Chapter 4: Part 1. Каргалинские корни (Kargaly roots)

Трио "Реликт" на стихи С. Есенина - "Клён ты мой опавший"

To my surprise and displeasure, the acclimatization process this time was occurring slower than I remembered 6 years ago. Perhaps due to age, I had lost the ability to integrate into the local time zone after only a day. This time, it took almost a week of not sleeping well and getting dead tired around 18:00-20:00 every night. My mood and energy levels were affected, too – I felt out of it or, as we would say in Russia, не в своей тарелке¹. So, when nana suggested on Day 2 that I come back to the village with her, I was not thrilled about the idea. Fortunately, she managed to convince me otherwise.

Even though I had planned for an extended stay (almost 8 weeks) to allow an ample window for renewing all my documents, there was still a certain time pressure. However, the 1^st through the 7^th of January were now federal holidays in Russia, so none of the administrative offices would be open for another few days. This was a fairly new development, inspired by the density of days off around the beginning of the year: historically, January 1 and 2 were always a holiday because of New Year’s, and Orthodox Christmas has been nationally celebrated on January 7 since 1991. The high likelihood of a weekend falling somewhere between those dates made the first week of the year generally an unproductive time anyway, so in 2005 Putin’s party introduced the so-called “New Year’s Vacation.” Ironically, around election time in 2012, Putin himself said he would be open to the idea of moving some vacation days to the May holidays instead (between May 1 and 9), as most people in Russia still grow vegetation on plots of land outside city limits, making spring a busy period. Labor representatives were plainly pushing to keep the New Year holidays and have more days off in May, though it was unlikely their demands would be met in full. I liked to joke when telling this to foreign friends: “While the rest of the world is dealing with recession, Russia’s biggest problem is when to have their holidays.”

As I arrived on Tuesday (Jan. 3) and there was nothing I could do until next Monday, I agreed to kill some time in the country. My grandfather, who had to stay behind to take care of our birds and livestock, was anxious to see me. Thanks to my uncle’s car ownership and improved roads between Ufa and Kargaly (a village ~100km away), it was now a casual occurrence for him to drive out for a weekend visit or give my grandmother a lift, especially in the winter. Though there is much nostalgia tied to it, I was relieved at the prospect of not getting up at an ungodly hour to catch the train (электричка) that ran twice a day and took close to 3 hours in total travel time (including getting to the station).

Some views from the car on a different trip to the village.

"Зима!.. Крестьянин, торжествуя..."

Equestrian exercise!

When we pulled up to the gates, the dogs were going crazy. Kolobok, a 12-year-old black mutt (a Schnoodle?) whom I still remembered as a puppy, greeted us with a familiar friendly bark. The other dog – a younger and less intelligent Caucasian shepherd mix – joined in the chorus. To keep with tradition, we gave each of them a treat. Back at the Ufa apartment, bones, old bread and other leftovers were collected in a freezer-kept (literally) doggy bag, to be taken to the country. In the winter, my grandmother stews the leftovers with some fat and feeds it to the dogs with a supplement of bread or bones. That way they can still get their share of liquid in freezing temperatures.

After unloading the car and grabbing a bite, my grandmother and I settled in front of the TV, while the men went to wash in the баня first. I’ve found it very difficult to get across the concept of Russian saunas to people unfamiliar with the bath house as a cultural phenomenon. But even compared with countries like Turkey and Sweden, the traditional saunas in Russia are a bit different. They are not just places for cleaning and cleansing, but socializing, as well. In the cities, at least in the Soviet days, the bath houses would serve beer and snacks (often crawfish) poolside that visitors could enjoy after the steam room. The smaller private saunas that many people have in the country or at their dachas will often feature a little entry room, called predbannik, that can serve the same purpose if weather-proof. However, more often people will relax at the house.

Yet, the bathing ritual itself is a social affair. People will go as a group and will first sit around to sweat. Then, they will soap up and wash their hair if needed. As there is often no running water in rural areas, banyas are used as a place to clean up. The most important step is known as попариться в баньке². Russians use veniki³ – bundles of young birch twigs, less frequently oak or other trees – first soaked in water, then steamed, to pat or slap each other all over the body, especially the back. Like any form of massage, it’s more pleasant than painful, especially if the twigs are sufficiently thin and leafy. They also release a pleasant birch aroma when steamed. Nana always told me to put one close to my face and breathe it in for a bit. If they feel too hot, people will jump outside any time of the year to take a break (butt naked, of course). After a final rinse, the ritual is over. Some even like to hop into an outdoor pool of water at the end instead, though that is recognized to carry a risk of heart failure.

Veniki are made in the summer and hung to dry, so they can be
preserved and used over the entire year.

Our banya was built by my grandfather when I was still a little girl, so I grew up with the customs. He’s modified the structure a bit since, but for the most part it stayed just the way I remembered it. A black stove to the left of the entrance, concealed coals glowing red or still blazing with fire; the hissing steam caused by a splash of water on the stones laid out inside the stove, above the coal chamber; a floor of wide wooden planks and wooden table to lie down on for the venik treatment; and – my favorite – a large cubic container of well water on the right, absurd-looking with its silver paint. This banya helped cure my colds and still carries special memories. I miss it periodically, no matter where I am.

Getting used to the road signs was an adjustment. Some are quite different
 and there exist more of them overall than in the US.

More pictures from the road. This winter was considered to be light on snow.
It covered the plains, but just barely. It hardly snowed in the 2 months that I was there.

I tried to capture how colorful the houses tended to be. It makes them easier to distinguish
 from each other and looks better in the seasons when nature is dying/dormant.

In my description of seemingly routine things, I was really struck with the extent of winter’s influence back home. I tend to shun stereotypes, but there truly is a multitude of unique cultural aspects related to the season, born of its length and climate. These features are profound, yet subtle, and only through explaining them to foreign friends did I realize how abundant they were. It’s not that winter in Russia is everlasting or excessively cold (mostly), as common perception abroad suggests. But it is so entwined into Russian folklore, daily life, the very consciousness and fabric of Russians, it has become inseparable from the Russian identity. I’m glad to have experienced it again.
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1 - literally, "not in one's own plate"
2 - to steam oneself in the sauna
3 - I've seen this translated as "besoms," but didn't feel it reflected the meaning properly, so I opted to use a latinization of the Russian word