Around (Part of the) World in the Past 80 Days

A non-chronological rundown from A to Z of what I’ve neglected to report since I last wrote:

A – Archives, in both Russia and Tajikistan. I have been surprised in the last six weeks to learn just how much bureaucracy and apparently arbitrary and informal adjustments to bureaucratic rules really do differ between TJ and RU. I’m sorry I have to be reminded, but I do often forget that it is wrong to lump these two together into a single category. If you want to be wowed, I suggest you work for several months just trying to get registered and allowed to see documents in the sad national archive of a regressing Central Asian nation, and then go overnight to the beautiful oasis of the main reading room at GARF (State Archive of the Russian Federation), with its computerized index system and terminals at each reader station. But be careful not to faint from shock.


B – Buzkashi. The art of dragging around a goat carcass and fighting over it from your position atop a galloping horse. See photo essay.


C – Cheeses. Twelve of them, packed in multiple plastic bags, ziplocs, and stuffed together with a gift freezer pack in Paris into suitcase #3, only to emerge upon arrival in Tajikistan still cool and smelling wonderful. Now awaiting experimental freezing.


D – Disease. Luckily for Anya, only “angina” which, I guess contrary to our use of the word in English (from the Latin for choking or congestion) in reference to chest constriction and heart disease, in French refers to something like tonsillitis or strep throat. It was the sickest she’s actually been her whole life, but she was still a trooper. And our visit to the French pediatrician in Tonnere, France, renewed our already high respect for socialized medicine – bring on that Obamacare, thank you very much!


E – Embroidery. To my great disappointment, I must admit, the needlework has stalled out! But for a good reason: renewed research inspiration and necessity (much-procrastinated research trip to Moscow) made me turn away from the embroidery kind of right at the point where I was going the strongest on it, unfortunately. But I am really glad to feel the new boost in creativity and production, and the work is fun. Whether to keep up with the crafts in this current phase of Dushanbe life is my next decision…


F – France. Mmmmm, 2 weeks binging in the heartland of duck confit, terrine and paté, fromages hard and soft (especially soft and runny Epoisses and Chablis, my favorite of our discoveries), red wine (Burgundy, to be exact), and escargots (Anya to Dan: “dai mne eshche ulitku! [give me another snail!]”). Throw a few raw oysters – and whelks and winkles – on top and you pretty much have our vacation in a nut (or snail) shell.


G – Grandparents. Had a great time with 2 of them in the French countryside – Anya for 2 days longer than we did, and apparently all 3 of them had a blast.


H – Hotels, good and bad. FYI, in Autun, it's probably wise to splurge on the Hotel les Ursulines up in the old town, with the beautiful enclosed garden, despite the nondescript rooms. The incompetent front desk manager at the Hotel St. Louis et de la Poste downtown (together with the single, yet surely not solitary, cockroach we spied) made that one a bust. And the experience kind of ruined the whole next 24 hours, to be honest.


I – Insects. Fleas to be precise, which are the most bothersome ones that have visited us (and apparently left, during our vacation) over the last few months. But with the onset of spring the aphids on the fruit trees in our yard have also come out of hibernation. We are trying to spray with soap and water, but is it possible that Central Asian aphids are immune to this approach?


J – Jeans. In addition to the fact that the fashion right now is very clearly to tuck these into your tall, but flat-heeled, boots, I gleaned many other fashion tid-bits during my many hours walking from archive to archive, and people watching, in Moscow.


K – Kyrgyzstan. In truth, this doesn’t really deserve to be on this list, since ironically (and probably luckily) we could hardly feel further from the unrest and changes there. That is not to say that it might not spill over – you definitely never know. But so far it really seems not to have one iota of an influence here in Tajikistan, and in a practical way for us that is a good thing. In the larger picture I am not so sure that it is in the best interests of Tajikistan’s citizenry to be so complacent, but I am not complaining right now. The “revolution” – or maybe “coup” – occurred while I was in Moscow, and actually I probably knew more about it learning about it from that location than from home in Dushanbe, since while I was there I had the time and the inclination to watch the news quite diligently (and even discuss all of the very interesting, mainly tragic or disturbing, current events, from Kyrgyzstan to Katyn to the Moscow metro, with my landlady). It kind of felt like I was at the center of a much more connected universe while I was in Moscow, while here in Dushanbe everything typically seems very insular, very isolated from what is happening in the outside world. In any case, I include this mention here mainly since so many people have asked us about events in the neighboring ‘stan.


