Driving While Brown

I had a first on the last night of the show. I was in a car that got pulled over.

Sigrid (the awesome playwright) gave me and two of our scene changers, Adrian and Christian, and ride over to the park where we performed the play. Cornerstone got four high school interns from Pacoima to work on the production, and 14 year old Adrian and 17 year old Christian were brothers who had never really done theatre before but were totally game and willing to go along with the crazy things we had in store for them. We had the four interns work as "scene shifters" or scene changers, doing things like holding signs, moving chairs, and in a few scenes donning large costumes of products like hot sauce and spam. They even had a few lines.

Anyway, so I was sitting in the front seat with Sigrid driving down a side street when she says, "Why is that cop riding on my ass? He needs to stop." As soon as she said that the cop car's lights turned on. We weren't speeding, and we hadn't run a light or stop sign. Sigrid pulled over and two cops approached either side of the car.

They asked her for her license and registration, but the cops clearly did not expect to find a black woman and a white woman in the front seat. They directed all of their questions to Hispanic Adrian and Christian in the back seat and barely looked at the two of us. "You from around here?" (of course they are, Pacoima is like 85% Hispanic) "Where are you guys heading?" Given that we were heading to a PARK to do a PLAY and the two guys were holding their ribbon wrapped posters from the cast party we'd just had, they glanced at Sigrid's license, didn't even open her registration still in its envelope, and let us go.

As soon as they were out of earshot and the windows were up I said, "What the f**k was that? Are we in Arizona?" The other riders of the car were in agreement. The guys were so cool about it and we all laughed about how the cops were not expecting me and Sig in the front seat, or for us to be heading to a park to do a play. Adrian and Christian also laughed about how they're not in a gang or anything, so it's pretty ridiculous. But it was difficult for me to shake it off. Sig told us about a friend of hers, a playwright with two master's who is a large man and gets tatoos for every play he writes. Apparently he's been pulled over by police multiple times and even beaten up by them for no reason, just because of how he looks. Did I mention that the Rodney King incident happened near Pacoima?

I'm not so naive. I know (and knew) this crap still happens. But it affects you differently when you directly experience or witness it. And a lot of the past month was about directly confronting all of the abstracts I knew in theory. I already wrote about the inequality in education, but it was more than that: working with 15 year old teenage mothers, people who had been in prisons, etc. But despite the problems these people faced, they all shared something positive in common: our play. I'm honored to have been a part of their experience and to know them.

Letter to i8

It's been awhile since I posted. There's a lot to say, but I never found the time to get it all down in writing. However, Cornerstone has a tradition of each class writing a letter to the next year's class. We read all of Institute 6 (i6)'s letters at the beginning of each class we had, and today on our last full day we had the task of writing our letters for i8. Hopefully this will give you an idea of some of what I've experienced here. The writing isn't amazing, but hey...I'm exhausted. So here it is:

Dear I8 Students,

In an attempt to procrastinate writing this letter, I just ate a couple of those Dove dark chocolate squares that come with the “inspirational messages” on the inside wrapper. Both of them said, “never stop learning.” Funnily enough, this is exactly what can sum up my experience and anything I can offer you.

I came to the institute looking for inspiration. I’ve just finished a whirlwind first year in my MFA dramaturgy program, struggling to find a way to balance my desire to engage in high quality artistic productions and in meaningful work. During the institute, I realized that I actually had to define what “meaningful work” means to me. I was feeling selfish and guilty for not doing more to help others, and not working on productions that dealt with social issues in an activist way. The activist-artist inside of me did not know what kind of balance was needed.

But in the spirit of never stopping learning, I gradually began to rediscover what brings me joy in theatre and redefine meaningful work for myself. Early on I realized that as much as I wanted to write all of my thoughts down, talk to family and friends, the processing time was going to have to come later. The days are long, but something I felt one day could change completely two days later. Don’t be hard on yourself like I was for a while if you don’t have time to journal or process. Whether you know it or not, you are processing, and each activity or class somehow pushes you into a new place or catalyzes thoughts. I know it’s going to be hard to leave Pacoima and the I7 family tomorrow, but I’m excited to fully reflect and process everything I learned about community based theatre and myself.

Okay, I promised myself I wouldn’t make this a general advicey letter and it has become one. Now that you have an idea of where I was coming from and my mindset here in Pacoima, let me provide a few examples.

I was really excited about my production assignment as one of the assistant directors. I was prepared for it to be a mainly observational role, but gradually I got to do more of what I love and work with the actors. We had to cast the role of the Vendor a little late in the process, and our director Juliette paired me up with her so she could catch up. Karen is only a few years younger than me at 21, and we have led very different lives, but share similar life philosophies and I liked her instantly. We were both always excited when we got to work together if Juliette was busy with something else. One day while helping Karen learn her lines I tried to explain a way for her to remember the order of them, saying, “It’s like you go from talking about the metaphor, back to reality, and then back to the metaphor.” I talked about this a little more, and finally Karen said, “What’s a metaphor?”

It was a very real reminder of the abstract notion I have always known about the inequality of education in this country. Karen is smart and talented. Her comment says nothing about her intelligence and everything about the environment she was raised in. The more I got to know Karen the more I wanted to help her with her dreams. I knew she had done work with another community-based theatre group, the Unusual Suspects, and that she wants to become an actress, has the talent, but the lacks the training. When I brought up options in the area, everything seemed to be met with something I couldn’t solve: classes in LA need a car to get to that she doesn’t have, they cost money, etc. But after more conversations I realized the even greater problem: Karen has incredibly low self-confidence despite her warm heart and amazing theatrical instincts.

It dawned on me that sometimes one form of being an activist-artist can be as small as touching someone’s life or providing genuine encouragement and faith. When Karen and I discussed her desire to be an actress and her difficulty accessing further training, I was touched by her response. She said, “Yeah, but I feel like I learn a lot from these types of experiences, and they help me.” Not only is she right, but she has the right attitude.

My new definition of activist-artist was reaffirmed during our opening night ritual. As different community cast members talked about their favorite lines or moments in the show and how they spoke to them, they often talked about how much they loved being with everyone, meeting people from different backgrounds within their own community, and how great it was to have so much diversity and so much warmth in this production community. I was glad to be wearing sunglasses since I teared up many times. We didn’t solve Pacoima’s gang problems by putting on a play there. But that isn’t what we were there to do. What we did was form new friendships and bonds that have touched both the community members’ lives and our own, and created a play we could be proud of together.

I hope your institute experience brings you whatever you need it to bring.

Love,
Sara Bookin-Weiner

Pacoima Community Garden

Tonight we went on a tour of Pacoima's community garden, which is where we'll perform the play. Julio, the twenty year old youth leader of the garden was our tour guide. Born in Guatemala but raised here since he was two, Julio is perfect for the role he got in the play, Dreamer. I was moved listening to him talk about the garden. There are the facts, of course: 65 families, a waiting list, all organic, etc. But he spoke genuinely about how he sees the garden as a sacred space. He helps the garden and the garden helps him. He was given muscles do to work and provide protection and safety, not to participate in violence. He spoke about how he sees this as the difference between a macho and a man. He talked about the medicinal garden plot and how when someone he knew had a loved one dying, he told the distressed woman to go tend to the plants and it would make her feel better...and it did.

Julio inspired me. He possesses an inspiring love for the garden, sense of purpose, and belief in the garden's ability to heal and inspire others . I'm so glad that he's going to perform in this community play in his beloved garden. After hearing so much about how "it's not all bad in Pacoima," it was wonderful to finally have a concrete place and experience of the everyday beauty here.

Only at Cornerstone Institute 7...

• Watch over 50 people audition, most of whom have never acted before
• Wake up to the sounds of high school football players lifting weights to heavy metal
• Go up to more strangers in a day than you usually do in a few months to talk to them
• Feel like you've known people for weeks who you've known for days
• Hear a Mormon girl tell a butch lesbian she appreciates her and wishes she could be more like her
• See a queer tranny and a fifty-ish grandma run up to and hug one another
• Spend fourteen hours with the same 20 people every day
• Stay entirely captivated through a three solid hour class
• Love that you're experiencing more than you could imagine
• Hate that you have less time to process than you need
• Take outdoor showers and attempt to master the art of the camp shower bag
• Marvel at the courage of first time auditioners
• Wonder if that sound was a gunshot or a firework
• Worry that you're life plans aren't what you actually want or should follow
  
• Hope that you'll figure it out over the next four weeks

More to come.

India: Arrival and Jaipur

When we arrived in Delhi at something like 6 a.m., Laura and I walked outside to find her friends. After waiting outside for about two minutes in the sweltering heat, Laura said, “I was not prepared for this.”

It was HOT. 44 degrees Celsius, roughly 115 Fahrenheit hot. But lucky for us, we were more or less prepared for our two week trip, and I can happily say that despite threats of volcanic ash, strikes, and protests, we made it through our trip with only a few near catastrophes.

