On Russia Archives - Los Cuadernos de Julia

A Blood-chilling Attack at Crocus City Hall in Moscow

Yesterday, on March 22, more than 6000 people were under a terrorist attack at Crocus City Hall, a Moscow Region venue famous for tremendous concerts.

By night, 40 people had been reported as killed and over a hundred hospitalised with different injuries. Right now, the number of deaths is 133 and is expected to rise although the doctors are fighting for people’s lives. Three children were killed, but there may be more child deaths as some kids were found with their mothers on the staircases where they all died due to smoke poisoning.

The actual bandits shot at the crowd of people who came to watch a rock group concert. They also set the concert hall on fire. Some people tried to find rescue on the roof, but the fire spread there very quickly. Others rushed to the toilets in the hope to avoid the terrorists but were poisoned by smoke and died. The bandits continued to shoot at people on their way out, directing an open gun fire at a few who were trying to escape but got caught in the corner.

By now the entire concert hall has burnt down. The venue itself is still standing, the amount of damage has been roughly calculated and is around 9,5-11,4 billion rubles. The video shows the collapsed roof and debris.

The death toll could be higher; however, the terrorists weren’t too “diligent” in their job. They did some shooting, set the hall on fire, but as soon as people began to escape, they made their way out, too. In a white Renault car they tried to escape via Bryansk to the Ukrainian border but were stopped. Some of them don’t even speak Russian although they are reported to hold Russian passports which they have likely obtained illegally. They are under 30, coming from Tadjikistan, and one of them confessed on camera that he was promised half a million rubles for the attack and received 250,000 on his card. He was studying under some “preacher” in Telegram and got contacted by someone who offered him the money for the deal. The task was to go and just kill people.

The President has just addressed the nation. Tomorrow, March 24, is declared the Day of Mourning. Hundreds of people in Moscow, including my friends, have gone to donate blood, they are queuing up in the rain. My other friends have offered a psychological help, yet others and I donate money. The people have united across the entire country, and this obviously flies in the face of terror. The general consensus is that the ban on capital punishment must be lifted. Even my students who are only 14 believe this is the only way.

There is but one aspect that we can’t help mentioning. The tragedy at Crocus City Hall took place on the same day as Khatyn tragedy in Belarus in 1943. I wrote about its 80th anniversary last year. It is claimed that the US and the UK embassies warned their citizens from visiting concerts in Moscow at the beginning of March. There is evidence suggesting that the bandits were going to undertake the attack at the concert of Shaman at Crocus on March 9th. Perhaps, they realised that in such case the results of the Presidential elections would be totally overblowing. There was no chance to carry out the attack last weekend when elections were held. So they did it on March 22. I doubt they chose the date on purpose; rather God Almighty led them to show their diabolic fascist nature in full colours. The people of Belarus have been bringing flowers to the Russian embassies in the country and expressing their support.

We are also specially grateful to those foreign journalists who expressed their condolences on occasion of this awful attack at Crocus City Hall. It is in moments like this I personally believe that people are above politics.

Posts about Russian History

Following THE INTERVIEW of the century (Tucker Kalrson and Vladimir Putin), I want to point you to some posts on this blog that illustrate or analyze Russian history. Being an historian who spent 7 years living in a Western country, I am perfectly qualified to talk on these topics since I know my subject and foreign people’s expectations and misconceptions underpinned by the lack of knowledge and unbridled propaganda. So below I gathered some posts from different years (I’ve been writing this blog since 2006) in the hope they will help you learn more about Russia, its history and culture.

Russian Classical Literature Reading List

Thoughts on Russian Presidential Elections

Edward Lear’s Russian Limericks

Matryoshka Fashion

The Visions of Begemot

Anton Joy, The Joy

Fairy-tale “By the Will of the Pike”

Christmas Trees in Shop Windows and Streets

An Illustrated History of Russian Dolls

Mikhail Lermontov – I Come Out On the Path Alone

Football Fans Head to the Front

Wrong on Russia

Ivan Shmelyov – The Year of God. Christmas. Part 2

Arkhip Kuindzhi – Moonlight Spots in the Forest in Winter (1898-1908)

Three days or so before Christmas all markets and squares were like a great forest of fir-trees. And what fir-trees they were! Russia is very rich in them. The ones here are thin and brittle. The Russian fir-tree, after it warmed up and spread its branches, was like a conifer thicket.