L – Lady drivers. It seems I’m one of them again. More precisely, for some reason when spring arrives in Tajikistan, not only do the local men do a typical double-take for women walking and perhaps wearing something pretty (a revealing mid-calf kurta, or what have you), apparently they also have a habit of looking twice and even staring when they see a woman behind the wheel. Come to think of it, women and kids will crane their necks to check it out, too. It’s just that shocking a sight to see.


M – Moscow! What a big, bewildering city it really is – I had a great time, and although after two and a half weeks there I was ready to get back to the slow pace of life in Dushanbe (and my peeps), the hustle and bustle was pretty fun to experience. It was my first time really living in the city (and right downtown, in a great location, steps away from Kievskaya metro station) and exploring it myself – the town I know best is Petersburg, and Nizhnii Novgorod I suppose is a close second. (Sorry, Vladivostok, I guess you take bronze.) I think I might not even mind spending some extended time in Moscow in the future (although maybe I’d get sticker shock if we really were to live there for a stint, not just visit short term).


N – Navruz. After a week of sun and warmth leading up to the biggest Central Asian holiday of the year, with people getting positively punch-drunk on the weather, it was a big dud. Rainy and cold. Certainly not inspiring for anyone to wear their new kurta, especially if it is still far from being completed…


O – Other scholars/academics. This spring has brought a lot more contact with researchers here in this part of the world, surprisingly many of them here in Dushanbe. It started with the German grad student, studying Soviet history, whom I met by sheer luck near the end of her 5 year stint here in Dushanbe. (5 years because she is also a spouse and mother raising her small kids here; she wasn’t spending the entire time doing full-time dissertation work.) Then it gathered steam with the grad students I met in Moscow, and now, partly because it is summer (those US based academics are smart: avoid Tajikistan in the winter. What a good idea!), there are 3 grad students here in town whom I know. I also met an inspiring independent scholar from Canada and I hope soon to formally meet the German scholar who was working at the desk next to me at the archives today. It’s gotten to the point that I am seriously planning to have an academic dinner party soon, before some of these folks cycle out of here and the population dwindles again.


P – Potty Progress. Hooray! Big girl undies (thin, no soaker panel) + possibly an unusual time-out from preschool teachers in response to her last real accident = I guess a month or more of dryness and a nearly perfect (I’d say ‘spotless’ but that wasn’t actually our problem…) record with trips to the toilet.


Q – “Quiet time.” This was how I explained to Anya what the side chapels in the several French cathedrals we visited were for. She started wanting to go in them with me to catch some together.


R – Rain. Unfortunately we departed from rainy spring weather in Tajikistan (where it is at least warm) only to be met by rain and half-century record low temperatures hovering at or under 10C in France. And now we've returned to TJ, where the rains are just an annoyance in Dushanbe but have left over a thousand people homeless and camped out in the stadium in the southern city of Kulob. Anya and I tried to make a small contribution to help Monday when we brought 4 bags of things of hers and mine that are either no longer worn or have been outgrown to donate for local efforts to assist in Tajikistan’s south.


S – Spring! and the arrival of the “Season”: the season for produce in Tajikistan, that is. When even the neighborhood bazaar has strawberries (sad and soggy though they may be) for sale, you know the highwater mark of fruit and veg season is just around the corner. Sure, you’re still advised to make the trip to Green Bazaar for really good quality and selection, but the season has arrived, for sho’.


