The snow storm is beating violently against my windows. They are already completely covered in snow, no light escapes my room anymore. The doors open arduously and the windows stay shut. Fresh air would be fine, but not at the price of a severe drop in temperature and a puddle of water in the middle of the room. What next you may ask? Wait for the blizzard to be over to go to the store and grab a cold one in attendance of the boys? Well, there is a chance that they will never get through the walls of frozen water. They might just get stuck and will be force to nag each other`s dying feet while waiting for a change in atmospheric pressure or help to –
come34qw
77777777777777
Excuse this gibberish. In a futile attempt to express its creative and communicative self to its distinguished feeders, the house cat decided to climb over my keyboard. It`s clearly lacking some finer coordination to properly use the keyboard. Don’t mind her too much.
Maybe you would like to hear a short overview of what happened this year? Some of it you may have already read in previous blog articles (about my time in Georgia and Türkiye), but what happened afterwards? Do you care to know how I ended up in yet another snowy and cold place?
Well, regarding all the shit that went down this year, starting from a large-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia, the re-election of both Winnie the Pooh in China and ultra-right-winged Netanhayu in Israel, the crack-down of peacefully protesting ladies in Iran and everything in between, it’s seems vain of me to try and profile myself and my life. I will content myself with sharing some travel pictures at the end of the article. Scroll down for the slide show 😉
I was on a Erasmus+ project in Türkiye, in Antalya, where, after very conflicting and ambiguous instructions given to us, we had some audio-visual and entertaining learning material at the ready to present it to local schools in Antalya. The aim was to show them a way how they could fully independently teach themselves some values and skills. It was the 24th of February. While we were riding on the bus, I got the news of the massed assault on Kyiv, the near complete destruction of Ukrainian air defenses. I was in schock. All of this half-assed PR trick – going to schools to present our work and taking pictures of it – felt ridiculous. Even more than before. With this “Special Operation”, as the fascists liked to call it, I felt personally attacked. I had studied Russian for 5 years, visited Russia and had lived among them. And suddenly this important and plentiful phase in my life tasted bitter, trampled on, ruinous. An era of nebulosity had commenced, that had gradually scattered during summer as the Ukrainian army made some greater breakthroughs. Also, for once I felt the ubiquitous European unity that politicans loved to use, but never fully managed to convey to a wider public. I’m still on very good terms with my Russian, Ukrainian and Belorussian friends. They have all distanced themselves even more from Russian politics.
So, dear readers, Ukraine is officially European, not Russian. It certainly is not a “brother nation” of Russia. It seekes it alliances elsewhere, somewhere where it had not been belittled and its sovereignity not mistreated for a century and more (it certainly has been by the major powers of WWI and WWII, but they have given up on their claims on Ukrainian soil. Save Hungary and its Victator Orban…)
Now I live in Tallinn, Estonia. A country that had been subjected by the Soviets for a long time too and had suffered a similar fate as Ukraine (no Holodomor though). The anti-Russian sentiment is enormous too here, there’s no denying it, no embellishing of this fact. It’s deeply rooted in everyone’s mind, ranging all the way from the former Soviet citizens to the young and educated. I’m working for the German-Baltic Chamber of Commerce, the AHK, and have a lot of time to follow the news, which has become one of my most important drives during this winter. I get to follow all the inequalities, the hate and disasters, the massive rearmement, the wars and troubles that entail death and suffering – all while pretending to be working for the company. 2023 will hopefully show some light.
Surely, it is not my intention to paint the devil on everything. I greatly enjoyed reading about COP27 in Egypt, though little yielding as it may be, it sent another important message to the world. Especially since some activists were rather aggressive and were confronting the global destroyers of the environment. I hope that their feeling of unassailability fades! Plus there is so much good worth fighting for and people and leaders have taken steps to tackle some problems. I was surprised by the US, by Joe Biden and his unquestionable support for Ukraine, and by Brasil that they are were so braindead as to vote for Bolsonaro again. We have grown closer yet again. Many of us.
Well, let’s get to the fun part.
Itinerary of 2022. Starting from snowy Kutaisi, I crawled through Türkiye, skipping the Balkans, sojourning in Luxembourg, traveling through Eastern Europe and finally starting work in Tallinn, Estonia.
Pictures taken in 7 countries. Can you guess which ones? This part is dedicated to my friends. It’s hard to include all of you beautiful people, please, don’t feel offended if you don’t find yourself here.
This here below is an extract from the projects that I joined or have undertaken myself. They include setting up a stop-motion film set in a hotel in Antalya, doing my Scuba diving lessons, living in Georgia and surviving Corona-related boredom by drawing portraits and doing a more or less sucessful short film in Detmold. And there was another film made in Türkiye. Here’s the link:
The road to happiness is paved with many a difficult obstacle. It’s a deliberate choice to walk it, to suffer on the way and perchance to find a destination. But, goaddamn, it’s still better than working 40 meaningless hours a week!
