In Russia, the month of May, somewhat like January, is hardly a productive month. On paper, there is to be business as usual with the exception of the days surrounding International Workers' Day (May 1) and Victory Day (May 9). In reality, Russians are quite susceptible to holiday inertia, and it pretty much takes until the end of the month to really get the ball rolling again. The people here in the South are even more this way.
I remember last year not traveling anywhere for May holidays, mainly because of the inconvenient schedule given by the university (somewhere along the lines of two days off, then two days of class, a day off that was to be made up on Saturday which everyone hates, then three days off, then back to work again). This had been a mistake, because everyone else seemed to leave town anyway, while I was left alone. This year was not the case. This year's May Break contained some adventures.
For the first half of the holidays, my friend Rachel, a Fulbright ETA in Astrakhan this year came down by car with her Russian friend Vadim. The first day they were here, I figured we'd take advantage of the fact that he had his own car and we could finally go to Lago-Naki, the mountain that everyone tells me I must go to but never actually wants to go to themselves. On the road, however, we apparently missed a major road sign, and instead ended up in a resort town called Guzeripl. There was not much to do besides just walk around the area; in order to really hike, you have to start early in the morning.
The next day, however, we took off for the weekend to go camping. We drove further south through Apsheronsk region of Krasnodar Krai, to another place I had been to before, Guamka Canyon. I had never been hiking around this area before, so we decided to plan our route and spend the next few nights camping. An old man at the bottom of the mountain told us of a seemingly straightforward route and directed us to camp overnight at the river. The trail ended up being nothing like the old man had said... in fact, it kind of just disappeared. Eventually we were just scraping through the woods in the general direction "UP", figuring that when we got to the top of the mountain, it would all make sense. As one might expect, this was easier said than done. When we eventually DID find another trail on the way down, it was such that any wrong step would cause an avalanche of rocks to fall on top of us.... all this added to the fact that the majority of the hike was at a steep, 70 degree angle, whether up or down. We ended up spending the night in a cave on the edge of a cliff.
Vadim, who could not find the right words or was too shy to try to speak to us in English, could still impressively understand almost all of what Rachel and I were talking about... from our beloved Fulbright director Oksana to liberal arts colleges to the Caucasus to 1990s nostalgia... some things just cannot be expressed so well in Russian, no matter how well we know the language. Vadim mentioned, on many occasions, that I seemed to him (for better or for worse) like a local, and that I had "spent too much time in the Caucasus." I'm not sure what to make of that...
Our last day on the road trip took us to Dzhubga, a town on the Black Sea. The driving there was in itself an adventure; there was absolutely no such thing as a straight road. All the roads took hairpin turns around mountains with steep cliffs that didn't really have any kind of railing, and that at any time could turn into a Priora racing ground for careless young men from Dagestan. Dzhubga (which in Adyghe means "wind") was a nice, relaxing Black Sea town, but we didn't really see much of it before we set up camp. To be honest, the Black Sea is not exactly a beautiful vacation spot. The water is dirty and full of garbage (and this being before the actual tourist season, when apparently once can't even find a few empty square inches on the beach to rest), and absolutely teeming with jellyfish. I wasn't sure if they were the kind of jellyfish that sting or not, but I wasn't about to find out.
The next day, we drove back to Maykop, where I would shower, rest, and have one morning class before taking off for May Break Adventure, Part II.
Well, I guess I wouldn't call this trip an "adventure" in the same was as the camping trip. It was definitely more low-key and relaxing. I was invited back to Kosh-habl (Timur's aul), in Karachaievo-Cherkessia Republic. I had to take the bus over alone, because I was expected to participate in a concert that morning and Timur had class and would get a ride from his friend in the evening. The ride was fine, even though there was a checkpoint. I was anticipating the awkwardness of flashing an American passport around the marshrutka, where I prefer to be silent and inconspicuous... but the border patrol didn't even open my passport. He just saw the cover, (I have a generic maroon passport cover that just says "Passport") figured it was an international passport of some kind or other and gave it right back to me. He seriously didn't even open it to see where I was from. Fine with me.
When I got in to Kosh-habl, Timur's mother Zarema met me and her colleague drove us to the nearby aul Habez (I also happen to have another friend from this aul) to watch a concert. At the end of the concert, I was told, unexpectedly, to "Get up on stage and sing that song in Kabardian." I guess it sounded all right, because people gave me flowers, called me what I guess meant an Honorary Adyghe Pshashe and took me to an elaborate dinner.
For most of the week, I went around with Zarema to visit with the neighbors while Timur slept all day. The neighbors we visited the most were a kindly woman named "Auntie Fatima", who lived with her mother, a frail babushka nearly 90 years old with striking blue eyes. The old woman didn't seem to understand Russian, or to be able to speak at all, so I talked only briefly to her with my oh-so-extensive Kabardian-Circassian vocabulary.