T – Train travel. And the miracle of catching our Frankfurt-Paris train, for which we had planned a layover of 3 hours. Ultimately we had to run for it in the 45-minute interval that Somon Air's delayed arrival afforded us. (Anya to Lisa the night before the return trip, in Paris: “Will we have to run for the train again? I didn’t like that.”)


U – Umbrella. Anya was pleased as punch to be given a Winnie-the-Pooh children’s (hey, they probably make them in adult sizes, so I might need to specify) umbrella, after a shopping spree in the hypermarché outside Autun. (Shopping therapy after our bad experience at the hotel? It’s possible.) It made the trip home just fine packed in a suitcase and still hasn’t broken. Surely better quality construction than the 9-somoni jobbie I bought her at the bazaar in Khujand in the winter.


V – Vaccines. The polio outbreak in Tajikistan has given me reason to renew my earlier interest in polio vaccines, both injected/inactivated and oral/live, albeit from a very different perspective. Anya got her first round of the OPV booster series today. The situation is truly serious, but for kids who have received good quality vaccines so far and are up to date like Anya there should not be an extreme risk. With that firmly in mind, I actually think it might do us a lot of good if more academics had to deal with their topics of heated abstract discussion in direct and concrete relationship to their own or their kids' lives. But I guess that probably isn't a widely applicable or appropriate thing to wish for. The experiences is actually very enlightening and provides fascinating insight.


W – Water, dirty. Spring rains (well, any rains, really) bring “brown baths,” as Anya has called them since her first ever dip in the tub here in Dushanbe, a year and a half ago. The water from the tap used to be brown all the time, but shortly after we moved in the city did some improvements (yes, it happens), and the quality on a typical day improved. But we are reminded right now of how extremely cloudy and dingy that water can get. At least it serves as a good reminder that it wouldn’t be wise to drink out of the tap!


X – Хозяйка. Or khoziaika. That is, “landlady.” I had a really good one in Moscow for the 2 weeks I rented a room in her apartment – it was a surprisingly nice arrangement for me, working for many hours during the day and into the evening at the archives, and coming home to have a bit of dinner or tea in the kitchen with Inna Zinovievna.


Y – Yoga! So glad that Dushanbe has seen a renaissance (or I guess simply naissance?) of it in the last 6 months. I am happy to say I’m back to 2 times practicing per week (when not on vacation – but I did go to 2 overpriced yoga sessions in Moscow!).


Z – From Anya Z. (Vladivostok friend) through the mid-alphabet, mid-Europe Meilak, to Berkeley’s own Z-spot, visited with lots of friends we hadn’t seen in years during the past few months’ travels. It's a good thing to do, since living over here, even in this internet-, Facebook-friendly age, means we still aren't able to keep in contact as often as we'd like with people we care about. Sometimes the isolation here just makes us sluggish and complacent in that frame of mind, and the months stretch on and the messages (and blog posts) don't get written. So it was really good to reconnect with so many friends (and family) over these past 80 days.

Vladivostok Adventure

I've already been back a week and a half from my odyssey to the Russian Far East, and the question still remains: how to sum up?

The cancellation of my outbound Dushanbe-Moscow flight on Day 1 made it seem like the trip wasn't meant to be, and truthfully I was very nervous for some reason, both about the conference and about leaving Anya and Dan. (All I can say by way of explanation is that we are so far away from home that I guess it just makes even small trips seem big and dangerous in some vague way -- although of course experience has shown that they are not, so in the end this is maybe all just a product of my psychology....)

But in the end, about 24 hours later than scheduled, I took off, had a pleasant four-hour flight to Moscow (being seated in business class on Tajikistan's own Somon Air didn't hurt), and from there it was a real adventure.

Got into Vlad off of the night flight (the time difference from Moscow is a full 7 hours, don't forget), a full day later than planned. I assumed that meant I had to rush to slip into the first day of a 2-day conference that in theory had begun that morning, when in fact it was all more interesting than that. I rushed unsuccessfully to have lunch with the group, and then met up with them at the celebratory awarding of an honorary PhD from Far East State University (DVGU) to Liudmila Verbitskaia, the former rector and current president of St. Petersburg State University.

