Olay, Olay, Olay, Olay! The World Cup Is Here!

A World Cup banner hanging in Red Square near the Kremlin.

The 2018 World Cup has arrived in Russia!!

And so has our friend, Ben!

Ben, Fritz, and I standing with the Kremlin and Moscow River in the background.

Ben has a history of being one of our few friends who not only visits us no matter where in the world we are living, but he also routinely shows up within the last week before we move out.  True to his reputation, Ben flew in for our last weekend in Moscow.  As a super football fan (I will use the globally recognized terminology in this post rather than the American "soccer"), Ben had extra incentive to drop in, and he managed to secure three tickets to the Belgium vs. Tunisia game!  

Over the past few weeks, Fritz and I have had the opportunity to watch the city transform as all the World Cup preparations have taken shape.  A flood of international football fans have invaded the city.  While flags, banners, and statues decorate the city streets, the World Cup presence seems to be most palpable underground in the tunnels of the Metro.  On the first day of the tournament, Fritz and I were headed toward the Metro escalator when raucous echoes of a large group started to overwhelm the rotunda entranceway.  While the subway is often crowded, it is almost never loud.  People silently bustle between trains and funnel their way up and down the escalator while keeping to themselves.  I would be lying if I didn't say the sounds of a yelling crowd made me a little nervous, but upon peering down the escalator, we discovered the source of the commotion: a group of 6 Mexican fans decked out in sombreros and flag-capes enthusiastically singing their way through the station at full volume and stirring others to join in their festivities.   This kind of self expression is far from the typical behavior in the Russian underground.  But the enthusiasm of World Cup fever has begun to spread in Moscow!

The recorded announcements that play throughout the metro stations have changed as well.  New messages have been recorded to welcome visiting fans and support confused travelers.  Announcements are made first in Russian, then translated into English and spoken with a friendly British accent.  Some of the announcements are a bit comical.  "Dear passengers, if you see someone struggling to use the Metro, please call for help."  "Dear passengers, if you fall onto the track, do not attempt to climb out on your own...  Avoid touching the third rail as it carries the electricity...  The trains are designed to keep you safe." 

LED screens appeared in the tunnels overnight displaying all the station lines in both Cyrillic and English - a useful aid I wish had been available when I arrived a month ago.  A collection of Metro cars have been repainted displaying the colorful and whimsical World Cup motif.  TV monitors were mounted inside the Metro cars, live-streaming games so fans don't miss a moment during their transit.  

Travelers have a much easier time getting into the country compared to standard tourists, like me, who have to undergo an extensive (and expensive) visa application process followed by various bureaucratic hurtles.  Ben was able to enter Russian with his passport and "Fan ID" which was issued to him after he purchased his World Cup ticket.  

Ben and Fritz registering for their Fan ID

Once Ben arrived, Fritz and I also had to sign up for our own Fan IDs in order to get into the game.  The ID served as a pass into the stadium when paired with an official World Cup ticket.  It also allowed free metro rides and various discounts around the city on game day.  Acquiring the physical ID required an excursion to an official Fan ID site.  So we set off through the Moscow tunnels to the nearest Fan Zone. 

Ben and Fritz in the Metro.

Riding to the Fan Zone.

Outside the Fan Zone

The location of the Fan Zone ended up being in a remote part of the city in the backside of a building that had been adapted specifically for this temporary purpose.  The experience was akin to visiting a colorful, Russian version of an American DMV.  After providing our names, we took numbers and waited to be called.  

Each booth was equipped with a camera and white screen to take a quick photo (no smiling!) for our respective IDs.  My tall husband had to adopt an awkward squat pose in order to fit in the frame.  His resulting photo has a slight tilt to it - a great souvenir from our World Cup experience. 

Sporting our official Fan IDs, we made our way over to the game on the northwest end of town in Spartak Stadium. 

The walk from the Metro to the stadium took us down some random roads lined with World Cup banners while modern apartment buildings loomed in the distance.  

As we got closer, the flow of fans increased along with Russian volunteers wearing friendly smiles and high-five gloves, eager to share the universal sign of sportsmanly excitement.  

Tunisian flag wearers.

No one could figure out how to take a group photo of us that also included a full view of the stadium in the background.