The first was when our flight from London to Athens was cancelled because of the British Airways strike. Although we called and were told we were being rebooked on a later flight that same day, when we didn’t get a confirmation email we had to call from India and get rebooked for reals. The second was when we first left from London Heathrow for Delhi. My teeny nail scissors were a security concern apparently, and they had to search my backpack. When they found them in their pink case, the guy going through my bag turned to his supervisor to see if they were okay. His response? “They’re pink! They’re fine.” Future terrorists, please take note of this logic. Oy.

Despite having to totally unpack and repack my backpack (which was all I took along with a purse for my two week trip), the flight to India was actually quite nice. Mark and Jody Shine met us at the airport and drove us to their home in New Delhi, which is beautiful. The Shines are friends with Laura’s aunt, who Laura is super close with, and moved to Delhi two and half years ago when Mark became president of AT&T India. Their home is gorgeous. They have a pool, gardens, a tennis court…need I go on? Laura and I each had our own room/bathroom, even though we actually only wound up staying there for one night. When we arrived, we got a tour and the most intense discussion about how to use a shower I’ve ever had (actually, the talk at Cornerstone for the outdoor showers was even more intense). This was India, after all, where the cold is hot and the hot is cold, and the power goes out at least twice a day.

After swimming in the pool, showering, and eating lunch, we set off for Jaipur. Thank goodness for air-conditioned cars. I was exhausted and hoped to sleep most of the way, despite my conflicting hopes to see the Indian countryside go by. I didn’t really nap much, since in India whenever you drive by a truck you have to very loudly/prolongedly honk, as they request on the back of their vehicle “honk please” or “blow horn” so they won’t try to switch lanes and kill you.

The whole time I was really surprised by the similarities to parts of Morocco. Bougainvillea hang over the sides of walls just like they did in Morocco, and certain parts of the country just had a very similar feel in terms of mood and atmosphere. Other little things surprised me—the cows that roamed the streets and sides of roads looked different than American cows, and we counted many a camel en route to Jaipur and Agra. As we drove (and in fact, over the entire trip), we talked to Mark and Jody a lot about the culture, customs, and language of India. Much like in Russian, the language says a lot about a culture. Apparently in Hindi there is no word for “please” really, you just phrase a sentence with different grammar to indicate that. Hindi sounds incredibly difficult, and I was really impressed that Mark and Jody were able to communicate and really tried. I mean, every single number has its own word! No sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two business. Each number is different.

When we arrived in Jaipur at the Oberoi Hotel there, I was in for quite the experience. The Oberoi is one of the nicest hotels in the world. After they checked our car to make sure it wasn’t rigged or something, we were greeted by what felt like the entire hotel staff. They adorned us with marigold leis, bindis, and handed out these amazing cold jasmine-scented hand towels (you got those every time you returned to the hotel). We then rode a golf cart the three-minute walk to the private ultra-deluxe villa (aka the nicest one). After walking underneath a minaret, across a little footbridge, around a couple of small fountains in a courtyard, we were greeted by Angeli, our butler. She had champagne flutes with fresh lime juice waiting for us, and we got a tour of the place. I’m attempting to post some photos to do it justice.



In the main building there was the living room/dining room area, which opened out with French doors onto our private pool…with peacocks!




Our little building had the huge room for Laura and me, and the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen. Mark and Jody’s room was even more incredible.


We spent that night sipping champagne and ordered dinner from the restaurant delivered directly to our own dining room. Needless to say, it was delicious. The next morning, after drinking the best coffee I’ve ever had we met with our guide who took us to the Amber (pronounced ahm-bear) palace or fort. It’s a little outside the city, and we drove to the base and then rode elephants up to the top!

(Laura with the elephant we rode. I named him Baby Babar.)

The architecture is really interesting because it’s a blend of Muslim and Hindu styles. This was because of the coalition formed at the time to keep the peace in the area. It reminded me a little bit of the Alahambra, but maybe not quite as well preserved in some places, and not as intricate throughout. The coolest part was the hall of mirrors, which hopefully you can see below.


We also saw the Jal Mahal, which looks like a floating palace on the water.


And the Palace of the Winds, which was a fake front to the palace placed on the main street so that the ladies of the court could look out onto the street.


I also really enjoyed our trip to a shop that made carpets and textiles. We got see how they put patterns on silk as well as how they make carpets and feel the difference between the different kinds (camel, silk, etc.).

On our last day in Jaipur Laura and I also went to the Observatory and the Palace and its museums. Below are some favorite photos.




After lunch we said goodbye to Angeli (who was wonderful, we chatted with her a lot), and made our way to Agra. The Taj Mahal awaited!

Days 3 and 4, or, One Week Later

These days are so long I really do feel like the 32 days are going to feel like 32 weeks. Or maybe that we just cram in enough here to make it feel like we've done enough to fill that amount of time.

At 7:45 in the morning yesterday my roommate Kathy led a really nice yoga class in our sort of classroom area (called "the nest"). After breakfast we all took turns auditioning for Juliette and Sigrid. This was the same audition as the community members go through. It consists of picking a short-and-sweet sentence from a newspaper before you go into the audition room (mine was "You've added a robot uprising." It was an article on a new Anna Karenina adaptation, HAH.), and then Juliette gave you different circumstances to say that line. For instance, "your dog just ate your favorite pair of shoes, now scold that dog by saying the line three times, building in intensity." Things like that.

After we all did the callbacks together. These were also really fun consisting mainly of theatrey games (although I think in the real callback they'll read from the script). Then we talked about how to run auditions and the different jobs, ate lunch, and made our way to the two different audition locations.

I was at Humphrey Park, where we held auditions at the teen center. I guess because we had to start the institute so much earlier this year and it is interrupted by the 4th of July, we didn't really have enough time to get the word out, so at each location we only had about 8 or 9 people audition over the course of 3 hours. Since there were about 10 of us at each location, many of us wound up taking a bunch of fliers and going around with one or two others to recruit auditioners and get the word about the play out. I went with Terri (a grandmother who is probably a little older than my mom from Hawaii, just finished her Master's in theatre) and Camee (a married Mormon about to enter her senior year in theatre ed. at BYU...are you getting a sense of the diversity of backgrounds here?). Thankfully Camee speaks some Spanish from living in Mexico City several years during high school, and we had to rely on her quite a bit when talking with people. I wished even more that I spoke Spanish, and I'm determined to give Rosetta Stone a go when I have the time.

The responses we got ranged, but were mostly on the positive to "think about it" end of the spectrum. Pacoima is not exactly how I imagined it. While it is known for having a lot of gang violence (over 40 gangs here), the community is lots of concrete and wire fences. Apparently each home holds 1.5 families, so even though the area has a somewhat manicured look, it contains a lot. Walking back to the park from a shopping complex on a residential street we found an uncapped syringe needle. Terri picked it up to throw it away, worried that a kid might step on it. It was weird feeling for me, because on the one hand I was not that surprised given everything I've heard about the community, but on the other it looked so out of place just sitting there on the sidewalk of a fairly quiet neighborhood. If it had been in the park's parking lot I don't think I would have felt so surprised.

There was a small group of boys, probably all around ten years old, who were skateboarding in the park. Juliette really wanted them to audition, and she along with many others tried to talk them into it. But as our stage manager alejandra noted, they already have a job. I noticed that at one point a car booming with music drove by and the boys ran up to the window, meaning they're probably lookouts for drug dealers in the area. It's a shame, since they're so young and already there's a loss of youth.

After we regrouped to share audition experiences and ate dinner, Kathy led us in a fun warm up and then we had a three hour class on the history of Cornerstone. I was struck by how the company has never let its artistic values fall because of its community work. Unfortunately at 10pm I was barely able to keep my eyes open in the dark (we were watching clips and looking at photos). I'm grateful to have the day off today only because I think I still haven't recovered from my whirlwind travels...and I got ten hours of sleep last night, ahhh.

Tired and Inspired

I bet you were expecting me to write about India, Greece, London, Paris, and Italy. Well, that will happen eventually. It has been the most whirlwind summer so far, but if things continue in this vein, then it may also be the most wonderful summer of my life so far.

Before I catch you up on my travels, I need to make sure I chronicle my time with Cornerstone Theater Company's Summer Institute. I've been here less than 48 hours and yet it feels like so much longer, and I mean that in a good way.

First, here is a link to the institute. In the photo on the homepage I'm sitting next to Jose, the other assistant director, and in front of him is the director Juliette Carrillo, who is very cool and nice (google her, she's done a lot of impressive stuff). When I met Juliette she said, "Oh, you're one of my ADs! I'm going to work you hard!" To which I replied, "Good! That's what I like to hear!"

The really incredible thing is that I like everyone here and feel a sense of ease with them that usually takes much longer than two days to reach. There truly is a sense of openness, kindness, and generosity amongst the people here-the values Cornerstone holds most dear. I also really like my three roommates: Courtney (entering her senior year at Georgetown), Kathy (PhD student at ASU), and Eda (MA student in Illinois from Turkey).

The living situation here is definitely interesting, but also fun and communal in a great way. It really does feel like camp. We live at Discovery Charter Prep School, and our bedrooms are inside the modular classrooms. We use the school bathrooms and they set up an outdoor "shower garden." I was less than thrilled with this shower situation, but decided to suck it up and deal. But I can say after my first shower yesterday that it was actually quite refreshing! You fill a 5 gallon bag with water (either warm from the tap or heat it with the sun), and then with the help of gravity you shower. There are a few kinks, but since with this method I only use about 3 gallons, it's quite nice to feel like I'm helping the environment a little.

