Tag Archives: Soviet Union

19-20-21 Soviet Pop Culture Memories From 1991

Posted on 18. Aug, 2011 by in Culture, History, Russian life, Soviet Union

This Friday, August 19th, marks the 20th anniversary of the Soviet coup d’etat attempt. I’m not going to do a history post because there are lots of sites online that do a much better job of it, complete with detailed timeline and analysis.  Besides, I was just 13 at the time and politics was the last thing on my mind. So what follows is not a historical account or overview, but rather some snippets of was most memorable that year for me personally. There’s also a GIVEAWAY announcement at the end of the post, so if you get bored, just scroll all the way down ’til you see it.

Also, there are 10 little snippets in this post. I haven’t decided if I should do 19, 20 or 21 total. What do you think? 

  1. «Дольчики» [patterned pantyhose] and «лосины» [tights] – It seemed like every girl in Russia had at least one pair of each back then. Women in Russia learned that pantyhose could be «чертовски хороши» [damn fine looking].  «Лосины» [tights] moved from historical paintings to the streets and changed their owners from dashing early 19th century military officers to «молодые модницы» [young fashionistas]. A source of pride for their wearers, «дольчики» and «лосины» were not meant to be hidden under «длинные юбки» [long skirts] and hemlines started going up, up and, in case of tights, away.
  2. «Шейпинг» [“body shaping” workouts] and «бодибилдинг» [bodybuilding] – there was a popular slogan in the Soviet days – «в здоровом теле здоровый дух» [a sound mind in a sound body] slogan. No slogan addressed the shapeliness of the said sound body. Before shaping and bodybuilding came along, Soviet citizens had «утренняя гимнастика» [morning exercises] radio and TV broadcasts (slow waving of arms and bending of torsos accompanied by classical music), «производственная гимнастика» [industrial gymnastics] (slightly higher paced version of the morning gymnastics) and «ритмическая гимнастика» [aerobics] on weekend mornings.
  3. «Вероника Кастро» [Veronica Castro] – in 1991 Russians were «прикованы к экранам телевизоров» [glued to TV screens] watching «Богатые тоже плачут» [The Rich Also Cry]. The title of this Brazilian Mexican (thank you, Aurea) soap opera has since become a «крылатое выражение» [catchphrase]. The show itself became a sensation. Things would come to a standstill not only during Tuesday-Thursday primetime when the new episodes were shown, but also the following mornings when reruns were aired.
  4. «Комки» [commercial stores] – early 90s were a weird time. We still had «талоны» [rationing coupons] on even most basic goods, including sugar, butter, hotdogs, and vodka. The government-owned stores were practically empty (I remember a large self-service seafood store that had just rows upon rows of canned seaweed). Yet new «комки», short for «коммерческие магазины» [commercial stores], and «уличные ларьки» [kiosks] sprouted «как грибы после дождя» [like mushrooms after a rain]. They sold an amazing variety of mostly western goods, from Snickers bars and the aforementioned «дольчики» to Marlboro Lights to electronics to bananas.
  5. «Пакеты» [shopping bags] – these were some of the more affordable things one could buy at a «ларёк» [kiosk]. I’m talking about fancy laminated shopping bags with rope handles. We, kids, ditched our old ugly «портфели» [schoolbags] for these bags which also served as «мерило» [a measure] of one’s coolness (the more colorful or risqué the print on the bag, the better).
  6. «Сигареты» [cigarettes] – even more affordable than shopping bags were imported cigarettes. They were sold in packs or piecemeal, so that middle and high school kids could afford buying just one or two. Buying just a couple of Marlboros at a time had an added bonus – eliminating the possibility of parents finding a half-finished «пачка» [pack] in your coat pockets.
  7. «Толкучка» [flea market] – it became just about the most exciting (and exasperating) place to be on weekends. There were still «старушки» [old women] selling hand-knitted grey «пуховые платки» [down shawls] and «старички» [old men] peddling rusted tools and various junk. But there were also rows upon rows of «челноки» [suitcase traders] selling every item of underwear, outerwear or shoes imaginable along with pirated video and cassette tapes, low-quality electronics, and lots of newly printed books.
  8. «Ножки Буша» [chicken legs] – back in the days of the empty stores, chicken was sometimes jokingly referred to as «синяя птица» [bluebird]. One reason for the moniker – it was such a rare sight in the government-run grocery stores. Another reason – chickens, when available, were sold frozen and had bluish tint to their plucked skins. American chicken legs, nicknamed after then-president of the USA, were abundant, relatively cheap, plump and quick to cook.
  9. «Либерализация» [liberalization] – this was the year of new big words that the whole country had to learn very quickly and suddenly. Liberalization meant that government was no longer going to control prices on «товары» [goods].
  10. «Борис Николаевич Ельцин» [Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin] – on June 12th, 1991 Russians voted him to be the first President of «РСФСР» [RSFSR, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic]. I was too young to vote or even pay attention to this event. Most adults I knew voted for Yeltsin even though they were extremely skeptical about «выборы» [elections]. They believed there was too much truth in the old joke “In America, the elections decide the President; In Russia, the President decides the elections”.

