Dear Saint Sergius

Growing up Lutheran, I have literally no experience when it comes to saints, at least saints proper. So visiting all of these icon-plastered churches and monasteries in and around Moscow has been a little disorienting at least in terms of understanding the religious culture that surrounds them. We had an excursion to one of the more local religious centers just a few days ago: Sergiev Posad, about an hour’s bus ride out of the city. Trust me, getting a seven-hour break from the glorious stench that is Moscow was much appreciated, especially now that we’ve got only a week left. I contracted cabin fever weeks ago, and although you might think that must be hard to come by in a bustling city of the 10 million+ people, I am going bananas. And I am going fast. At the same time, though, I know leaving will be quite difficult (no more blini, no more smetana, no more metro), but I’m prepared for that too. I get to take so much away from this; I get to bring it home and share it and see it collide with the elements of my normal American life.

The primary attraction within this little city consisted of an eons-old monastery established by the utterly impressive Saint Sergius. No one really told us what he did or how it was that he got this project rolling, but I’m sure it’s on Wikipedia for any of you who are actually curious. Of course, the grounds dazzled the eye and offered any number of photo ops, but, as usual, we could only actually enter about two of the (approximately) 10 buildings on the site. This is an especially Russian phenomenon: access in general is limited to 50% or less of all buildings, doors, attractions, parks, you name it. I wish I were exaggerating. An ongoing joke in this country, for me at least, involves the constant installation of fake double door and windows. They can be called fake in respect to how they function; the panes and frames and all that are all there. But of the two visible doors or windows, I guarantee you that only one of them can actually open and close. The others just sit there, stuck, letting light in. On a larger scale, large historical buildings often only allow walk-throughs of a fraction of the premises, claiming the other parts are being renovated or rented out as storage space or something.

Back to the trip! I enjoyed seeing the monastery (what I was able to see, anyways) and getting the guided tour through the super old, impressive stuff museum. I don’t mean to belittle it; it really is astounding to see what people were able to create without modern technology and machinery. BUT I preferred the perusing we did a few hours later after lunch. Anya, Brandon, and I walked around the more residential areas of the town just to see more traditional Russian dwellings. After all, the giant dormitory-style apartment buildings of Moscow in no way resemble the decrepit, brightly painted wooden houses of the countryside its smaller towns. We did see some corrugated fences and paper posters like these though–very reminiscent of our big metropolis and its layers of advertisements and grime and such. Surprisingly enough, Sergiev Posad’s streets and sidewalks were even more grungy than the ones we’re used to here. It’s tempting just to leave every pair of shoes I brought on this trip because they’ve been plastered with mud, beaten, and ripped on by one of the world’s least shoe-friendly urban areas. We’ll see.

I hope to have/make the time to post an additional entry before I leave (exactly a week from today), but I make no promises since the emotional and physical flurry of leaving might leave me a little scatter-brained. And I still have to write a half-assed paper on Russian culture that may or may not be about the difficulties of being a woman in this repressive culture. Besides that, I need to spend some quality time with some quality people. I believe I’ll be continuing the blog when I get home, both to wrap up comments in relation to the whole Russian experience and to document life as usual, its comings and goings, successes and failures, its milk and cookies.