Okay, now to the final words to conclude all of this. 2022 was a challenging year for many, including myself. It has also been a year of opportunities and of realisations. It may have paved my way for the future, thanks to many supporting and beloveth friends and for all those people that popped up and showed me an alternative path or brought some brightness into dark days, when all lights seemed to have faded. Somehow I know what lays ahead of me now, and though I don’t know where to my feet will guide me, it’s gonna be a meaningful passage through the world and time. So, here’s to some wisdom: Choose a meaningful path – it’s up to you and only you to decide what brings you meaning-, stay true to yourself, choose happiness. And most importantly: Choose life.
I’ve got this request from a fellow student and a dear friend of mine, whether I’m going to write about friendship and my relationship with some people that I got to know in Russia. And I thought that, yeah sure! Why not tell a few stories.
What exactly did she ask? Hold on, gotta check it quickly… aha… yeah! She wanted to write about “us”. I was also surprised about this way of putting it. Indeed, she wanted to do it herself and I gently wished her good luck, telling her to deliver “качество” (Russian for quality). Apparently, I must have misunderstood her, for she corrected herself, requesting me to do it. “So, like, about our friendly relationship, the Erasmus kids or Kazan?”, I wondered. Then she suggested me to do a combo of all three things, believing I would come up with something suitable for her request (somebody has to believe in me at least), and that it would be amazing if I could add some nicknames to polish the story a little. So be it! Here’s one to friendship.
Going through the articles that I published on Russia so far I distinguished a relatively persistent negative trait that connects my impressions on different topics. Of course, it would be unfair to treat everything as if it had been awful or unpleasant. Though there were times where I had wished to be far away, longing for a common sense of rationality or a simple vegetarian restaurant, the opposite was also sometimes the case. It was the constant energy and support of a handful of people that kept me going through this experience. I feel like I owe them a lot. For it was their complete determination to abstain from any surrender of their personality that made them so valuable an asset to the group dynamic of our class and to my mental well-being. All of us faced the same problems – some were, of course, more prepared for them then others – giving that their language skills were more advanced, be it that they could cope with the general food quality easier than me -, my friends remained true to their principles and personal ideologies. Now that I’m considering who’s the most deserving to have a part in my story, I’m experiencing difficulties deciding. All of my friends from there had their own personal characteristic traits that made them stand apart from the crowd. On top of that, I wish not to anger anyone by not mentioning them. I will, however, restrict myself to the most close friends of mine.
First of all, I would like to present KyöstiOfficial to you. It’s basically the only one who actually truly had his nickname during the project, stemming from his Instaprofile. KyöstiOfficial has the special ability that he does precisely and only exactly what he wants to do. Never would he forcefully make himself change his mind. Nor would be pretend to like something that he was, in fact, against. As he appeared to be a strong-minded personality who would never betray his own intentions or lie to anyone, we always sought to introduce him to our casual hangouts. What’s more is that he was constantly high on snooze, pushing small baggies of tobacco in between his upper lip and his gum (which added something to his mysterious and unique nature). He most secretly attend the Russian classes: He would be sitting in the back rows, not steering a muscle during discussions rounds in the vain hope of not being asked to add to our thin round. He was certainly not invisible, and indeed he was greatly appreciated by all the teachers, despite his intermediate Russian. It was possible that for the exact reason that they all loved him (and so do all of his friends) that they always wanted him to speak. Life can be really troublesome sometimes… Жизнь не сахар!
With him I rode all the way to the Russian steppe in search of some peaceful place, that probably reminded us of our homes, where the mind isn’t disturbed by the constant chatter or the constant harmful car emissions. The path there had us come up with creativity to figure out how best to react to changes in planning. In the end it seemed like a never-ending recalculations, with mathematical formulas in disarray. Blablacar switched into hitchhiking, bus, train, hitchhiking, almost taxi and more hitchhiking. His patience was truly unbeatable during this trip. We may not have bought the Sterlitamak magnets, we managed to take a pic with dear Vladimir Iilich in Salavat.
This is not Lenin
Except from our irregular trips somewhere or the camping in woods, we didn’t leave Kazan together as one complete group very often. On one of those occasions we went to take a bath in march. The vapour was escaping the steamy tent in large white clouds as we protruded the place to take refreshing refuge in the clear water of the Blue Lake, the Глубакое озеро. Having felt the strange aqua-thermal sensation, we longed for the smiling group of students who all studied Russian and their engulfing warmth. Many of us had gone through much during that time – the adaptation to the absurdity that was on Russian level was comforting and challenging, for most were happy to return home after their stay (at least for a still unknown time) – so that the support and guaranteed respect for each other was always something we could count on. Let loose in a somewhat bizarre world, we created bonds between each other that would overcome nationalities, or rather, thrive thanks to the differences in our upbringing and culture. Some lived up to the expectations of national stereotypes (e.g. a predilection for drinks in Finish people, the spirited, Italian hand movements while talking,…) while others shook the foundations of the classical way of displaying the life of their specific home country. It was especially the Germans (or those living there) who did their best at shattering any German stereotype: punctuality and efficiency. We would eventually reach a certain point, where even the most obstinate teacher would stop questioning our late arrivals in class.
