What I Learned from Living in the Crimea

 

Aerial view of the coast of Crimea near Yalta

Since the corona virus and the subsequent lock down hit the US last spring, I’ve been thinking a lot about the four months I lived in the Crimea in the spring of 1994. Crimea was a Russian-speaking area of Ukraine when I lived there, but since March 2014, it is part of Russia.

It was one of the defining moments of my life. When I returned home, I would never look at my closet brimming with clothes, full grocery store shelves, reliable electricity and water, and my genuinely easy life the same again. And whenever I hear a few words of Russian, I feel homesick.

My experiences in the Crimea help me keep perspective when life gets tough. 

 

A Crimean party for a dog's birthday. My late Russian professor Lyudmila and myself.

What I learned from living in the Crimea (the short list):

1.  Appreciate the simple joys of life: One day my host father brought home a single orange (fresh fruit was very rare), and my host sister, who was six at the time, ate each segment slowly, as if it was an expensive piece of chocolate. I have learned to appreciate the small joys each day last year: eating food from my backyard, going on walks, and laughing at Mr. Bean antics with my teenage sons.

2. People rise to the occasion. I love the stories of how Russians secretly stood against communism through their music and art. (I think of Achmatova's Requiem, an elegy poem to her husband and son, both arrested by the NKVD.). They became adept at making jokes about Soviet propaganda (when I was there, every joke had a spy in it). Here in the States, I have enjoyed seeing how creative people can be in turning this difficult situation to good: making Youtube movies, repairing or fixing up their homes, baking bread (although I wish they’d leave some flour and yeast for me!)

3. We have lost the illusion of control. We have enjoyed a very long time of peace and prosperity as Americans. So we begin to think we can plan on our lives only getting better. But the truth is, so much of life is out of our control. I’ve been trying to be thankful for each day and what it brings. I wonder if saying something like “If the Lord wills…” when we talk about future plans will become more common.

4. Separating my happiness from world events: When I saw one of my Russian professors in 2014, Russia had just taken over Crimea. She said, “I left as a Ukrainian, I return as a Russian.” She has lived through communism, perestroika, Yeltsin, and Putin. But she continues to find joy in her life, enjoying her time with her grown children and teaching foreigners like me to speak Russian. Just because the world is going crazy doesn’t mean you have to let it make you crazy. Find joy in the things you can control: your relationships, your work (even if it’s working around your home), and making great art.

 Goodbye Party for my professor Irina (center) in 2014. I'm joined by Rachel Humphrey Fleet (left) and Darcy Franzen Syme (right), two other American students who studied in Crimea.

What about you? How do you keep your perspective and joy when life is crazy?

Photo credits: Crimea photo from Vimeo. All other photos are my own or from Rachael Humphrey Fleet, Jennifer Steele, or Darcy Franzen Syme.

 

#IMWAYR: Symphony for the City of the Dead: Shostakovich and the Siege of Leningrad

 

I was drawn to Symphony for the City of the Dead: Shostakovich and the Siege of Leningrad  due to its author. M.T. Anderson is brilliant. And then it's about Russia. I studied Russian in college, and I am especially partial to 20th century Russian history, even though it is quite dark. I visited St. Petersburg when I studied in the Crimea in the mid 90s. Here is a photo of a plague commemorating the siege. 

Sorry for the dark photo! My loose translation: Citizens! During the shelling this side of the street is dangerous.

 
Then there’s Shostakovitch. Back in March, my husband and I went to a concert featuring one of his pieces. And though the conductor implied that Shostakovitch wrote that piece to celebrate the Russian revolution (and we should too, scarily enough), I didn’t believe him. 

Reading this book was my way of proving to myself that Shostakovitch music only seemed to be lauding Stalin and communism.