Another neighbor who visited us was Ludmila, (she's also Circassian but with a Russian first name) who told me all about her twelve-years-and-counting Skype romance with a British man named Richard. Her English was impressive; she was obviously eager for practice with another native speaker.
The Kardanov house hospitality was enough to make a bit uncomfortable at first. I originally did not want to come, figuring that I would be another financial burden, but Zarema just would not hear of it. She also just would not hear of me refusing food at any time. As usual, no one would allow this to happen. It didn't matter that I just had lunch with Zarema, then went to a neighbor's for "tea" which is accompanied by more food than I would usually consider a meal, and then left just in time to come back for dinner. Each time, I was told that I would not be allowed up from my seat until I cleaned my plate. Once, Zarema asked me, "Why don't you eat as much as Timur does?" I couldn't help but laugh. I don't know... maybe because TIMUR is a GUY and he's CAUCASIAN and SIX FOOT FIVE?!
My parents had suggested that I give some kind of nice, expensive gift or help out in some way financially... but this is just not acceptable from a guest in the Caucasus. It would actually be taken as an insult. Eventually, I ended up doing my part by helping out a lot in the garden. (Normally, a guest is not permitted to do any kind of work, but at this point I was not really considered a "guest" but like "family"). Even Timur helped out considerably as there was a lot of work to do. At last he stopped being lazy and did something to justify his enormous appetite. Zarema has many, many animals to take care of... several turkeys including many newly hatched, two dogs, two adult cats and a poor little one-eyed kitten named Odnoglazik.
On our last day, I went in to Zarema's work at the studio to give an interview. I recited poetry and sang two songs in Adyghe and Kabardian, and talked about my impressions of Circassian people and culture, the North Caucasus and how I got here. It will be (or may already have been) aired on Karachai-Cherkessia Republic television this week. The interview went well I think, it was in Russian and Circassian. Only two things sort of bothered me with the result. First, that I was told to say to the cameras, "The North Caucasus is a peaceful and safe and stable place." Second, my hair looked absolutely horrible.
On Monday morning, Timur and I left the same way we did back in January- at 5 am with his truck driver friend Kazbek. This time, the sun was already on the rise, and we could see Mount Elbrus from the highway. The ride was free (Almost. Kazbek took us to Labinsk where we got the bus back to Maykop) and we basically slept the whole way, but we were glad to get back to the dormitory. It's been enough traveling for a while. The next big trip I make, I imagine, will be back to the USA.
I remember last year not traveling anywhere for May holidays, mainly because of the inconvenient schedule given by the university (somewhere along the lines of two days off, then two days of class, a day off that was to be made up on Saturday which everyone hates, then three days off, then back to work again). This had been a mistake, because everyone else seemed to leave town anyway, while I was left alone. This year was not the case. This year's May Break contained some adventures.
For the first half of the holidays, my friend Rachel, a Fulbright ETA in Astrakhan this year came down by car with her Russian friend Vadim. The first day they were here, I figured we'd take advantage of the fact that he had his own car and we could finally go to Lago-Naki, the mountain that everyone tells me I must go to but never actually wants to go to themselves. On the road, however, we apparently missed a major road sign, and instead ended up in a resort town called Guzeripl. There was not much to do besides just walk around the area; in order to really hike, you have to start early in the morning.
The next day, however, we took off for the weekend to go camping. We drove further south through Apsheronsk region of Krasnodar Krai, to another place I had been to before, Guamka Canyon. I had never been hiking around this area before, so we decided to plan our route and spend the next few nights camping. An old man at the bottom of the mountain told us of a seemingly straightforward route and directed us to camp overnight at the river. The trail ended up being nothing like the old man had said... in fact, it kind of just disappeared. Eventually we were just scraping through the woods in the general direction "UP", figuring that when we got to the top of the mountain, it would all make sense. As one might expect, this was easier said than done. When we eventually DID find another trail on the way down, it was such that any wrong step would cause an avalanche of rocks to fall on top of us.... all this added to the fact that the majority of the hike was at a steep, 70 degree angle, whether up or down. We ended up spending the night in a cave on the edge of a cliff.
Vadim, who could not find the right words or was too shy to try to speak to us in English, could still impressively understand almost all of what Rachel and I were talking about... from our beloved Fulbright director Oksana to liberal arts colleges to the Caucasus to 1990s nostalgia... some things just cannot be expressed so well in Russian, no matter how well we know the language. Vadim mentioned, on many occasions, that I seemed to him (for better or for worse) like a local, and that I had "spent too much time in the Caucasus." I'm not sure what to make of that...