Meals are communal and delicious. Breakfast and lunch are self-serve with many yummy and healthy options, and dinners are different each night. So far we had great grilled chicken and a taco bar. There are also always lots of veggies and salad. We all wash our own dishes and take turns doing KP "kitchen patrol."

The days are long, jam-packed, but amazing. Today I have some down time in the morning because all of us are required to audition for the show (even though we already have our production assignments), and it only takes about 5 minutes each. I felt a bit like a zombie my first day because of jet lag/lack of sleep, but it was mostly an orientation. Yesterday we had a great warm up in the morning with Laurie, the Curriculum Director/Associate Artistic Director at Cornerstone and my new friend crush. She is so awesome.

Then Michael, the artistic director of Cornerstone, led us all in "Cultural Mapping" exercises. They all begin with something kind of easy and work their way toward the more touchy subjects. For instance, each corner of the room is designated something and then you go to your corner and have to find three things in common with the other people there. These categories varied from youngest child/oldest/middle/only (I am the only child along with Sigrid the playwright), monolingual/bilingual/multilingual/feel you have yet to master a language, music/image/text/movement (this one was the hardest choice for me).

Then we had a line in the room we had to arrange ourselves on, starting with: sirloin steak/veggie burger (I was actually closer to veggie burger), then moving onto things more difficult: art/social justice, wealthy/not wealthy, most likely to get a arrested/least likely to get arrested. The main point of the exercise is that you talk with the people around you to figure out where you belong, and that who you are in relation to these categories depends on where you are and who you're with. Afterward we also discussed how it always felt weird when we would stop and look at the line, because we felt like we wanted to explain or hear the explanations of people not as near us. For instance, MC, a Cornerstone Ensemble member and actor who is in the play, was the furthest on the most likely to get arrested end because he's black, and he explained that in his mind he's not likely to because he doesn't do anything wrong, but by virtue of his race and where he lives he belongs towards that end of the line.

Then we talked about Pacoima and the community partners we've developed here with Paula, the institute director, and then we read through the latest draft of the play, "It's All Bueno" written by Sigrid Gilmer. It's a funny adaptation of Candide and I (thankfully!) really like it.

After lunch we had a scavenger hunt in Pacoima, which was really more just so we could see the different places mentioned in the script and get to know the community. We weren't supposed to find tactile objects so much as do things like take photos, write haikus, talk to people, hand out fliers for auditions, think about what/who is inspiring, intriguing, new to us, similar to our world, scary, missing, and unique. Now, I can be a little wary of what feels like manufactured fun with people I don't really know, but I had such a great time. I would say that I got lucky with my car-full of people, but then again I really like everyone here so I think no matter what I would have had a blast. I was in Laurie's car with Susan (an MA student at Towson in Baltimore) and Elizabeth, a Cornerstone staff production assistant. We wrote a haiku together at the first stop, the Hansen Dam, and then couldn't stop, so we wrote haikus everywhere we went and wound up with 14 in total. At one point Laurie insisted on stopping to get us all ice cream at a vendor truck (didn't I say she was awesome?), and we chatted with the owner and his kids, as well as a family stopping there, and hopefully they'll come audition. At Costco Elizabeth and I scurried off to try a sample and then lost Susan and Laurie for a little while, so we wrote:

After the samples
We lost Laurie and Susan
We found them again

After returning to the school campus and sharing our findings, it was interesting to hear what other group members had to say. In general it sounds like the community has been quite receptive to the idea of the play, and later today we'll see how many will come out and audition.

Following dinner we had meetings with our supervisors for our production assignments (Juliette is my supervisor). Then we discussed community engagement and broke into smaller groups to brainstorm. By this time it was 8:30pm and I was exhausted. We ended a little before 9:30pm and I wanted to write this all down, but was too wiped. Even though we have so little free time (I was up at 7:15am this morning to do yoga!), I am going to do my best to chronicle my Cornerstone Institute experience.

Toto, I don’t think we’re in Moscow anymore: My Day in Zurich

The prospect of a 6:45 a.m. flight was not appealing to me at first. Especially since the flight Laura and I had booked to London from Zurich left at 8 p.m., and Laura was with the half of the group arriving in the late afternoon. But Julia Smeliansky showed me the bright side back in Cambridge. “You can spend the day in Zurich!” She exclaimed, informing me that it was super easy to get into the city from the airport and that there was a great art museum.

Despite her assurances, I was still worried about just how easy it would be to get my luggage, find an area to store it, get tickets for the train, find my way around…frankly, I found it all a bit daunting. But I’m happy to say that my day in Zurich was one of the easiest, loveliest days I’ve had.

After getting my luggage immediately (phew!), many of my classmates and I followed the signs to the left luggage area. There the security guard didn’t charge me for my backpack since I had two large suitcases (aw), and told me when I asked about how long trains to the city center took that we could get tickets at the info desk around the corner, which had no line. There, a woman told me that a day pass for the equivalent of $16 got me in and out on any train, and I could use any metro, tram, or bus, AND get free entry into museums. Um, sold! We made our way to the train, as people gradually said goodbye and went their separate ways to their different destinations. I wound up boarding a very swank train (we may have been in the first class car, woops) with my classmates Nick (an actor) and Joe, and we set off to explore the city. I was already relieved and more at ease with how easy it all was…especially since I had been up since 1 a.m. Zurich time after about 2-3 hours of napping time combined, and it was now 9:30 a.m.

After examining the handy map I received with my pass, I realized that it outlined a lovely walking tour to all the spots I wanted to cover. We set off to find breakfast first, and wound up eating delicious birchermueseli (I think that’s how it’s spelled) at an outdoor café. It’s a mixture of yogurt, berries, and granola. The three of us could not get over Zurich’s beauty, saying things like, “Are we in paradise? Is this heaven?” We marveled at the clear aqua waters of the river, the charming squares with fountains, the clean cobblestone streets with interesting boutiques, and at how cars actually stopped to let you walk. In fact, the area of the city we were in was fairly empty until around lunchtime, making it a quiet and peaceful tour. After three months in Moscow, we had found an oasis. We were all in love with Zurich.

This love grew as the day went by and we took in the sights. We saw Europe’s largest clock face at St. Peter’s, then gazed in awe at Marc Chagall’s stained glass windows in Fraumunster, another cathedral (free entry!). Winding our way up past quiet store fronts, we found our way to the Kunsthaus Museum. This was the art museum that Julia had told me about, and she did not exaggerate—it is my new favorite art museum. The collection is amazing, ranging from old masters to impressionists, expressionists, and contemporary art. It housed so many of my favorite artists’ works: Kandinsky, Monet, Chagall, and it even had a cool Robert Rauschenberg piece, just to name a few. Entry was free with my pass, and there was also a free English audio guide. AND we could take photos. I was one happy camper. The museum had a light and airy feel, and I found my new favorite painting by Marc Chagall. It was a beautiful and moving piece called “Les lumieres du marriage” in French, which translates to either “The wedding lights” or “The lights of marriage” I think.

After the museum, it was time to find lunch and caffeine. I had asked the woman at the info desk of the Kunsthaus to show me where the Cabaret Voltaire was on my map because I wanted to make a little pilgrimage to the birthplace of Dada. Sure enough it was nearby and easy to find. After lunch we said goodbye to Joe, and Nick and I got iced coffees and wandered along the river and through the streets. We went into the Grossmunster, which we had stopped outside of on our way to the museum. As “Zurich’s greatest landmark,” what was really amazing were the windows. Some were stained glass, but most were made out of thinly sliced multi-colored agate crystals.

After saying goodbye to Nick, I easily boarded a train leaving within a few minutes for the airport. As I sat on the train I reflected on how lucky I was to have this opportunity. It may have only been six hours, but my time in Zurich was absolutely lovely.

Last Day in Moscow

I know that I should finish packing right now. But as my last day in Moscow draws to a close, I am reminded of why I’ve loved my time here.

At noon we had our last Russian Art & Architecture History class with Anna. I’ve really loved being able to finally have an art history course. I think I also neglected to mention that I love how she’ll be talking and suddenly make a comment like, “then they reconstructed this monstrosity.” It’s hilarious.

After a lovely last lunch in the MXAT stalovia (canteen), the other dramaturgs and I headed up to Tolya’s office so we could say goodbye. We really love Tolya, he’s just a wonderful combination of wisdom, humor, care, and good-nature. Kind of like our very own Dumbledore. At our last class we gave him a framed photo of the four of us with him at Patriarch’s Ponds and he was obviously very touched by it (he says it’s going on the wall by the photo of him with Andrew Lloyd Webber). Today we went to return a book and say our goodbyes. After a group hug (yes, really, it was pretty darn presh) he gestured to the framed photo on his desk. “I came in today, and I saw it, and it was a kind of…ah!” he said, grasping his hands over his heart. Then somehow he decided that we all needed to have shots of the Ukrainian berry-infused vodka that he had just been given. So after a couple of toasts, a couple of shots, he sent us off with the bottle. If that’s not a perfect Russian goodbye, I don’t know what is. I’m really going to miss him a lot, it’s actually making me pretty sad.