To be continued…

And now a little bit about the giveaway.

Who can participate – anyone who reads this blog, regardless of how often or how thorough you read it.

To enter, all you have to do is to leave a comment on this post. You can leave more than one comment. Each comment will earn you an additional entry. If you link to this post from another site, let us know in the comments and you’ll get an additional entry as well.

The giveaway will run through 11:59pm EST on August 26th at which point we will choose a random winner who will receive the prize.

As for the prize… I’m not going to reveal it just yet except to say that it is a book (in English) about Soviet Union’s more unexpected, nostalgic and visually appealing accomplishments. Want to take a guess?

Happy Russia Day!

Posted on 15. Jun, 2011 by in Culture, History, Russian life

Well, «дорогие читатели» [dear readers], «я вернулась» [I have returned]. Yelena has been holding down the fort, so to speak, while I have been madly reading for school. But, never fear, «я окончила семестр» [I finished the semester], which means I have more time to write about «мой самый любимый язык на свете» [my favorite language in the world] – «русский язык» [the Russian language]. In the photo: «Выступление Медведева» [Medvedev’s speech] on Russia Day. «Что такое День России?» [What is Russia Day?] Keep reading to find out!

«День России» is on June 12 («два дня назад» [two days ago]). «День России – праздник в России, который отмечается ежегодно с 1992 (тысяча девятьсот девяносто второго) года.» [Russia Day is a holiday in Russia that has been celebrated every year since 1991.] One reason why Russians probably like «День России» is because it is «нерабочий день» [a non-working day; a day off].

But why is this holiday celebrated? It is in honor of «декларация о государственном суверенитете РСФСР» [the Declaration of State Sovereignty of RSFSR]. «РСФСР» is an acronym that stands for «Российская Советская Федеративная Социалистическая Республика» [Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic – see why they use an acronym?]. The declaration was adopted on 12 June 1990 and marked the beginning of the end of the Soviet Union.

Interestingly enough, «в этот же день в 1991 (тысяча девятьсот девяносто первом) году» [on this same day in 1991], «прошли выборы президента России» [elections for president of Russia took place]. «Борис Ельцин победил.» [Boris Yeltsin won.] Good old Boris Nikolayevich, one could write post after post about him…

So, next year on June 12, if you encounter any Russians, be sure to wish them «С Днём России!» [Happy Russia Day!].

Reading «Мастер и Маргарита»: Chapter 10 + 11

Posted on 12. Aug, 2010 by in Culture, language, Literature, Reading Together, Soviet Union, Traditions

And this week «мы читаем Булгакова у бассейна» [we're reading Bulgakov by the pool].

«Да, да, знаю, знаю» [yes, yes, I know, I know] – it has been almost two months since we all started reading «Мастер и Маргарита» [“Master & Margarita”] together and we haven’t made it further than chapter ten. «Честно говоря» [honestly speaking] I think we’re just going to keep reading this novel and writing a post about a chapter (or like in today’s post: TWO chapters, because one of them is really short) every week until we finish it because in every chapter there’s something interesting. By now I think it’s clear to all of us that we can find some little detail in every chapter – or in some cases, too many and too big details! – to focus on that’ll not only help us understand what «шедевр Булгакова» [Bulgakov’s masterpiece] is about, but also a little bit more about the Russian language. Today we’re covering mainly «глава 10 (десятая): Вести из Ялты» [chapter 10: News from Yalta], but also «глава 11 (одиннадцатая): Раздвоение Ивана» [chapter 11: The ‘Splitting’ of Ivan]. In chapter 10 we find ourselves at the «Варьете» [Variety Theater], located «на той же Садовой (улице)» [also on Savodaya (Garden) Street], where its financial director «Римский»  [Rimsky] and administrator «Варенуха» [Varenukha] are about to receive just what the title of the chapter is called: news from Yalta. Back in the 1930’s «не было интернета» [there was no internet] and «ни у кого не было сотового телефона» [nobody had a cellular phone] so it was not as easy it is now to get a message from «Крым» [the Crimea] to reach «Москва» [Moscow] instantly. We know that the director of the Variety Theater, «Лиходеев» [Likhodeev], has just been magically removed from Moscow to Yalta by Voland’s «шайка» [gang]. Now if this had happened right now, Likhodeev could’ve just updated «свой статус на фейсбуке» [updated his status on Facebook] to say something like «Воланд меня послал непонятным образом в Ялту!» [Voland has sent me in a strange way to Yalta!]. He could even have taken a picture of himself in Yalta with his phone and posted it on Facebook, just to prove to Rimsky and Varenukha that he was actually IN Yalta. But in the Soviet Union there was no Facebook, and smart phones had yet to be invented in the world at this point in history. So what did people in the 1930’s do to communicate with other people in places far away? They sent each other telegrams! In this chapter, a woman brings the Variety Theater something called «сверхмолния» [‘super-lightning’]. This is the same thing as «телеграмма» [telegram]: made from the word «молния» [lightning] with the prefix «сверх» which in this case means ‘super’ like in the word «сверхъестественно» [supernatural]. When sending a telegram people in the olden days tended to leave out the words that they could so as to save space. These were usually those words that the reader would understand as implied. In Russian it is not that difficult to understand which words are left out, because Russian language’s worst curse (for those of us trying to learn it at least!) also turns out to be a huge blessing sometimes: «падежи» [the cases]! Let’s see if we can put back the ‘missing’ words from the first telegram from Likhodeev in Yalta to his colleagues in Moscow:

«Ялты Москву Варьете Сегодня половину двенадцатого угрозыск явился шатен ночной сорочке брюках без сапог психический назвался Лиходеевым директором Варьете Молнируйте ялтинский розыск где директор Лиходеев».

