In Russia, New Years is the major winter holiday instead of Christmas. This comes from the Soviet times where anything related to religion was downplayed. Of course, Orthodox Christmas on January 7th is recognized and also a day off from work, but the major gift-giving and tree-decorating holiday is New Years Eve. Unlike in the West, where New Years is commonly celebrated out with friends, New Years Eve in Russia is entirely a family holiday. With my family back in America, who was I to spend this holiday with?
The stadium "NART"
The Kardanov family, of course.
It turned out that months ago, Timur had asked his family to invite me to stay with them in their aul, Kosh-habl. Despite the complications associated with getting permission to go into Karachaievo-Cherkessia (if you recall the seven North Caucasian republics, KChR is the next one over), it worked out that I would go with Timur for the whole week. The unfortunate thing was that Marina was not able to come because of her work schedule. Even so, I was excited to finally meet Zarema and to see a whole new place, finding out for myself what life in an aul is like.
The first thing worth mentioning, or repeating, rather, is the amount of FOOD the locals eat, and that guests are expected to eat. Before I left, I joked with my friends about how much weight I would probably gain from being a guest in an aul. I imagined that I would be practically force-fed. I imagined correctly.
The second I arrived, Zarema (Timur's mother) said, "You are so skinny. Do they not feed you well? Come in and eat something." Sure enough, the table was already set with salads, Adyghe "schips" and "pasteh" (a soup and breaded thing you dip into it) and various meat. I figured this was the New Years Eve dinner... but then a few hours later, Zarema asked, "So, are you ready for dinner?" and even more food was to come.
After the clock struck 2013, Timur and I went outside to watch the fireworks. It was spectacular, but cold. Soon after that we went our separate ways; he with his old school friends, and I with his brother and his friends, who literally shoved shashlik down my throat.
The next few days were more or less the same, food-wise. Zarema introduced me to several of her neighbors, each of which insisted that we come in for an elaborate dinner. In the Caucasus, this is culturally expected- a guest absolutely must be treated to the very best, and to resist is insulting.
So how does one properly draw the line, and make the binge eating stop, without offending someone? The next day, I finally found the answer: Get sick.
As some kind of bad reaction to home-made wine, along with the inability to keep up with the Caucasian eaters, I found myself lying in bed most of the day, unable to keep any more food down. I was not able to eat anything for the next three days. As it turned out, I did not gain weight from this trip at all.
2am shashlik.
On one of my "sick" days, Timur took me to the city, Cherkessk. The roads from Kosh-habl to Cherkessk are surreal- winding, hair-pin turns (around which people drive at LEAST 60mph) overlooking swirls of hill and snow, with a view of Mount Elbrus. Cherkessk itself is a small city, but loud. There are a lot of cars, and locals enjoy setting off random small bombs and fireworks, just for fun. The center appears very European, with a park surrounded by main streets lined with shops and cafes. We took a walk through another park that had working rides (neither of us wanted to go on them) and a frozen over pond for skating in the winter and (for those foolish enough) swimming in the summer. We then took a walk down by his old school's stadium, and finally ended up at his favorite pizza place. (Timur ordered for the two of us a large pizza and a milkshake; I stomached one piece and one sip, he inhaled the rest). Another thing that was striking was how on the way back, the marshrutka driver announced all the stops and instructions in Kabardian, not Russian. This was the first place I have been where Russian was not the default. Everyone spoke Kabardian.
Си мыщэ))
The monument to the unification of Russia and Kabarda.
The next few days I spent mainly with Zarema around the aul. When I got over my stomach ache, I went with three of the local children- Zaur, Tamerlan, and Imran, to go sledding. There wasn't really enough snow to sled very far and there were thorn patches everywhere, but the view over the aul was beautiful, and they managed to teach me how to dance Lezginka on ice. Three-year-old Imran came with a bag of "bombichki" and set off about six of them. I was assured that this was normal, that all North Caucasians like to do this around New Years. Who knew.
The view of the aul from the hill.
Haliwa. Zarema took me to her neighbors to see how this was made. It is a VERY sweet dessert that people eat at weddings (more about the wedding later).