Verbitskaia was seriously feted by these people: she is not only the president of the Petersburg university but also on the board of trustees of a recently established foundation called "Russkii mir," or, in translation (in which we were assured the name was not supposed to appear) "Russian world" or "Russian peace" -- "mir" can have either meaning. Basically, it is an organization much like the Instituto Cervantes, Alliance Francaise (which, you might be surprised to know, actually has a presence in Vlad), Goethe Institute, and the good old American Corners that the US government supports. I know that especially the latter must just look like big propaganda centers to many eyes, and I should be able to see the same type of activity from Russia in a similar light (i.e., yeah, so it's propaganda, but it's fine and everyone should be able to do it if they want). But in the atmosphere of post-Putin Russia and in the Russian Far East (where it has pretty much always been necessary ever since 1858 for Russians to emphasize just a little bit more vehemently than you might expect how deep Russian political and cultural roots extend in the region), the celebration of Russian-ness took on a slightly different overtone at times for me.

They really did put on the pomp and circumstance: you can see some of the evidence that just about every DVGU student performing group (and, honestly, where do these students find time to actually study if they are spending all their time perfecting their balalaika solos and juggling?) had a short bit in the show. It was quite an experience -- you couldn't help but get swept away by the enthusiasm, even if in the back of your mind you were thinking, what exactly is the target of all of this enthusiasm, and do I feel comfortable with that?

It turned out that our humble 1-day conference was really just a more private event that followed on this big DVGU-wide shindig. (Although we too brought out the press -- some friends even said they spotted me on local TV, being filmed admiring either Verbitskaia or one of the lounge acts)

The conference itself was actually very good -- the thing that of course I was most nervous about, my presentation, went fine (and as I tried pretty much unsuccessfully to tell myself over and over, it was limited to 10 minutes, so how bad could it be?). And this was in Russian! That felt like a real accomplishment to me.

The rest of the time was unfortunately shorter than planned, but really wonderful -- I was able to reconnect with almost everyone I'd expected to, both Berkeley colleagues who'd come from their various necks of the woods and Vladivostok friends, had fabulous weather (since May in Primorye is usually misty and foggy and chilly), and left with a much more nostalgic and positive feeling about the city that we'd called home for about 2 years than I'd had setting out.

The layover I hadn't originally wanted in Moscow was also a fun (if exhausted) several hours, seeing a friend from Dushanbe who's now in the Big Village continuing her research and going shopping. Main score: avocados and limes!

The Anya Report

I realized I haven't given an update on local toddler progress in a while.

What we're interested in:

• airplanes (toy airplanes, the sound of real airplanes, the idea of and pretending to take a trip on an airplane, recalling our recent airplane trips...)
  
• any small household or mundane item (e.g. cheap satin Chinese purses, empty plastic wet-wipe bottles, trial sized tubes of lotion, earplugs and their cases, plastic eggs that were given on the Easter egg hunt, sunglasses -- Anya can develop a fetishistic interest in playing with these things from the moment she sees them)
• trucks (esp. cement trucks, the yellow-with-red-striped vans that I think are connected to the Dushanbe city gas department and sit parked outside its offices on the route we take to sadik [see photo], marshrutka vans, and really any other type of civilian or military truck you might see on a Dushanbe street)

• the turtle in our yard
• Steve from "Blue's Clues" (esp. when he draws the clue in his "handy-dandy notebook." When he sits in his red "thinking chair" registers a close second.)
• the tiny toy watering can that came with the cheapo and too small beach/sand toys I bought last week
  
• real pens (esp. push-button ones), and using them to draw caterpillars (short or medium or long squiggly lines)
  

What we're doing:

• staying dry (fingers crossed. It took about 2 and a half weeks, but all of a sudden this potty training thing kind of took hold, and she is pretty much choosing -- mostly correctly -- when to use the toilet!)
  
