(top: back in the Frozen North)
(middle: Medvedev with his New Year's address)
(bottom: fireworks in the park, note the haze of gunpowder)
I got back from Germany on the 30th, because I wanted to be sure to be here in St. Pete for New Year's. Russia (St. Petersburg and Moscow in particular) goes wild on New Year's. It's like Christmas, New Year's, Thanksgiving, and a few other Western holidays all rolled in to one. I returned to a city that winter had laid siege to. The city hasn't had this much snow since 1881, and, since it won't melt off until March/April, there's simply no place for it to go; add on that it all the snowplow drivers and street cleaners are on holiday already...
I had plans to go to Palace Square and ring in the New Year there, but I didn't really have anyone to go with, and if there's one thing I learned in Germany, it's that experiences are best when they're shared. So, I went to a New Year's party that some American friends put on (with the help of a few nationals, of course, to make it a real Russian New Year's party). I was really glad I did, because we had a great time.
In Russia, you don't "watch the ball drop"; you watch the president give his New Year's address. When he finishes, the camera than shows Moscow's equivalent of Big Ben ringing midnight. Now, as soon as you hear the bells, you write down your New Year's wish, light it on fire, throw the ashes (and half-burnt paper) into your glass of champagne, and then down it. If you are able to do it before the clock stops chiming then you will get your wish. After you eat your New Year's dinner, you go outside for a walk (a walk? at night? in the snow? with the deadly icicles about to fall from every building?). The 7 of us went out to light a few fireworks in the park. Now when Russians do fireworks in the park, we're not talking sparklers or bottle rockets, we're talking huge boxes of gunpowder shooting into the sky, shaking windows and setting off car alarms. Once we got that out of our systems we headed back to continue our dinner.
We ran out of drinks about halfway through, so I went down to a little shop I noticed was still open when we set off our fireworks. I went in and wished the man and woman inside a happy new year. One asked me where I was from. I said America. Wow, the man said, and simply held out his hand to shake mine. He shook my hand heartily and told me that he was from Azerbaijan, from Baku. Great, I said. What state are you from, he asked me. California, I said, as he still shook my hand heartily. Wow, he said, great, as he continued to shaking my hand. After getting a few drinks and wishing everyone happy a new year again, I left for the short walk back to the party. Only on New Year's would anyone want to shake hands with an American. Only on New Year's would anyone even care to ask.
As I was walking back, the street was full with people out walking and celebrating. I noticed one particular gentleman who appeared to be a little sauced and appeared to be stumbling my way. I tried to get out of his way, but with so much snow piled high on the curb there was simply no way to avoid him. He reached me and embraced me. Happy New Year, he shouted into my ear as he kissed my cheek (which is then traditionally followed by a second kiss on the cheek). Happy New Year, I returned, as he kissed my other cheek (which is then traditionally followed by a third kiss on the lips if you are really happy to see that person). He went for the third kiss on the lips, but I was culturally insensitive and his third kiss was met with my cheek again. Finally, after a few more "Happy New Year's," he let me go. It was quite a night and my roommate and I didn't get back to our place until around 5 in the morning. Russians just really, really like New Year's.