Here is the synopsis from Amazon:

“This ambitious and gripping work is narrative nonfiction at its best. . . . The book has all the intrigue of a spy thriller. . . . A must-have title with broad crossover appeal.” — School Library Journal (starred review)

In September 1941, Adolf Hitler’s Wehrmacht surrounded Leningrad in what was to become one of the longest and most destructive sieges in Western history—almost three years of bombardment and starvation. Trapped between the Nazi invading force and the Soviet government itself was composer Dmitri Shostakovich, writing a symphony to rouse, rally, eulogize, and commemorate his fellow citizens: the Leningrad Symphony. This is the true story of a city under siege, the triumph of bravery and defiance in the face of terrifying odds. It is also a look at the power—and layered meaning—of music in beleaguered lives. Symphony for the City of the Dead is a masterwork thrillingly told and impeccably researched by National Book Award–winning author M. T. Anderson.


Highlights:

1.  Anderson points out that it’s really hard to find the truth about Shostakovitch meaning behind his music, because telling the truth meant death during Stalin's reign. But considering that Shostakovitch often wrote letters to help friends who were arrested, never denounced anyone, and was almost purged at least twice shows that he wasn’t a fan of communism.

2.  The people of Leningrad who survived did not lie down to conserve their strength. There’s something about going about your daily tasks and acting as if life is normal that breeds hope. And I loved that they entertained each other by reading and quoting the Russian classics!

3.  I found it interesting that although a German nutritionist advised Hitler to not attack the city because the people would die in a few months of starvation, he was wrong. This nutritionist and the Germans in general underestimated the Russian people, whom they considered subhuman. Yet the Nazis didn't consider how much a people's will to live, their love for their homeland, or the intangibles of life (faith, love, family, etc.) can impact a person's ability to survive.

4.   It is a powerful scene in the book when Shostakovitch's 7th Symphony is finally performed in Leningrad. The audience consists of starving people who’ve given up their day’s rations to buy a ticket, and the band includes Red Army soldiers on leave from their duties, because so many have died of starvation. Yet, with each note they played, they demonstrated how music and the arts can elevate the soul. 

5.   Anderson made a smart choice in letting Shostakovitch be our eyes through the terrible events of the first half of 20th century Russia. I probably couldn’t have stomached the barbarity of the revolution or Stalin’s purges without a mild-mannered man like Shostakovitch to root for. His love for his family and his willingness to do so much for others and so little for himself was truly inspiring.

I think another reason this book spoke to me was the timing. I shared in the spring some funny and light-hearted books that cheer me up. But I’m also finding that difficult books, especially about people surviving trials far greater than I can even imagine, puts life in perspective for me. Reading this book will make you grateful for the gift of food, of family, and the ability to speak the truth without losing your life.

I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

Have you read any books about difficult times lately?

When You Can’t Travel, Dream

In Vermont in 2017--my first plane trip in over 20 years!

If you look at my bio, you’ll think I’m a world traveler. But most people don’t know that most of my world traveling was done in my 20s. After I returned from Honduras, it was over 20 years before I got on a plane again.

I know a lot of people are feeling disappointed about not being able to travel right now. If you’ve had to cancel plans, what to do?

Here are a few things I’ve done over the years when I wanted to travel, but couldn’t for one reason or another.

1.    Explore your own town: Right now, it may not be possible to do much locally, except walk local trails. We are taking in all of our city’s parks, which are still open. Getting take out treats from our favorite bakeries and ice cream stores can feel like a vacation.

2.    Do research for your next vacay: Make a Pinterest mood board or an old-fashioned collage or idea journal. Before all this happened, I was planning a trip to the Redwoods. I can still read travel books and collect ideas, even if the trip is not as soon as I hoped.

3.    Read a travelogue: Some of my most memorable reads have been travel accounts.

 

How the Heather Looks by Joan Bodger—A book about a family who takes their children to England to explore all the settings of their favorite children’s books

The Brendan Voyage by Tim Severi—A story of a man who builds a boat trying to replicate the voyage an Irish monk took to the new world.

4.    Watch a travel show. I’ve always loved Rick Steve’s European specials, but I’ve recently discovered Samantha Brown’s Places to Love. All three seasons of her PBS specials are free on her website. She travels to other places besides Europe, and I really enjoy watching her travels in the U.S. as well.

Have you had to cancel any trips due to the current crisis? What do you to quell the travel bug when you have to stay home?