The Power of Low to No: Dorm Life

Something just happened that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. We had all just come home from our respective shows, and were in our rooms, checking email and whatnot. Then Laura poked her head out.

“You guys…I just got the Arena internship!”

Joe, Rachel, and I spilled out into the hall for hugs and happiness. About three minutes later, Joe shared that he had a second interview for an internship, and we repeated the process. Jane came out and rejoiced with us too.

I must admit, I was a tad concerned about living with my classmates. We have always gotten along well, but when you live together, take classes together, socialize together…it can be a bit much. But I wasn’t really thinking about it too much, which is why I’ve been so happy about how we’re actually getting closer. More importantly, we live really well together. Everyone is respectful, understanding, and generally laid back. The five of us often find ourselves chatting in the hallway or kitchen for long periods of time. In fact, I have such a great time living with these people that it’s part of the reason I’m not getting enough work done! I’ll go into my room, hear a burst of laughter come from the kitchen, and not want to miss out on the action.

We’ve become kind of precious. Joe gave all of us chocolates for International Women’s Day, and we got him a bottle of vodka for his name day. We planned a fake season for the ART that’s hilarious and created a 30 Rock drinking game. We borrow and loan articles of clothing and ask about outfits. We buy communal butter, detergent, and cookies for others to try. They were so wonderful when I fell, and as a thank you I put some chocolate out in the kitchen for all of them.

Yes, the walls are thin. Yes, I can hear Rachel’s alarm go off. Yes, it sometimes smells like smoke. But I can live with all of that. It’s so nice that our floor feels homey and is such fun. Even better, I’m so glad to becoming closer with my classmates. The Fifth Floor Five pretty much rock.

The Power of Low to No: Introduction

In the past few weeks, I’ve developed an incredibly powerful concept. In fact, it’s so powerful I might have to turn it into a self-help book and make millions. I hope you’re ready, because I’m going to share this concept with you (and potentially rock your world). I’m also going to use this as the basis for many future blog postings. I’m calling it The Power of Low to No, and it’s all about having low or no expectations.

Since I arrived in Moscow, I realized one of the reasons I’ve had such an easy, nay, delightful time here is because I had low to no expectations on pretty much every front. Then I thought about how this can be applied to other areas of my life, and it hit me: this could basically be my new life mantra. Growing up, I always got bummed out after my birthday parties because they never measured up to my high expectations…until my mom threw me a surprise party when I turned twelve. I loved it…partly because I had no expectations. The best dates were the ones when I had low to no expectations, the best friendships I had no expectations.

But as soon as you raise those expectations you also raise the potential for disappointment. Think back on all the moments in your life when you had high expectations. Always a let down, right? Reality rarely measures up. But now think about all the times you had low to no expectations. Probably some of the best moments and relationships came out of those.

I’m not saying you should lower your standards or not get excited. It’s difficult, but there is a difference. While we often set our expectation levels personally, others also influence them. The raving review of a play/restaurant/book that you don’t find so hot; the big sell of a blind date; the “cute and cozy” apartment that is actually the size of a cardboard box. It works both ways too, and often when people under-sell something, it works in your favor. Our imaginations are so much better or worse than reality.

I’m incredibly lucky—I was well prepared coming to Moscow. With low to no expectations, every day seems to bring a pleasant surprise. I hope you’ll give the power of low to no a shot and see what it brings you. More to come soon. In the meantime, I’m going to get ready for bed in the room that I don’t mind the size of, play some music despite the paper-thin walls because Rachel says she can’t hear it, and smell my smoke-free-scented pajamas.

Gossip MXAT-Style

I have a big fat crush on one of the MXAT company actors. His name is Anatoly Beliy and he’s kind of insanely hot and talented. He was the lead in The Pillowman. Let’s just say when his monologues got long my mind was not wandering to lunch plans for the next day.

So you can imagine my excitement when we saw him by the company cloakroom before the open dress rehearsal of MXAT’s new show, Gorky’s Vassa Zheleznova (zh is a soft J sound). Laura can attest that I fully turned into a thirteen-year-old girl, elbowing her and squealing every time he came into view. I swear he even looked RIGHT at me. But my face is deformed right now, so that’s probably why. Sigh.

I have mixed feelings about the production. But today’s class with Tolya shed a lot of light on how it was made. We all agree that the main actress, Marina Golub, was a force as the title character…and it turns out she was a replacement! The second act felt hysterically melodramatic, but it was interesting to learn that a lot of the staging came out of etudes the director created with the ensemble. This means they weren’t scripted, but brought life to the inner world of the play. An example of this is the bathhouse scene. In the synopsis Tanya gave us, she said, “and then while Vassa’s off doing business the entire household basically has an orgy in the bathhouse.” But keep in mind there is no dialogue…in this production they bring to life the offstage action to uncover the raw, sexual elements that are much more relevant to modern Russia.