I think this was our 5th attempt at asking a stranger for a picture with the stadium.  Success!

Spartak Stadium

The long road to the stadium allowed for photo-ops along the way.  When we finally got to the gate, officials scanned our ticket and Fan ID before allowing us to move through the tight security check.  

Scanning ticket and ID to get into the stadium.

We have arrived!

We gave ourselves plenty of time to leisurely weave through the amassing crowds, taking in the various displays of Tunisian and Belgian pride.  My favorite part of any sporting event is always stepping into a stadium full of fans and seeing the field for first time.  

We found our seats as fans from all over the world filed in around us.  The excited energy and anticipation was enormous as the opening ceremony began.  

Coordinated banner bearers

Openning Ceremony

We had Tunisians next to us and Belgians in front of us.  The game started and it didn't take long before Belgium began burying goal after goal.  

Happy Belgian Fans

Belgian selfies in action

It was not an even match, and watching the Tunisian guys next to us growing more and more distraught as their team was eaten alive was a stark contrast to the overjoyed, mohawk-wearing fans taking selfies in front of us.  

The wave swept its way through the stadium several times as did cheers for Russia.  This cracked me up considering there were no Russian players on the field, and yet "Ra-see-ya, Ra-see-ya" (Russia pronounced in Russian) echoed through the stadium louder than any definitive chants for Belgium or Tunisia.  

Which reminds me, although we only went to one game at the stadium, we did watch many other games in local bars and pubs including the very first game of the tournament - Russia vs. Saudi Arabia.  For the those with limited 2018 World Cup knowledge, Russia was the lowest-ranked team in the tournament, but the host country always gets a spot in the lineup.  The US, sadly, did not make it to the World Cup this year.  Everyone thought Russia would be wiped out quickly, but so far they have continuously proven themselves with victory after victory.  The opening game was absolutely thrilling to experience with a lively crowd of Russian enthusiasts.   We packed ourselves into a bar overflowing with fans as the team put away goal after goal.  The bar was electric with all eyes glued to the many TVs scattered throughout the bar.  The fans shouted, "Ra-see-ya!  Ra-see-ya!  Ra-see-ya!" in unison.  And then came the singing!  After the second goal, the bar erupted in that traditional, age-old, Russian tune that has been passed down from generation to generation.  A true sense of Russian culture filled our bones and we joined in as the crowd sang, "Olay, olay, olay, olay..."  Hmmmmmm.  I had always thought that one originated in Latin America, but I guess some football songs span the continents.  

The whole Russian World Cup experience was terrific, and I'm so glad I decided to attend the Belgium/Tunisia game.  I have to admit, going to a giant stadium in Moscow sparked a bit of irrational nervousness given some of the horrific attacks that have happened at stadiums around the world in the past few years.  I had reserved the right to bail on the game right up until the last minute, but the reward for swallowing that fear proved to be well worth it.  

In fact, as the opening ceremony began and each team's national anthem echoed through the stadium, a moment of reflection on the magic of this event moved me to think about the significance of this global pastime.  The World Cup is the only international event that I can think of on this scale, where people from vastly different cultures, speaking completely different languages, and having a complex diversity of worldviews stand together on the same patch of grass and play for over 90 minutes following exactly the same rules and having exactly the same expectations of one another.  The "language" of football truly is universal and it provides these amazing moments of shared excitement, singing, cheering, loss, and triumph.  Not even the Olympics provides this level of consistent interaction and common ground.  I think this year's World Cup music video said it right, "Where their is unity, there is always victory." And I feel so fortunate to have been a part of that unity.  

A Night at the Banya

The banya from the outside.

The aural version of this story has already been shared with our parents, and in a followup conversation with Fritz's dad, he told us it was a difficult story to retell when his friends ask how we are doing in Russia without making the two of us sound kind of weird.  The ritual of the Russian banya is unlike anything I have experienced in the US.  It was not long after arriving in Moscow that we started hearing about "the banya."  We were told we definitely had to go while we were in town.  Upon further investigation, I learned that the banya is the Russian version of what we would call a sauna.  This seemed like a fine idea, after all, we had already been to a sauna in Amsterdam.  How different could a Russian sauna be?  

