Igor was born. It was like going back to medieval times in England. There were very few cars, and ours had to drive dead slow to avoid the pigs, hens, cows and dogs wandering at will through the main (and only) street of the village. There were very few people around but one or two slowly plodded by. The pace of life in this village is so slow that it seems as if at some point time stopped, stood still, and then started to go slowly backwards. All around there were little Hansel and Gretel cottages with tiny barns packed to the rafters with the harvest produce. Not a shop or a pub to be seen ~ just little old people living on whatever they could grow or rear, in little houses with little gardens.
We were told that the air and water is so pure here that people have been known to live to 130 or even 140 years old. Some years ago the world’s top biologists got together to stop a bid to hold the winter Olympics in the area.

They considered Krasnapolyana to have the purest and cleanest environment in the whole world.

I can believe it and I am so thrilled that I got to see it in this unspoilt state. It looked and smelled like Paradise to me.
At last we drove the last few bumpy metres through the forest to a clearing by the river. Here we stooped and got out of the cars. The sun was very hot by now and the air was soft, warm, and full of sweet perfume. It was explained to me that much of the greenery growing in the forest could be used for herbal remedies. Every bit of ‘grass’ I picked seemed to have an exotic smell and curative properties according to Natalya. As Liz and I wandered round in raptures at the scenery, the women in our group set about laying out a picnic area.
They emptied the two Ladas and laid out blankets, mattresses, sheets of cardboard, dishes, bowls, cups and saucepans. Then, out came flasks of tea and coffee, bottles of Russian Vodka and an amazing array of green salad, huge tomatoes, freshly made Georgian Lava bread and homemade cheese. Meanwhile the men returned from the forest with twigs, sticks and small branches. They set about building a fire with great precision. Apparently building a fire for cooking food is an exact science, and Russian men take great pride in it. Once the fire was lit, it was fussed over like a new baby until it was ready to put the meat over. Igor skewered three whole chickens which had travelled with us in a huge pan marinating in a batter flavoured with herbs and spices. The men collected water from the river and splashed the fire and the chickens regularly. They told me that this helps stop the chicken’s skin from burning and keeps it moist as it cooks right through. The smell coming from this outdoor barbecue was mouth-watering and I couldn’t wait to eat the food. Liz, being vegetarian, had been horrified by the whole process, but was glad to see a vegetarian selection cooking on a skewer at the edge of the fire.
As the men cooked, animals wandered by to take a look: a family of wild pigs complete with babies, cows of all sizes and shades, dogs and butterflies. It really was quite primitive and biblical and I was totally relaxed just watching and anticipating. When we did sit down on the ground to eat, the meal was superb. Every sense was alive with the sight, the feel, the smell and the taste of the food was complemented by the sounds of the fire spitting and the river rushing by. It was an amazing experience. At the end of the meal we wandered round with 10 year old Anna, writing our names on stones with stones, and drawing the animals we could see, rather as Neolithic man must have done in those caves we had seen. Finishing up, we cleared everything away and set off again to go further along the mountain track.
Liz and I were told that we were going to touch the everlasting snows. I had a dreadful feeling that we were going up the mountain on horseback. But then to our amazement we saw an old ski lift! Before we had time to panic we were sitting on this thing which climbed as far as the eye could see up into the snow-capped mountains.
I was not in the slightest bit bothered by it. I thought this totally untypical relaxed state might have been due to the environment, but Liz reckoned it was due to all the vodkas I had consumed at lunchtime! Either way I loved the splendid views from the top of the ski lift.
After this we set off on the homeward journey. We took detours to give messages to grandmothers, to buy curative honey from the bee farm, to drink coffee, and to see the hydro-electric station and reservoir that supplies these remote and fortunate people with their power. They seem to have everything they need in abundance and all naturally produced. It was a most unusual, thought provoking, pleasurable, and satisfying day. I was very sad to leave Krasnapolyana.
The views on the way down the mountain were even more spectacular than on the way up. The setting sun gave the already beautifully coloured autumn leaves a shimmering golden glow. The only hiccup occurred when I dropped my jar of medicinal honey from this wonderful place. The beekeeper had gone to so much trouble to find me a small jar and filled it for me to take home. But, it smashed to bits right outside our hotel. It seemed almost as if I was not supposed to take anything away from Krasnapolyana.
I have been back to Krasnapolyana several times since then and it has changed out of all recognition. There are new roads, helicopter pads, tourist hotels, new ski lifts and lots of palatial new houses. Mr Putin has a beautiful summer home there and skis regularly on the mountain. And, I am afraid that the 2014 Winter Olympics will bring masses of people and vehicles to this fragile but still beautiful area. I have mixed feelings about the mountain events in Krasnayapolyana, as my daughter is joint owner of USElite Ski camps which has helped train some outstanding skiers. However, I fear that the environment will be ruined. But I feel privileged to have seen it when it was still in pristine condition.

