I'll be spending almost a year in Moscow and St. Petersburg working on my dissertation research, and when I'm not sitting in the archives, I'll keep everyone posted on what I'm up to!

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The year in numbers

Apparently I like statistics!

This should keep everyone amused for a while. In about 4 hours I leave for the airport to get on a plane to fly home.

So as of this post, my Russia blog is hereby concluded - at least until I come back next spring. If you want to find out what I'm up to and how I'm doing you'll have (gasp!) send me an email. Thanks to everyone for reading, and thanks to those who still kept emailing me, even though I had this darn blog.

So here it goes....

Number of days actually spent in the Russian Federation on my 365-day visa: 312

Number of round trip flights to and from Washington, DC: 3

Amount of money spent on 2 round trip tickets home: $1800

Number of frequent flier miles earned since June 2004: 39,324

Number of foreign countries visited, aside from Russia: 3

Number of different means of transportation I used to cross an international border: 4 (plane, train, bus, hydrofoil)

Number of apartments lived in: 3

Total number of roommates: 6

Amount paid in rent this year: $5900

Total amount in rent I would have had to pay if I did not live rent-free in St. Petersburg: $7700

Amount in rent I will pay for the next year in Charlottesville: $4800

Total cost of this year: $24,000 (give or take)

Number of records in my database, each record indicating a separate document from the archives: 1822

Number of notebooks filled with research notes: 5 ?

Amount paid in rubles for photocopies (actually January - August 2005 only): 5683

Amount in dollars: $205

Number of packages of books mailed home: 10

Total weight in kilograms of said book packages: about 40

Total weight in pounds: about 88

Cost of mailing 80lbs of books home: Don’t ask

Number of hikes taken: 3

Number of times I used my tent: 0

Number of times I used my sleeping bag and/or sleeping pad: 45

Number of places said sleeping pad/bag were used: 1 (my room)

Number of times I slipped and fell on the ice: 1

Number of times I fell through the ice: 1

Number of photos taken: over 2000

Number of times I had food poisoning: 2

Number of hot dogs purchased from street vendor in Vladimir: 2

Number of times I had food poisoning before buying the aforementioned hot dogs: 1

Duration of most recent bout of food poisoning: 7 days

Number of bus rides to Finland: 1

Number of “white nights” witnessed: 1

Number of currencies in my coin jar: 6

Number of foreign visitors: 2

Number of train trips to St. Petersburg (one way): 13

Number of drunk men who fell on me from a train bunk: 1

Date of construction of oldest thing I saw here: 1167 AD

Number of dead bodies seen: 2 definite, 1 probable

Number of pairs of shoes purchased in Russia: 3

Number of pairs of shoes abandoned in Russia: 3

Number of new friends with whom I think I’ll stay friends: 5

Number of times I cried: 4

Number of times I laughed: countless

Monday, August 15, 2005

when it rains it pours

Tonight is my last night in Russia. On this last night something happened to me that hasn't happened to me all year, and in fact, it happened to me twice in the span of 5 minutes - I was hit on by a Russian man.

I'm not announcing this because of I'm proud of it, but it is interesting that they decide to notice me my last night in this country. I normally pass under the radar (thankfully) because, well, I don't dress like a ho. And I don't wear make-up, and you can't see what kind of underwear I have on through my clothes. I am often mistaken for a 17 year old. And today actually, I was wearing my blue and white plaid skirt with my somewhat ratty magenta running fleece, because its chilly here already (a similary combination of colors which prompted John to ask in Finland, "you know you don't match, right?")