After our picnic last week, we voiced our desires to experience a banya to our host, Nathan.  He immediately jumped on the idea, saying there was a group of his female colleagues who had been expressing interest in a co-ed banya.  Apparently the men in the office had been ritually going together and excluding the ladies.  So Nathan, being the ringleader that he is, organized an evening, renting a private room so we could all go together.  There are banya houses all over Moscow that you can pay to use, though I have learned that a banya is a common part of many Russian homes.  One of my friends at the pottery studio told me that her parents have a small banya at their house, so she does this nearly every weekend.  

Little wooden banya guy wearing a traditional banya hat and holding dried birch branches with a water ladle hanging from his waist.

Fritz and I arrived at the banya fashionably late only to find that, besides Nathan and his friend Peter, we were still the first ones there.  Just a reminder, Nathan is the American businessman working for the Canadian Chamber of Commerce in Russia who invited us to his company picnic a week ago.  Peter is another American who is currently writing a TV series about John Paul Jones, the "Father of the American Navy" who eventually obtained the title of admiral in the Imperial Russian Navy.  Nathan and Peter are working together on this project and the two of them hope to sell the script to Netflix or Hulu once it's finished.  Keep an eye out for it, and when the show airs, just remember that I once sat in a sauna with the guys who developed it.  

Before everyone else arrived, I scurried around and snapped a few photos of our setup.  I had a feeling photo opportunities would be limited based on the recommended banya attire (a white sheet).  

Common Room

The banya is traditionally built from wooden logs and the sauna is heated by a wood stove.  I believe private banyas are just little huts in the backyard without a common room like the one we had.  Above is a photo of the main sitting room which had a long L-shaped couch, chairs and two adjacent coffee table where we enjoyed a continuous stream of food and drinks for the duration of the evening.  

Wood Stove

Upstairs Loft

Questionable Bedrooms

There were additional rooms upstairs.  The larger room had a pool table.  Then there were two bedrooms off of that.  I suspect I know the intended purpose of these pillow-strew bedrooms, but our group was not the kind of crew who needed such a space.  The upstairs went unused as we spent the whole night downstairs, flowing between the common room, the sauna, and "the cauldron."

The Cauldron

Nathan told us the specially seasoned cauldron was a unique treat.  Floating in this suspended hot tub was an array of bundled pine branches and what looked like jumbo teabags filled with assorted herbs to give the hot water a natural, spiced aroma.  

Our outfits for the evening - everyone gets a sheet and a towel.

Little by little, the other guests trickled in.  There were 10 of us in total - 5 men and 5 women.  We were a happy mix of American, Canadian, French-Canadian, British, and Russian.  After changing into our banya attire, we began the event with a traditional toast of vodka shots to the first co-ed banya for this improbable group.

After chatting for a bit and exchanging some general introductions, the "banya master" (that was the title Nathan gave him) entered and provided some instructions on how to proceed.  We started by sitting in the hot sauna (sheets on) as a warm-up before the real event began.  Inside the smaller wooden hut, headed by the wood stove, were two levels of cedar benches where we all took a seat.  A tower of stones was assembled in front of the fire.  Small ladles of water were periodically poured over the stones, where it immediately evaporated to add moisture to the dry air.  The sweat came quickly, though we were told this sauna was mild compared to other banyas that were so hot the participants feared their blood might start boiling.  In these more intense saunas, wearing felt hats is essential to prevent over-heating.  These hats were available, but only the banya master ended up wearing one.

Once we all had an initial sauna, we took turns going in one by one for the real treatment.  After seeing one of the other women go in and come out with a positive report, I decided it was safe to take my turn.  During this stage, the banya master instructs you to remove your sheet and lay facedown on the cedar bench.  He gives you a bunch of wet pine branches as a pillow and then places another bundle of wet branches on top of your head.  This might sound a bit strange but it was actually my favorite part of the ordeal.  The wet branches felt cool and refreshing in comparison to the dry, sweltering sauna.  Plus, inhaling that fresh pine smell was heavenly.  While you are lying on your stomach, the banya master, dressed in a short towel and his felt hat, enters with two bundles of wet birch branches, one held in each hand.  With these he fans the air, causing a convection effect that pulls the heat down to maximize the amount of sweat streaming out of your body.  Then the whipping begins.

