Privet, Yaponiya

Don't judge my first travelogue out of Japan too harshly: I'm still getting over the delirium that is jet lag caused by a 16-hour time difference, not to mention the climate change.

Was I really skiing through the extra-grim and frostbitten mountains last weekend?

When I first moved to the Rocky Mountains, I naively assumed that being closer to the west coast would make trans-Pacific travel simpler (and trans-Atlantic trips harder). Instead, infrequent flights to the Middle of Nowhere's Ski Country and tedious layovers made everything more complex. On average, a one-way trip for me takes 24 hours. (If peak-oilers are correct, then the latter, considering the still-relatively easy access, is certainly no reason for whining.)

Catching a late-arriving flight to Haneda, where I've only been once domestically, had the unexpected benefit of a nearly empty plane (the typical "shaky-shaky" over Alaska and the Kurils notwithstanding). And now, as I write this, only a few hours later, separated by broken sleep, monorail, Yamanote JR, and Tokyo station which I always try to avoid due to its sheer magnitude, I'm already on a Shinkansen on my way to Fukuoka by the way of Osaka, listening to the default feel-good band of choice, Buck-Tick.

The Japan Rail pass has always made travel for us, curious gaijin, incredibly affordable and convenient. Now, thanks to the so-called Abenomics, the Yen inflation had made it significantly cheaper. I'm almost afraid to tell my Japanese friends just how cheap riding in business class (green car) has become, if the genuine dropped jaw, literally, of the clerk at the JR office is of any indication. 

Unlike my previous trips, when I often saw a city per day, I've decided to take it easy and, after visiting southern Japan for the first time since 2009, spend most of my time in and around Tokyo. In other words, I'm doing everything backwards as compared to a regular tourist. As a Japan newbie, I started with less expected Morioka and Kumamoto and now, years later, I'm working my way to popular locations like Nara and exploring more of Tokyo. One of these days I will get into anime.

Just kidding!

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A smaller list of towns is the only slow aspect of this trip, however. As I always say, and obvious criticisms of urban "black holes" notwithstanding, you can take the girl out of the City, but you can't take the City out of the girl. I naturally default to the fast pace of Japan's metropolitan areas, skillfully maneuvering with my roller bag, surprisingly easily readjusting to the British-style traffic and pedestrian rules, backward for North Americans. 

In fact, the only place where I feel outdone in this department is Moscow. An average Muscovite woman in stilettos could triumph in Olympic walking!

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So far, I've only bothered to speak Japanese when English wasn't understood. A few years ago, I felt shy but still eager to practice what little I knew, only to realize that the Japanese would rather turn the tables and practice their English on you (or they are gently trying to spare you the embarrassment!). 

So now I just feel shy, though I understand more than I let on. Of course, reading has always been easier for me, because the intonation feels so foreign. Worst of all, I have a Russian, not an English accent (as well as in what's left of my French and German.) Don't take this as an invitation to get me to speak, just so you could get some "LOLz" at my expense, because I'll figure out a way to get some "LOLz" back. Russians always have the last laugh, after all.

For now, however, it suffices to say: privet, Yaponiya!

P.S. All photos are mobile. Some were shot on a moving train.

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A Real-Life "Russian Ark"

Whenever I mention that I've finally had the chance to visit the Hermitage museum in St. Petersburg and, what's more--photograph it with virtually no one around (a rarity!), chances are that the subject of the Russian Ark comes up.

The film received substantial acclaim at the time of its release (2002). Created by a renowned director Sokurov using a single-sequence shot and featuring the music of Glinka, the Russian Ark offered an unusual and somewhat voyeuristic look at the 300-year history of St. Petersburg by traveling through the Winter Palace (now part of the Hermitage) and examining various episodes linked to the structure thereby weaving its cultural topography.

Truth be told, I remember the experience of viewing the film more than the film itself. After all: having relocated to Toronto, Canada at that time, this was my very first chance to attend a large bona-fide international film festival!

So the day I viewed the Russian Ark was the day that I discovered an entire world of worthwhile cinema outside of the Hollywood mainstream.  (Indeed, as I say all too often--that particular aspect of culture is the one thing I miss about living in a North American metropolis, and so I'm tempted to hop on a plane and go to Seattle or New York, Montreal or even Toronto itself.)

It was only a decade later that I got another chance--the chance to wander the almost-empty rooms and corridors of the Winter Palace early in the morning and feel a bit like the ghostly narrator of the Russian Ark. And like the Russian Ark--out of chronological order--this was a decade that occurred somewhere far away and comprised a lifetime of people, places, and never enough sleep, but seemed to pass by in a moment.

And what of St. Petersburg? Inevitably compared to Moscow as our "most European city,"  I was a bit concerned that it was, but it felt Russian enough.

It felt like home.

I say that as a staunch Muscovite, born and raised, and I think the Russian Ark helped!

 

What is Birka, and How Do You Eat It?

"So I'm going on a two-hour boat ride outside of Stockholm in each direction just so that I could visit a place the name of which translates as a (clothing) 'tag' into Russian? Excellent!" 

For once, I wasn't being sarcastic either. You see, Birka was the most important trading town in Sweden during the Viking age with links to such far-removed places as India and the Caucasus. Today, it is an archeological site full of burial mounds, housing a partial historic reconstruction and a small museum. Oh, and all this is set amidst an essentially wild and, therefore, beautiful and slightly nostalgic Nordic landscape if it weren't for a small farm on this island of Björkö.

Are you convinced to visit yet? 

At some point in their life, many self-respecting people of the metal persuasion  (wink!) become fascinated with the Vikings (perhaps, naively conflating them with all Scandinavians, rather than a military "estate" comprising a small percentage of the population). Thus, this was not the first Viking-related site that I've visited. A few years ago, I traveled to two must-see places, both in Denmark: the Roskilde Viking Ship Museum to see remodeled and original (!) ships and the town of Jelling to face the sky atop the giant royal burial mounds and stand next to thousand-year-old runestones towering over you.

Birka had its own charm--with or without the partially reconstructed housing and boats. I'm obviously not an archaeologist. Yet not only am I very visually oriented, but also, one of my historic interests has included imagining the cultural topography of a place (I've done fairly detailed studies of central Moscow under Ivan  the "Terrible" (Formidable!) and in the 1920s--as part of my doctorate). So envisioning a busy town, especially its lively market or feasting on mead at a large hall--over an empty field--was not a difficult task. Climbing the rocks to reach Björkö's highest point lets you survey the twisted waterway--the lake functions as a major road of the past and present alike.

Also, it was, of course, certain Swedish Vikings, the Rus, that served as the source for the term "Russia," my Motherland, and were the progenitors of the first Rurikid dynasty in what became Kievan (and Novgorod) Rus commencing in the mid-9th century and coincidentally ending with the aforementioned Ivan IV--at the end of the 16th. Needless to say, this historic site bears much closer links to those I consider my ancestors, at least as a general history of a people, than the Danish counterparts. Even the sad birch trees on the island seemed "Russian" (there are etymological connections between the "birk" stem in the Scandinavian-Germanic--languages, including the island's name, and "bereza" in Russian).

Our tour guide doubling as an archaeologist turned out to be of metal persuasion as well punctuating the lecture with "horns up" in all the right places, and we bought Thor's-hammer-necklace replicas--simple and crude, just how I like it. 

This lengthy Baltic trip has had its share of misadventures--as I write this from a trans-Atlantic flight navigating over ice-covered northern Hudson Bay with exactly 3 hours and 33 minutes left remaining--but Birka was just about perfect.

P.S. The images here were shot with an iPad.

 

Birka's scenery

Birka's partial town reconstruction

Birka in detail

Yours truly facing numerous burial mounds

Stockholm in Mobile Detail

This weary traveller has been running around Stockholm in cowboy boots trying to avoid getting run over by the neverending and sometimes aggressive bicyclists. They are all "green" here, and city tour guides seem to think that we, foreigners, are more interested in every single coffee shop visited by Stieg Larsson--and Abba, naturally--than Viking weaponry or medieval kings. That's nothing that a daytrip to Birka, the most important Viking-age trading town in Sweden, couldn't fix, but I will rave about that later. In the meantime, here are some random mobile-shot details of Stockholm through my eyes.

Helsinki

The half-day-long visit to Helsinki was all too brief, though at least the warm, sunny, and breezy day turned out to be perfect for such a fast-paced investigation. This brevity made photographing the most popular historic sites in an unusual way particularly difficult (the images in this blog are, once again, mobile, and not what I am referring to). 

The intoxicating scent of the Baltic (much like other saline bodies of water) followed us around the entire time. Tallinn's historic competitor, this Finnish city seemed to be less filled with tourists than the older Estonian counterpart.