Riding the escalator up from the Metro after coming home from dinner with friends', 2 security guards get on the metro behind me and come right up to my step. I notice them but ignore them until one of them says hello to me. I turn around and politely, but formally say hello back and turn back around. "What's your name?" a really tall and skinny one asks me. "Its not important" "Why isn't it important? You're very pretty, tell me your name" "Its Desi" [Now this provokes some confusion, and they consult, and ask for clarification. I explain its my nickname and when I give them my full name they ask "what kind of name is that?"] By this time, we've reached the top of the escalator and a take a step up. They react, "Oh no! Don't worry, you don't need to step away!" The tall skinny one says "I'd like to have a wife as pretty as you" I smile, thank him for the compliment and as we walk out the door they ask if I am going the same direction they are. When I say no, and the skinny one says, "It was very nice to meet you, you are very sweet and I wish you the best, in fact, all will be well with you"

I thought this was very sweet, as the guy was obviously pretty young, early 20s I guess, and it was just very sincere and non-threatening. I start walking home, cross the pedestrian over the ring road and head down the street. Then there's this guy who crosses the street at the same time I do and is walking next to me, chain smoking. He's older than the other ones.

"Hello, what is your name? Let's get acquainted, my name is [so-and-so]" I keep walking without really saying anything, kind of trying to wave him off, and not making eye contact. "I like to walk the streets at Moscow when I am bored. You're very pretty, what is your name?" I don't answer, "Do you study here?" I nod yes to this because I'm still 2 blocks from home at this point "Oh really, what faculty?" I say history "Oh, I finished [something having to do with physics]" "Do you live here? Would you like to go out sometime?" At this point in time, I realize I have my out so I answer, "no I'm not from here, I'm going home soon" He answers: "Oh I'm not from Moscow either, where is home?" I lie and say England. "Oh! My father lives in Belgium, I can come visit you from Belgium and bring you flowers. Would you like to go out sometime?" I lie again and point to the ring I wear on my right hand and say that I am married. "But its not possible! I would sell the shirt off my back to buy you flowers and I would right you poems and sing you songs. I will go on the television show "Wait for me" [a show for people looking for lost and missing people] and say that I met a beautiful girl in Moscow and she left to go to England. Can I have your number? We can have dinner sometime, just dinner, just as friends." Then I explain, that no, I am literally leaving the country tomorrow. At this point, I reach a small shop where I need to buy some stuff, and so I tell this man thanks and wave him off, assuring him that, no really, my husband [in England] is a nice guy and he gives me flowers, but that he was very nice, and he waves and leaves.

Its funny really. Maybe they knew I was leaving and wanted it to be on a sweet note. :-)

Sunday, August 14, 2005

various

On Friday I went to meet a professor to pick up a book from him. He had been talking to a woman when I came up. While we were talking, this woman came over and asked, in decent English, if this professor would help her get assylum in America, because if she stayed in Russia she would be killed. This professor explained that he does not have such power and she should consult the American Embassy about her story. She left and came back several times, interrupting our conversation. Judging by the way she acted, she may have been mentally ill, also possibly homeless, at the very least, struggling.

Isinbaeva set a new world record in women's pole vault yesterday and won the gold.

I have a persistent case of food poisoning.

All of my crap is not going to fit in my bags. Not by far. I'm leaving a whoel suitcase worth of stuff behind.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

they're baaaack: Scientology strikes again

Sitting at home just now...(okay, lying at home, I don't feel well), cell phone rings. The number is not in my address book but I answer anyway. In Russian a guy asks for me, but its obvious he's not Russian. "What do you want?" "This is Sean with the American Language Center..." [oh boy] "Yeh-huh?" "I was looking through my records and I saw your contract, were in the office for an interview? I've been on vacation." "Yes, I was." "And?..." "There was a gross mix-up and the class you offered me to teach did not in any way fit my schedule." [because why go into the details with this guy, who incidentally has one of the most pronounced Canadian accents I've ever heard] "Oh, I see. Well, while I've got you on the phone...are you still interested in teaching?" "No. I leave the country in a week." "For good?" "Yes, for good." "Well, I see, well..." "Goodbye" Click.

Monday, August 08, 2005

2005 Track and Field World Championship

Is underway right now in Helsinki, at the very Olympic stadium I saw not two months ago.

They just ran the women's 3000 Meter Steeplechase. Talk about masochism! A Russian woman barely taller than the barriers was leading for awhile, and then fell apart after a stumble in the water pit. Poor thing.