Russian Odyssey part 1
Russian Odyssey Part 2
Russian Odyssey Part 3
The Tree of Friendship

Ravine at the side of the road from Sochi to Krasnayapolyana

Ravine at the side of the road from Sochi to Krasnayapolyana

Everlasting snows at Krasnayapolyana

Everlasting snows at Krasnayapolyana

Colleagues and friends in Krasnayapolyana in 1995

Colleagues and friends in Krasnayapolyana in 1995

Wild pigs wandered by as we prepared our picnic

Wild pigs wandered by as we prepared our picnic

A fresh picnic in the beautiful and still unspoilt Krasnayapolyana 1995

A fresh picnic in the beautiful and still unspoilt Krasnayapolyana 1995

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A Haiku inspired by The 33 Waterfalls

33 Waterfalls in Dzhegosh gorge, Sochi 33 Waterfalls in Dzhegosh Gorge near Sochi

On one of my many trips to Russia, I was taken to an area of outstanding natural beauty in the  Shakhe river valley.  We travelled by coach through rustic villages, stopping along the way at small wineries and family businesses selling home made crafts and furniture. The river flows through the Dzhegosh Gorge, where the 33 waterfalls are to be found, as well as rapids, 13 cascades and countless streams!  In order to get to the gorge you have to walk through a dense forest of ancient Oak, Maple, Alder and Hornbeam trees. There are also some exotic plants as well as mosses and tiny box trees growing wild there.

Once you arrive at the 33 waterfalls there is a steep and rather treacherous climb up a slippery wooden walkway to the top. From there the views are truly breathtaking. It really is a magical place.  Once you have braved the rapids and been soaked by the waterfalls on the way down, you can buy the most amazing pastie type food which is prepared by a local Babushka who cooks them expertly in an old oil drum in the forest.  It looked, and was, rough and ready and I did not see a Food Hygiene certificate, but her food tasted wonderful!

Cascading river

Fragments and falls, crashing through

Walkways of wonder

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Small Stones ~ The stones cry out. . .

Painted pebbles from Russia and beach pebbles from Spain

Painted pebbles from Russia and beach pebbles from Spain

A small stone is a short piece of writing (prose or poetry) that precisely captures a fully-engaged (mindful) moment. The process of finding small stones is as important as the finished product – searching for them will encourage you to keep your eyes, heart and mind open.

ilovesmallstones

ilovesmallstones

Cтарик on the streets

Scrapes a living by painting

And the stones cry out

When I first went to Southern Russia in 1995 it was a very different place to what you see today.  The area around the border with Georgia was very tense.  There were Russian tanks along the main road to the Caucasus mountains to protect the border and to stop refugees from the Abkhazia/Georgia conflict from coming into Russia.  But many were seen walking into Sochi with all the worldly goods that they could carry.  When they needed money for food they would set up little stalls along the roadside and sell their china, clothes or any household goods they could spare.  It was very sad to watch.

In the town these refugees were not the only people struggling for survival.  The value of the ruble had been fluctuating wildly for years.  In Soviet times, the value of the currency could change overnight as a result of government edict as was the case in 1947 and 1961, when citizens woke to find that new rubles would replace old at a rate of 1 to 10, effective immediately! During the last days of Soviet rule and immediately after, the ruble suffered from severe inflation and people’s life savings and pensions were now almost worthless.  In 1988, hundred-ruble notes were a rare sight. But by the mid-1990s, they were only worth a few pennies and the Kopek disappeared from circulation for a while. In 1996, the ruble began to stabilize, and in 1997, the Russian government unveiled a four-year-long switchover to the new deflated currency.    New Ruble notes were introduced in January 1998.  They looked like the old ones, but with three zeroes gone! Five-thousand ruble notes became five-ruble notes. One-thousand ruble notes were replaced by ruble coins and smaller denominations were issued as kopeck coins.  By 2002 the fifty ruble note shown here was worth just £1.