So we’re talking about Marina in class and then Tolya brings up what I had adoringly noticed: at the end of the show when she bowed, my boyfriend—um, I mean Anatoly Beliy—gave her a bouquet of white roses. Aw, isn’t he sweet? (It should be noted that it’s customary here to just walk right up to the stage during the curtain call and give flowers to whichever actors you like.)

What I hadn’t noticed from my seat towards the back of the house was that Marina had started crying when he did that…BECAUSE THEY USED TO BE MARRIED!!! Whoaaaaa there. Marina’s a cougar?? Apparently they divorced a few years ago. But Marina is um…old. And Anatoly is…not. There must be at least a ten to fifteen year age gap between them. According to Tolya, she helped bring him into the company and was kind of a mentor to him (I want him to “mentor” me). Then he got famous, became one of the star actors in the company (rightfully so! He’s freaking amazing) and also does commercial work.

But as Tolya said, “But he gave her white roses, as a kind of a gesture…so it means he is good guy.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Plus now there’s still hope for me and Mr. Beliy.

Inside Sara’s Mind at the Theater (in Russia)

I know I need to update on the past few shows I’ve seen. And I fully intend to do that…tomorrow. But in the meantime, I thought I would treat you all to what goes on inside my head when I’m watching shows in Russian. There comes a point in almost any show where it’s very talky, I don’t know the story too well, and my mind drifts. Here’s an example, a mixture of what goes on in my head, with several shows in mind:

What do I need to read for class?
Uhhh that Life of Avvakum story is so boring
I should build in time to read for fun
I should make a list of everything I should read this summer
Maybe I should read all of Shakespeare this summer
I hope I hear from Cornerstone soon
Oh hey I know that word! What does ludi mean…
I should stop at the grocery store on my way home
Ooh! I’ll stop at Bakhetle
I hope they have that amazing Georgian cheesy bread
What else do I need?
Hydrogen peroxide so I can clean my face
Or alcohol
Or if that doesn’t work, vodka
I should stop at the apteka
I love that word
Apteka
Azbuka is also great
And poochimoo
People! Ludi means people
WHY MUST IT ALWAYS SNOW ONSTAGE IN MOSCOW???
Seriously. Four shows in a row.
Don’t we have enough outside?
I know what that means!
Wait…no, I do.
My nose and lip hurt
I wonder when they’ll stop hurting
I can’t wait to not be deformed
I can’t wait to not be scared of walking anymore
I can’t wait for it to get warm outside
That’s kind of a cool effect
Oh thank god this monologue is over
Ughhh just kidding
I want to make pelemeni when I get home
Yummm
I can’t wait until my parents come
I hope they’re okay with all the walking they’ll have to do
Who is this person? I don’t remember her in the synopsis
I should book my hostels for Italy
Gah, I can’t wait for Italy!
I should really do more reading in our guidebook for India
But when?
Crap, I have all that Gogol to read
I really want to go to Gorky’s house!
Oh no, daylight savings time is this weekend
Back to 8 hour time difference with the East coast
I miss people
Why is no one answering my emails?
And by no one I mean three people
Ya means I in Russian
But it sounds like agreement to me
I have so many blog entries I should write!
I wonder if anyone reads them besides my parents
And the people it gets emailed to daily
Zeyda, Kay, Deb, Corina
I should make a list of everyone I need to get gifts for
I should give them to my parents when they come in case they don’t all fit in my bag
Where should I eat lunch tomorrow?
What should I wear tomorrow?
Whoa!! What just happened?

And then I pay attention.

A Good Day

Despite a sub-par show tonight, today was a good day. I’ve been thinking some of you would probably like some sort of a day-in-the-life account (hi Mom), and today seems like a day worthy of chronicling. Nothing epic or especially eventful happened, but today was a day that reminds me why I love living abroad.

Sunday is our day off here, so I got to sleep in, which bring us to our first good thing: my room no longer gets freakishly hot!! I’ve had three blissful nights of sleep in a row. At 1pm I met my friend Erica’s friends for brunch. Erica spent last year here in Moscow on a Fulbright, and introduced me via email to her amazing friends. Even through email I felt wonderfully welcomed by them, and was excited to finally meet them. We met at an ex-pat place not too far from where I live called Correa’s. It was kind of surreal because it felt a lot like a NYC brunch joint, complete with English menus. I met Abbey, Laura, and Sophie (who didn’t know Erica because she only arrived six months ago) and I really liked all of them. I think/hope we’ll have brunch again next weekend at another place nearby they know about.