• telling complex stories (for instance -- although this one is already a few weeks old -- about how she got locked in the bathroom and couldn't unlock it, "and Anya was crying. And Surayo said 'ne plach' [don't cry].' And Surayo was looking at you through the window. And mommy was telling you to turn the silver knobby thing. And the guys came and opened the door (...)." Quite an experience. All turned out OK when the person we called for help figured out that in fact the keys to the upstairs bathroom [which we had tried already] did open the downstairs bathroom door. You just have to put the key in only part way.)
• actually, not confusing "you" and "I" as much as the slightly outdated story above would have you believe
• nodding and shaking our heads (instead of saying "yes" and "no" -- it's so much more fun!)

What we're saying:

• "Anya's a big girl when Anya has a really big bite!"
• Friday = "French Fry Day"
• "When the doggies bark they say 'hewoh! hewoh! hewoh!" (Daddy's explanation for a phenomenon that has begun to loom very large for Anya just as she is going to bed. I personally get more annoyed with our neighborly rooster that seems to crow constantly, but I guess you can't choose your pet peeves.)
• "Anya has human hands. Bear has bear paws. Doggies have doggy paws." (Inspired by a new bedtime favorite: Dan's rendition of Elvis Costello's "Human Hands." Especially pleasing: the line where he says "whenever I put my foot in my mouth and you begin to doubt...")
  

From Russia With Puppets

This past Tuesday we made a return to the Dushanbe puppet theater, together with all of our friends from sadik.


There was a troupe from Russia in town, and that was all I knew setting out. It turned out to be the actors from the Kemerovo Provincial Puppet Theater named for Arkadii Gaidar, who had come on a springtime tour to Dushanbe.

The last time we went, I complained about the lack of puppets, but this time the puppets and the staging were great -- very clever and interesting. The production was "Bear Cub Rim-Tim-Ti," the story of a boy/bearcub home alone with his dad while his mom is away on a trip. The kid is lonely and his dad is loving but a bit aloof and doesn't quite get what his little boy needs or is capable of. When Rim-Tim-Ti convinces his dad he's a big enough boy to go to the market and get the last egg to complete his dad's recipe for a "five-egg omelet," he meets a puppy. He wants to bring the puppy home, but dad will have none of it. Whatever Rim-Tim-Ti finds lovable in his "pyosik" (pup), the dad can't see -- all he thinks is this is a dirty "sobaka" (dog), and he refuses to let him in the house.


When Pyosik thwarts a fox/robber (who was surprisingly charming -- I thoroughly enjoyed the interlude where he is introduced and sings about how he's a "khooligan" to a crazy combination of a Russian bard's outcast song set to the tune and rhythm of a tango), and returns Dad's stolen pants, the father relents and lets Rim-Tim-Ti keep his friend.

Whether she is just a bit older, or the story was more engaging, or because we were seated right in the front row (or a combination of all three), Anya actually sat in pretty much rapt attention the entire hour-long performance.

The actors were all visible behind and above their puppets -- it was the kind of production where they make no effort to hide (you can kind of see what I mean in the large picture above, with the woman in the yellow hat manipulating Rim-Tim-Ti). The funny thing was, the actress bringing Pyosik to life looked really familiar to me, and I couldn't stop trying to figure out where I'd seen her before. All I could think is this was some famous actress (puppeteer?) from Russia, when finally in the last few minutes of the play I realized where I'd seen her: she had played Mashenka to Baba-Yaga in the New Year's production! (B.Y. made an appearance in "Rim-Tim-Ti," too, playing the brash & busty chicken/market-egg-saleswoman who sells Rim the 5th egg.) Once I realized that, I was starting to wonder whether this was truly the visiting troupe we'd been promised, but our sadik teachers reassured me that it was indeed the visiting company with a few local actors added into the mix.