50 rubles, about £1 in 2002

50 rubles, about £1 in 2002

In the absence of a welfare state this hit the older generation hardest.  Those with families could survive, but those without were often destitute and reduced to selling all they owned.  When all their possessions were gone they lived on their wits.

I met an old man in one of Sochi’s beautiful parks.  He had gathered stones around him and was painting scenes on them.  They were exquisite.  He was obviously a very talented artist.  He was selling his painted stones for a few Kopeks.  I would have given him a lot more but he was a proud man so I just bought 3 for what he asked.  I have treasured these stones ever since.  старик means ‘old man’ in Russian and is pronounced (stah-REEK)

Cтарик on the streets

Scrapes a living by painting

And the stones cry out

I keep these painted stones in my glass cabinet with some very treasured small pebbles from a beach in Spain. On a whim I gathered up these pebbles from the spot where my dad had stood gazing out to sea.  I took a photo of him too as he was so lost in his own thoughts that I wondered what he was dreaming of.  Unbeknown to me, this was to be his last holiday, so those pebbles hold wonderful memories.  I literally treasure the ground he walked on.

I gathered the stones

From the beach where you walked, to

The back of beyond

 

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Tears

Today’s haiku is inspired by carpe Diem prompt word “tears”.  It reminded me of the magnificent waterfalls in the Caucasus mountains where hundreds of prisoners lost their lives hacking a way through the mountain to build a road.  One of the waterfalls is called “Lady’s Tears”

From steep mountainside

The Lady’s tears waterfall

Weeps for past sorrows

Image

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Russian Odyssey Part 3 ~ October 1995

This is the day we had been waiting for; the chance to go into our partner schools.  Natalya’s husband arrived to pick me up.  He is a sculptor and artist.  He was obviously very successful ‘pre-perestroika’ as he has a car.  All the vehicles we saw in Sochi seem incredibly old, and made a dreadful noise.  They gave off clouds of smelly blue smoke.  However, the Lada got us to our destination.  The school was in the middle of a dense urban development of high-rise flats.  The area was quite run down with pot-holed roads and rusted metal lying around.

In Russia at that time, the schools were not named but numbered according to how close to the centre of the town or city they were situated.  So school number 1 would be very close to the centre.  Our school was School Number 15 as it was some way out.  Some of my colleagues had much further to travel with schools numbered in 30s and 40s.

School No. 15 was an experimental school.  The Director (Headteacher) and staff were ‘Methodists’ educationally speaking.  They followed the Leonid Zankov (1901-1977) model and were influenced by sociologist, Tarasov.  These were progressive approaches involving the integration of subjects and the development of the whole child.  My interest was stimulated by the fact that Zankov was a colleague of Lev Vygotsky who studied the relationship between teaching, learning and child development.  Vygotsky’s theory on the ‘zone of proximal development’ was to be the basis of the 4 year study I would work on with Natalya in our two schools.  As Zankov was the first to test Vygotsky’s theories in the Russian classrooms in the 1970’s and 80’s, this was very exciting for me.

The method was based on the development of the 3 aspects of a child’s psyche, Intellect, Will and Emotions.

Intellect ~ development involves not only the acquisition of knowledge, but also various kinds of cognitive activities, such as logical thinking, observation, memory, and imagination.

Will ~ is described as the ability to set goals and motivate oneself to achieve them. Will grows out of wishes and desires, and develops as the child achieves his or her goals.

Emotions ~ enable learning where children feel safe and cared for.  In the classroom situation, good teacher/pupil relationships were essential.

In the classroom Zankov’s theories required teachers to focus on:~

  • Teaching at an optimal level of difficulty
  • Emphasizing theoretical knowledge
  • Proceeding at a rapid pace
  • Developing students’ awareness of the learning process
  • The purposeful, systematic development of each student

On the surface the classes reminded me of the “Montessori” classrooms of the sixties in Britain.  However, I was soon to learn that it was far more radical than this.