Instead of trying to see as much as possible, we decided to take the city in instead. So we sat atop the steps of the Helsinki Cathedral observing. And then--welcome silence and an equally welcome cappuccino.

My only regret is not being able to meet up with my friends who live in the area, some of whom (the metalheads!) I have known for years, as this visit occurred during the workday. 

Thus, I shall return. 

Peterhoffing

Peterhof is a seaside imperial-palace complex of Peter the Great on the Gulf of Finland known as the Russian Versailles, in part thanks to the ultra-controlled French-style gardens, in part--due to the tsars' attempts to outdo their European counterparts in terms of general decor.

The Emperor's own palace contains pompous Baroque decorations, Oriental-imitation cabinets, women's boudoir with harps and elaborate cosmetic boxes, as well as hundreds of paintings, including the series focused on Russo-Turkish war of the late 1700s commissioned by Catherine the Great, who blew up a ship so that German painter Jacob Phillip Hackert could accurately depict the battle of Chesma--mushroom cloud and all!

There are dozens of fountains in the palace-complex parks: Baroque, Roman-style, "tricky" fountains--practical jokes, surprising visitors by spraying them with water, and a massive cascade commemorating Russia's military victory over Sweden by depicting Samson battling a lion as its focal point.

Cool alley ways, carefully selected flowers, and a life-size statue of Peter towering over his visitors--complete with a good-luck tradition of tossing coins into his knee-high boots add to the experience.

There is even a Wagneresque Lohengrin-style swan boat below the Grand Cascade!

My favorite part? Leaving it all to chase Eurasian hooded crows, ducks, and sea gulls on the Gulf of Finland with my telephoto lens.

P.S. The images are still mobile.

 

A Welcome from Our Northern Capital

There are two things that disappoint foreigners about my "lacking" Russianness: that I'm not a vodka drinker (or hard liquor, for that matter), and that, having been born and raised in Moscow, I've never been to St. Petersburg. 

Well, one of the two changes today, because our ship has arrived in this northern capital! So far, the Neva River gods seem to be keenly aware of my military interests, as our ship is docked close to the famous Krasin icebreaker.

 

Arbat: the Good, the Bad, and the Really Expensive

When it comes to Moscow, Old Arbat is a busy tourist "paradise" brimming with kitschy "folk," akin to those in other foreign metropolises. And, as such, it makes many Russians themselves feel discomfort (conscious or otherwise) at the idea of Tradition within a rather wild consumer space.

But it is precisely this quality that makes it an ideal place for photographing strangers, or what I call "the City." After all, there are the slowly walking, sometimes awkward foreigners ready to blow too much money on souvenirs that are not worth it, snooty rich Russians dressed like a single, combined high-end brand advertising heading into Starbucks for their triple macchiato, street artists forced to draw pointless Hollywood celebrities to showcase their technical skills (those of the artists', not the celebrities!), on and on and on.

Certainly,  I post a lot of nature and wildlife imagery, and my commission work often involves conceptual editorial photography. Yet, documentary images of people are one of my favorite subjects to pursue. (When I used to draw regularly, I preferred realistic portraiture, not much different from the aforementioned street artists.)

On a number of recent occasions, it happened to be Kabuki-cho in Shinjuku (Tokyo)--a delightfully trashy area--that provided excellent opportunities for "stalking the City." (Now that I think about it, I've also done the same in Nagoya and Hakodate, sans the "trash.") So when I went to Old Arbat the other day, I felt a bit like a sniper with my telephoto lens targeting certain characters I encountered in the act of, well, being themselves. 

Needless to say, I cannot wait to process the images! In the meantime, here are some mobile shots of Arbat tourism.

Homecoming (of Sorts)

As of today, I plan to fly to Moscow, my hometown, for the first time since doing my PhD research at the federal archives in late 2009, along with a number of other European destinations. (In contrast, I've traveled throughout Japan three times in that same time period. Treachery!) 

I suspect the only updates to this blog--if any--would be of the travel-adventure (misadventure) kind. So, as I attempt to actually get some rest during my much-needed vacation, you get an equally needed break from my blogging spam! 

The two images below (of forever-"empigeoned" Dostoyevsky outside of Leninka and Tsaritsyno) were taken with a point-and-shoot. Hopefully, I can produce some heavy hitters this time around.

See you...errr...blog you in a few weeks!