There is a reason as to why I didn’t translate the Russian text above into English straight away. A lot of the forms of the words, like «Ялты» and «Москву», give away the meaning to the native speaker who would know that what is implied is really «из Ялты» and «в Москву». And that’s why the translation would have to be ‘from Yalta’ and ‘to Moscow’ – leaving out all the fun in the Russian original! Let’s see if we can make sense out of this sentence. I’ve placed the words I think are left out and implied in CAPITAL LETTERS, just to make it easier. If you don’t agree with me, then let your opinion be heard!

«ИЗ Ялты В Москву: В Варьете. Сегодня В половину двенадцатого В уголовный розыск явился шатен, В ночной сорочке, В брюках, без сапог, психический назвался Лиходеевым, директором Варьете. Молнируйте ялтинский розыск, где НАХОДИТСЯ директор Лиходеев» [From Yalta to Moscow: to the Variety Theater. Today at 11.30 in the department of criminal investigation a brow-haired man turned up, in a nightgown, in pants, without boots, psychologically called himself Likhodeev, the director of the Variety Theater. Send a telegram to the Yalta investigation, where director Likhodeev is].

Because it would be physically impossible for Likhodeev – who just moments earlier made a phone call from his apartment to the Variety Theater – to suddenly be «в Ялте» [in Yalta], they don’t believe he is the one behind the telegram. Rimsky and Varenukha think it has been sent from a «Лжёдмитрий» [lit. ‘False Dmitry’, but in modern Russian meaning anyone who is an impostor]. The next telegram Likhodeev sends to Varenukha and Rimsky in Moscow is shorter than the first, but not as cryptically composed:

«Умоляю верить брошен Ялту гипнозом Воланда молнируйте угрозыску подтверждение личности Лиходеев».

In ‘complete’ Russian this would translate into:

«Я умоляю верить МНЕ. Я брошен В Ялту гипнозом Воланда. Молнируйте уголовному розыску подтверждение МОЕЙ личности. Лиходеев» [I beg you to believe. I have been thrown to Yalta by Voland's hypnosis. Send the department of criminal investigation a proof of my identity. Likhodeev].

It is indeed too bad that the ‘ancient’ art form of writing and sending telegrams is not something a person has to master these days – not even in Russian! The genre is quite interesting, especially to someone who is not yet fluent but still trying to figure out what the «падежи» [cases] mean and what they’ll do to those innocent Russian words. In telegrams, the case will not only be visible in the form of the word itself, but also important to the whole meaning of it. Isn’t that something to think about while you’re making your way through chapter 10 of Master and Margarita?

If telegrams are a genre of writing itself, then so is the famous act of «писать заявление» [to write an announcement; statement; application]. This is a very important thing to know how to do properly both in Russian language as well as if you’re going to spend some time living in Russia. In Russia you’d have to write a formal «заявление» [announcement; statement; application] for just about everything – Russians prefer to have everything documented and in writing on proper paper. Not very surprising then, that this is what we find «Иван» [Ivan] doing in his room at the mental hospital in chapter 11: writing a «заявление в милицию» [report to the police (I’m not sure if this is the proper English translation of the act, but that’s what I think you could explain the formal process of reporting a crime to police)] to let them know about the incident with professor Voland and his involvement in Berlioz’ death. Writing a «заявление» is not that difficult, and it sure isn’t worth making it harder than it should be – especially considering that you have to do it so often in Russia! This is how it’s done:

First you answer the question «Куда [To where?] and put the person or the place in accusative case like this: «В милицию» [To the Police].

Then you answer «От кого [From whom?] and put your own name in the genitive case, just like Ivan did in his: «Члена Массолита Ивана Николаевича Бездомного» [From member of Massolit Ivan Nikolaevich Bezdomny].

All of this is written in the right top corner of the paper – usually a blank, white paper without any lines is used. After this you write «ЗАЯВЛЕНИЕ» in big letters in the middle of the paper.

The finishing formality – before you go on and explain the reason behind why you’re writing this in the first place – is usually: «Прошу…» [I ask…]. And then you put everything that you want to ask for after that. Sometimes it seems silly in Russia to have to write a whole big paper like this when the actual request is only one sentence. Ivan’s «заявление» was a much more serious piece of work – so serious that he didn’t go on to finish it but as a matter of fact ended up not caring as much about the whole incident anymore. Maybe that’s what too many formalities will do to a person? Or maybe that’s the work of… the devil, also known as Voland?