Monday, April 19, 2010

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.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

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.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

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.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

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.

Monday, April 12, 2010

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.

Friday, April 9, 2010

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.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

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.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

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!