This church is beautiful. One feels a sense of divinity regardless of spiritual tendencies. There are huge murals of Old Testament scenes, ancient relics, marble, vast ceilings, stained glass. There are no pews. People stand to worship in these places. There is something about this that I like.There will be no photos of this as I didn't ask nor did I care to do so. I also have a feeling it is not allowed. We stand in the middle trying to take it all in. There are women near the entrance mopping the floor. They silently pause in their efforts as we wander around. I am aware suddenly of the Priest very near my shoulder. He asks Valia to convey a question."Miguel, Father Vitaly would like to know your religion". I pause for a moment and try to think of an appropriate answer. My own father would have chafed a bit at this question, but I do not feel any anxiety.
After a moment, I say to Valia, "tell him I was born into Catholic families, but.....". My vagueness is a concious attempt on my part to avoid any tension. Not exactly sure what she says to him and we leave the discussion at that. As Janet, Laura, and I are taking in a huge antiquated mural of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, Father Vitaly again approaches. He explains with great enthusiasm that while they are restoring this church, this painting was found underneath several layers of mural....by accident....that it may date back to the 18th century or earlier. I take the moment to tell him that Janet and Laura are both museum conservators and that this would be of great interest to them. He is suddenly becomes very animated, takes us to the front of the Church, then up behind the altar. Suddenly he is sweeping aside a curtain, showing the girls other murals being restored in a room that I don't think is usually meant to be seen.This is a private place---we can see a huge chair. It is elaborate, deep dark colors. The Russians in our group are beginning to notice his attentiveness to us and we begin to get the impression that the group would like to move on. We move toward the door reluctantly, slowly, Vitaly chatting with us about a number of things. I am beginning to like this guy. His warmth is somewhat surprising and I am curious about it. He looks a little like one of our friends at home now that we think about it.
As we begin to depart out the large hallway into the courtyard, Father Vitaly kind of impulsively goes over to the giftshop area and returns with two wooden painted icons---hands them to me and says they are a gift.They are very beautiful. I am touched by this. This guy is connecting to me on a level I wasn't prepared for. I am flattered, largely because I don't think this is typical behaviour. Others around us seem a bit surprised by his attention to us.
Valia says to me, in a bit of a whisper, perhaps surprised..."Miguel, I think he likes you". That is nice, I think to myself, but a little bewildered.
Out in the courtyard, on impulse, I ask Valia if she would convey that I'd like to get a picture of him. This is done. He is very pleased by this. we have a couple of photos taken with our arms around each other's shoulders. For the second one, he removes his hat....dark, curly long hair. He says something to Valia. She in turn says....that the person he respects very much, a mentor, a dear friend, someone very influential in his life, was also a teacher, now living in Florida of all places. Then without much warning, he envelopes me in a huge bear hug. It is an embrace that I will remember for a long time. He was hugging me because I was a teacher. We were friends. Some connection was made despite vast differences in culture, language, and faith. It is one of the more surreal events of my life. Even as I write this I have not yet wrapped my brain around what transpired.
Next stop is a community center where we(the Americans), and Sergei, make small ceramic apples to commemorate our time in Khvalinsk. We paint them in bright colors. The woman conducting the little art class is very enthusiatic about apples.
We are then off to see the museum home that the great Russian painter Petrov Vodkin purchased for his parents. He grew up in Khvalinsk, in home closer to the Volga that no longer exists. This place gave birth to his intriguing, striking, symbolic, vaguely surrealist style. His perhaps most famous painting, "Bathing of the Red Horse" is spectacular and a little unsettling.We get another highly personal, intimate tour of this house and garden. Khvalinsk is still an inspirational place for painters---the beauty of the gardens here, while now still dormant, has influenced many a Russian artist.
Following this we are whisked to a large house that is apparently some kind of retreat for convalescence and recovery. The director welcomes us, we are lead to a room where a feast awaits. First an orgy of Russian hors douerves, pickles, cheese, bread, cabbage, onions, caviar, ham, bacon. Wine for most. Vodka for us fellas. Then a flavorful soup. A main course of breaded pork with fruit inside, roasted potatoes.Even the vegetarians in our group have a decent feast. More vodka for the fellas. Toasts are being made every ten minutes or so. I make one, remarking on the extraordinary hospitality we have experienced. This Sergei Yurievich is a kind, extraordinairily approachable guy---not necessarily a common characteristic of government types in any culture.We say our goodbyes. The day has been long but wonderful.