That's the great thing about Russian sports coverage (aside from getting me hooked on biathalon) - track and field is considered a serious sport here worthy of consistent news coverage, not just during the Olympics and not just during some drug scandal or another. It may be because the Russian (women) kick ass and are awesome, but hey, I'm watching them play the Ethopian anthem, and I just saw them do the American anthem. Now that's democratic coverage.

Here are some track and field facts, in case you were interestet (courtesy of the Kommersant sports insert which had a feature on the world championships).

Of the 23 main events in women's track and field:

9 records are held by women from the Soviet Union and its successor states of Russia and the Ukraine.
6 more are held by women from Eastern Europe.
The world records in sprinting events (100M -800M) were all set in the 1980s and haven't been broken since, with the exception of the 400M hurdles, which was set exactly 2 years ago by a Russian.

An American woman, just a few minutes ago, cleared her high jump height of 2 meters, which is a bar that was broken not long ago. And a Swede JUST cleared 2.02!!! There's a battle on!

I miss running. I've just given it up this summer. The last time I ran was in May and it sucked. Then when my back started hurting, I thought it best not to run, but now I think the lack of running and general physical exertion is adding to my back and other skeleto-muscular problems. I also miss track. The last time I competed was over half of my lifetime ago, but I still love it, its still in my blood.

Friday, August 05, 2005

life

I've been working on a few posts, essays really, to put up here soon - most of them reflections on Russia, or my time here. These thoughts were put on hold though by the news that my friend's father passed away the morning of August 4, after a battle with lung cancer that seemed all too short.

She left Moscow this spring when she learned of his diagnosis, so that she could be with her family and help him through what everyone hoped would be successful treatment. He had come through surgery and was doing chemotherapy, but something went wrong. She did get married this summer, and her father was able to be there for that, sometime I'm sure they both cherished.

In many ways, the past four years have seemed like a killing field, and not just because of wider world events, although that is certainly true.

Almost exactly four years ago I left Russia to be with my grandmother, who was by then losing her battle to cancer. Of all the places I've travelled to, and of all the things I've done in seen in my life so far, witnessing her struggle and being there with her when she died is by far the defining moment of my life to date.

In 2002 a friend and colleague lost her mother to lung cancer. Not long after, in early 2003 another dear friend learned that her mother had a very serious form of brain cancer. She has, so far defied all expectations and has already lived much longer than anyone expected.

Cancer is something strange to me, this spectre that haunts me. Its claimed more than its fair share of my family members, and it is long, painful and gruesome. Fir the most part, you can't avoid it, if it already knows its coming to get you (Unless you FUCKING SMOKE, in which case you SHOULD STOP RIGHT NOW). But on the bright side (ha!) it gives you time to say goodbye and make peace with yourself and your life, and it gives those around you time to come to terms with surrendering a loved one to death. I have a friend who lost a brother in an accident many years ago, and I still remember the shock that I felt, because I couldn't even imagine what my friend was feeling, to know that suddenly, that was it, that his brother was dead.

What am I getting at here, talking about death in a post I decided to name "life"?

I spend a lot of time reading about, hearing about, and seeing reports of terrorists killing innocent civilians all over the world, soldiers dying in Iraq for reasons we've lost track of, people starving in Mali because of a drought, some kid dying in a car crash because someone was drunk. Death happens, it's unavoidable - anyone who is not a child knows this somewhere deep down inside. We all die, the people we love die. And to those left behind, it will always be unnecessary, without cause or reason, and too soon.

I just hate the fact that life in this world is cheap to so many people, when it's obvious, when you look around you that every life means something to somebody.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

The power of the Ring

From the most recent Chronical of Higher Education: This is brilliant, really. Read and understand.

-- Note: In this analogy, I have set off for Mount Doom, but I lack a "Sam" although I certainly have a supportive "fellowship" group.

Frodo Baggins, A.B.D.
By SUSIE J. LEE

When I was A.B.D., I tried to motivate myself to write my dissertation by setting deadlines that corresponded with the premieres of Peter Jackson's cinematic interpretation of J.R.R. Tolkien's epic trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. My goal was to have a first full draft of the dissertation written by the time the third movie, The Return of the King, came out at the end of 2003, and to watch all three films back-to-back in Times Square in celebration of the achievement.

I didn't exactly meet that deadline. But once I had finished my dissertation and successfully graduated, I watched all three movies again, this time on DVD, and was struck by how closely the story mirrors the experience of writing a dissertation.

For those who have not read the books or seen the films, the significant parts of the story center around a long journey made by a hobbit named Frodo Baggins. He travels across a land called Middle-earth to throw a ring into the middle of a volcano called Mount Doom -- an action that, for doctoral students, is known as "filing the dissertation."

Like many a dissertator, Frodo's terrible and treacherous mission has a dual nature. He cannot, and does not, accomplish the goal without the help of others, but ultimately, he must bear the great load alone.

Frodo is accompanied on the journey by his hobbit friends Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Merry and Pippin are like fellow graduate students still doing their course work. Their carefree nature disappears along the journey, however, as they begin to recognize the impending doom of becoming All But Dissertation. By the end of the second movie, The Two Towers, Merry and Pippin have passed their comprehensive exams and gained a greater maturity, but it is not clear whether they will go on to the dissertation phase. Maybe they've decided that an academic career is not for them.

Frodo, on the other hand, has made the decision that he wants to go all the way. His most important companion is Sam, who is the equivalent of Frodo's "partner."

Sam is not a Ph.D. student, and more than anyone else, he has the terrible burden of being the one closest to the ring bearer. Sam's own fate is tied to that of the ring yet he is helpless to determine his future in a direct manner. He cannot make Frodo finish; he can only try to make it easier for Frodo to do so. He is the long-suffering hero whom every ring bearer thanks at the beginning or end of the acknowledgments of the dissertation -- the one about whom everyone writes "I couldn't have done it without you."

On their way to file the dissertation, Sam and Frodo separate one time. The separation is the result of a deception spun by a fallen soul named Gollum -- aka, the doctoral candidate who will never finish.

Gollum lived with the ring for many years and it destroyed his life, mind, and well-being. Gollum is the living image of what Frodo will become if Frodo cannot complete his task. Frodo in fact pities Gollum, while Sam can only feel disgust and distrust for the miserable creature.

If the ring is to be destroyed -- and the dissertation finished -- new alliances must be formed. Without that fellowship, Frodo's quest is doomed. But a partner alone cannot provide enough support for the difficult mission.

For example, he is stabbed three times during the course of his journey by disgusting and horrible creatures. He is hounded by terrifying beings called the Ringwraiths. Those attacks are the equivalent of the dissertator's endless financial struggles. Each loss of funds prevents him from paying enormous photocopying costs, expenses for travel to archives, bills for books and supplies, health insurance, and campus fees. They take a toll on his morale and his health and increase his stress and exhaustion.

One of Frodo's key supporters who tries to protect him from those problems is a wizard named Gandalf, who, for our purposes, represents Frodo's dissertation committee, usually made up of three people.

Gandalf is instrumental in running interference for Frodo and making sure that he can complete his mission. He writes recommendations for grants and letters of introduction to libraries. He critiques drafts, locates possible sources of money, and feeds his student whenever possible. Most important, he offers intellectual guidance and moral support. Gandalf has his own challenges, however. In the Mines of Moria, he faces down a horrifying demon called the Balrog -- meaning he must also teach, research, publish, and serve on committees.

Frodo's "fellowship" also includes family, friends, dissertation groups, fellow doctoral students, professors, undergraduates, and archival and administrative staff members. They provide counsel, writing deadlines, good company, book references, housing, theoretical critiques, and other key assistance. There are even filmmakers like Peter Jackson who provide incentives around which dissertation deadlines can be set.

Yet while all that support is critical, the mission of the ring is still Frodo's alone. Even with help, can he achieve his goal?

The drama of filing the dissertation is heightened at the end of the process, in those last months of writing, editing, and formatting. A critical scene in The Return of the King highlights the deep emotional struggle between Frodo and his alter ego, Gollum.