Clearly one extraordinarily remarkable character is the musician and friend of fine arts and he’s no other than Mr. Schubert. First name: Ludwig. You wouldn’t believe what value a brilliant name such as his possesses; it can literally grant you access to place that would have been out of your reach. In many occasions it fully astonished new acquaintances. They would be merry. As a fine addition Ludwig sometimes added that he’s playing the piano, which instantly made him become something of a musical icon. Even the officials usually plaintive world was shattered for a millisecond, so that they gave him the key to the piano room where he could play all by himself for hours. I wish for him that he eventually gets him piano at home in Berlin. It would mean an infinite evenings of jolly evenings!
He was one of my first acquaintances when I moved to Berlin and has ever since welcomed my into his flat. There we would discuss our time in Berlin and the near future – all that with a glass of wine at hand. The idea to visit Russia and to experience all of its absurdities would eventually strike us as a promising plan. Little did we know at that time that we would be dropped in an intensive two weeks of dealing with bureaucracy and preparing for the interview with an official from a Russian university, which, despite the coffee and black tea in our bloodstreams, went fairly acceptable (I might have called the city St.Petersburg by its old name Leningrad).
As devoted readers may have already read, we did move to the Russian city of Kazan right on the Volga Хуйолга river for reason of academic studies. We would share a shared flat with a brainless English guy – dear old Mikey-boy kept us wishing that he might take a looong and frosty stroll through the endless forests of Northern Siberia – and discover all of Russia’s countless absurdities and contrasts. Thanks to his photographic interest I could rest my freezing hands in the warm entrails of my jacket without bothering too much about taking photos. If I spotted something, it was easier for him to capture the moment, rather than risking frostbite myself. Whenever we returned to our shared room, we would warm ourselves with some illegal alcohol that was always comfortably stacked away in the dark corners of our wardrobes and prepare a simply dish, such as French onion soup. A nice onion soup requires long hours of slow cooking and some more of that illegal substance called wine; it’s smell filled the hallways, equally distributing the odour of white wine throughout the building.
Much more can be said about our tricky situation in Kazan and the way we mutually assisted each other in dealing with bureaucracy, strict authorities, stubborn teachers and our inner temptation to let everything be, but I’d rather end this part by referring to an older article (i.e. Breathing in the air of Glasnost and other stories from within the Ural mountain range) and my greatest gratitude towards him for following through with our silly plan to its end.
One plan that didn’t fully fail, despite ever changing means of transportation that drastically change throughout our preparation time at home and during our stay in Russia, including as many possibilities as six: buying an authentic LADA with which we could have traversed all of Russia in a speed similar to the development of public opinion in Soviet Russia, renting a car, taking a train, hitchhiking, taking marshrutka or even asking for military support (considering Ludwig’s uncle’s proximity to Russian military, this appeared somewhat within the limits of the possible). Even our initial idea to move to Yekaterinburg instead of Kazan was quickly thrown overboard. Little of what we planned actually did come into effect.
We are in a crass contrast to the Italian students. All of them appeared to know what their future will look like. That is, apart from on an emotional basis, where they surprised us and, mostly likely, themselves with their sudden changes in partners. The absurdities didn’t seem to bother them as much since they hadn’t really put too much consideration into this matter.
Both Russian mindset and its language seem to be about equally complicated to understand and mastering both at the same time requires a lot of attention and work. There’s different ways of how best to deal with this problem. Combining them worked best for me, as I got to e.g. listen to songs (mostly Viktor Coi) and then analyse the lyrics so in order to memorise new words by hearing the words repeatedly in your head while rambling through Kazan. Other ways could include literature or playing a theater role in a Russian piece. There were those students who approached the language learning process from a practical direction. However, apparently a language can be treated solely as a means of communication, therefore, dealing with the cultural or political aspect can be disregarded as useless. Some of our fellow foreign students had, prior to Russia, learnt a very decent level of Russian that was almost flawless when it came to grammatical aspects, however, they had troubles naming a single Russian band upon meeting us. They were immune to all of the nonsense that was forced on us, because they hardly questioned the system in any critical way which gave them an incredible advantage. It was especially the Italian students, who were surprised to know that the system Putin has (re-)introduced some very silly laws (though some locals were also not informed about it as well).
Maybe it was the obvious oblivion for most features of Russian musical culture and questionable political delusions that made a handful of people disciplined to a degree that they could communicate almost entirely in the Russian language outside of (sometimes) frustrating courses while, simultaneously, prepare for IELTS test and translate all of Homer’s Odyssey from English into Italian. Time to introduce to the blog a new Italian girl: Beatrice, the girl that goes by a different name, but who inspired me to write this very entry that you are reading at this moment.
Beatrice is extremely devoted to the cause and took up the challenge of living in Russia and learning the language with ease – or at least so it appeared. Blessed almost exclusively with positive character traits she could have served as an inspiration to us when it comes to punctuality, hard-working, language acquisition and reliability concerning homework. And, indeed, she was one of the few foreign friends that I’ve acquired during my stay in Kazan who would insist on speaking Russian. Though my brains came steaming out of my ears after the initial first weeks of lessons (a great adaptation to the language occurred with great force – the cold of the Russian winter helped cool our overheated heads), discussions during our walk through dense snowfall back to the student’s dorm tickled out a little bit of energy.