Inside the school I was welcomed by a student of the ‘method’ from the university, and a lecturer who trained the student teachers in the ‘method’.  We were joined by Valentina, an incredibly dignified lady who had adapted Zankov’s theories and devised the ‘method’ for the schools in this area.

I was taken to the Director’s office to be faced with a table, beautifully set and groaning under the weight of a feast.  I ate pancakes with yoghurt and drank very strong coffee.  After this I was taken on a tour of the school.

The first stop was the medical room which reminded me of a Chinese Chemist’s!  I wasn’t far off the mark as I was greeted by a meditating acupuncturist in what looked like transparent pyjamas and bare feet.  This charming man stopped meditating as soon as I walked in and offered to fix my ‘aura’.  I accepted gratefully and was led to a bed where everyone watched as he manipulated the bones in my arms, hands, legs, and spine.  He was horrified by the tension in my neck and treated this very efficiently, just like my chiropractor at home.  He then taught me how to relax by pressing on various pressure points.  As he pressed on one in my thigh, he looked worried and said I had a problem with my liver.  This could have been due to all the vodka I had consumed to get me through our welcome meal, or it could be long term damage from my gallstone operation.  Either way I was impressed.

By this time the doctor had a queue of children waiting outside his room.  He allowed me to watch as he treated children for all manner of problems with aromatherapy, massage and chiropractic.  This was definitely alternative medicine with a capital A and would lead to court cases for assault in Britain.  But the most alarming thing was that the doctor mixed up his own medicines and even injections, which he gave to children, “to help them leave their parents and settle into school without any problem”.  I could not help but worry that these children are being sedated from the age of 2.

There were 273 children at the school aged between 2 and 10.  The school is open from 7am and most children stay until 7pm.  However, they can stay until 9pm if their parents work unusual shifts; or they can leave early if parents are at home.  The young children slept for 2 or 3 hours in the afternoon.  All of the children were given 4 meals a day of very nutritious food from a detailed menu plan.  All of this was free as the government was very concerned about the poor health of the population generally at this time, and the children particularly.

The children had a wide variety of opportunities in the school.  There was a qualified gymnast to develop the children physically.  I watched two of his lessons which reminded me of drill at the Victorian school in Blists Hill.  There was a trained musician who taught the children to listen and speak through song, dance and drama.  And there were students from the University on teaching practice working with classes.  During the day I saw an integrated curriculum that was intended to develop art, language, music, and nature study.

Some lessons were heavily teacher led.  For example The Butterfly lesson:

The teacher started by demonstrating how to “splatter paint” on a folded piece of paper.  She then allowed the children to choose their own colours and do the same.  She then demonstrated how to cut out a butterfly shape.  The children had a stencil in front of them which they drew round.  They then cut out the shape.  Finally they drew around the butterfly shape and cut it out of their painted paper.  The finished object was very professional.  All the children finished at the same time and placed their butterfly on a perfect paper flower they had made earlier.  They then sat on the carpet and the teacher talked about the life cycle of butterflies.  She showed them photographs of butterflies and told them their names.  The children then sang a song about a butterfly and acted out a little play.

During all this time the ‘nurse’ sat and watched every move the children made.  She clearly had a different role to our nursery nurses as she did not help the children with their work, or take any active part in the lesson.  I assumed that she did the setting up of materials and she may have done the clearing away.

The children all produced an attractive finished butterfly but I was alarmed to be told that these pictures would now be given to a psychologist to analyse for any mental health problems.  One butterfly was shown to me and the Head said, “you can see this child has psychological problems because of the colours she has used.”  It looked perfectly ok to me and I did wonder if they were being over-analytical.

The children did not take their artwork home until the end of the year, which runs from January to December.  Much of their work is stuck into an individual record book.  I looked through many of these books and they were all exactly the same, lots of Origami, scraps of material made into pictures, and cut out ducks, trees and animals.  There was no evidence of children expressing their own imagination or creativity

Newspaper photograph of me joining in a dance class at School number 15

Typical classroom in the kindergarten

Exquisite scenery painted by Head’s husband for a play in school hall

Wonderfully painted little wooden chairs every child had one.

A wonderful interactive maths lesson

Children stop lessons to do physical exercises every so often.

