Music: The Soul of Russia

  

     While cruising the Volga River aboard the ship Rossia from St. Petersburg to Moscow, I was given the opportunity to learn to play the balalaika.  I thought it would be easy. A young woman Victoria recruited a small group of us willing to learn.  The balalaika is a three stringed instrument that was brought to Russia from Mongolian Tatars in the 13^th Century and developed in Russia through the 15^th Century. It is plucked with the thumb or strummed with the index finger and to this day is popular in Russia. 

     I love the sound of the instrument but I am a slow learner and did not feel prepared when we were told we would play in front of an audience—everyone aboard the cruise ship!  So I quickly handed my balalaika to someone who really wanted to play it.  Victoria said I should play the spoons with the group—easy enough— and so I did keep rhythm with spoons along with the balalaika ensemble.  Then she suggested I sing some Russian songs with a chorus, so I did.  I love Russian music.  There is something about the music that is the soul of the Russian people.  We sang Dark Is The Night, My Heart and several other Russian songs that were translated into English for us to sing. The words to these songs are heartfelt and the melodies lovely. 

     Victoria Zyablatseva, our lovely young mentor, played classical music on the three stringed domra for us.  The melon shaped instrument, older than the balalaika, was burned in Red Square by Ivan the Terrible, the unstable Tsar of Russia in the 1500’s.  He had the hands cut off of anyone who played it.  Good thing for Victoria it is not like that in Russia any more. Music in Russia is everywhere: on board our cruise vessel where a young lad accordion player entertained us on the way to the dining room, and we heard classical music played by an orchestra of children at their music school.  This was more than I had expected as a young girl played her own composition on the piano. It blew me away.   I had brought kazoos to give the kids and their teacher rolled her eyes when I presented them. 

     At Catherine’s Palace in Pushkin three men serenaded us a capella with Russian songs.  The acoustics were marvelous in the grand palace. 

     At our hotel we enjoyed a jazz trio in the lounge and then we went to the ballet, Swan Lake, with the beautiful music of  Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky at a Moscow Theater.  The ballet troupe and the music expressed the soul of Russia.  We enjoyed the lovely white marble theater with its winding staircase.

 

     Music made the trip to Russia memorable.  Music is the people's soul and the soul of Russia's places.

 

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Trip to Russia

Trip to Russia Oct 4-19. 2007

Church of the Spilt Blood St. Petersburg, Russia

Oct. 6, 2007

Before we left Grand Haven, Len, Wanda’s husband asked me to look out for Wanda, my room mate.  What a responsibility.  I had invited her and so I was always looking around for her.  In Russia, we were in a very different world than we were used to.  I tried to keep my eye on her, but she was always disappearing. Much later I realized that she was taking wonderful photos.  I was too, but somehow, hers turned out better.  After all, she is an artist.

 We arrived in St. Petersburg after 30 hours in airports and on planes with very little sleep.  Our plane went from Grand Rapids to Chicago to Frankfort to St. Petersburg.  We were given a walking tour around the Ambassador Hotel and we purchased bottled water, chocolate and crackers. I was very thirsty, but too tired to go to dinner.

Our hotel was new and very beautiful. From our window we can see the golden dome of St. Isaacs Cathedral, an apartment building and a playground in the foreground. We slept well in the very comfortable room. 

 After a great breakfast, we visited the Church of the Spilt Blood, but we did not go in.  Then we visited St. Isaac’s Cathedral, a marvelous space built on a swamp.  Amazing. The heavy bronze doors and the soaring interior columns of lapis lazuli and malachite caused us to look up at a golden dome with a dove.  The place is a museum, but a small side room is used for worship since 1998. There were many beautiful mosaics.  Under Communism, many churches were torn down until someone got smart and said, “Let’s keep these as museums of atheism.”  That saved many of them.

Then lunch in a restaurant: chicken salad, a lovely soup and ice cream.  The place was rather dark and Wanda tripped over someone’s coat that was on the floor.  She fell on the stairs this a.m. in her haste. Now her back and knees are sore, but this has not slowed her down.  She is eager to see everything.

After lunch, the Hermitage.  We were dismayed to see women wearing stiletto heels on the exquisite parquet floors that were the same design as the gilded ceiling. This was the throne room with two headed eagles.  I loved looking at the famous art collections, but the walls were also painted with traditional Russian scenes. I even got our guide to quote poetry.  Russians love music, dance and poetry.

Wanda, Mary Dow and I stayed longer than the rest.  There is simply far too much to see.  We needed a month.  This was the winter palace and behind it is the Palace Square with a tall Alexander Column in the center.  A beautiful carriage pulled by two young Arabian horses circled it and two teenagers hitched a ride behind on their skateboards.  A group of kids ran by following one with a sign saying “Free Hugs.”

Finally we got on our late bus and returned to the hotel.  Dinner at 7.  We sat at a table with two couples, one from Manistee and the other from New York.  From our table we could see the illuminated city—St. Isaacs and then fireworks.  We had salmon with a lovely sauce, then sat in the lounge downstairs with some of our group.  A trio, piano, guitar and vocalist played jazzy renditions looking thin and tortured.

Oct. 7

Wanda visited Peterhof.  I was too tired and rested.  Then the group went with Guzel, our guide, to a synagogue, fortunately untouched by th war. We also visited a Russian Orthodox Church where I bought an icon of Mary—looking like a black madonna.  In the evening we went to the 19^th Century Conservatory Theater and saw a performance of Swan Lake.  What a treat to see a Russian ballet in an elegant white marble building.  On the way, we passed Red Square illuminated at night.

Oct. 8

We visited the Catherine Palace in Pushkin, an hour out of town passing the monuments of war heroes and Lenin.  We’re told that some places toppled statues of Lenin, but not St. Peterburg.  Our guide Ivan says Lenin looks like he is hailing a cab.  He does.  Catherine’s Palace is crowded even at this time of year.  It was put back together like a broken eggshell after being bombed in WW II.

Our dinner is not included and so we eat next door at an Ajerbajen owned restaurant.  The owner is Moslem, and our waitress who looked like a China doll is from South Russia.  Russians are all sorts—like Americans.