Baba Yaga (Bzzz Bzzz)

I was reminded a few days ago that, while it is clear from my recent Anya language update that Baba Yaga is beauty-challenged in the nasal department, not everyone may know who she is. As usual, Wikipedia offers a not-too-shabby overview of the classic Slavic fairy-tale witch character. (Apparently Georgii Milliar, in the picture here, was the actor who played Baba Yaga in several Soviet films from the 1930s to the '60s, and sort of seems like the quintessential B. Y. to those who've seen his performances. He's profiled in Russian in the link.)

But Baba Yaga also typically plays a central role Soviet/post-Soviet kiddie New Year's celebrations like the ones we've been taking part in.

For some reason the article I referred to in last year's rundown of this holiday unfortunately has disappeared (together with the source, Moskovskie novosti). But if you look at the many Russian party scripts posted online for ensuring a fun New Year's holiday, my memory of that description is confirmed: Baba Yaga actually shows up in these rote celebrations as more of a laughable, bothersome hooligan character than a truly scary witch. She plays the humorous foil to good ol' Grandfather Frost/Dedushka Moroz and his sidekick Snegurochka, threatening to break up the party because she's been left off the invitation list. The MC (Russian events always need to have an MC...) tries to talk her out of ruining it, high jinks ensue. But ultimately the kids win out with Ded Moroz and Snegurochka's help, and the forces of good reassuringly overcome what was surely in the Communist era meant to be a mildly anti-Soviet example in Baba Yaga.

---

I threw these notes up last week and then, wouldn't you know it, we had the chance for yet another of these staged New Year's gatherings, and my understanding of Baba Yaga's role was borne out and then some!

On Wednesday, Anya's sadik had a field trip to the Dushanbe "Lukhtak" Puppet Theater. I had asked ahead of time what the performance was slated to be, but all the teachers could tell me was it would be in Russian. What they weren't able to predict was that it wouldn't really contain any puppets. (The closest we came to real puppets was the small crow character who outs Baba Yaga after she puts a spell on Ded Moroz in her attempt to spoil the kiddies' fun. Otherwise, all were live actors.)

The show was not so much a play as an extended version of the yolochka party -- unfortunately not the most captivating format for the 2-year-old set when seated in the audience instead of watching more free-form in the lobby. The performance did include some chuckles for the adults, though, beginning with the fact that our "host," the little girl Mashenka, got a phone call a few minutes into the proceedings (when she came on stage with a cellphone on a lanyard around her neck, I first thought this was an indication of a low level of professionalism and concentration on the part of the Lukhtak company, but it soon became obvious that it was an intentional prop). Her half of the conversation allowed us to surmise that it was Snegurochka calling to let her know that Ded Moroz was on his way. Mashenka was only slightly disappointed when Sneggie told her she wasn't going to make the party because she had to greet some guests from Paris.

In another beat or two our attention was drawn to a little alcove at stage left, where Baba Yaga was just waking up, and generating giggles from the older kids as she stretched her limbs, stiffly attempted her morning "zaryadka" (exercises), and admired herself in the mirror as she got dressed for an aerial tour of her woodland fiefdom. (Curiously, Tajik ideas about how a humorous witch ought to dress have a suspicious amount in common with the way crunchy Western NGO-types tend to dress on the weekends, right down to the brightly colored fleece zip-up vest....) At this point, Anya decided she was scared of B. Y. and started crying and protesting, so we had to take a break.

But the funniest part of the "play" for me was when Baba Yaga got her present from Ded Moroz (she'd been convinced to reverse her spell on Ded M., so he'd made his grand entrance, echo-laden mic effects and all): a yellow and black striped floppy hat, whose corporate origins the 4-year-olds next to us immediately identified with enthusiastic shouts of "Beeline!"

Heard Recently Inna Biiiig Dushanbe

Surayo says "prosnulas'." That's Russian. Mommy says "wake." Dat's English.

Anya had a bwess. [= Anya sneezed -- and someone said "bless you."]

Baba Yaga has a yucky nose. [That New Year's yolka in the Mayakovsky lobby really made an impression.]