After our goodbye, I went up to the 7th floor of the building to observe auditions. On Friday I interviewed Sergey (the director of one of the 4th year’s shows, who is also their master teacher) for an article I’m writing. Afterward he was nice enough to invite me to drop by and watch the auditions. The MXAT school auditions are crazy. They must have thousands of people, and need to whittle it down to about 20. I saw 12 people audition, and it was fascinating—seeing how they run auditions here, what the actors were like before or after their audition, what they were like as actors versus just talking to Sergey.

Now I really do have to finish packing. I leave for the airport at 3am, spend the day in Zurich before flying to London for the night and leaving the next day for India. I’m so grateful for the past three months. Learning more about the Russian culture, art, literature, history, theatre, getting closer with my classmates, and relishing every moment. I’m sad to see this chapter in my life end.

Charmed Life

The other night my friend Jenny, one of the actors, was visiting us on the 5th floor when Joe joined the conversation. I told him when we were leaving in the morning. “Should we go get a cake before then?” he asked. “Actually, I hear she wouldn’t like that, maybe we should bring wine instead, but is it weird to bring wine at 10 am?” I said. “Well, we could always bring champagne and orange juice,” someone suggested. At this point, Jenny cried out, “What do you guys DO all day?!?”

We all laughed and explained that it was a gift for our Russian film history professor, who was having us over for breakfast. But taken out of context, both this and our lives here in general sound pretty decadent. Sleeping in, one or two classes a day at most, museums, sightseeing, reading in parks and cafes, free shows…it’s a tough life, but someone has to live it. As my time in Moscow draws to a close (I leave the morning of the 25th), I’ve begun reflecting on what I will and won’t miss. But to be honest, I think what I will miss the most is the lifestyle. After months of stress in Cambridge, Moscow has been a much-needed respite from constant stress. So here are some lists, since we all know how much I enjoy lists:

THINGS I WON’T MISS
-Moscow drivers: Every time I walk down the street and cross, I glare at and try to ESP the approaching vehicle, “don’t you dare hit me you motherf***er.”
-Cigarette smoke: it’s gotten so bad that I’ve found myself craving a cigarette at times. Can you get addicted to nicotine through second-hand smoke?
-Super thin walls in the dorm
-The very long stair trek up to the 5th floor
-Mullets: on men AND women. Oy vey.
-Having someone speak to me in Russian and only being able to stare at them. And stutter. Or blink.
-Worrying about my internet usage
-Being in a group 60% of the time
-Moscow Fashion: jeans with ripple/dart thingies on the sides of the thighs, monochromatic look, fishnets, fur, overdressing for everything, heels so high the women look like a strong gust of wind my topple them over…as my friend Sarah said, “stay classy, Moscow.”

THINGS I WILL MISS
-Moscow Fashion: because it is endlessly entertaining! Laura and I made up a game where we rank outfits, hairstyles, and heel height on a scale of 1-10 crazy.
-Museums: learning about Russian art and then seeing it. Learning about/reading Russian authors and seeing where they lived.
-Russian food: especially blinis, cireniki, pelemeni, Georgian restaurants, and the chocolate
-How everything can become an adventure: the super market, finding your way, taking the wrong metro exit but seeing a really beautiful ceiling in it, small triumphs in Russian language communication
-The classes: especially our classes with Tolya. We had the most amazing lecture with him this week as a whole class, when he told us about his first foray into researching Bulgakov (he’s a Bulgakov scholar), and meeting Bulgakov’s widow. It was amazing. Then on Friday he took the four dramaturgs out to lunch at a Georgian café near where he lives by Patriarch’s Ponds.
-Springtime in Moscow. It’s so gorgeous!
-Free productions practically every night. Many of them wonderful.
-Immersing myself in another culture…well, almost. That whole language barrier has made it rather tricky. But still.
-No morning classes=sleeping in
-Only work is enjoyable reading and writing

Sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote, by the way. Between my parents’ visit (which was wonderful, they said it was one of the best trips they’ve ever taken) and the beautiful weather, I haven’t spent that much time indoors by my computer. Soon I need to remedy that and finish up some of these articles. In the end, I do think my time has flown by here. I’m really grateful to the friends and family back in the US who have been so wonderful about keeping in touch with me!

Dad Goes Rogue

When my parents arrived, I was about to start my 2 p.m. class. My mom decided to take a nap, but my dad agreed to meet me when my class let out at 3:20 p.m. “It’s super close to your hotel,” I told him. “You go out of the hotel, turn right, turn right on the first major street that’s K something Most, then cross the next intersection onto Kamergersky where you’ll see a flower stand. It’s about mid-way up on the right, across from a Starbucks and Tibet restaurant. You’ll see a vertical green sign that says TEATP (theatre in Cyrllic).” Easy, right?

As I left my class I saw a text from my dad: “Lost. Call when out of class.” Uh oh…

I wasn’t too concerned, since at least my dad knows Cyrillic. I called him. Please note his responses were all quite calm and in a good mood.

“Dad, how did you get lost?? Where are you?”

“Is MXAT near the Pushkin Theatre?”

The Pushkin is about a 15-minute walk from MXAT. At my father’s rate, 25.

“No! Is that where you are?!?!”

“No, but I was.”

“Well where are you now?”

“I’m on Tverskaya.”

Tverskaya is the most major street in Moscow. And long.

“Dad, where on Tverskaya? It’s a big street.”

“I’m by a MacDonald’s.”

There are two MacDonald’s on Tverskaya. One across from MXAT. One near the Pushkin Theatre.

“Are you still near the Pushkin??”

“No…”

“So what else is there? Are you near the Telegraph building?”

“Is that the post office?

“Yes!”

“Yeah, that’s where I am.”

“Okay, Dad, use the perekhod, cross to the other—“

“The what?”

Woops, I forgot.

“A perekhod, it’s what you use to cross underneath the major streets since you can’t walk across. Do you see it?”

“Oh yeah, I see it.”

“Okay, I’m leaving the building, I’ll meet you on the other side of the perekhod.”

When I got to the perekhod, there was no sign of my father. I called him.

“Dad, where are you?”

“I started walking on Tverskaya.”

“What?! Why? Which direction??”

“I don’t know…”

“Dad, come BACK to the perekhod!”

“Okay!”

Father and daughter reunite, hug, and Dad takes a sit-down to explain. He is still in great spirits.

“Dad, HOW did you wind up by the PUSHKIN???”

“Well, the hotel gave me a map, and circled where I should go—“

Uh-oh. You know this is no good. The theater circled on the map is not MXAT.

“That’s not MXAT! Why did they send you there??”

I agonize over this for while, but we’ll move on to my Dad’s adventure…

“So I turned left out of the hotel (we remember this is wrong, right?), and then walked up and saw this great sculpture garden, and so I wandered around that for a while, and then I walked up and over by the Pushkin, there’s a great photography exhibit there, have you seen it? And then I got hungry, so I got a great hot dog—“

“Wait, Dad, did you get a stardog?!”

Stardogs, which I call Crapdogs because of how they look in Cyrillic, are stands everywhere here. Someone I know told me they have caused some serious food poisoning and said eating them is “playing with fire.” I relate this to my dad.

“Oh, well, it was really yummy. Then I texted you and realized I was lost, so I asked a policeman for directions—“

“You WHAT?!?!?! Dad, you NEVER ask a policeman for directions!! You never talk to them or even make eye contact!”

“Well he was really nice and helpful! I just said, ‘gde MXAT?’ and he pointed me in the right direction! He was very nice and he had a nice new uniform.”

(Later I deducted that I think my dad actually asked a security guard, not a police officer, or a MoPo as I like to call them.)

“Okay, well promise me you won’t do it again, okay?”

Thus ends my father’s adventure. I was never too concerned since my dad really likes to wander and is pretty city-savvy. But he’s been having difficulty walking long distances, and Moscow is about the most impossible city if you can’t walk to get around. We’ll see how things go when I take them to the Kremlin today…which is where I’m heading now!

A Petersburg Adventure

Sorry to have fallen off the face of the earth, dear friends/family/readers. I’ve actually had a lot of work lately. It’s hard to believe that just a week ago I was in the middle of my 42 hours in St. Petersburg.

At 9 p.m. we left the dorm for the train station. We waited there for a little while before our overnight sleeper train departed around 10:30 p.m. After dropping our backpacks in the teeny-tiny rooms, we proceeded to celebrate my acting classmate Chris’s birthday. Between this, the hot and stuffy nature of our car, and how my mattress continually slid off (thus taking me with it), I think I maybe got 3 hours of sleep total before arriving at the St. Petersburg train station at 6:45 a.m.

We got off the train and I was suddenly filled with love for Mother Russia. Perhaps this was because patriotic music was blasting throughout the station. We made our way to a Coffee House (it’s a chain here phonetically spelled out in Cyrillic) where we had breakfast and waited around in our various zombie/slap-happy states for our bus tour at 9 a.m.