Small group hard at work

Relaxed children working on a collaborative project

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Russian Odyssey Part 2 ~ October 1995

Sochi sign in Russian

The departure lounge at Sheremetova 1 set the tone for our trip to Sochi.  It was packed.  There were babushkas who had been on major shopping trips and had huge parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.  There were business men returning from wheeling and dealing, looking very smart and slightly sinister, carrying impenetrable briefcases.  There were older men who looked like farmers carrying crates of chickens.  All were dressed in dark colours except our group.  We stood out like sore thumbs as foreigners because of our brightly coloured clothes.

We walked to the Aeroflot (Аэрофлот—Российские авиалинии) plane blissfully unaware that this would be a flight like no other we had been on.  The plane was a very old Boeing 737, and unusual.  Getting into the plane was fine but it seemed to be 2 storeys high.  Most of the baggage was left loose below and the seating was accessed by climbing up a wooden ladder.  At the back of the plane was what can only be described as a huge wooden wardrobe.  Here people hung their coats and left their hand luggage, including the chickens.  There was free seating so we were scattered around but settled down quickly, fastening our seat belts.  A rather severe looking air stewardess came round immediately and gave everyone a plastic cup ~ empty.  The engine roared and the plane started taxiing.  Another severe and very blonde stewardess came round and filled all our plastic cups with Coca Cola.  Just then the plane lifted off steeply, the cups tipped over, and we were all soaked in said Coca Cola!  Not the ideal way to start a 4 hour journey.

When we reached the correct altitude the plane levelled out sharply causing the ‘wardrobe’ and its contents to topple forwards.  Fortunately the rear seats stopped it from falling on the passengers and the chickens survived too.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and we arrived safely at our destination, the Riviera of the Black Sea, Sochi.  It was cold and raining but the warmth of our welcome party made up for everything.  A couple of minibuses soon whisked us along the coast road to the town of Sochi.  We were all booked into single rooms on the fourth floor at the Hotel Moskva.

The rooms looked like those in Moscow, very basic, but the bathroom was much worse.  There was a sink, a toilet, a shower, and a cockroach running across the floor.  The drain for the shower was just a hole in the floor.  This hole served to allow everything emptied from the sink, which had no plug, to overflow onto the bathroom floor.  But at least the toilet flushed, but constantly!

Managing to get washed after a fashion, I dressed in my best clothes for our formal welcome dinner.  The meal consisted of two courses, firstly, raw fish from Georgia which is a local delicacy.  Unfortunately I don’t eat fish, as it brings me out in a rash,  so I waited for the main course of Chicken Kiev.  There were lots of toasts and speeches in Russian which were translated for us.  After dinner we met our hosts, the Headteachers from the schools we had been partnered with.  My host was Natalya who spoke no English.  As Head of a kindergarten, she is responsible for 270 pupils aged 2 to 10.  We got on very well from the start and soon found out a lot about each other and our families.  The evening was a great success and we went back to the hotel feeling very positive.

Our welcome meal in Sochi

I decided to skip the shower and went to bed fully covered and with a light on to keep the cockroaches at bay.

I slept quite well and woke to find that Sochi’s famous ‘Mediterranean’ climate had turned quite cold and it looked like rain.  Unfortunately, at our briefing back in Gloucestershire, we had been told it would be quite sub-tropical, so we only brought light summer clothes!  Feeling a bit despondent I went down to breakfast to find everyone else shivering too.  The raw fish was having another outing so I skipped breakfast altogether as did my friend Liz, a vegetarian.

Things looked up when we were picked up by minibuses and taken to the Education offices.  Here we met the Chief Education Officer and his Assistant CEO, Irina.  There were also some Education advisors and all of the Headteachers from our partner schools.  There were interesting and informative talks for 4 hours and we learned a great deal at this meeting about the education philosophy and practice in Sochi.  We returned to our hotel for lunch which was very lavish, and very familiar, consisting of fish soup, raw fish, and Chicken Kiev, after which we went for a guided tour of Sochi.

This was wonderful as we got to see the sea (complete with lighthouse and huge model dinosaurs), the parks, the gardens, the street market, and the Outdoor Education Centre.  This facility was most impressive.  We were shown slide shows and video of field study trips undertaken by children as young as 10.  They travel enormous distances to go hiking, mountain climbing, orienteering, and white-water rafting.  It all looked very exciting but hair-raisingly dangerous.