What shocked me therefore, for it is in crass contrast with my perspective, that she was practically entirely unaware of modern Russian culture, music and even politics. Why burden oneself with learning a language as complicated as Russian if of is all but dimly aware of what to do with it? Possibly out of contemplation that, at the end of one’s studies, there WILL be job opportunities (e.g. as translator/interpreter)? Although I am grateful of her efforts to make me be understood by Russian natives, I am not sure if I managed to raise her interest in Russian culture.
Russia, the land of contrasts, where everything should be expected, especially as it to megalomaniac ideas or ideals that grazed off of both sides of the extremes. This probably stems from the harsh climate that provides the coldest of winters and the hottest summers alike – Russia, the great sauna. And in this conditions people had come up with gigantic living quarters that stretch as far as the eye can see, though, одновременно, containing as many constitutional elements as any right-winged populist speech – that is little to nothing. In between enormous hubs of technological progress that are scattered all over the stupendous surface of Russia lay 1000s of miles of backwardly nothingness.
The diversity of the Russian soul manifests itself in its inhabitants and in those who reside in it, even temporarily. On one hand we have the hard-working Italians, whose energy didn’t diminish all throughout the semester, while on the other hand we have Uka, the Inebriate Mongolian Viking.
Uka – epitome of laziness and sociability, mostly in combination with procrastination and alcohol abuse. Though always defending the grandeur of the Mongolian empire or whatever is left of it, his patriotism does not present a hindrance to interculturality, especially concerning exchange of musical knowledge. Therefore, Uka manifests itself mainly in two ways: a fostered sense of belonging to the Mongolian nation, enabling him to carry on lengthy discussions about this very country, laying out major historical aspects and political manoeuvres of the leading families to anyone (particularly to Chinese people), and the willingness to absorb every kind of musical recommendation, placing them in a cognitive spectrum – some genres feature qualities over other genres, with certain mixes amplifying in an ultimate greatness, namely Level 5. Level 5 mostly contain traces of folkloric songs, combined with elements of modern rock/metal. Some may say that this is Post Modern music. Here are some examples:
Old friends sharing their experiences with governmental experiments concerning Acid in the tap water
Half-sarcastic, though witty transition! Despite the repressive nature of our student’s dorm and its arbitrary nature, we got into touch with some Russian fellows from out of this dimension. Credits go to Kyösti.Official for this one, as he introduced The Dudes to us. The dudes befriended each other already at a very young age and probably swore at that time that they should destabilise Kazan as much as possible by incessantly challenging Russian laws and codes of behaviour. This expression of civil disobedience, though not necessarily always wanted or anticipated by themselves, displayed itself in a profound liking of foreigners, whom they invited to home parties; those would often escalate into trespassing onto a construction side.
Are they considered to be a threat to the state just because they climb abandoned places?
Maybe. It’s Russia. But this, far from being the worst things that we could have done, was barely a drop in an ocean of stereotypes and dangers (not just to the state, though). Not only had Pasha, one of The Dudes, tuned his car to such a degree that the acceleration was bound to self-obliterate the vehicle (while cables were hanging out from the front part), he also had a lot a gadgets in his flat that could pose a threat. It’s one thing to have some radioactive isotopes stored on the balcony where everyone smokes, it’s another to have extremely reactive Potassium stored it as well – in due course he’d demonstrate this element, and throw it down his balcony into the snow beneath; a formidable explosion followed its impact. They were some of the most exceptional people though. A radio communication set in the living room, a few guitars plus amplifiers that would made the neighbours go on a late-night rampage to the restore order, a good load of beer and a loaded playlist of car tuning always ready on youtube added up to an outstanding party. Those were the moments when my stuttered and strangled Russian rendered me particularly speechless – a feeling that is mostly negligible while hitchhiking.
I was glad to be with them, here at the end of all things
It’s difficult to asses how many more names, places and faces should be named, and, doing so, how many more names should be disfigured and regurgitated in a grotesque way. Despite the fact that all have individual traits 180° opposite to the ones even of like-minded people, some specific characteristics could only be tickled out, as the group dynamic came into play.
Ludwig and I have way to the combined Finish effort (Kyösti.Official and The TitAntti) at consuming beer before Русское кино in order to make the films a tad funnier. It was one of those precious masculine moments: 30 minutes of tranquility and sunshine, just about enough to soften the emotional downfall that followed the previous lessons. Beer shaped this lovely friendship.
Coincidence got me thinking back to Luxembourg, thanks to the two classmates of mine who both originate more or less in the same region as my humble self. I’m delighted to realise that, whenever I return home, there will be friends waiting whom I have met in the far East and therefore share a unique fondness of heart.
ComeIn, the cheap Anti-Café on the student’s dorm’s campus, often instigated me to spend my sunday evening in a discussing way, protecting well-grounded arguments for a good cause, beneficent to all. It was the single-most international meeting point in Kazan. Any ethnicity or nation was represented, and a vivid exchange never failed to establish between those who attended. The conclusion of this somehow found expression in us playing frisbee during the happy evenings of Ramadan, while listening to Russian Hard Bass and screaming “Parkour!” like absolute madmen (and women).