The bus tour was great, largely thanks to our wonderful guide Olga. In addition to near-perfect English, she knew a lot of interesting facts about the history and architecture of the city. For four hours we drove around the city, visiting convents, cathedrals, churches, and other scenic lookouts. The city’s architecture is beautiful, and with all of its canals St. Petersburg gets many comparisons to cities like Venice or Amsterdam.

After dropping our bags at the hostel, we had about an hour for lunch before we met for our guided tour of the Winter Palace, which houses the Hermitage museum. Once again we had a great English-speaking guide who took us around for about two hours. The Hermitage is immense and incredible, containing artists from Da Vinci to Picasso. I found it kind of overwhelming, because in addition to the works themselves the building is a work of art, with gold encrusted rooms and galleries filled with intricate designs. At 5 p.m. when the tour wrapped up I was tempted to go back to the hostel and shower since I was so exhausted. Luckily Laura wanted to stick around and explore more, and I’m glad I did too, because when will I get the chance to be in the Hermitage again? We wound up finding a great area with a collection of 19th century décor.

Despite my exhaustion, I was determined to get some more out of the day. After showering, I set off with Joe, Rachel, Laura, and actor classmate Faith to see the nearby Church on Spilled Blood, which looks similar to St. Basil’s. After taking photos we wandered the nearby market, which was closing. We then met up with our leaders Tanya, Nastia, Polina, and acting classmate Ed for dinner at a Georgian restaurant (I think I’ve successfully managed to have Georgian food at least every two weeks here). I passed out around midnight back at our hostel, which was thankfully near the main area of the city.

After breakfast at 8 a.m. the next day, we boarded a bus for Pushkin town, which is technically part of St. Petersburg but on the outskirts. There we visited Tsarkoe Selo, Catherine the Great’s Summer Palace. With Olga as our guide once more, we followed her through rooms covered in gold, the famous amber room (walls are made of mosaics of amber, it’s really incredible but no photos were allowed in that room), and much more. We also walked the grounds a bit—luckily it was sunny despite being chilly enough for a hat and gloves, even though it was April. We also walked around the grounds of Pavlosk, Catherine’s son Paul’s palace.

The bus dropped us off in front of the Alexandrinsky Theater around 2:15 p.m., where we would meet again to see the Alexandrinsky’s theatre museum and show at 5:45 p.m. Laura and I got off the bus and booked it to the Russian Museum. When we arrived there was a line of people at the gate and a sign saying that the museum was full, and they would let in more people when the coat checkrooms had more room. We were torn: we had limited time and other sights we wanted to see, but the Russian Museum was at the top of my list. Thankfully good things come to those who wait, and after just five minutes they let people into the museum. Although we had to go through this museum at a rather fast pace, we managed to see all but the folk art section in 90 minutes AND visit the gift shop (I got a deck of cards with pictures from the museum for us to play during our epically long travel plans to India and Greece). This was probably the highlight of the trip for me. I’ve really loved our Russian Art History course, and seeing them in reality was exciting. Laura and I kept pointing out the works we’d studied and snapping photos, discovering some new faves in the process. When I showed one to our prof Anna on Monday (Ilya Repin’s Sadko), and asked her what she knew about it, she told me that I have “progressive taste.” I hope this is a good thing. We also wound up seeing a bunch of artists we learned about the next day, which was cool. This was also the place where I saw my new favorite sculpture that I have lovingly nicknamed Zombie Baby, since it looks like a zombie baby and is really ridiculous for a piece of 19th century sculpture.

At 4 p.m. Laura and I were finally starting to get really hungry, but we still wanted to climb to the top of St. Isaac’s. So en route we stopped in a Teremok, got ham and cheese blinis to go and ate them as we walked (this is not exactly the easiest thing to eat and walk with at the same time). We were concerned that it was going to close before we got there, but we made it with a half hour to spare. After climbing the 211 stairs, we found our friend and acting classmate Erikka at the top. Once we had enjoyed the view, the three of us made our way back down and walked along the canals back to the Alexandrinsky theatre. We were quite proud of ourselves for cramming so much into our free time. We had amazing seats at the show that night, Brecht’s Man=Man, and it was one of my favorite productions thus far. I’m going to write an article about how well it exemplified Brechtian staging.

After the show got out 10 p.m., we had an hour to eat before we got our bags and walked to the train station for our train departing at 12:40 a.m. Thankfully the cars were a bit more spacious, not hot, and my bed didn’t fall off this time. I’m sad we didn’t have more time in St. Petersburg, but grateful for the experience. The city is so different from Moscow: fewer cars, less busy streets, cleaner, more beautiful. Although I do think that if Moscow took down half of its blaring signs and lights it could look similar. Also if cars stopped parking on the sidewalks.

In many ways the trip felt like a culmination of everything we’ve been learning. I felt like I was able to appreciate every detail so much more because we had learned about it. I feel so lucky to be able to immerse myself in another culture and its history. As our Russian film history prof Galina said, “You can’t boil in your own soup; you need to learn more about other cultures to enrich yourself.”

Culture Vulture: Intro and House Museums

Believe it or not, between my laid-back class schedule and nights of theatre going, I’ve been seeing my fair share of this city. It’s been so nice to see the sights at a leisurely pace. After another lovely Sunday, I think it’s about time I finally start sharing some of these experiences I’ve accumulated with you. So here begins my Culture Vulture series on the various museums, galleries, and sights of my Russian experience. I think it’s best to start with that special Russian oddity—the memorial house museum.

The great poets, playwrights, and writers who resided in Moscow—even if it was just for three months—all seem to have had their living spaces preserved as a sort of monument. Many of these can be kind of boring (oh look, there’s an old desk, never mind that it wasn’t actually Marina Tsvetaeva’s desk, but it could be from that period…). But I have made it my goal to find out which ones are worthwhile and hit them up. Because frankly, unless you speak Russian or really revere these figures, it can feel kind of pointless to visit them otherwise.

Like the poet Marina Tsvetaeva’s memorial apartment. In our second week of class Igor strongly hinted (aka told us) that we should go visit after reading her poems in his class. So we called up (actually, Nastia called up for us), scheduled and English guide (which was actually kind of pricey even divided by the four of us), and set off on one of our first excursions. We got a little lost, but still managed to find it. The guide’s English was poor (we actually think she didn’t want us to pay, but the higher-ups seemed to tell her that we still had to), and the house didn’t really give me any more insight into her life. I’ve always really enjoyed seeing old houses and rooms decorated like they might have been decades or centuries earlier, but this was somehow lackluster.

So that’s when I consulted the list my friend Sarah Wallace from the class of ’08 had sent me and emailed my friend Heidi of ’09 to find out which house museums were worthwhile. On the day I meant to go to Chekhov’s house it turned out it was closed (and now I hear it’s kind of boring, so I won’t be going), so Rachel and I went to the Stanislavsky House Museum instead. For a mere 60 rubles ($2), we got to see the beautiful house were Stanislavsky spent his last years. I wish I had paid the 100 rubles to take photos. The ceilings were each unique and beautiful, and the rooms themselves had interesting design, architecture, and furniture pieces. Each room also had its own typed up sheet in English that was both interesting and informative. Stanislavsky’s bedroom and adjoining study were particularly interesting. Desks and layouts were kept in original condition (as proved by photographs), there were paintings and sketches by famous people like Edward Gordon Craig, and gifts from people like Isadora Duncan.

My next outing was to the Gorky House Museum. I must admit, I haven’t really read much Gorky, but after seeing some of Heidi’s photos I was really excited by the architecture. Gorky didn’t live there very long, but this free museum showcases the beautiful Gaudi-like and art deco design of the house’s interior. I took about 10 photos of the amazing banister, and would post them here but I think it would eat up my internets. Sigh. Moving on…

Today looked like it was going to be a gorgeous day and perfect for an outing to the Novodevichie Cemetery. But upon leaving brunch at the Starlite Diner, Laura and I thought it would be best to find something else to do given the chilly and grayish weather. As we walked by the statue of Mayakovsky I recalled that Sarah had included his house museum in her list of must-sees. One look in my guidebook solidified this choice. It described the Mayakovsky Memorial House Museum as less like an apartment and more like what it must have been like inside of his futurist/constructivist brain. Intriguing…off we went.

This was probably one of the coolest museums I’ve ever been to. Plus it was free, AND you could take photos inside without paying for that privilege. The poet, artist, and occasional playwright (we actually learned about one of his plays that he did with Meyerhold) lived in a communal apartment that was turned into a memorial museum by his granddaughter. An incredible amount of material was saved: photos, programs, posters, paintings, letters, newspapers…the list goes on. But the way they were shown was so cool, and difficult to describe. Twisted sculptures, angled, it was like being inside a futurist surrealist brain for sure. It also made me much more interested in reading more of his poetry and learning more about his life.

As I mentioned in my last post, we have class in Meyerhold’s Memorial Apartment, which has its own creepy past. But it’s still pretty amazing to sit down in what used to be his living room, where he once sat, and learn about him. I’m not sure if many more house museums lie in my future, but I’ve enjoyed some of the surprises so far.