Nikolay chooses a route that follows the Volga closely for a long time. The sunset is beautiful. At one point as our driver listens to the news on the radio, I am aware that a commentator is saying some unfriendly things about America. I am not a flag waver and these things tend not to bother me too much. What does surprise me(and I know he does this out of kindness), he reaches over and turns it down---doesn't say a word--- but I am touched by the gesture. He's had a long day too.
After a moment, I say to Valia, "tell him I was born into Catholic families, but.....". My vagueness is a concious attempt on my part to avoid any tension. Not exactly sure what she says to him and we leave the discussion at that. As Janet, Laura, and I are taking in a huge antiquated mural of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, Father Vitaly again approaches. He explains with great enthusiasm that while they are restoring this church, this painting was found underneath several layers of mural....by accident....that it may date back to the 18th century or earlier. I take the moment to tell him that Janet and Laura are both museum conservators and that this would be of great interest to them. He is suddenly becomes very animated, takes us to the front of the Church, then up behind the altar. Suddenly he is sweeping aside a curtain, showing the girls other murals being restored in a room that I don't think is usually meant to be seen.This is a private place---we can see a huge chair. It is elaborate, deep dark colors. The Russians in our group are beginning to notice his attentiveness to us and we begin to get the impression that the group would like to move on. We move toward the door reluctantly, slowly, Vitaly chatting with us about a number of things. I am beginning to like this guy. His warmth is somewhat surprising and I am curious about it. He looks a little like one of our friends at home now that we think about it.
As we begin to depart out the large hallway into the courtyard, Father Vitaly kind of impulsively goes over to the giftshop area and returns with two wooden painted icons---hands them to me and says they are a gift.They are very beautiful. I am touched by this. This guy is connecting to me on a level I wasn't prepared for. I am flattered, largely because I don't think this is typical behaviour. Others around us seem a bit surprised by his attention to us.
Valia says to me, in a bit of a whisper, perhaps surprised..."Miguel, I think he likes you". That is nice, I think to myself, but a little bewildered.
Out in the courtyard, on impulse, I ask Valia if she would convey that I'd like to get a picture of him. This is done. He is very pleased by this. we have a couple of photos taken with our arms around each other's shoulders. For the second one, he removes his hat....dark, curly long hair. He says something to Valia. She in turn says....that the person he respects very much, a mentor, a dear friend, someone very influential in his life, was also a teacher, now living in Florida of all places. Then without much warning, he envelopes me in a huge bear hug. It is an embrace that I will remember for a long time. He was hugging me because I was a teacher. We were friends. Some connection was made despite vast differences in culture, language, and faith. It is one of the more surreal events of my life. Even as I write this I have not yet wrapped my brain around what transpired.
Next stop is a community center where we(the Americans), and Sergei, make small ceramic apples to commemorate our time in Khvalinsk. We paint them in bright colors. The woman conducting the little art class is very enthusiatic about apples.
We are then off to see the museum home that the great Russian painter Petrov Vodkin purchased for his parents. He grew up in Khvalinsk, in home closer to the Volga that no longer exists. This place gave birth to his intriguing, striking, symbolic, vaguely surrealist style. His perhaps most famous painting, "Bathing of the Red Horse" is spectacular and a little unsettling.We get another highly personal, intimate tour of this house and garden. Khvalinsk is still an inspirational place for painters---the beauty of the gardens here, while now still dormant, has influenced many a Russian artist.
Following this we are whisked to a large house that is apparently some kind of retreat for convalescence and recovery. The director welcomes us, we are lead to a room where a feast awaits. First an orgy of Russian hors douerves, pickles, cheese, bread, cabbage, onions, caviar, ham, bacon. Wine for most. Vodka for us fellas. Then a flavorful soup. A main course of breaded pork with fruit inside, roasted potatoes.Even the vegetarians in our group have a decent feast. More vodka for the fellas. Toasts are being made every ten minutes or so. I make one, remarking on the extraordinary hospitality we have experienced. This Sergei Yurievich is a kind, extraordinairily approachable guy---not necessarily a common characteristic of government types in any culture.We say our goodbyes. The day has been long but wonderful.
Nikolay chooses a route that follows the Volga closely for a long time. The sunset is beautiful. At one point as our driver listens to the news on the radio, I am aware that a commentator is saying some unfriendly things about America. I am not a flag waver and these things tend not to bother me too much. What does surprise me(and I know he does this out of kindness), he reaches over and turns it down---doesn't say a word--- but I am touched by the gesture. He's had a long day too.
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