Victory Day and Other Stuff

So today is the 10th of May. My dearest sister is flying in tomorrow afternoon. I am both nervous, and excited for her to come. I'm nervous because I'm afraid I will somehow fuck up in retrieving her. Excited because who's sister is this cool to come visit you while you're abroad? Also, I'm excited to actually do something after this long weekend. I have been literally sitting around since Saturday afternoon doing nothing. I would have class tomorrow, but I'm picking up my wonderful sister from the airport. What a shame.

Where did we leave off? Last Wednesday my group went to the Central Armed Forces Museum. I'm not really big into war stuff, so I was bored most of the time. Plus this excursion was entirely in Russian so I was zoning in and out. I was surprised because the museum literally has boxes, and boxes, and boxes of Nazi badges. They took all the badges and Nazi paraphernalia from the dead Nazis and put them on displays like trophies. Like the Nazi badges are deer antlers that you put on the wall. I was a little disturbed by the amount of Nazi badges. I don't feel sorry for the Nazi's, but it was still disturbing. One cool thing the museum had were stuff on women snipers during WWII. They also had a piece from the submarine K-141 Kursk. This was described to us later as one of the most horrifying events of the Russia Federation. Basically the submarine sunk to the ocean floor and Russia didn't have anything big enough to lift it up. England and Norway tried to help, but Putin said no and everyone on board died. Very happy museum.

Later that day, me and another girl from the group went a saw a soccer match. It was an interesting experience to say the least. The game was Lokomotiv vs. the Red Army (ЦСКА). Dasha warned me to be careful, which made me nervous about the ordeal. When we came out of the metro there were cops everywhere. I have never in my life seen that much crowd control. After going through maybe three lines of policemen, we finally made it to the gate. Our professor bought our tickets and they said 'Control' on them. Nothing to worry about right? Wrong. When we gave our tickets to the guy at the gate, they freaked out. They kept asking where we got the tickets. I kept telling them my professor bought them for us. They let us in the first gate to our relief. Then we walked all the way around the stadium until, after asking nearly everyone where our section was, we found it. We gave our tickets to the girl at the gate who again questioned our tickets. Where the hell did my professor find these god forsaken tickets? An official came down, showed us the real tickets, and ended up letting us in the stadium anyways (thank God). They took our tickets and told the guys guarding the section to remember our faces. 

So after much fussing we made it to our seats. I was ready to get drunk, which is the only way to watch soccer. We saw people with cups of yellow liquid, so we decided to get some beer at halftime. We go to the concession stand, ready to get some beers, when I see people with beer colored liquid, only it's tea. What is this bullshit? I had to watch the game completely sober. I picked the Red Army and they won 3-0. As we left the stadium there was even more crowd control, with a clear line of policemen leading us to the metro. I guess I understand the crowd control. These people set fires in the stands. 

Didn't really do much until Saturday night. Me and another girl while speaking to each other in English in a bathroom met another girl. She's crazy and invited us out Saturday. Everyone in our group except one went out. That makes for six Americans on the prowl. First we went to a Kafe where I had a shot of cognac (which I've drank more of here than vodka) and three shots of vodka in probably an hour. Then we were whisked off to another bar. I had two beers and this bar was fucking awesome. This bar had a circular bar which rotated. It blew my drunk mind. I think I danced a bit before being whisked off to go to the Bolshoi theater (no idea why). It is here I would like to comment on the crazy Russian drivers. Russian are awful drivers. They will ride on other cars asses, brake at the last minute, get in the other lane while there's oncoming traffic, and sometimes ride on the curb. They literally jerk you in every which way possible. For some god forsaken reason, I ended up in the middle seat. You can see the equation forming in your head. Drunk Tessa + crazy Russian cab driver = someone is about to puke. I started to feel really sick with all the jerking around this cab driver was doing. Thank God we finally stopped. I ran out of the car, went behind a bus stop, and puked in public. Literally two spits and I was done. Then after hanging around Bolshoi theater for who knows why, we went to another club where I indulged in a Strongbow (Rose Mantel would be proud). Then we hung about there until about 5, waited for the metro to open at 5:30AM and I went home and passed out.

Did nothing Sunday, studied Monday, nothing Tuesday, then Wednesday day came. Wednesday was VICTORY DAY! It's one of Russia's favorite holidays. It celebrates the defeat of the Nazis in WWII and The Great Patriotic War (two entirely different, but similar things). The day the Nazis were defeated is known as the day that Russia ran out of vodka. It's that big. The whole week before, people parade around town in their orange and black ribbons. These ribbons are the ribbons of St. George, and a sign of victory. While this holiday is meant for celebration, it has a dark side to it as well. Stalin completely disregarded human lives in order to win the war. Number 1, Stalin is an idiot to begin with. What did he really think was going to happen when he agreed to take over Poland with Germany? Oh, we get this territory, but now we share a border with the Nazis. That sounds good right? His Order No. 270. This order basically stated that if a Soviet is found attempting to desert or surrender to the enemy to be killed on the spot. Stalin declared, "There are no Soviet prisoners of war, only traitors." You become a traitor basically by living. If for some reason you were the one person to survive out of your entire set of troops, you were a traitor. Then he made Order No. 227, which states that the front line would consisted of traitors from previous order, and that there would also be barrier troops who shot at anyone trying to flee the scene. Basic picture, you would have two lines of Soviet soldiers. One made of fake traitors to actually attack the Nazis, the other to attacks the Soviets if they try to not attack the Nazis. A lot of soldiers died due to Stalin's cruelty, and knowing the true history behind this holiday makes it feel strange to actually celebrate it. 

All the leftover Lenins and Stalins.

There's a parade every on the morning of Victory Day every year. My host apparently tried to wake me up for it, but I just slept right on through it. It's basically a bunch of tanks and military personnel marching along. I went to an internet cafe in the afternoon, and was told by a man who spoke English that it rained everyday on Victory Day. I can only imagine why. He said they sprayed cement in the air to absorb the rain so that during the parade people could stay dry. I didn't know that was even possible! Two other girls and I ended up going to Park Pobedi (Victory Park), which was entirely too crowded. We ended up going to a sculpture garden of all the fallen Soviet statues. They have an entire wall dedicated to the heads of these sculptures. It's actually a pretty cool place to chill out.

And for me to look like an idiot...

 Then two of us went to Sparrow Hills to watch the fireworks. Literally ten minutes of Russians shouting "Hip Hip Hoorah!" and "Ru-ssi-ah!" with red, green, and white fireworks exploding above the trees. It was quite a sight with all the boats on the water and all the people dressed in their Soviet military hats waving their Russian flags under the bridge. It's something I don't think I will ever forget.

Today we went to Leo Tolstoy's house. The first thing I've actually had to commit myself to doing all week. Did anyone know that Leo had 13 kids. The guys got 205 living descendants. As our advisor said, "He was a very productive guy." You can say that again. The house has 16 rooms, and a bear cub that collects visitor's business cards. We couldn't take pictures without paying 360 rubles (too much) so we didn't. We did have to wear shoes that went over our normal shoes. The shoes were so slippery that it made it so we were ice skating on the wooden floor. We were told all about Tolstoy, his family, and his philosophy later in life. Then we strolled through the garden in the back where he planted the trees himself. 

As always, do svedanya bitches.