This last picture will accurate exemplify our relations, taken beside the Глубакое озеро in the fading months of winter, just after a refreshing swim. One will never know what’s gonna await one at the end of it all. Much that was will be forgotten, fading away, becoming rumour and eventually legend. And our moments were legendary, in our particular idiom. And that’s life for you. Some moments are so precious, that they are worth waiting and remembering.
“А “жизнь” – только слово, есть лишь любовь и есть смерть… Эй! А кто будет петь, если все будут спать? Смерть стоит того, чтобы жить, А любовь стоит того, чтобы ждать…“ – Viktor Coi, Легенда
Nachdem wir in diesem absurden Russland angekommen sind und die erste Woche ohne Frostbeulen oder Erfrierungen überstanden haben, haben wir erste Kontakte mit der lokalen Mafia geschlossen. Ja.
Ein Spaziergang durch unbekannte Orte führt oft dazu, dass man seinen eignen Horizont permanent dehnt. Obwohl man sich an einem solchen Ort zur gleichen Zeit unsicher und angreifbar fühlt, da einem die möglichen Gefahren noch unbekannt sind, so sind sie gleichermaßen komisch attraktiv, weil sie Geheimnisse besitzen, die jenen vorbehalten sind, die sich aus ihrer „Komfortzone“ herauswagen. Könnte man sich vorstellen, eine unbedeutende und altmodisch aussehende Bar zu seinen Favoriten zu zählen oder neue und interessante Leute im routinierten Alltagsleben auf der Straße anzuquatschen? Kaum, denn es besteht ja an sich kein Grund dazu. Allerdings führt das zu einem Austrocknen der Inputs zum Gehirn, was wiederum in einem allmählichen Desinteresse an der Welt und an ihren zahllosen versteckten Wundern resultiert.
Nehmen wir dieses (zufällige) Wirtshaus zum Beispiel!
Bar NEO sucht nach Trinity
Eine ganz klassische Bar für Einheimische in einem der Randbezirke Kazans. Von Außen begrüßt sie kaum Passanten. In ihrem 90s/post-Sowjet Stil hat sie eine Zahl an Alkoholikern aufgenommen und geschaffen, die vermutlich vergleichbar ist mit der Anzahl an Geburten in diesem Bezirk innerhalb der letzten 30 Jahre. Obwohl das Äußere etwas anderes vermuten lässt, so soll der Wert von diesem besonderen Ort zu keinem Zeitpunkt unterschätzt werden. Die plötzliche Einführung eines fremden Elementes kann sehr unterschiedliche Reaktionen bewirken: Eine davon könnte die spontane Entscheidung sein, den Fremden die persönliche Perspektive auf die Heimat zu zeigen.
Da Ludwig und ich uns bereits aus unser Komfortzone herausbewegt haben und uns mit neuen Lebensbedingungen auseinandergesetzt haben, versuchen wir zudem immerzu, unseren eigenen Horizont zu verschieben – viele Projekte wurden schon ansatzweise angeschnitten, Reisen geplant, Zusammenarbeiten mit neuen Freunden und ortsansässigen „Partnern“ ausgedacht. Um uns besser mit unserer Gegend vertraut zu machen, haben wir beschlossen, uns zusammen mit der italienischen Studentin die schicksalsträchtige Bar NEO anzuschauen (aus Anonymitätsgründen werden wir sie von nun an Maria nennen). Warum ausgerechnet NEO? Zum einen deshalb, weil die Bedeutung des Wortes auf etwas Neues hindeutet, auf den Anfang einer wahrhaft russischen Erfahrung, die mancherlei Stereotype erfüllt hat. Auf der anderen Seite könnte man eine Referenz auf den Filmcharakter Neo aus Matrix vermuten; er hat sich aus einer angenehmen Illusion verabschiedet, um, nach einer Phase des Schocks und Terrors, die Realität zu akzeptieren und letztlich seinen Platz darin einzunehmen (die Schwellenphase, oder auch Liminalität, hat ihn die Wahrheit erkennen lassen). Nachdem wir eine halbe Flasche Wodka im Wohnheim geleert hatten, haben wir uns sogleich eine weitere in der Bar bestellt. Die zunächst argwöhnischen Blicke haben sich in wohlwollende verwandelt, sobald wir angefangen haben auf Russisch zu reden.
So sah die Bar von innen aus: Die Dekoration war überaus überschaubar. An den Wänden hingen einige klassische russische Gemälde, leider in schlechter gedruckt in schlechter Qualität. Die Preise waren vergleichbar mit jenen im Supermarkt (i.e. ungefähr 400 Rubel für ½ l von einem guten Wodka). Die angebotenen Waren waren ganz klassisch: die üblichen Alkohol und Schnäpse, billige Biere, Snacks und plastifizierter, getrockneter Fisch. Alle Gäste (bis auf die eine Frau Natascha im mittleren Alter ausnahmslos Männer) haben Karten um Geld gespielt, bis auf den guten Evgenij, der alleine vor sich hin gedöst hat, weiterhin gab es noch ein dubioses Hinterzimmer, mit regem Begängnis, bis dahin sind wir ‘leider’ nich nicht vorgedrungen.
Wir haben uns sofort gut verstanden. Ich wurde „Puschkin“ genannt, wir haben gemeinsam Karten gespielt und dabei genüsslich Wodka getrunken, Bier, und später noch billigen Cognac (sehr schlechte Idee) . Nach ein paar Drinks wurden wir ungehaltener und schnell hat sich herausgestellt, dass wir mit Mitgliedern der lokalen Mafia tranken. Die prominenteste Person unter ihnen war natürlich die gastfreundliche Natascha. Die Gasfreundschaftlichkeit stammte aber auch daher, dass sie für keinen der Drinks Geld ausgeben musste und in ihrer Macht, Leute herumzukommandieren, ungebremst war. Aber was anderes hätte man erwartet von der Frau, dessen Vater zufällig „Besitzer der Krim ist“. Urlaub in der Ukraine garantiert! (Gott, für diesen Kommentar werde ich sicherlich gelyncht…). Nachdem wir herausgefunden haben, dass Natascha bereits mit ihrem 5. Kind schwanger war, haben wir ihr vorgeschlagen vielleicht ganz mit dem Rauchen aufzuhören, als nur auf Marlboro Light zu wechseln. Andererseits wäre das nur ein Tropfen auf den heißen Stein gewesen… immerhin hat sie den ganzen Abend lang Kaffee getrunken und sich mit Hochprozentigem tüchtig die Kante gegeben (auch Drogen waren ihrerseits im Spiel, wir schafften es irgendwie dankend abzulehnen). Irgendwann werden meine Erinnerungen undurchsichtig… aber mit vereinten mentalen Kräften, haben wir es dann geschafft ein einigermaßen klares Licht auf die dunklen Stellen zu scheinen: Die ganze Nacht lang sind wir in einem Taxi durch die verschlafene Stadt gefahren, immerzu auf der Suche nach dem schönsten Blumenstrauß Kazans, um damit das Grab von Nataschas Mutter zu schmücken. Ein normaler Montag Abend also. Hin und wieder haben wir irgendwo ein Päuschen eingelegt, um uns mit Drinks und Essen zu versorgen (möglicherweise auch ein Mal in einem georgischen Restaurant, aber daran kann sich niemand genau erinnern, jedenfalls wurden wir jedes mal eingeladen, Riesen-Buffet, fast nichts angerührt, um dann im nächsten Restaurant/Drecksloch wieder eine Großbestellung aufzugeben).
Bild entspricht nicht dem tatsächlichen Grab
Mein Gedächtnis ist erst bei Sonnenaufgang komplett zurückgekehrt. Als die ersten Lichtstrahlen das Dunkel der Nacht vertrieben, haben wir uns dazu entscheiden Natascha mitsamt ihres Mafiabusiness alleine zu lassen und zum Wohnheim zurückzukehren. Die Wächter haben sich sicherlich sehr gefreut meinen und Ludwigs Namen aufzuschreiben (erste von 3 Verwarnungen) als wir zurück gekrochen kamen – ich bin davon überzeugt, dass man den gütigen Herren und Damen der Nachtwache überhaupt erstmals einen Sinn im Leben gibt, wenn man versucht in einem solchen Zustand durch das bewachte Tor zu treten. Natürlich haben sie es nicht als nötig empfunden, auch noch Marias Namen aufzuschreiben. Als wir dann aufgewacht sind, haben wir sofort damit angefangen, die einzelnen Gedächtnisfetzen aneinanderzureihen.
Mit den neugewonnenen Kontakten und dem Wissen, dass ein wahrhaft russisches Abenteuer zu jedem Zeitpunkt losbrechen kann, garantieren wir unserer teurer Leserschaft, dass die Qualität des Blogs weiterhin ansteigen wird.
After being thrown into the absurdity that is Russia and surviving the first week without any frostbite, we got acquainted with the local mafia. Yes.
Strolling through unknown places often results in a permanent distortion of one’s horizons. One feels vulnerable to be moving in a location as the possible dangers are unidentified, yet at the same time it is oddly attracting, because it holds secrets that will never be undiscovered if one choose not to leave one’s “Comfort Zone”. The possibility of meeting interesting new people or running across a bar or restaurant that may just become one’s favourite despite the old-fashioned appearance are quickly reduced to a bare minimum. Unfortunately, this will cause in a drainage of inflow of information to the brain and will surely result in a gradual disinterest in the world and its countless hidden beauties.
Taking this place for example!
Be the Trinity to my NEO!
A typical local’s bar on the outskirts of Kazan. Its facade hardly welcomes anyone to move inside. Built in a 90s/post-Soviet fashion, it must have welcome and produced a number of alcoholics, probably directly equal to the amount of children born in this district within the period of roughly 30 years. Even though its look does not promise anything, the value of this very unique place should at no point be belittled. The sudden introduction of a, say, foreign element could provoke various reactions: One of them could be the spontaneous urge to show what their perspective on their home look like.