The Power of Low to No: Classes

In the hustle and bustle of preparing to spend three months in a foreign country, somehow I forgot a little bit about the fact that I’m a student. Well, I didn’t really forget, but in the slew of advice from prior years I barely heard anything about the classes the dramaturgs take in Moscow. Which is why I had no expectations going into my coursework here, leading to many pleasant surprises…mainly that they’re great!

In general, both my schedule and the amount of work for the classes here are like pebbles compared to the boulders of my Cambridge courses. Each class meets once a week, and only two of them have work. Now, this is partly because seeing theatre 5-7 nights a week is considered part of our curriculum, and we should finish six articles by the time we finish our time here on theatre, productions, or cultural life in Moscow. These are published in MXAT’s online e-journal, which I think Tolya is hoping to compile into a printed book version someday.

So for those of you who were wondering, here’s my schedule:

Monday

Russian Art and Architecture History, 12-1:30 p.m.: We breezed through the centuries and are about to begin the 19th and 20th, but I love this class so far. It’s so cool to have seen so many of the paintings we see in slides at the Old Tretyakov Gallery, and learning more about which churches in Moscow I want to visit. I always regretted not taking an art history class in college, so this is making me feel a little better.

Theatre History, 2-3:20 p.m.: This is the only class that our entire group (4 dramaturgs, 18 actors, 1 voice student) has together with Tolya. Half of the classes the actors present on various theatre practitioners, and the other half Tolya talks. The stories he tells are so fascinating, and they hold a special power since so much took place at the very theatre where we’re studying.

Tuesday

Opera and Ballet History at the Stanislavsky Music Theatre, 11 a.m.-12:30 p.m.: The four of us got to have a private backstage tour of this theatre a short ways from MXAT, which is an opera and ballet theatre. We’ve seen two productions there so far too, since our professor works there as a sort of foreign correspondent. Not my favorite class since I knew most of the ballet history stuff, but it was interesting to learn more about how opera developed.

Wednesday

Key Concepts of Russian Culture Through Literature and Other Arts, 11 a.m.-12:30 p.m.: This class and our Friday class with Igor, the same professor, kind of meld together in my mind. It’s been so great to have a literature course again, and I especially enjoyed our discussion on Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground. We’ve also read a bunch of Pushkin, Gogol, parts of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, and poets Marina Tsvetaeva, Blok, and Khlebnikov.

Thursday

Russian Film History, 11 a.m.-2 p.m.: A long but great class. We just moved out of silent film, which was actually really great, and watched a wonderful film I recommend for everyone, The Cranes Are Flying. It was made in the 1950s post-Stalin, and is about WWII. Beautifully filmed. One of the things I’m enjoying about this class is not just the history I get, but also the knowledge of how to analyze films and how they’re made. This is the only other class besides Igor’s reading that has significant work, and it’s just a one-page response each week to the film we saw.

Voice, 3:30-5 p.m.: The four of us have this class with Jane, the second year voice student. Since we also live together on the 5th floor and are friends with her it’s really great. We’ve learned the basics of IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet), and done some head and body resonance exercises. In the coming weeks we’ll each take turns giving a mini-presentation and Jane will help us figure out what we need to work on to improve our presentational skills.

Friday

Tales of Two Cities: Moscow and St. Petersburg in Modern Russian Literature, 12:30-2 p.m.: Other class with Igor, see Wednesday’s description. Igor is also the director of the Prokofiev House Museum and wrote a biography on him.

Dramaturgy Seminar, 2:15-3:15 p.m.: The four of us get to meet with Tolya in his beautiful office. We talk about what we’ve seen, what we’re going to see, what we are writing about, are interested in, and Russian theatre trends. It’s fantastic.

Saturday

Set Design History, 3:30-5 p.m.: This is really more like Meyerhold class with some design thrown in. It’s pretty cool because we meet in Meyerhold’s memorial apartment. This is pretty great, to be learning about this legend where he used to live. But it’s also a little chilling when you stop to think about how after he was arrested (and later tortured and killed), his wife was killed by KGB police who snuck into the apartment through the balcony and stabbed her repeatedly. Our professor is like a walking biography on Meyerhold, and on classes when we don’t talk about him and his productions, we’ve visited some interesting exhibits (for free because we’re with her!). The first was the theatre museum, which had loads of paintings, photos, and other material related to theatrical productions, but was in desperate need of a curator. I’ve never seen so much fascinating material organized so poorly. Yesterday we went to a costume exhibit that just opened up in the building next to Ostrovsky’s memorial house (he’s like the Russian Shakespeare). They were almost all renderings from the past two decades, and were really gorgeous.

So there you have it: my academic life in Moscow. After studying just theatre so intensively since July, it’s been refreshing to get a dose of the liberal arts in another culture.

Dumb American

Our Russian literature professor, Igor, loves to shock us. Well, not really, but he likes to think he is. It should be noted that I think Igor is a wonderful professor, and I enjoy lovingly doing my impression of his classic, “Is it okay what I am telling you? Does it shock you? You are okay with hearing this?” Usually “this” refers to his tales of Catherine the Great’s sex chair or Pushkin and his wife’s adulterous lifestyles. But today was the first time I actually was shocked—only this time there was no checking in from Igor with his sneaky smile.

This week Igor showed us part of a documentary made by Sergei Loznitsa on the Siege of Leningrad. Only I barely knew anything about it, other than at some point in history there was this thing called the Siege of Leningrad. My father the history major is thinking woefully right now about how I should have taken history classes in college, and I wholeheartedly agree. But in case you’re like me, in 1941 the Germans blockaded Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) for three years. While many Russians left the city that first winter because they were starving, there were thousands of deaths from starvation.

Throughout that day and much later as I write this, the documentary’s images still haunt me. Corpses dragged through the streets, people digging through the ice on the sidewalks to get water, mothers crying over their bundled, dead children. Igor told us that Loznitsa wasn’t allowed to include the really shocking footage. What we saw was considered normal for the time.

There’s such a disconnect when you watch films. Whenever I see something horrifying or heartbreaking, I can always remind myself that it’s not real. But that’s not the case with a documentary. Those may have been images from the past, part of history. But they were very much so real. I saw a real corpse dragged through the street, real people scrounging for water in dirty conditions, and real mothers sobbing over frozen, starved sons and daughters. I feel like such a stereotypically dumb American for not knowing about this atrocity.

I’ve reached a point in my time here when things are not as exciting anymore, and in fact, they are often annoying. The honeymoon is over (even though I’m still having a great time and can’t complain). But now whenever something little annoys me and I start to whine, I have to remind myself: it’s no Siege of Leningrad.

How many dramaturgs does it take to find a dead dictator?

The answer: four. Joe, Laura, Rachel, and me.

Today our only class was cancelled because the teacher was in China. So we decided to take advantage of having a free day until the theatre that night and finally pay a little visit to Comrade Lenin. Lenin’s tomb is only open on certain days from 10am-1pm, which usually overlaps with our class time. For those of you who don’t know, Lenin’s body was embalmed when he died and anyone can go visit his tomb in Red Square. So off we went.

Upon arriving at Red Square, two things became apparent as we approached the tomb.
One, that there was a lot of poor Russian men digging up the stones of the square in front of the tomb and for the length of the square (we’re guessing it was repairs from winter damage? It looked like a kind of inefficient way to fix this, but what do I know, I’m in theatre). And two, people were able to enter the tomb, but just how they found that entrance was not entirely clear.

So after walking the length of Red Square, we got to what we thought would be an entrance to the tomb, only to see a scary police officer hold up his hand and understand that this was in fact not an entrance. Off we trudged past the same square-repair men. I believe it was at this point that Joe made the keen observation that they reminded one of making the pyramids for Pharaoh in Egypt. You get the idea.

Once we got to the other end, guess what? No could do. Metal barrier and more angry police making it clear that we needed to exit the square, go back around the museum at the end, and then we would be able to enter. Having done this (and thankfully beating a group of school kids), Joe checked his camera (NO photos allowed!) and we made our way past the outdoor gravestones of other famous Russians I’ve never heard of toward the tomb itself.

Stepping into the dark entryway, a rigid, expressionless guard sharply pointed to the direction we were supposed to go. Down the stairs, past another immobile guard, down more stairs into the dark (especially after the sunny day outside), and thankfully one guard that was slightly less at attention and therefore making me less terrified. It was one of those situations where you kind of want to laugh because it’s ridiculous, but also because it’s kind of frightening.

When we rounded the corner into the room with Lenin’s body elevated on a bed in the center, the guards were the only other people there. Lenin really does look like wax (I mean, he’s been embalmed repeatedly since 1924. Who wouldn’t?). I don’t know what it was...the stern and intimidating guards, the dark room, or the fact that I was looking at the body of a man who afflicted so many…but about three steps into the room and I wanted to GET OUT.

I made my way from the third in our line of four to the front and was the first one out of the building. It was probably one of the creepiest experiences of my life. We had a great rest of the day, but even now, thinking about my experience in Lenin’s tomb gives me (for lack of a better term) the heebie-jeebies.

You know what the funniest part is? Looking in my guidebook, it says that Lenin’s widow said after his death, “Do not let your sorrow for Ilyich find expression in outward veneration of his personality. Do not raise monuments to him, or palaces to his name, do not organize pompous ceremonies in his memory.”

