At Home With Dostoevsky

Years ago, in high school, I took a course called “Literature of Other Cultures.” The class project was to read three books from one country and give a report. I chose Russia. The former Cold War enemy always held an attraction for me, and ninety percent of the reason for this was the sound of the language itself. Those who criticize Russian as harsh are completely wrong, and are confusing it with the legacy of dictatorial regimes or unforgiving winters. Russian sounds strong, but that’s not the same as harsh. And like the famous wooden lace architecture of Siberian houses, it’s equally colorful and delicate. The other ten percent of my fascination with Russia was a mixture of onion domes, spy movie villains and mysterious eastern mysticism.

The first two books I read were Solzhenitsyn’s A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, and Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons. I liked both, but the third, Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground, opened up a whole other world. The passionate, seething of the unnamed narrator was far more engrossing than the petty schoolboy envy of A Separate Peace. It put Holden Caulfield to shame. The macho stoicism of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea had nothing on the pathetic angst of a nobody functionary in St. Petersburg. Notes from Underground led to Crime and Punishment, House of the Dead, and The Idiot. I have loved other writers, but Dostoevsky will always be my number one.

That’s why visiting his former residence in St. Petersburg was something of a pilgrimage. The last place he lived before he died is the same place he dreamed up Dmitri Karamazov’s romantic self-destruction and Ivan Karamazov’s Grand Inquisitor in his best novel The Brothers Karamazov.

Inside his former residence you can see the stand where he hung his hat, the desk where he wrote, and the packet of cigarettes on which his daughter wrote, “Papa died today.”

Below the residence is a museum with a collection of old letters, and photos of him and his contemporaries. My favorite exhibit was on the writer’s thoughts of the various places he’d visited in Europe (he praised London, dismissed Zurich).

The exoticism of Russia was originally part of its appeal. But the more time I’ve spent with Dostoevsky, and inside his home, the exoticism has changed to a familiarity, which fictitious though it may be, has a much stronger appeal.

Tobolsk

“Russians don’t smile… they’re not service-minded people,”  a Korean doctor warned us as we discussed vaccinations for our long trip. I began to suspect he might be right after our visit to the Russian embassy in Seoul. But then I thought of my friend from college who spent a year abroad in Russia and voluntarily returned for another. I thought of my sister who couldn’t have been more charmed by Russians on her student exchange trip to Saint Petersburg in high school. And besides, who the hell smiles in the embassies and DMVs of the world?

Tobolsk, more than anywhere else, confirmed for me that the reputation of Russians is ill-deserved. We arrived in Tobolsk late at night and tired, following a long train ride from Tomsk. We got off the bus into town too early and wandered around hopeless and freezing. There were hardly any people about, and Tobolsk is not the kind of place where you can just pop into a cafe late at night to warm up while you figure things out. Fortunately, at a bus stop, a man with a black mustache and the kind of hat Russian characters wear in movies directed us to the center of town.

The next day, we found the Siberian-Tatar Cultural Centre in an unassuming building after trudging through heavy snow and bitter cold (and it was only mid-November). Tobolsk, the ancient capital of Siberia, is about 30% Tatar. Upon entering the building, the woman at the door seemed confused by our presence. I’m guessing they don’t get a lot of tourists this time of year. Still, we were treated like important foreign dignitaries, but with the kind of familiarity dignitaries never receive. We were given a lovely personal tour in Russian (as an aside, saying “Sorry, I don’t understand Russian” in Russian seems to convince people that you really do understand and you’re just holding out). We didn’t understand most of what we were told, but what we could understand was warmth and hospitality. In addition to the displays of traditional Tatar life and the free tea and biscuits, we were introduced to a young heavy metal drummer who showed us his chops in a room near the back. What did it have to do with Siberian-Tatar culture? Nothing. But it was great. He was a nice guy. Why not?

Before this, I’d never felt like a museum guide was my friend. I feel guilty that I don’t remember her name. There was a listed price for the ticket, but as we tried to pay on our way out she wouldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t accept a donation either, despite our insistence. And now that I think about it, it makes sense. You don’t charge a friend when you show them around your house, and that’s what this felt like.

Another place we felt welcome was Minsalim Folk Trade, a shop selling traditional Siberian bone-carvings, run by local master Minsalim Timergazeev. There’s a small museum in the back (really just one room) filled with Siberian art donated by various artists. A description of the art in this room was given in English by a young member of the staff. Minsalim is deeply interested in the spiritual beliefs of native Siberians and northern peoples of Russia and this is reflected in the display. In another room, we saw a man carving bone with a tool similar to a dentist’s drill. I was interested to learn that the best medium for carving is mammoth tusk.

Minsalim, on the left, put on that outfit specifically for the picture.

In addition to the charm of the people, Tobolsk boasts a charming and impressive kremlin. The stark white fortress sits on a hill overlooking a city covered in snow. With the cold keeping people indoors, and the snow providing natural soundproofing, it was nearly silent.

I hope to return to Tobolsk one spring, to see the kremlin contrasted against the grass, and what the city’s like when there are people walking around. I imagine they’ll be thrilled to be out after a long, Siberian winter, but I can’t imagine them being any warmer.

South Korea to England

I’ve finally finished putting together these videos for the trip my girlfriend and I took from South Korea to England last year. These two videos cover the part of the trip up to Saint Petersburg. It was intended as one long video, but youtube has a ten minute size limit.

There are a million holes I could poke in these (I wish the video quality were better for one), but I’ll leave that to you instead.

Part 1:

Part 2: