new column/new contributor/rad -cale
One Night in St. Petersburg: A Visit to the Russian Cultural Center
One the reasons I moved to DC in the first place is because I thought I'd go to lots of lovely cultural events and hobnob with dignitaries. However, since arriving, I've discovered that heads of state spend relatively little time throwing back mojitos with the peasants and a great deal of time, well, hiding from peasants. Ambassadors and Prime Ministers are kept safely under wraps, probably in coffins somewhere deep below the embassy, and totted out once a year at the sort of "cultural events" where "guests" buy tickets for $2,000. It seems I've a greater chance of being abducted by aliens while riding on the Circulator bus than raising my glass to old Dimitri any time soon.
To compensate for this, I've resorted attending the kind of cultural events that cost less than $15 and are correspondingly low on diplomats:
Case Study: The Russian Cultural Center
According to their website, the purpose of the Russian Cultural Center is to "develop and maintain positive relations between the Russian and American people by sponsoring activities in the areas of Education, The Arts, Commerce, Athletics and Science." Unofficially, it's to encourage Americans and Russians to drink together. And so last Friday,in the spirit of inter-cultural understanding, I grabbed Kamilla, my favorite Russian friend, and dragged her to the RCC's lastest event, "A Visual Tour of the Russian Art Museum/ Mikhailovsky Palace," where I hoped to meet many famous Russians, such as Yuri Gregarian and that guy from Sex and the City.
Instead, we were greeted by a rather caustic blond woman who insisted that "our names were not on the list." Even after locating our names on the guest list, she demanded $15 apiece. We declined, pointing out that the guest list was for people who didn't have to pay. Then she demanded to see our press passes. Luckily we were rescued by two important-looking old guys, who interrupted her interrogation by tapping me on the shoulder and asking, "red or white?" Ms. Tajikistan 1981 had no further questions. The old guys handed us each a glass of acidic wine and began quizzing us on our association with the Russian Cultural Center. "I'm a journalist, sort of," I explained, as I eyed the bathroom longingly. I had been holding it since the G2 bus began its bumpy drive down Wisconsin Wisconsin Avenue. After draining my glass of wine in under 3 minutes, I asked to be excused. Kamilla joined me in the bathroom.
 |
"Those guys are clearly CIA agents," she said casually, as she reached for soap. |
"Omg, really? For real? We just met CIA agents?" I screetched enthusiastically.
"Yeah, they're probably here to keep tabs on the Russian community. Didn't you notice how excited they got when I told him I was from Moscow?"
"Hmmm," I thought to myself, "CIA agents. Maybe this party isn't so bad after all..."
When I returned from the bathroom the CIA agents were no where to be found, and so I headed to the buffet to check out the free food situation, which unfortunately consisted largely of store-bought chips and some ominous looking baked goods. The lights began to dim, so I snatched plateful of Doritos and took one of the only seats remaining, in the first row at the very front of the room.
The presentation got off to a slow start. It was a lecture on works of art owned by the Hermitage, and the slides were shown on one of those old fashioned slide projectors which likely had been imported from Moscow circa the end of the Cold War and didn't actually wouldn't work. To add to the ambient clicking noises of the slide projector, the door at the front of the room kept banging open and closed.
Just as I was planning my discrete early exit out the back door, a very good-smelling stranger slipped into the empty seat next to me. I glanced at his shoes, which were large,leather and sort of pointy. Very un-American. "This could be good," I thought. As the professor continued to drown on about religious iconography, and I let my imagination run wild. " Displaced crown prince of Belgium. Heir to a Russian pencil factory. Political refugee who writes mournful poetry about his homeland." When the lecture finally ended, he introduced himself, and I realized he was just a British guy who worked for a bank and wore cool shoes. So much for that.
Final tally:
drinks: 3
(potential) spies: 2
diplomats: 0
glam factor: *1/2
boredom quotient: medium (Cultivated a healthy appreciation for mid-century Russian political painting, along with a keen disinterest in seeing more of it anytime in the near future.)
Previously in I Heart DC:
- 2/14: 101 Reasons To Love DC-Part 2
- 2/13: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use:
- 2/13: 101 Reasons To Love DC-Part 1
- 2/10: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
- 2/9: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
- 2/8: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
- 2/8: Perfect Date Outfits + Outings
- 2/7: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
- 2/6: DC News You Can Maybe Use:
- 2/2: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use:
God loves a cheerful giver.
love this write up of RCC. I want to go to more of their events, but the Russian Cultural Centre pissed me off with their anti-Georgian stance back in September and I haven't forgiven them since.
awesome new column! can't wait for the next one.