On Friday, Timur and I went to the location of Adiyukh Palace, in Habez district. The "Palace" is actually an extremely expensive ski resort, and the land behind it is technically for resort guests only... but Timur managed to say something to the security guard in order to let us through. The place known as "Adiyukh" is an ancient tower (no one knows how old it is, Timur says "it's been here as long as history can remember") overlooking the Zelenchuk river known for a tragic legend, involving a beautiful princess named Adiyukh (direct translation, "white hands"), Psabidy ("hardened soul") the man who loved her but brought with him only night, and the Nart, Sousruko. We climbed the 800 icy stairs to the top, walked along the top of the hills, pretended to push each other off cliffs, and explored the inside of the tower.
On my last day in Kosh-habl, I found myself at the wedding of Timur's neighbor's cousin. It is quite normal for the entire aul to be invited to a wedding.
From what I gather, a Circassian wedding, like this one, goes like this:
One day (this time, it happened to be New Years Eve), the groom and his friends go to "abduct" the bride. This "abduction" is a stage; she already knows that it's going to happen sometime soon, just not exactly. The groom's friends take her in their car to the groom's relatives, where she will live for a few days. Often, the bride pretends to "resist". For the next few days, wedding preparations are made, and then in some cases (I don't think it happened this time around though, the groom is abducted by the bride's family, or some kind of official meeting occurs. On the day before the wedding, the haliwa is made, and the house is prepared for the wedding.
For this couple, Kurman and Fatima, the wedding was held on Sunday. It began with all of us getting in a parade of cars... usually a decorated Lada Priora with loud Lezginka playing through the windows... which go pick up the bride, and then take everyone into Cherkessk to the ZAGS where the actual wedding ceremony is held. After the vows were exchanged, the couple danced, took pictures, and we all got back into the cars.
When a wedding procession happens in the Caucasus, everyone must get out of the way or risk their lives. The cars may drive on any part of the road and as fast as they wish. We rode back through the auls and eventually back to the groom's family's house, where the older relatives had already eaten and the second dinner was made for the younger guests. While the female relatives prepared the dinner, the other girls danced inside. I wasn't sure where the men went. I was told they were with the groom somewhere.
Then began the dinner for the younger guests. I wasn't really sure how or why I ended up there; I had absolutely nothing to say, and the Tamada (person who directs the toasts and everything) spoke entirely in Kabardian. Timur was nowhere to be found, and no one in the room knew who I was or where I was from. Once that awkward dinner was over, everyone went outside to dance Lezginka (or rather, stand their freezing and looking awkwardly in the center of the circle, where only those either drunk enough or old enough not to care were dancing) It got more fun after a while, until one particular guy asked me to dance for the fifth time, and Timur finally appeared and conveniently decided it would be a good time to leave. Most of the other girls there also went home, and the guys went inside to get drunk.
I must say, I had mixed feelings about the whole wedding event. Yes, it was fun, it was loud, it was a good time for pretty much everyone, and to be honest, I prefer this kind of wedding to the expensive American weddings that must take place in some high-end location, with catering and DJing and all that... but the fact that the couple was so young made me (and even Zarema) feel uncomfortable. Here, especially in the auls, among those who follow tradition, relations between men and women (or boys and girls) are VERY strict. The concept of the virgin bride is a rule (again, among those who follow tradition... there is an understandably increasing number of those who don't, though) and some find it improper to even hold hands before marriage. If a man chooses to marry a non-Circassian, which is becoming increasingly common (incidentally, it is far more acceptable to marry a foreigner than a Russian or a Karachai), the foreign bride is not expected to follow the same rules. Even I, as an outsider, have mixed feelings toward inter-ethnic marriage by Circassians. If two people of different nationalities love each other, then by all means, they should get married... but if Circassians continue to intermarry with others, a lot of their culture would likely be lost, and the new generation might not know the language at all.
We both managed to squeeze in two hours of sleep before leaving at 5am the next morning for Maykop. Our free ride was Timur's friend, a truck driver, who delivered produkty to just about every grocery store in every aul in Karachaievo-Cherkessia. We finally made it past the checkpoint and over into Krasnodar Krai, where we were dropped off in the town of Labinsk five hours later. We had to wait another hour and a half for the bus to Maykop, which was loud and uncomfortable and not conducive for any kind of nap. As one would expect, we had gotten pretty sick of each other at this point, picking arguments with each other about mobile cameras, my luggage, and earphones. We were pretty happy to finally make it back to Maykop and take a very long, much needed nap. Annoying moments apart, it was a good trip, yet another interesting adventure.
Zarema, playing the accordion.