Coca Cola stalls in the park

Bus at the bus stop

Customs building in Sochi on the Black sea

memorial in the park reflecting the fact that Sochi is a Sanatorium town or Health Spa

Museums, theatres and art gallery in Sochi ~ 1995

Our hotel Moskva, the shopping mall, statue of Lenin and a writer and the theatre in Sochi ~ 1995

Sochi’s Catholic Church

Sochi’s old buildings

Sunset over the Black sea

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Russian Odyssey Part 4 ~ The Everlasting Snows ~ October 1995

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When I wrote my Haiku, entitled ‘Sleep’, about a 36 hour trip on a sleeper train from Moscow to Sochi, I said that I would write more about my Russian adventures.  This is the first instalment!

It was October 1995 when my colleague, Liz and I got up very early at the Hotel Moscow in Sochi.  We were being taken on a trip to the Caucasian Mountains for the day.  We skipped breakfast and went out to meet Igor, his young daughter Anna, the 2 Natalya’s, both Headteachers, Irena, our interpreter, and another couple.  We were driven out of Sochi along the airport road in two Ladas.  We followed the Black Sea coastline until we reached the ‘new’ airport which was being built by construction workers from Yugoslavia, as it was then.  Apparently they never have enough money for materials so the job is taking years to complete.  However, what they have built looked very modern, even futuristic, and very impressive.

At this point we turned inland towards the mountains.  We could not go straight on as this was the road to Georgia and there were still Russian tanks along the border to stop refugees from the Abkhazia/Georgia conflict from coming into Russia.

From here on, the journey took two or three hours, passing some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen.  It reminded me of the best of the Pyrenees with shades of Canada.  The colours of the ancient forests of broadleaf trees were indescribably beautiful: Reds, yellows, oranges and all shades of green glinted in the glorious early morning sunshine.  Above these trees were the alpine forests of evergreen trees, and beyond those, the everlasting snows.  This is the home of the Russian bear, the mountain cat, the black Ousel, the wolf and much more.

All the time we were driving along the course of the ‘wild river’, as its name translates.  This river is icy cold, deep and treacherous, coming straight from the snow-capped mountains.  I was told that there are 1 metre long red fish (presumably salmon) in this river.  The road got steeper, and narrower, and more winding as it climbed higher into the mountains.  There were many interesting stops; the Men’s Tears Waterfall, the Ladies’ Tears Waterfall, the ancient cave where Neolithic tools have been found, the memorial to the Red Army soldiers from Krasnapolyana who were butchered and thrown into the ravine in 1927 during the civil war, to name just a few.  The road was so dangerous that we could not get out and take many photographs unfortunately.

Eventually we arrived at the village of Krasnapolyana where Igor was born.  It was like going back to medieval times in England.  There were very few cars, and ours had to drive dead slow to avoid the pigs, hens, cows and dogs wandering at will through the main (and only) street of the village.  There were very few people around but one or two slowly plodded by.  The pace of life in this village is so slow that it seems as if at some point time stopped, stood still, and then started to go slowly backwards.  All around there were little Hansel and Gretel cottages with tiny barns packed to the rafters with the harvest produce.  Not a shop or  a pub to be seen ~ just little old people living on whatever they could grow or rear, in little houses with little gardens.

We were told that the air and water is so pure here that people have been known to live to 130 or even 140 years old.  Some years ago the world’s top biologists got together to stop a bid to hold the winter Olympics in the area.  They considered Krasnapolyana to have the purest and cleanest environment in the whole world.  I can believe it and I am so thrilled that I got to see it in this unspoilt state.  It looked and smelled like Paradise to me.

At last we drove the last few bumpy metres through the forest to a clearing by the river.  Here we stooped and got out of the cars.  The sun was very hot by now and the air was soft, warm, and full of sweet perfume.  It was explained to me that much of the greenery growing in the forest could be used for herbal remedies.  Every bit of ‘grass’ I picked seemed to have an exotic smell and curative properties according to Natalya.  As Liz and I wandered round in raptures at the scenery, the women in our group set about laying out a picnic area.

They emptied the two Ladas and laid out blankets, mattresses, sheets of cardboard, dishes, bowls, cups and saucepans.  Then, out came flasks of tea and coffee, bottles of Russian Vodka and an amazing array of green salad, huge tomatoes, freshly made Georgian Lava bread and homemade cheese.  Meanwhile the men returned from the forest with twigs, sticks and small branches.  They set about building a fire with great precision.  Apparently building a fire for cooking food is an exact science, and Russian men take great pride in it.  Once the fire was lit, it was fussed over like a new baby until it was ready to put the meat over.  Igor skewered three whole chickens which had travelled with us in a huge pan marinating in a batter flavoured with herbs and spices.  The men collected water from the river and splashed the fire and the chickens regularly.  They told me that this helps stop the chicken’s skin from burning and keeps it moist as it cooks right through.  The smell coming from this outdoor barbecue was mouth-watering and I couldn’t wait to eat the food.  Liz, being vegetarian, had been horrified by the whole process, but was glad to see a vegetarian selection cooking on a skewer at the edge of the fire.

As the men cooked, animals wandered by to take a look: a family of wild pigs complete with babies, cows of all sizes and shades, dogs and butterflies.  It really was quite primitive and biblical and I was totally relaxed just watching and anticipating.  When we did sit down on the ground to eat, the meal was superb.  Every sense was alive with the sight, the feel, the smell and the taste of the food was complemented by the sounds of the fire spitting and the river rushing by.  It was an amazing experience.  At the end of the meal we wandered round with 10 year old Anna, writing our names on stones with stones, and drawing the animals we could see, rather as Neolithic man must have done in those caves we had seen.  Finishing up, we cleared everything away and set off again to go further along the mountain track.

Liz and I were told that we were going to touch the everlasting snows.   I had a dreadful feeling that we were going up the mountain on horseback.  But then to our amazement we saw an old ski lift!  Before we had time to panic we were sitting on this thing which climbed as far as the eye could see up into the snow-capped mountains.

I was not in the slightest bit bothered by it.  I thought this totally untypical relaxed state might have been due to the environment, but Liz reckoned it was due to all the vodkas I had consumed at lunchtime!  Either way I loved the splendid views from the top of the ski lift.

After this we set off on the homeward journey.  We took detours to give messages to grandmothers, to buy curative honey from the bee farm, to drink coffee, and to see the hydro-electric station and reservoir that supplies these remote and fortunate people with their power.  They seem to have everything they need in abundance and all naturally produced.  It was a most unusual, thought provoking, pleasurable, and satisfying day.  I was very sad to leave Krasnapolyana.

The views on the way down the mountain were even more spectacular than on the way up.  The setting sun gave the already beautifully coloured autumn leaves a shimmering golden glow.  The only hiccup occurred when I dropped my jar of medicinal honey from this wonderful place.  The beekeeper had gone to so much trouble to find me a small jar and filled it for me to take home.  But, it smashed to bits right outside our hotel.  It seemed almost as if I was not supposed to take anything away from Krasnapolyana.

I have been back to Krasnapolyana several times since then and it has changed out of all recognition.  There are new roads, helicopter pads, tourist hotels, new ski lifts and lots of palatial new houses.  Mr Putin has a beautiful summer home there and skis regularly on the mountain.  And, I am sad to say that the 2014 Winter Olympics will be held in Krasnapolyana, which will bring masses of people and vehicles to this fragile but still beautiful area.  I fear that the environment will be ruined.  But I feel privileged to have seen it when it was still in pristine condition.

Igor, Natalya, Liz and friends picnic Russian style
Igor in charge of the campfire
Wonderful fresh food cooked over the fire beside the river
Unspoilt forest and wild pigs at the foot of Krasnapolyana
melted snow feeds the river rushing down towards Sochi
Krasnapolyana in 1995
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Sleep ~ Haiku

Today’s post is inspired by September challenge on haiku heights.  The word today is SLEEP and it reminded me of a wonderful journey I took by train from Moscow to Sochi on the Black Sea coast.  I will write a series of blogs about my many visits to Russia and the amazing experiences I had there.  But for now I can say that 36 hours on a Russian sleeper train is an experience I will never forget for many reasons!