Laura (my classmate, not Erica’s friend) met me there and we set off to the Pushkin Fine Art Museum. There’s a huge Picasso exhibit there at the moment, which we’ll get to, but today we had hoped to visit their Impressionist wing. The Pushkin has four different buildings, and we thought we had figured out which one housed the Impressionists, but it had a long line that wasn’t moving. Given our limited Russian language skills, we weren’t really able to ask anyone what was going on or where to go. It was very clear what the line was for the Picasso exhibit (longest line I’ve ever seen, so not going there on a weekend!), but we couldn’t imagine that the main part of the museum just houses that exhibit. We were about to give up and wander to find something else to do (correction: we had just given up and were wandering) when we found another part of the Pushkin, their Private Collections museum. We happily went in from the wet drizzle, and got a 60 rouble ($2) ticket with our student IDs. There we saw a wide variety of art (as they put it, from icons to avant-garde), glass works, and an interesting photography exhibit on Moscow in 1957.

We walked back to Kamergersky (the street where MXAT is) to have dinner at a sushi place I’ve been meaning to check out, and it was pretty good. We then parted ways as I was going to see the show that the other three dramaturgs saw last night: Lermontov’s Masquerade at the Vakhtangov Theatre. I was very glad they were willing to go on Saturday night because I loved having another night at home to tend to my wounds, and today was the first day I was able to wear make-up. This is actually another happy thing: unless you’re like 2 feet from my face, I’m told you can’t really tell anymore!

So I met an angel who took me to the theater. Who is an angel, you might ask? The angels are the producing students at MXAT who take us poor non-Russian speaking dramaturgs to the theater, since we can’t find either the location or our seats on our own. Tonight it was just me with Marina, a first year student who spoke wonderful English. That’s because she’s also in her 5th year at Moscow State University, studying foreign languages. I had a great time talking with her, and really hope that we’ll hang out sometime or I’ll see her again. The show itself wasn’t fantastic. I don’t know the play very well, but Marina said she didn’t like it because it’s supposed to be a tragedy and they played it more as a farce. I didn’t like it because while they had some wonderful moments, these were basically the same moments over and over again. A swelling of music and the falling of snow. Over and over.

When I got back to the dorm, the babushka downstairs was the same one who had called the ambulance for me. I had a huge change of heart for her actions when I heard how concerned she was—she even called Adam to tell him what had happened. She gave me some chocolate when came in tonight. I feel loved.

The Pillowman in Russia and The Barber of Seville in…Italy?

After giving myself a few days to tend to my wounds and heal (and I am much improved), it is high time to write about the shows I saw: The Pillowman at MXAT, and the opera The Barber of Seville at the Stanislavsky Music Theatre. The former was on the night of my fall, and was quite appropriate to watch on St. Patrick’s Day given its Irish playwright, Martin McDonagh. Our third show directed by Sebrennikov, I think we finally were able to grasp his aesthetic. However, what really stood out to me with this pretty heavy play was the acting. The actors astounded me with their work. This may have been more noticeable because it was the first production we’ve seen that falls into the category of realism (albeit with some un-realistic moments). Leaving this show, I was more in awe of Russian actors and their training than with almost any show I’ve seen in the U.S.

The following night was a bit of a let down though. The music and singing were good, but the design and staging were…not. Even though I stereotype operas as being grandiose and spectacular, I’m aware that they do not have to be. But I do think it’s important to have a reason for changing the setting/time period. It’s also helpful to include a sense of movement in the design elements if the staging is going to be static. Opera is difficult to stage (so I am told) because the performers need to be able to sing in a comfortable position. This impedes more dynamic staging or incorporating more movement. However, I think that interesting set, costume, and lighting designs can remedy this problem.

The production began outside…in the snow. Snowing in Italy? There are two things wrong with this. First, last I checked it rarely snows in Italy. Second, shouldn’t The Barber of Seville be set in Spain? I’m pretty sure that’s where Seville is. Since I’ve been there and all. And while I realize that the opera is in Italian, that’s not really the justification I was looking for.

How, you might ask, did I know it was supposed to be in Italy? Why, the stereotypes and clichés, of course. This included random performers eating bowls of spaghetti. The set and costumes themselves didn’t really clue me into the new place, but they did confuse me about the period. I was never really sure if it was supposed to be in the 1940s or 1960s, but the colors were drab enough that it didn’t really matter. The set itself was drab too: a large clunky piece of stucco wall that kept extending as the show progressed. However, it somehow never really managed to indicate whether we were in or outdoors. I say this because there were living room sofas in what looked to be a courtyard patio. And did I mention that the snow from the first scene kept slipping off the railings from the balconies?

There were also extraneous people who literally just sat around onstage and did nothing. I could go into more detail, but just writing about this production is making me cranky. So instead I think I’ll go ice my face. We all know that will cheer me up.

Ode to My Icepack

Icepack, dear icepack,
There’s nothing that you lack.
You force swelling down,
Turn upwards my frown.

Bad hair gets a hat,
Not so for lips this fat.
With icepack in tow,
I’m ready for any show.

Put some ice on my lips,
And I’ll start making quips.
But if you take my ice away,
You should find elsewhere to stay.

So here’s to you, ice:
Thanks for being so nice.
Until this swelling dies down,
You temporarily fix my frown.