Our last day on the road trip took us to Dzhubga, a town on the Black Sea. The driving there was in itself an adventure; there was absolutely no such thing as a straight road. All the roads took hairpin turns around mountains with steep cliffs that didn't really have any kind of railing, and that at any time could turn into a Priora racing ground for careless young men from Dagestan. Dzhubga (which in Adyghe means "wind") was a nice, relaxing Black Sea town, but we didn't really see much of it before we set up camp. To be honest, the Black Sea is not exactly a beautiful vacation spot. The water is dirty and full of garbage (and this being before the actual tourist season, when apparently once can't even find a few empty square inches on the beach to rest), and absolutely teeming with jellyfish. I wasn't sure if they were the kind of jellyfish that sting or not, but I wasn't about to find out.
The next day, we drove back to Maykop, where I would shower, rest, and have one morning class before taking off for May Break Adventure, Part II.
Well, I guess I wouldn't call this trip an "adventure" in the same was as the camping trip. It was definitely more low-key and relaxing. I was invited back to Kosh-habl (Timur's aul), in Karachaievo-Cherkessia Republic. I had to take the bus over alone, because I was expected to participate in a concert that morning and Timur had class and would get a ride from his friend in the evening. The ride was fine, even though there was a checkpoint. I was anticipating the awkwardness of flashing an American passport around the marshrutka, where I prefer to be silent and inconspicuous... but the border patrol didn't even open my passport. He just saw the cover, (I have a generic maroon passport cover that just says "Passport") figured it was an international passport of some kind or other and gave it right back to me. He seriously didn't even open it to see where I was from. Fine with me.
When I got in to Kosh-habl, Timur's mother Zarema met me and her colleague drove us to the nearby aul Habez (I also happen to have another friend from this aul) to watch a concert. At the end of the concert, I was told, unexpectedly, to "Get up on stage and sing that song in Kabardian." I guess it sounded all right, because people gave me flowers, called me what I guess meant an Honorary Adyghe Pshashe and took me to an elaborate dinner.
For most of the week, I went around with Zarema to visit with the neighbors while Timur slept all day. The neighbors we visited the most were a kindly woman named "Auntie Fatima", who lived with her mother, a frail babushka nearly 90 years old with striking blue eyes. The old woman didn't seem to understand Russian, or to be able to speak at all, so I talked only briefly to her with my oh-so-extensive Kabardian-Circassian vocabulary.
Another neighbor who visited us was Ludmila, (she's also Circassian but with a Russian first name) who told me all about her twelve-years-and-counting Skype romance with a British man named Richard. Her English was impressive; she was obviously eager for practice with another native speaker.
The Kardanov house hospitality was enough to make a bit uncomfortable at first. I originally did not want to come, figuring that I would be another financial burden, but Zarema just would not hear of it. She also just would not hear of me refusing food at any time. As usual, no one would allow this to happen. It didn't matter that I just had lunch with Zarema, then went to a neighbor's for "tea" which is accompanied by more food than I would usually consider a meal, and then left just in time to come back for dinner. Each time, I was told that I would not be allowed up from my seat until I cleaned my plate. Once, Zarema asked me, "Why don't you eat as much as Timur does?" I couldn't help but laugh. I don't know... maybe because TIMUR is a GUY and he's CAUCASIAN and SIX FOOT FIVE?!
My parents had suggested that I give some kind of nice, expensive gift or help out in some way financially... but this is just not acceptable from a guest in the Caucasus. It would actually be taken as an insult. Eventually, I ended up doing my part by helping out a lot in the garden. (Normally, a guest is not permitted to do any kind of work, but at this point I was not really considered a "guest" but like "family"). Even Timur helped out considerably as there was a lot of work to do. At last he stopped being lazy and did something to justify his enormous appetite. Zarema has many, many animals to take care of... several turkeys including many newly hatched, two dogs, two adult cats and a poor little one-eyed kitten named Odnoglazik.
On our last day, I went in to Zarema's work at the studio to give an interview. I recited poetry and sang two songs in Adyghe and Kabardian, and talked about my impressions of Circassian people and culture, the North Caucasus and how I got here. It will be (or may already have been) aired on Karachai-Cherkessia Republic television this week. The interview went well I think, it was in Russian and Circassian. Only two things sort of bothered me with the result. First, that I was told to say to the cameras, "The North Caucasus is a peaceful and safe and stable place." Second, my hair looked absolutely horrible.
On Monday morning, Timur and I left the same way we did back in January- at 5 am with his truck driver friend Kazbek. This time, the sun was already on the rise, and we could see Mount Elbrus from the highway. The ride was free (Almost. Kazbek took us to Labinsk where we got the bus back to Maykop) and we basically slept the whole way, but we were glad to get back to the dormitory. It's been enough traveling for a while. The next big trip I make, I imagine, will be back to the USA.
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