Some day I will be caught up on days. Today is not that day. Tomorrow does not look promising either.
Day 2 brought a number of strange occurrences, as most days in Russia do. It marked our first day in the Olympic park, rather than up in the mountain cluster. We marched through the gates with bushy tails and starry eyes. And then we saw the hike laid before us and quickly replaced our enthusiasm hats for more somber ones. The first thing that strikes you about the park is how both massive and empty it is. Not of people, there were a lot of humans that obstructed my path, but rather of points of interest. There are a few kiosks for food or provided by sponsors but they are few and far between. It was approximately a 7 minute walk to the first point of interest: the megafon building. If you recall back to your childhood (if you are an awesome 90s child) there was a toy that had pins in it that you could use to make a mold of your hand/face. Or if you are very unlucky in life, your hand-face. The megafon building does the same thing, but on the side of a wall and it uses a computer. It is awesome and terrifying and changes faces every minute or so. One minute, blank wall. Next minute, a 50-foot Uncle Vanya face is leering at you from above. Next minute, babushka is glaring at you and judging your life's accomplishments.
The next thing one might notice is the terrifying ghost park. I assume the Olympic park was supposed to have an amusement park and they built about 7 or so roller coasters. The plan must have fallen through, but the abandoned coasters still lurk in the background. It is difficult not to imagine a lonely soul riding the rides at 3am, sad but trapped in an infernal circus-hell. Or mayhaps that is just me.
There are other things in the park but none that need mentioning now. It is mostly an empty giant concrete plateau. The torch is nice, but there's only so much one can do with a stick and a flame.
Our event that night was the women's hockey prelims: Russia vs Germany. This was my first hockey game and it was pretty brilliant. I had no horse in the race, but for self-preservation I cheered for the Russians. Germany was also comparatively not very good, so it was easy to join the raucous crowd. It was at the game that I realized my lingering penchant for nationalism. It is not surprising that a host country game would be filled with fans and cheers for Ro-ssi-ya, but the electricity that filled the room was overwhelming. I would not consider Russia a very divided country, but to see every person in one place come together and pool all of their energy for a common cause made me smile (it was probably disguised under a perfunctory smirk). Even at luge, when the Russian flew down the slopes the cheers and joy were contagious. Later in cross-country skiing, a Russian skier broke a ski in the semi finals. He was at least two minutes behind everyone else in the sprint and had to hobble through the snow on one free foot to finish the race. When he came up the hill we all shouted encouragement; he was no longer a contender but we wanted to help him complete his goal. When he slid down to the final length towards the finish, the outdoor stadium exploded into cheers, applause, and camaraderie. He put up his arms and applauded us in thanks for our support. Flags waved for the fallen soldier, the friend, and the countryman. I might've cried, if my stone cold heart and tear ducts had any muscle memory. But that was day 4. Luckily that's as exciting as day 4 gets and that paragraph saved me a blog entry. Eggcellent.
The other fascinating part about hockey was the cheerleaders. "There are hockey cheerleaders? That's news to me!" you all cry with confusion (but not fear). There shouldn't be cheerleaders at a hockey match, but that did not stop them. They stood in the aisles of the spectators and waggled their bodies arrhythmically at certain intervals, interchanging looks of boredom, arousal, and confusion. It was tres entertaining, and very odd.
Russia won a comfortable 4-1, and after that we wandered out to the park to waste time until dinner was ready. Whilst wandering by the torch, a girl approached and asked us if we spoke English. Expecting to find a fellow traveler in need, I exclaimed of course! She then proceeded to ask me general interview questions about Sochi, the Olympics, and my opinion of it all. It turns out she is a film student in Moscow and was shooting a documentary about Sochi 2014. I agreed to be part of her film and then spent approximately 2 hours in a hodge-podge of Russian and English (mostly Russian) talking about Russians, Americans, the Olympics, and boys. After getting over the general glow of dreams as a future film star, i became more wary. It was bizarre and eventually very mentally taxing. I'm also almost positive she was not filming 80%of it, as few phone's memory lasts that long. She stayed in line with us while we waited to get into the official Olympic store so we could purchase our required swag, and went in with us. We kept chatting throughout and when I found a hat I was going to get (the cheapest thing with Olympic Rings on it I could find), she demanded to buy it for me as a present. At this point my narrative can go two ways.
Situation 1: After much protest I let her buy me the hat and I was moved by the generosity of a stranger. While we had been getting to know each other for the past few hours and had lovely conversation, we were still functionally unknown to one another. The kindness of a person to exchange good conversation with a gift was both moving and a little awkward, but she restored a small bit of my faith in humanity. We exchanged contact info, parted ways, both with a song in our hearts and a new friend in our pocket.
Situation 2: After much protest I let her buy me the hat (that happens either way. it was a nice hat!) However, I started analyzing her motives more carefully. Why buy a gift for a stranger? Did she feel guilty about something that I was not aware of? What is this movie really about? I doubted in the end that she was filming any of this. I started to regret telling her about my time at the embassy and wanting to become a diplomat to better humankind and fuel my own nationalistic tendencies and blahblahblah. I regretted being such an open book when asked about more personal questions. My suspicions rose and while I gave her my correct contact info, I second-guessed if that was the right move during the 20 billion hour walk home.
I have not decided which one I want to go with yet. I first started at 1, wavered to 2 as my natural skepticism set in, and now guiltily vacillate not knowing whether to be cynical or gullible. Akh well, at least I have a hat!
But onto more savory matters. My signature is next to Putin's! When I get better able to upload photos...I will, but for now you must take my word for it. Big VP went into the Russian fan house and signed his name on a wall. So I snuck in and while no one was looking, signed my own. Buddy cops! We are practically brothers now, barring gender and shared genetic material. But basically the same idea. I ended my day watching Vlad's evil-genius smile on the tv as he congratulated the team figure skaters. Because that's totally an event that should exist. Nawt.
No comments:
Post a Comment