Night train to Sochi

A cultural odyssey

Vast Russia unfolds

The entrance to Sochi, town name in Russian

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Island and Lights haiku

Oops I missed a day yesterday in the haiku Heights challenge as I had a dreadful migraine and could not face the computer.  However all well today so am sneaking both in together!

Island Haiku

In Ladoga Sea

Russia’s rejected lived, on

Old Valaam Island

Valaam Monastery

Blind residents on the island

The new Valaam Monastery

Across Lake Ladoga

I visited Russian Karelia and Finland in 2001 on a tour of Monasteries and Orthodox Churches when I was studying Icons.  It was a totally wonderul trip and I saw some magnificent sights.  We stayed at the new Valaam monastery where there is a brilliant iconographer.  I learned a lot from him.  We also visited the Old Valaam Monastery which is on an island in lake Ladoga.  In 2001 the island was a sad and menacing place.  The monastery and cathedral were badly damage; with lots of deliberate damage from its troubled past and natural damage from the severe weather.  In times past Russia’s disabled soldiers and rejected people, many suffering awful physical and mental problems were sent to this island.  They were virtually abandoned there, isolated from the rest of the world and had to fend for themselves as best they could.   They had no love for the buildings or the faith of the few monks left there and lived in abject poverty and squalor.

I am thrilled to say that the monastic community is now thriving and the buildings are restored.  The website http://valaam.ru is just wonderful and will tell you all about the history of this special ancient place.  There is also a wonderful picture gallery so do look at it if you have time.

As I mentioned I am very interested in Icons and I loved to travel and take photographs or collect pictures of old icons.  My favourites are the Marian or Theotokos (Bearer of God) ones, and I have a collection from all over the world.  It fascinates me that every culture has their own take on the Mother of God and I have black ones, Chinese ones, and even an Indian squaw one from a reservation in NW Canada.  There seems to be a deep need in every culture to revere a mother figure so that is what my next Haiku reflects:~

Lights haiku

She lights up my life

Motherhood epitomised,

My icon, my rock.

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A Tree of Friendship in a Peace Garden

The town of Sochi stretches for 145 km along the picturesque Black Sea Coast of the Western Caucasus.  It is in the Krasnodar region of Russia.  Because of the sub-tropical climate, and being in an area of outstanding natural beauty, it has developed into a popular health resort and favourite holiday destination for people from all parts of Russia, and more recently, other parts of the world.

Sochi is not only a town of health and recreation, but also a town dedicated to peace and friendship.

Sochi is linked with several communities in other parts of the world.  Being a spa town it was natural, if slightly amazing, for Sochi and Cheltenham to become twin towns, which they did many years ago.  This link thrives still and there are regular exchanges made by people of all ages, for many reasons and from all walks of life.

In 1973 an avenue of palm trees dedicated to the friendship of “twin towns” was set out in Sochi’s superb Arboretum.  And, there is a Glade of Friendship in the town’s Riviera Park formed by evergreen magnolia trees planted by statesmen, public leaders, and cosmonauts.  On 1 October 1975, the Soyuz and Apollo space crews set out the beautiful magnolias here in the name of peaceful space exploration.

But, most impressive in my opinion, is the Tree of Friendship in Sochi’s Peace Garden.  People from all walks of life and many different countries have travelled to Sochi and visited this famous tree.  Astronauts, Politicians, Hiroshima bomb survivors, Arctic Explorers, and tens of thousands of ordinary people, who, for one reason or another have been drawn to Sochi and to the Peace Garden.

The original citrus fruit tree was planted in 1937 and it has now grown into a whole orchard propagated from cuttings.  It is traditional for everyone who visits to leave a small gift from their community.  This custom has resulted in a unique collection of amazing items, which are now on display in a small museum in the peace garden.  There is a small charge to visit the Peace Garden and the Museum, which raises funds for its maintenance.  There is also a visitor’s book with some moving entries:  Long ago, M A Uljanov wrote,

“Everything begins with little things – fruit develops from the bud and a swift current is formed by tiny drops.  If each person did some good, if only a little, our earth would become a Garden of Friendship.”

I have travelled to Russia several times since 1995.  I would like to write a book about my impressions and experiences; the spectacular scenery; the people I have met; the churches I have visited, and the exquisite Icons I have seen.  But, the most memorable thing I have seen without doubt is the Tree of Friendship in the Peace garden.