If you work for any sort of embassy/international org/development group/think tank ( which is alot of people) its really easy to attend these events. I get about 5 invites a day to things at the French EMbassy or the House of Sweden or the Brookings Institute. Granted, none of these are rage-tastic but there is a high chance of seeing some important person and there is always free booze. i guess its more difficult if you work for an unrelated field....but such is DC diplomatic life!
last time i went to the russian cultural center, they ran out of everything aside from pure vodka in the first hour and a man named Richard accosted me and haley with the words:
"Do you feel something hard? It is MY camera" and then made us sit in each other's laps "for photos".
Highly recommended.
Interesting. I've never been inside that place even though it's around the corner from my apartment. The "Cultural" part must have scared me away.
Sarah,
I strongly suggest we combine forces:
Schmoozin & Boozin' in DC: The Creep on the Cheap Edition
It could be epic.
PK
It is impossible to be both Russian and named Kamilla. It’s either Russian or Kamilla. Kamilla sounds more like a KGB handle.
What, jealous that your parents were uncreative and gave you the most boring Russian name imaginable?
i like the name misha. mostly because it sounds like mishka, the russian word for bear! very cute.
HAHAHAHA!!!
svet: this had to have been russian new year. nothing but highballs by the end of the night. that same guy came up to me and was trying to get me hunch a pole for a picture. i was like, "thanks, but no thanks." whaddaperv.
What’s so imaginable about Kamilla? Disfigured French?
You should be grateful you "creative" parents didn’t name you Godzilla or Atilla instead.
I like the name rachel. mostly because it's sounds like j'ne seis pas que.
Hmm... or maybe you're just not connected well enough to go to the glitzy/glam events of the RCC. Or maybe they don't want you there. And hey, what's wrong with trying to make a few extra bucks?
Sucks for you.
Hmm it up your ass, bitch.
huh? what extra bucks? what are you mother mumbling about? You mean you ho?
I don't know about you, I'd rather be named after a french sculptress than a bear. But it's all a matter of personal preference, I suppose.
And maybe you should learn how to spell in french before making feeble attempts at using it in written conversation.
“french sculptress”? Let's see what the Google says, shall we?..
Hmmmmm. Call this errrrrr sculptress?….. I dunno man. Who is feeble now, Kamilla?
Her name is Camille Claudel. My name is the Russian version of it. Google can't provide the answer to all of life's questions, sometimes an actual brain is required.
Yes, I know of her. Which brings us to my initial point: Kamilla is a mangled French. But then at least by half Russian comprised of fucked up French, Spanish, English and what not. For some reason, russified French sounds particularly awkward. Your parents onviously have tres petit cerebellum. and if your posts anything to go by, it's exactly what's wrong with the family.
So clearly what smart people must do is stick to a list of 20 standard Russian names when naming their kid. Long live conformity!
Conformity is precisely sticking with a bad french one while ignoring the multitude of Russian good ones.
There, there. What's done cannot be undone. Tell me, do you know of the movie "The Conformist"?
Great article Sarah! I think you should also do case studies of creepy people who work at the World Bank.
Misha, I like your name as well as Kamilla's, but I am positive her 16-letter last name can school anyone's. Also, Kamilla makes a good point that you are in dire need of French lessons. There's a good excuse to crash the French Embassy parties, huh huh huh? oui oui.
This is by far the stupidest conversation to have occured on BYT since its inception.
Russians are thugs when they don't have a Dictator controlling their every move, and the French smell and give up readily.
Now shut it.
Piss off, Michael. You're by far the least intelligent poster to have occured to BYT since its inception.
Which by the way, keeps the site traffic down.
yeah michael wat is your problem, two (imaginably) hot russian chicks are catfighting and you want them to be quiet?
the only thing more tenuous than their grasp of english idioms is your sanity...go "drown on" in the shitshow instead.
pedro's problema is an unmentionable one. He is an ... Let's just say pedro no less detrimental to generating new readership than Michael. Probably, even more so.
Madeline. C’est charmant. I do need French lessons, c'est vrai. To crash the Embassy, oui oui, but how, how??
16-letter surname?.. voyons voir… it’s got be to be something french-induced as well i suppose. How about Shershelafamoff? Kamilla Shershelafamoff. No?
I think it's time for Ernest to go back on the meds or take a break again.
we think you stink. oui oui.
oui, mon petit Lisette. il Michell est da worst imbecile mother from cyberspace.
Ms. Tajikistan 1981. hahaha. dat mother looking sure obsolete