Well, if an embalmed body in the middle of the capital’s most famous square, with it’s own mausoleum, doesn’t say low-key—then I don’t know what does.

More Days, More Plays

As much as I love seeing theatre all the time, when you go every night sometimes you don’t have the time you need to process and reflect. Luckily, tonight is a night off. So although my brain has become a bit mushy lately with all the plays, here are some reflections:

A Streetcar Named Desire as part of the Golden Mask festival on 4/9: While I found this show ridiculous and therefore funny, it was also pretty atrocious and pissed me off at its pretentious bullshit. Sorry, that’s just how I felt. Joe wrote an amazing blog post about this show that I told him he needs to turn into an article for the e-magazine, so if you want to read a truly witty and insightful piece, you can do so here.

Ulysses on 4/10: Joe and Laura saw this show when Rachel and I saw Troilus and Cressida and they both loved it. Having never read the novel, I spent over 2 hours reading the detailed synopsis and analysis on sparknotes before going to see the 5.5 hour production (which thankfully began early at 5pm). While I had mixed feelings about the first two acts, by the end of the night I was sold. I found myself having flashbacks to my presentation earlier this year on Szondi, questioning whether the form of the production fit the style of the writing. By the end, it definitely did, and they beautifully brought it to life. The set was really interesting, with wire fence like structures that by the last act left the stage and were replaced by a beautiful gate made of many faces of Bloom. Molly’s 40-minute stream of consciousness monologue at the end was incredible. I had no idea what she was saying specifically, only generally. And yet, I was riveted. What a phenomenal actress. Still not sure how I feel about tackling this great work to read as I’m not a huge fan of stream of consciousness writing style, but really glad I was able to see this show.

La Estrada on 4/11: Also part of the Golden Mask (Ulysses was too), this show in a tiny theatre space was really great. We found out what this one-hour show was actually about afterward, but what was evident during the production was that it was a) funny and b) not taking itself too seriously. You can read more about it here.

I think my brain needs more recharging than I thought. So with that in mind…I’m off to finish reading book one of War and Peace. Because nothing says brain recharging like some epic Tolstoy.

A Week of Play (going)

It was after the particularly bad production of A Month in the Country, part of the Golden Mask, that Tolya made quite the clever and funny observation. As the head of the jury this year, he said they don’t even know what’s been invited to the festival. So it’s like, “They invite you to dinner, and you say, ‘Okay, what are we having?’ and they say, ‘I don’t know, just eat it!!!’”

I feel like this sums up my own theatre experience over the past week fairly well.

But I’m mad at myself for letting myself go without recording my thoughts on productions. So let’s fix this:

Opus 7 on 3/31: Directed by Dimitri Krimov, I had heard a lot of hype both about this show and this director. Luckily, it basically lived up. He works in this “theater of painters” concept he developed; basically, he works with set designers and actors to create shows. Opus 7’s two parts are completely different and have completely different sets. The first half was about the Holocaust; the second was about the Russian composer Shostakovich. Since I can’t really go into detail, I’ll describe my favorite moment. After individually splashing black paint in a row onto the white cardboard wall spanning the length of the space, the actors then took cut-outs and string, making each one look like a Hasidic man. Someone behind each of these seven-men then cut around the tops so the heads could bend back and forth, looking like they were davening as live music played. Suddenly, the light changed and from behind the spaces of cardboard heads a huge gust of cut-up paper confetti came flying out onto the stage and into the audience for a long time (we were on the same level, no real separation other than the line of where we sat and they performed). It was unexpected, powerful, and really brought us into the piece without forcing or overwhelming us.

Another Sleepy Dusty Delta Day on 4/1: Originally we were told this was a Belgian ballet. Haha…oh man. It was a Belgian choreographer’s experimental piece that was NOT GOOD. As Tanya said, she sat down before the show began and figured out everything that was going to happen. A woman read a letter, danced around very repetitively/boringly, went topless and covered herself in ashes, knocked all of the hanging birdcages together (with live birds)…need I go on? I know with all of that it may sound interesting, but it was not. It was very much so a cliché experimental piece and thank goodness I didn’t pay money for a ticket it was only an hour of my life.

A Month in the Country on 4/2: If nothing else, I’m glad that seeing this production forced me to finally read Ivan Turgenev’s play from 1850. Other than one very funny (but also very short compared to the 3.5 hours total) scene, it was a fairly abysmal production. Boring. Little movement. Not the best acting. Stupid design. I’m being very articulate now, I know. But life is too short to dwell on boring, bad theatre, so moving on…

Boris Eifman Ballet’s Onegin on 4/3: Had high expectations and was a tad concerned, but it was AMAZING! Well, to be completely honest the non-Tchaikovsky music choices and some of the design were a bit 80s-tastic-cheesy, but the choreography and dancers were unbelievable. I heard about Eifman from Jenny and Jane, when they were chatting in the kitchen one day while I was there and were gushing about how amazing his work is. His shows were completely sold out for their Moscow run, but I asked Tolya and low and behold, we had tickets 3rd row center! It was wonderful. His company is based in St. Petersburg and was here as part of the Golden Mask Festival, but they tour to the US a lot, so if you like contemporary ballet you should go! The dancers are classically trained, but the choreography is like a blend of modern, contemporary, and ballet. He has a great eye for stage pictures, and unlike a lot of ballet, the arms are involved in really interesting ways.

Carmen Etudes on 4/4: The graduating MXAT class of 2007 put this show on and it’s been in rep at the school’s studio theater ever since. Choreographed by Alla Segalova (who also choreographed Office), it’s really more of a dance show, but very simple: black costumes, minimal set of benches and few props. Really well done, one of the better things I’ve seen here actually.

Woe from Wit on 4/5: Joe and I thought we were seeing Hamlet the comedy opera that night (Hamlet comedy opera, you say? I know). But it turned out we were going to see Woe from Wit, the Russian word-play classic, instead. Apparently about 60% of the script has become a Russian proverb. But sadly, we were unable to find a synopsis in the two hours between learning that we were going and the start of the show. Instead, we were rather confused by the overbearing set, large cast, dance number, French songs, huge rolling ball, and the real car that drove across the stage at the end (which was actually kind of little compared to everything preceding it). No clue what it all meant given our sparse knowledge of the plot/content…but at least it was entertaining to watch.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg on 4/6: Apparently Shakespeare just wasn’t in the cards for me this week. I was supposed to see Macbeth that night but wound up going to see this stage adaptation of the French film from 1960. The plot is kind of cheesy but easy to follow. The film is entirely sung, with one song that everyone knows (you would recognize it if I could hum over my blog). But apparently the film is really revered for being a visual delight. So it shouldn’t be surprising that the stage production was similar: cheesy, but eye candy. The set design was really cool, I made a crude sketch because I’m not sure I can do it justice. But basically there were two large circles within a proscenium frame, the one in front was an orangey-red and the one behind it was yellow. They had squares and rectangles of varying sizes cut out in them, and the circles would swing back and forth in between scenes, forming new rooms and spaces. Just watching how the set worked and the novelty of how it set up scenes was delightful.

July on 4/7: Another one of the legendary shows talked up to me by former students, July is basically a one-woman show that’s been playing at Praktika for four years and won a bunch of awards. I was a little nervous because I heard the show was really just her talking the whole time, and wasn’t sure how effective that would be for me given my practically nonexistent language skills. But her acting really was incredible: powerful, precise, beautiful to watch. She tells gives the monologue of a man who is basically a Hannibal Lecter type. The rate and rhythm of her voice, her specificity in vocal production and movement, and the simple yet effective design choices in this tiny black box theater all helped me understand that while what she was saying might be horrific, there was a kind of lyricism and poetry to the language too. There was barely anything on the stage, but at one point a row of track lights facing directly down lit up. The woman smoked a cigarette and blew the smoke into the beams of light, creating her own eerie prison cell. It was so beautiful that it took me awhile to break my reverie and write it down in my notebook. After the flash and effects of shows earlier in the week, it was nice to be reminded that sometimes simplicity can have the most stunning effect.

The Power of Low to No: Food

I had a mini-internal-freak-out moment about two weeks before leaving for Moscow. In Russian class, we were going over the menu of MXAT’s cafeteria. Not only could I not remember or figure out 95% of the items listed, but it also hit me: what was I going to eat in Russia???

For some reason the menu we went over in class that day seemed particularly unappetizing to me. Cottage cheese? Kasha? Beets? Liver? TONGUE??? I’m somewhat adventurous in cuisine, but some of the items sounded gross. It didn’t help that all of a sudden the “salads” came back to me. Having spent two wonderful New Year’s celebrations with my Russian friend Anya’s family, I remember not being a huge fan of the Russian version of a salad. It usually involves a lot of beets, sour cream, or mayonnaise. Ble…I mean yum…

Needless to say, I had the lowest of the low in expectations when it came to my food situation here in Russia. I tried to stay positive (“I hear the yogurt’s good…I like yogurt…”), and I knew that eventually I was destined to find some things I enjoyed. But I fully expected to spend at least the first two weeks trying a lot of things that made me want to throw up a little.