As Ludwig and I have moved out of our Comfy Zone and faced new living conditions, we constantly seek to push our horizons to new limits – many projects have already been discussed, travels planned, cooperations with friends and local “partners” schemed. In order to discover our new habitat, we decided to visit this strange-fated bar called NEO along with our Italian friend (for discretion reason, we shall henceforth refer to her as Maria). Simply because NEO already indicates two strangely distanced things. On the one hand, it means something new, a start to a truly Russian experience with many of its stereotypes confirmed. On the other hand, it could be discussed whether it is a reference to the film character Neo from Matrix; he, who escaped the illusion that his old life was to go through a phase of shock and terror, but who eventually learned to embrace the reality and grow up in it (the phase of liminality made his see the truth). After emptying half a bottle of vodka in our dear dorm, we swiftly ordered a fresh one once we entered NEO. We were greeted with suspicious looks who turned into well-meaning ones the second we started speaking Russian.
The scene was as follows: The place barely had any decorations on the inside, with the exception of a few badly printed versions of famous Russian artworks. The prices were very low, close to the ones you would get in any ordinary shop in Kazan (i.e. around 400 Rubles/5€ for ½l of tasty vodka). The products were very standard; one could buy the usual kinds of alcohol, cheap beers, snacks and dried fish enveloped in plastic. All guests (all men apart from the middle-aged woman Natasha) were playing cards for money, only Evgenji was dozing away all by himself – to be fair, I have no idea what his name was, but he practically instantly got up from his seat when Natasha demanded it.
We got off on the right foot. I was nicknamed “Pushkin”, we drank vodka and played Russian card games. After a few drinks, our conversation became more eager and we suddenly found ourselves outside with the locals, who turned out to be part of the mafia. Natasha was the most prominent, and at the same time most hospitable person. This may mostly due to the fact, that she didn’t buy for any of the consumed drink and snacks and her unlimited power when it came to ordering people according to her will. But what else can you expect from the daughter of “the man who owns the Crimean Peninsula”. Holidays in Ukraine guaranteed! (Goodness, I will be lynched by someone for this…) After finding out that she was pregnant with her 5th child already, we asked her if it wasn’t a better idea to stop smoking entirely instead of switching to Marlboro Light. Though a complete abstention from cigarettes probably won’t help the fact that she had intoxicated herself throughout the whole evening with coffee, vodka and different cognacs. After this everything becomes blurry and cloudy in my memory… The combined brain power of Ludwig, Maria and me managed to fill some of the hazy parts: we drove around in a taxi all night long in search of the most beautiful flowers of the city, so that Natasha could decorate her mother’s grave. A typical monday evening, apparently. Every now and then we settled down in some place in order to eat a great load of food (possibly Georgian, but this part is extremely unclear) and have new drinks.
Not the actual grave
My memory fully returned to my at sunrise. Just as the first lights of the next beautiful day slowly pushed away the darkest shadows of the night, we decided to leave Natasha to her mafia business somewhere outside of the city and headed back to the student’s dorm. The guards must have much rejoiced at the aspect of writing down mine and Ludwig’s name as we came lurching to the outer gates of our prison (first of 3 warnings) – I do believe that, by returning at the first light of the young day in a condition that is beyond good and evil, we actually provide the fine gentlemen and ladies with a purpose in their lives. Of course, they did not note Maria’s name. As soon as we awoke, the recollection of loose pieces of memory had begun – and so did this blog article.
With the new contacts and the knowledge that a fascinating Russian adventure can kick off at any given moment, we assure you, our dear readers, a continuation of the quality offered so far.
Versucht es selbst mal! Bei der Erwähnung eines Begriffs, schreibt man sich den ersten Gedanken auf, der einem dazu einfällt. Nun überlegt ganz fix was euch durch den Kopf schießt, wenn man „Russland“ sagt. Ich habe den Test selbstverständlich mit zufälligen Leuten durchgeführt und dabei ist folgendes herausgekommen: Wodka, Putin, Bären und schöne Frauen.
Ludwig mit Vladimir Vladimirovich in der Föderalen Kazaner Universität
Ich habe angefangen das Land mit anderen Augen zu betrachten und mit von den Klischees zu entfernen. Aus diesem Grund, habe ich mich dazu entschieden, freiwillig nach Russland zu reisen um mich näher mich den Absurditäten vertraut zu machen. Im Rahmen des akademischen Austausches mit Erasmus (wir erhalten eine kleine Finanzspritze, daher der Titel), hat es mich zum Studium nach Kazan gezogen. Kazan ist ein Hotspot des friedlichen Zusammenlebens verschiedener ethnischer Gruppen. Allerdings bin ich nicht alleine angereist, sondern zusammen mit dem teuren Ludwig aus Berlin, um uns in ein Abenteuer zu stürzen in diesem kalten und zum großen Teil unwirtlichen Land. Keiner konnte sich eine Fortführung des Studiums ohne den anderen vorstellen, da wir uns bereits seit dem ersten Tag an der Uni kennen und seither eine ewig währende Freundschaft geschlossen haben, und… ja, ja! Wir kommen wohl wahrscheinlich nicht durch den „Homo Scan“, ohne dass alle Sirenen Alarm schlagen (leider gibt es die in echt und die stehen in jeder Metrostation).