Snow goes "crunch!". Like an apple. In your mouth. Not with your toes and your feet. 'Cuz that would be dirty. And silly. And turkey-lurkey.

That was a present for Annika. [About a present given in honor of the Festival of Lights. And after some attempt at explanation from Mommy...] Hanukkah is Jake's mommy. [Usually followed by a groan and shrug of the shoulders from Mommy.]

Novyi gott [Russian for New Year's, complete with unvoiced "d" at the end of words, just like the Russian speakers do it.]

How you say bus in Russian? You say "trolleibus (twayay-booss)," and you say "avtobus (aftoh-booss)." Dat's Russian!

Marina says "ty khochesh' chornye shuziki?" [= "want black 'shoesies'?"; a very correct memory, indeed]

[While putting pants or tights on] "Pull 'em up!" (...Surayo says "podnimai")

Want li'l bit of nonn! [= naan, Tajik flatbread. Also frequently heard: the Russian word for flatbread, "lepyoshka."]

Mid-Holiday Breather

We had a relaxed, if partly sick, long holiday weekend -- everyone was sick with something, but luckily not all at the same time. Now of course it is a brief work week before we do it all over again for New Year's (although without W.'s present of Friday off, I expect).

Anya got to see Santa Claus/Ded Moroz a bunch more times, perhaps most excitingly at a children's performance at Dushanbe's Russian theater, the Mayakovsky. (Just down the street is the much grander Tajik theater, the Lohuti, and in my understanding of language and cultural policy in the USSR, it's pretty typical both that the two would exist and that they would have been fairly important institutions in the capital of Tajikistan, placed prominently in the heart of downtown -- despite the Russian theater's decidedly less glamorous visual representation. I'm interested to know more about them, though -- both about their lives in Soviet times as well as the life each of these institutions has led during Tajikistan's independence. The Lohuti also happens to be one of my favorite examples of architecture downtown -- gorgeous robin's egg blue walls and pure white columns, with beautiful Orientalist detailing at the capitals and archways of what is otherwise of course a familiar Soviet neo-classical temple.)

A fellow mother from sadik invited us to see a New Year's play -- I thought it was just going to be the usual public "yolka" presentation in the theater lobby, with Father Frost and his granddaughter Snegurochka, but it turned out that was just the beginning. (That yolka link shows you some interesting photos of Soviet yolkas in decades past -- the contemporary version has to be remarkably similar to what came before.)

We had a great time at the first part. Anya was particularly fascinated by the ugly fake nose worn by the Baba Yaga character, and also liked the "boogie voogie" song we danced to (which really was a fairly literal and direct translation of "the hokey-pokey," complete with right feet in and left feet out and all the rest).

Luckily we had been tipped off that this would be followed by a full-fledged play on the actual stage. Unfortunately, since we were sitting about halfway toward the back of the orchestra, and due in part to the moaning baby in the seat next to us (who, together with his grandmother, to my surprise, actually started attracting glares and comments from adults nearby), we didn't really hear or understand very much of it. And even after the grandmother finally took the hint and stepped outside, we'd already lost too much headway to really get into the story. But it had its moments. For Anya, those included the snowstorm (represented by swirling lights on the scrim, apparently generated by an offstage disco ball), and the red Russian peasant dress the main characters chose to dress their female scarecrow in.

From what I can tell, this was actually a recent play by a living playwright, entitled "Snegurochka Dasha." I could tell we were watching something in which two regular characters were stand-ins for Father Frost, his young sidekick, and the humorous bad guy figure of Baba Yaga, complete with a dream sequence in the middle that gave them to us in their full fairy-tale likenesses (think "The Wizard of Oz" in Russian with more red-nosed old guys and fewer animal characters. And a lot less music, unfortunately for those under 3 and for those hearing- and/or linguistically-challenged!). Luckily I had enough bear crackers and baby cookies to tide us over the hour or so it lasted and all the way home.

Hopefully our next public performance, a possible trip to the Dushanbe Circus next week, will be easier to follow and more small-kid-friendly than "Dasha."