But the Power of Low to No was on my side. Was I ever wrong. It’s a good thing I’m walking a lot here and have 5 flights of stairs to climb every day.

We’ll start with MXAT’s cafeteria, the stelovia. While it’s true that every time I still have a mini anxiety attack as I approach the line, this is only because I still cannot decipher what everything means on the menu. However, I do know the words for “chicken,” “rice,” and “vegetables.” But the great thing about the stelovia is that what you don’t serve yourself, you can still see. So I just very nicely ask and point for the woman behind the counter. I have rarely been let down, and the food is CHEAP. I can eat a hearty meal there at lunch or dinner for $4 to $6.

I was told that Moscow restaurants are uber expensive and was concerned (aka had low expectations) about eating out for lunch. We often can’t make the half hour trek back to the dorm for a meal in the kitchen, but many Moscow restaurants have this wonderful thing called business lunch (spelled phonetically in Cyrillic, it actually sounds more like “beezneez lanch”). It varies from place to place, but usually for under $10 you get a soup, a salad (the real kind!), some sort of main course like chicken or fish with a side, and a drink. There are several great business lunches near school, and more places I hope to try. I don’t think you can eat that well for that little at a sit down place in Harvard Square.

In our first or second week here Brendan took us to this place he and 2nd year classmate Paul went to practically every day last year, called Kruzhka (zh=soft j). They liked it for it’s cheap but good food and beer, but from the way they talked about it we had very low expectations. They described it as a hole in the wall, and from further descriptions I was fully prepared to enter a grimy, underground, extremely sketchy place the size of my dorm room. But Kruzhka is more like a cross between the atmosphere of Grendel’s Den with the sprawling size of John Harvard’s (maybe bigger) in Cambridge. It’s smoky (sometimes ridiculously so), but I like it.

I’ve also been surprised to find how much of the Russian food I like. Kasha (buckwheat) is actually quite delicious, as is borscht. They have blinis (crepes) stuffed with a variety of yummy things (savory or sweet, I’m a fan of cheese and mushroom or sweet cheese and apricot), and a mini fast-food type blini place is right near school called Teremok. It’s kind of dangerous having it so close by.

There’s a new grocery story really close to the dorm that has an amazing prepared foods section. We all love Bakhetle so much that we probably go there too often. From gin and tonic in a can for $1.50 (which is really more like 2 g&ts in a can) to their array of potato pancakes and peroshki (bread filled with some sort of savory goodness), it’s heaven. They also have cirniki, an amazing little round cheese and flour concoction that I don’t think I can do justice here. And sometimes they have hachapuri, Georgian cheesy bread.

Now that you’re all hungry, I have saved Georgian food for last. Oh my goodness. How do they cram so much culinary delight into one cuisine? If you ever have a chance, go to a Georgian restaurant. They have this green bean (beans like kidney beans, not like string beans) mixture called lobio that’s amazing, and there’s a red one too that’s served hot. They have shashlik (shish kebabs) and cook other meats together with herbs and spices and I’m salivating at the thought.

Despite all these gastronomic delights, sometimes nothing beats a good salad. Which I think I’ll go make right now.

Exciting news!

I am much overdue for a proper post, but it's been especially busy for me here in Moscow over the past week. However, this morning I got some very happy news...I've been accepted into this summer's Cornerstone Institute! From July 1st to August 1st I'll be living and working on a community-based theatre project in Pacoima, Los Angeles. If you don't know much about Cornerstone or the Institute, check out their website. I'm so incredibly excited for this opportunity and to learn more about community based theatre! I get back from my travels on June 29th to Boston, and will need to leave July 1st, so it will be some pretty quick turnaround, but I don't care!

Business As Usual

In her email yesterday to the 23 A.R.T. students here, our wonderful program coordinator Tanya gave us some updates about the metro. She ended it with, “Be calm, don't panic. Business as usual. Love, T.”

We all live in a day and age when terrorist attacks could occur anywhere at any time. But there are definitely a few cities where they are more likely to occur. Despite my vague knowledge of past attacks in Moscow, I really had no worries at all when I arrived, or for my past month here. But being in a city when it’s been attacked is very different from learning about it elsewhere. In fact, the strangest part of this event has been the difference between the reactions of those here in Moscow and those back home. Business as usual versus fear and anxiety.

I have not noticed a huge difference in the atmosphere here since the attack. Individual encounters are marked with a slight change, each one illuminating a bit more of Russian life in Moscow. When Tolya spoke to us in class that day, he spoke with a grave and regretful tone on how unfortunate and yet somewhat common these events were today. Our professor Igor related similar sentiments: it’s terrible and awful, but we’re used to it. Nastia, who is younger than these two, sat in the office that day looking sad and despondent. Giving her a hug, she told me that it’s not just about how you could have known someone in the attack. This is the first time in six years Moscow has been hit badly (not counting the train to St. Petersburg), and Russians had let go of some of this anxiety. It was sad that the gypsy cab drivers here jacked up their prices in the wake of a crisis. More worrisome, apparently some men had attacked two Muslim girls wearing headscarves.

Of course this and other parallels made me think of 9/11. I remember how the country seemed to grind to a halt that day. I remember coming home from school and sitting glued to the television in horror. But here in Moscow, the only major (and it was actually minor) change in my day was walking instead of riding the metro. I went to class. I read at a café. I watched the beautiful and breathtaking ballet of The Seagull at the Stanislavsky Music Theatre. The only difference was how much emptier the house was because people couldn’t make it. Otherwise, business as usual.

But I suspect that’s only on the surface. I keep thinking about how awful it is that we live in a time where we have come to regard these sorts of events as inevitable. That we’ve accepted that humans can reach so low a point that they not only want to blow themselves up, but they also want to blow up total strangers for a pointless point.

But then again, maybe we haven’t really accepted these events as inevitable. As Igor said when we remarked that so little seemed changed with people on the streets: they may seem fine, but inside they are not.

Rude Awakening

This is a post mainly to assure everyone that I am alive and was not on the metro this morning. http://www.themoscowtimes.com/news/article/breaking-news-2-explosions-hit-moscow-metro/402714.html

If you know me, you know that I'm not a morning person. So not only would it be highly unlikely for me to be riding the metro before 9 a.m. (which was when the two explosions occurred, at 7:50 and around 8:20), but learning about them was how I woke up just a few moments ago. It's all a bit bizarre since I learned about it because my good friend's ex-girlfriend sent me a facebook message asking if I was okay since she remembered I was in Moscow. Another strange way to wake up. I'm a little stunned at the moment. The Moscow metro is not only amazingly efficient, it's also beautiful. The stations are gorgeous. But it's also insanely crowded during rush hour. I haven't been on during the morning rush, but there have been a couple evening times that made me decide never to ride during rush hour again if I can avoid it. And no worries parentals: I don't intend to ride the metro today.

Playing Play Catch-Up

I’ve fallen behind. I really wanted to write about every show I saw on this blog. But tonight I realized that maybe it would be better to just write about the ones that left a strong impression? Since writing about Vassa Zheleznova, I’ve seen: Office at the Pushkin Theatre (really enjoyed it), Mark Morris Dance Company’s Dido and Aeneas, Ivanov and The Cherry Orchard at MXAT, and Troilus and Cressida at the Vakhtangov. But it wasn’t until tonight that I really felt inspired.

I think from the moment I sat down in The Best Seat Ever I knew it was going to be a good night. No joke, there were a few tears of joy in my eyes. Smack dab in the center of row 7, with nothing but an aisle splitting the rows in half in front of me. NO TALL PEOPLE BLOCKING MY VIEW?!?! Amazing. Even though we all know I’ve perfected the art of putting up with sub-par seating by now, I still appreciate a good view. Okay, enough about my seat. Clearly this was a bigger deal to me than it would be to anyone else.

This may be the first production I’ve seen here where my mind drifted zero times. Not only did I have no problem following the story, for the majority of the production I also appreciated the moment-to-moment…almost as if I knew exactly what they were saying (and since it was Shakespeare, sometimes I think I came close to figuring it out). There was just so much going on in this production that I loved or found intriguing, so excuse me for a little spewing here.

Overall, I admired this production for how it revealed both the pointlessness and stupidity of the Trojan War. I really hated the character Paris; not because he was evil, but because he was like a spoiled little boy who couldn’t see how selfish, trivial, and horrible his actions were for others. In this production, Cressida became a spoil of war in the sense that war spoiled her. She began as a girl, practically a child. She wore a long and clumsy dress with socks and bounded around the stage exuberantly with a mess of frizzy hair. After a very funny scene between her and Troilus where they showed just how middle school they were in their courtship, they go into a makeshift den to get it on. When Cressida emerges, her hair has calmed down and her dress is still white and long, but sleeveless and flowing. After she’s been told they’re forcing her to the Greek side, she changes into a much more feminine lavender dress, with her hair tied back in a sleek bun. In the scene with the Greek warriors where she kisses all of them, she teetered around on pointe shoes. This interpretation showed a Cressida who did what the men asked of her and in the end, became a kind of martyr. There’s honestly a lot more to discuss…but it’s time for bed.