Using the birch branches, the banya master rhythmically whips your naked, sweaty backside from your shoulders down to your feet then back up again.  After a few minutes of this, he instructs you to sit up on the elevated bench with your hands behind your head so he can whip the front of your body.  This position is followed by holding your hands out in front so he can get your arms.  I realize this ritual might sound a bit painful, and if I'm being honest, a few of the strikes stung a little, but it mostly just felt good.

I had to get over the fact that this was probably the weirdest thing I have ever done in my birthday suit, but once I put that behind me, I have to say it was really nice.  The birch branch sauna whipping is meant to open up all your pores.  As soon as the whipping is over, you jump into a cold pool.  Normally I would hate this idea, but my desire to correctly do the banya trumped my reluctance to shock my body with cold after heat.  I jumped in.  Pine needles and leafy debris were washed off of me as I took a sharp breath in.  Again, I was surprised to discover how good this felt and any lingering sting from the whipping dissipated in the cold water.  The banya master instructed me to swim to the opposite end of the little pool where I could now climb out and enter the aromatic cauldron to conclude the ritual.

Now that the logistics have been explained, I'll shed some light on some of the more interesting social aspects of the night.  As I mentioned, I was the first woman to arrive.  I remembered from our sauna experience in Amsterdam that the most difficult part of these things is getting out of your clothes.  Even though I knew we were all going to be naked at various points of the evening, it's still a challenge to actually remove your clothing in front of strangers.  So I didn't.  I chickened out and went to the bathroom to change into my sheet.  I expected the other women to do something similar when they arrived, but when they all came out of the bathroom wearing a bathing suit underneath their sheet I started to feel a little bit insecure that I was the only woman who would be doing this thing in the nude.  The problem was quickly remedied when the banya master said the ritual could not be done in a bathing suit.  Therefore, no suits allowed for those who wanted whipping in the banya and dipping in the cauldron.

It is said that the sauna is the "great equalizer" precisely for the "no clothes" rule.  We humans ascribe much to how we dress, but at the banya, that status symbol gets stripped away and everyone is no more and no less than some skin wrapped around a mind.  At one point there were 6 of us sitting in the cauldron discussing topics including: ping pong, the American Revolution, neurological processing, foreign language training, Vladimir Putin, prostitution, Cold War economics, Copenhagen, employment in Russia, and Netflix.   Little by little, we each set aside our insecurities about being naked, and relaxed into an evening of rich conversation and general enjoyment.

I think for many, the endless flow of vodka, beer, and a potent concoction made from horseradish helped to soften the inhibitions.  Toast after toast was made, each person being put on the spot at least once to dedicate some words to the evening.  We toasted to the banya, to friendship, to the unexpected, to humility, to women,  to each other, to the future... the list goes on.  To complement the drinking, the food came in continuous streams as well.  We started with rounds of cheese, meat, and raw vegetables.  Then came a round of khachapuri.  This is by far the best thing I have eaten in Russia.  It is a traditional Georgian dish consisting of bread wrapped around cheese and often served with a raw egg on top.

Khachapuri from a Georgian restaurant during our first week in Moscow.

When Fritz first told me about the raw egg thing, I gave him a polite "no thank you,"  but traveling abroad is an opportunity to leave your reservations at the door, and I'm so glad I did.  Georgian bread, cheese, and raw eggs are delicious!  The khachapuri we had at the banya did not have a raw egg on it, but it was still very tasty.  We also had ramekins of baked mushrooms in cheese before the main dish arrived - platters pilled high with meat, fish, and grilled vegetables.  I wish I had more photos of this night, but snapping pictures seemed inappropriate considering the costumes.  So my written account is the best I can do to document the memories of this exotic evening.  

That's the story.  I don't know if it sounds weird now that it's all here in writing, though I imagine parts of it do sound a bit strange.  Being on the other side of it, I think the whole thing was pretty great and one more experience that Fritz and I can add to our collection of strange and wonderful memories in our travels together.  It's amazing how brave I can be when I'm doing these things with my favorite person.  I don't know if I would have gone for this on my own, but as long as Fritz and I stick together, my willingness to just "go for it" increases exponentially.  Everything is better when we are together.

The Russian Ballet

For all the beauty that we saw in St. Petersburg, nothing was more stunning than the ballet at the Mariinsky Theater.  The flat where we stayed was only a few blocks from the theater so one of our first tasks after arriving was to walk over and check the box office.  It was just our luck that the La Bayadére ballet had a few tickets remaining in two separate boxes to the right of the stage.  We knew nothing about La Bayadére, but we figured regardless of what was playing, we had to see at least one real Russian ballet while we were in Russia.  The Mariinsky theater is a historic landmark for ballet and opera so we figured St. Petersburg was the place to do it.

Mariinsky Theater Main Stage

A full house for La Bayadére

After purchasing our tickets, we did a little research on La Bayadére so we would have a sense of the show.  As it turns out, the original version of this world famous ballet premiered in St. Petersburg in 1877.  Then the current version staged by Vakhtang Chabukiani and Vladimir Ponomarev premiered again in Petersburg at the Mariinsky Theater (called the Kirov Theater at the time) in 1941.  In the years and decades following its opening, La Bayadére has made an huge impact on ballet around the world and is hailed as one of choreographer Marius Petipa's supreme masterpieces.  The famous scene, The Kingdom of the Shades, is one of the most celebrated pieces in all classical ballet and is often performed as an independent showpiece in which 32 ballerinas in white tutus and veils slowly weave their way onto the stage.  It is a striking scene with orchestral magnificence to perfectly complement the aesthetic beauty of the dancers.

Bows following The Kingdom of Shades

We were also incredibly lucky to catch Viktoria Tereshkina, one of the most famous and celebrated prima ballerinas and named "The People's Artist of Russia".  I feel like I am running out of adjectives to describe how absolutely breathtaking this performance was.  Her counterpart, Kimin Kim, was equally astounding and I have never seen anyone leap with such incredible grace.  

Viktoria Tereshkin and Kimin Kim

We were so taken by our first experience of a real professional ballet, we decided to go again.  The plot of La Bayadére is on the exotic side, set in India and with a giant cast.  Anna Karenina, based on Leo Tolstoy's novel, was performed in the New Theater at the Mariinsky two days later, also starring Viktoria Tereshkin.  We waisted no time in booking seats to our second and more traditional ballet set to the music of Tchaikovsky.  

The New Theater and stage to Anna Karenina

Mariinsky New Theater

I was recently in a restroom where a poster hanging on the wall proclaimed, "Travel is the only thing you pay for that makes you richer."  I feel so fortunate to have been able to join Fritz on his research-related travels.  His book on the Cold War and global finance has taken us to places that probably would not have even been on my radar.  These adventures have led to culture experiences like this one in St. Petersburg.  I never knew how incredible ballet could be, and the more I see of the world the more I add to my own global and cultural understanding.  For me, that knowledge is more than valuable, it is priceless. 

Adventures in St. Petersburg

Beautiful Saint Petersburg, the historic port city at the head of the Baltic Sea, was established by Tsar Peter the Great in 1703.  It has undergone a few name changes over the years - Petrograd in 1914, Leningrad in 1924, and then back to St. Petersburg in 1991.   It is the second largest city in Russia after Moscow and home to a myriad of historic monuments, the world famous Hermitage Museum, stunning cathedrals, countless bridges that cross the winding canals, and the stately Mariinsky Theatre.  In short, it is a city full of history, culture, and beauty.

Fritz and I arrived here on Thursday morning and set out to find our AirBnB.  Our host was a bit late so we found ourselves standing outside a gated courtyard across the street from a canal for about 15 minutes. 

The gate to our lodgings.

Pretty foot bridge over the canal by our apartment. 

When our host arrived, he let us in and took us up flight after flight of a Soviet-looking cement staircase until we finally made it to our door.  

While the stairwell looked anything but inviting, our actual apartment was great and came equipped with a guitar!

We waisted no time after dropping off our bags and started exploring the city.  Unfortunately, I forgot the buckle part of my FitBit in the US and decided taping it onto my wrist wouldn't look too classy, but I'd love to know how many miles Fritz and I covered over the course of the weekend.  If I were to pose a guess, I'd estimate over 40!

Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood

We followed the Griboyedova Canal to the the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, the site where Emperor Alexander II was fatally wounded in 1881.  It was was built between 1883 and 1907, funded by the imperial family.  It's currently undergoing some renovations. 

Entrance to Mikhailovsky Garden

The church is adjacent to a park surrounded by this whimsical wrought iron gate right next to the Russian Museum.  St. Petersburg was a bit chillier than we had anticipated and spending some of the afternoon exploring the museum was a perfect escape from the cold.  

Starbucks on Nevsky Prospect

I had to include one of the many examples of why learning the Cyrillic alphabet has become very helpful.  Here you can see the "Starbucks Cafe" on the busiest street in St. Petersburg.  If the familiar green logo had not been in the window and I couldn't sound out the Cyrillic letters, I would not have known we were walking past Starbucks.

A terrific lunch in an Italian restaurant. 

A photo of our burrata and prosciutto flat bread with a summer salad adorned with cucumber-wrapped goat cheese, pears, and mango dressing for all the foodies reading along.

 Front entrance to the Hermitage.

The Hermitage is the second largest museum in the world and has been open to the public since 1852.  It was founded in 1764 when Catherine the Great, empress for over 50 years and Russia's longest-running female leader, acquired a massive collection of paintings from an art dealer in Berlin.  This Winter Palace, as it was called, was originally built in 1732  and served as the official residence for the Russian Monarchs.  Now it contains over 3 million works of art and a portion of the preserved residential wings. 

Hermitage from across the river.

Fritz and I spent a full day perusing the halls of this massive building.  

In addition to containing a stunning and extensive collection of art, the building itself is a masterpiece.  

Its halls were inspired by Italian, French, Prussian, and Roman styles.  Many of the rooms have extensive gilded moldings and accents.  

Kiss of Cupid and Psyche by Antonio Canova

This is one of my all-time favorite sculptures by Antonio Canova.  We saw his first and larger version of the sculpture when we were at the Louvre two years ago and were lucky enough to see this second rendition which was acquired by a Russian prince and art collector in 1796.  Canova has captured in a block of marble the moment when Cupid (or Amore) wakes Psyche with a kiss after she has opened a jar containing the "Sleep of Innermost Darkness."  The sculpture is stunning from every angle and I found myself walking around it multiple times to take in all the details. 

The Hermitage courtyard at dusk.

I generally don't like taking photos of paintings as it seems something essential is lost as soon as a piece of art becomes digitized.  Anyway, the internet provides an endless supply of images already.  However, sometimes it's fun to take a masterpiece or two and use them to complete my own creative endeavors.  

Fritz sleeping in my lap.

So, while Fritz dozed on a park bench, I watched people take pictures in front of a fountain and experimented with a masterpiece mash-up. 

Masterpiece Mash-up by Amanda using Snapseed (the app)

St. Petersburg.  The Hermitage. 1992 serves as the backdrop of this collage.  It was painted by Bernard Buffet.  

Musical Instruments. 1912 was painted by Pablo Picasso.  He has always been one of Fritz's personal favorites and therefore is occupying Fritz's profile. 

And finally, Landscape with a Bridge and Castle painted by Andreas Leonard Roller in 1843 is filling my head.  After all, memories of a forgotten city with a castle in the clouds has always fueled this wanderer's journey. 

An average street corner in Petersburg.

I spent these 4 days in St. Petersburg constantly snapping photos as Fritz and I wandered through the streets together.  Before coming to Russia, I had no idea what to expect of the architecture, the general scene, and what it would mean to stay here for a month or two.  Now having explored two major cities (which obviously hardly scrapes the surface of what Russia is as a whole), I am developing a sense and a feeling for this place.  St. Petersburg is undeniably beautiful, and in a way that is completely its own.  Coming in June means that we are in the season of "White Nights" where the sun is up from 3am until 11pm.  Dusk in St. Petersburg transforms the architecture as the light slowly changes, casting long shadows in some places and highlighting spires and facades in others.  I'll close this post by limiting my written words, and let the photos speak from themselves. 

View of Savior on Spilled Blood

Traffic at sunset.

I couldn't help making use of this massive brick wall.

Peter and Paul Fortress- the first and oldest landmark in St. Petersburg.  The Cathedral's bell tower is the tallest Orthodox bell tower in the world.  

A fair in Petrovskiy Park