Frodo and Sam have finally arrived at Mount Doom, which means that Frodo finally has the full draft. But he looks terrible; he has been defeated emotionally and spiritually by the burden of carrying the ring. He has reached the end of his long journey, but will he file?

At the volcano, Sam yells to Frodo to throw in the ring. But by this time, the strain and burden of carrying the ring for so long has damaged Frodo's mind; he doesn't want to let go. He looks at Sam with a crazed look and says, "The ring is mine!" which, translated, means that he can't or won't finish; he has more research to do, more editing; the dissertation is just not good enough; he must reformat the page numbers.

He has taken the step toward becoming Gollum. He will remain A.B.D. forever. Sam cries pitifully. His life is ruined, too.

All of a sudden, Gollum appears and wrestles Frodo to the ground. They struggle for the ring and Gollum bites off Frodo's finger. Gollum has unwittingly forced Frodo to rise up and save himself from himself. As they struggle, they fall from the ledge, and the ring falls into the molten lava (along with Gollum). The deed is finally done. The dissertation is filed.

But Frodo has completed his mission unwillingly. The year of carrying the ring has damaged him and taken the joy from his life. He has completed his quest, but he's not happy. Can he recover?

Several years later, Frodo is back in his comfortable home in the Shire and has completed the book manuscript for the story of his journey, called The Lord of the Rings. But he confesses to Sam that he is still not at peace. He leaves the Shire on a big boat to find peace and be with his mentor, Gandalf, and other associate and full professors in a faraway land called tenure.

Having shared my Frodo allegory with my dissertation group and my fellow graduate students, we've started to refer to the dissertation as the "ring." When we share stories about writing 12 hours a day for months on end with little human contact, or about feeling angry with people who have the time to eat in nice restaurants and go to the movies, we say, "That's the power of the ring."

The moral of the story, because there is always a moral to these kinds of stories, is to take care of your health and appreciate those around you. Unlike Frodo, we all have the job market to go through, too.



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Susie J. Lee received her Ph.D. in history from Cornell University in August 2004.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Favorite moments

The time has come for me to start reflecting on my year here....I will begin by noting some (by no means all) of my favorite moments here - things that, for the better, I'll never forget.

In no particular order:

- Riding the elektrichka back from Zvenigorod after a hike in May, listening to the women on the train sing, their voices floating through the car. The smell of the forest that day

- My first night out with the guys last fall at that random restaurant – four Americans speaking Russian all night (in spite of the pained liver the next morning from the vodka)

- New Years, 2005 (no explanations necessary)

- My and Alana’s crazy Christmas party, even though I didn’t want to have one in the first place

- Riding the ferris wheel with Alana in Gorkii park in the middle of January

- Victory Day in St. Petersburg – the parade, hearing the radio announce the moment of silence while standing on Ul. Belinskogo. Watching the fireworks from the bridge with Sarah, Marina and Alina

- Sarah's trip

- John's trip

- холодно девушка! холодно! (Kholodno devushka, kholodno!)

- Trip to Riga to see Liz – Especially sitting in the hotel bar on the top floor, sipping hot balsam and looking down at the city

- Going to Borodino with Dave and Zhenya

- Any time I was sitting in a caf?, having coffee with a friend, be it Maike, Zhenya, Dave, Maya or John

- Club Griboedova

- Snowshoeing in Izmailovskii with Alana – and summiting Red Square afterward

- “человек! человек!” (Chelovek! Chelovek! -Yes, I look back on this trip with fondness)

- Riding Finnish sani at TsKPIO on Elagin Island

- Taking Sasha to dance class and the chaotic hijinks associated with it

- Late nights with Marina and Alina over finnish liquerchiki

- The late winter sun in St. Petersburg

- Witnessing a true "white night" on the bus to Helsinki

- Bathing in the REALLY cold spring in Pereslavl'

- Being gluttonous with Maya and Sean and suffering the consequences of the "jihad" afterwards. (sorry, inside joke, you had to be there)