Hier noch ein Bild von Ludwig:
Mein Blog wird mehr oder weniger aufgebaut sein wie zuvor. Neue, herausragende und ungewöhnliche Erfahrungen werden im gleichen eigensinnigen Stil notiert werden. Sobald wir uns in einer Situation befinden, die unsere Stereotypen von Russland entweder bestätigen oder in Frage stellen, wird ein Artikel darüber erscheinen. Aus jenem Grund werden wahrscheinlich Einträge zu den oben genannten Themen erscheinen – das heißt: Wodka, Putin, Bären und ähnliches.
Andererseits können auch kleinere Veränderungen vorgenommen werden. Im Kontrast zur traditionellen politischen Sphäre Russlands bin ich offen für verschiedene Meinungen und würde mich sehr darüber freuen, wenn jemand Kommentare oder Vorschläge für neue Einträge reinstellen würde. Welche Aspekte des typischen Lebens in Russland würde euch interessieren? Vielleicht die Küche? Oder vielmehr ein kleiner Reisebericht über eine Zusammenkunft mit einem Bären? Oder ist es ein direkter Vergleich zwischen russischer und tatarischer Gastfreundschaftlichkeit der euch faszinieren könnte?
Es gibt sogar noch mehr! Ludwig ist ein ausgezeichneter Fotograf. Darum haben wir uns gedacht, dass man unsere Talente vereinen könnte und meinen Blog mit seinen Bildern schmücken und andersrum seinen Bilden eine weitere Bedeutungsebene hinzufügen könnte. Leider können wir eine 100% Fortsetzung der Bildqualität nicht garantieren, da wir beide möglicherweise irgendwann unterschiedliche Wege einschlagen werden und ich daher auf meine eigenen Aufnahmen bauen muss.
Ein letztes Detail noch: Der Blog wird von nun an immer auch auf Deutsch veröffentlicht werden. Für die, die das Deutsche dem Englischen vorziehen und auch jene, die Deutsch lernen wollen und an einem direkten Vergleich zwischen den beiden Sprachen interessiert sind, könnte sich diese Entwicklung als interessant anbieten (leider können wir eine perfekte und fehlerlose Sprache nicht immer versprechen).
Fühlt euch frei, den Blog zu teilen, zu kommentieren, zu lesen, und, vor allem anderen, zu genießen!
(P.S.: Für weitere Bilder von Ludwig’s Seite, schaut euch doch seinen Insta an: https://500px.com/ludwig94 )
I did the test and asked random people about the first thing that pops up in their head when they think about Russia; the answers were as follows: Vodka, Putin, bears and beautiful women. (You should try this as home too. If anything else comes to mind, let me know.)
A picture of beautiful Vladimir Vladimirovich, taken in the University
I, however, just recently started connecting this country with something more than the cliché ones. As a matter of fact, I choose to go to Russia on my own to get further acquainted with what else one may find in this absurd place. I came to Russia to study in the academic framework of Erasmus, and for that reason we received a little financial backup (hence the title). To Kazan, to be quite precise. A hotspot of peaceful ethnic cohabitation. But I did not come alone. I am joined by dear Ludwig from Berlin on this adventurous journey through this cold and to the greatest part inhospitable place. None of us could imagine a continuation of their studies without the other, since we’ve met on the very first day of the university and ever since created an everlasting bond of friendship… we will certainly not get through the “Homo Scan” without the sirens going off (unfortunately, they are in every Metro station).
Here’s a picture of him:
My blog will continue more or less the same way that it used to. New, outstanding, unusual experiences will be noted in the usual opinionated fashion. If we find ourselves in a situation where we see the typical prejudices challenged or affirmed, you can almost be certain that an article about this topic will appear. For that very reason, there will probably be an entry on the keywords mentioned above, that is: Vodka, Putin, bears, and the like.
However, small changes shall be made. Contrary to the political tradition in our new habitat, I am open for different opinions and would very much rejoice at the sight of some commentaries or ideas for new entries. Which aspects of Russian lifestyle would you like to hear about? Maybe the cuisine? Or perhaps, you would enjoy a little travel story about a meeting with a bear? How about a direct comparison between Tatar and Russian hospitality?
There is even more! Ludwig is an excellent photographer. For that reason, we decided to put our skills together and promote my blog with his pictures and vice versa. Though, it is not 100% guaranteed that the quality of pictures will always stay the same, as we might walk different paths during our time spend here. For that reason, I might have to rely on my own pictures.
One last detail: The blog shall henceforth be translated into German as well. For those among you who prefer German to English, and for those who learn German and find it helpful to compare the two languages. (A complete absence of mistakes will, however, hardly be possible to obtain).
Feel free to share, comment, read and, most importantly, enjoy!
NoMethDragon 