Moscow’s Theatre Square was like a thick forest. All trees stood there, covered in snow. And when it snowed, you could literally get lost! Traders were dressed in thick coats, as if they worked in the woods. And people were walking there, choosing a tree.

My word, the dogs looked like wolves in those fir-trees. The fires were burning, for people to warm up. The smoke was billowing in huge clouds. And in the thickness of the trees the sellers of sbiten were shouting: “Here, sweet sbiten, hot kalach!” Sbiten was everywhere – in samovars, in buckets with long handles. What is sbiten? My, it is so hot, and better than tea. It is a drink with honey and ginger, fragrant and sweet. One glass cost one copeck.

The roll was frosted, and a glass with sbiten was thick and faceted, it burned your fingers. Sbiten was nice to drink in that snowy forest. You sipped the drink, and your breath went up in clouds, like in a steam train. The roll was a veritable icicle, so you had to dunk it in sbiten, to make it softer. And so you walked in those fir-trees till late. The frost was getting bitterer. The foggy sky was burning purple. The branches were covered in frost. Now and again you would stumble on a frozen crow that crackled like a piece of glass.

Frosty may be Russia but… warm!

On Christmas Eve, we usually did not eat until the first star. Kutya was cooked with rye and honey, and so was stewed fruit: prunes, pears, and dried peaches…They were put on a heap of hay, under the icons.

Why did we do so? This was like a gift to Christ. Well, as if He was there in the manger, on that hay.

As you were waiting for that star, you would wipe all windows in the house. The glass was all covered with ice because of the frost. Oh, dear, how beautiful that ice was! There were fir-trees and wonderful streaks, all lace-like. You would scratch it with your nail: is there a star to be seen? There is indeed! First, there was one, then another. The glass turned blue. The stove was crackling because of the frost, the shadows were galloping, and the stars were lighting up one by one. And what stars they were!.. You would open a window pane, and the frosty air would sear you with its bitterness. Oh, those stars..! They were trembling and twinkling, and the black sky was boiling with their light. Oh, what stars! They were live and whiskered, and they were breaking into pieces that blinded your eyes. The air was so cold that it made stars appear bigger, and they shone like coloured crystals, sending down the arrows: azure, and blue, and green. And you would also hear the tinkle, as if it was coming from those stars! It was icy and resonant, like a silver bell was ringing. There was nothing like this, ever. In the Kremlin, when the bells rang, the peal was ancient, sedate, and very deep. And this starry peal was from tight silver bells, all velvety. It seemed like a thousand churches were ringing their bells at once. You would not hear such sound on any other day. At Easter, the bells were chiming, and at Christmas, it was a silvery hum that spread for miles and miles, like a song that had neither a beginning nor the end…

Translated from Russian by Julia Shuvalova.

Ivan Shmelyov, Christmas, part 1.

Ivan Shmelyov – The Year of God. Christmas. Part 1

Ivan Shmelyov (1873-1950) was a Russian writer and essayist who emigrated to France after the October Revolution. The Year of God (Лето Господне) is a book of his recollections of pre-revolutionary life in Russia. The narrator, an adult person, recalls everyday life and religious festivals of a merchant family in Moscow, into which he was born. He turns a loving eye to his childhood memories, going through them like a fantastic kaleidoscope of events. For this Christmas season I have translated a respective chapter of his book…

Ivan Shmelyov – Christmas

You want, my dear boy, that I told you about our Christmas season. Well… Should you not understand something, let your heart guide you.

Imagine me as old as you are now. Do you know what snow is? Here it is rare, and it melts as soon as it falls. But in Russia once the snowfall started, no light of the day would be seen for three days or so! The snow covered everything. The streets were all white, with large drifts. The snow was everywhere: on the roofs, on the fences, on the streetlights – lots of snow! It would even hang down from the roofs – and suddenly it would drop, like a heap of flour, and even get behind one’s collar. The caretakers collected the snow and took it away, otherwise everything would sink in it.

The Russian winter is silent and dull. The sledge may ride fast, but you do not hear a sound. Only when the frost comes, then the runners screech. And when the spring arrives, and you hear the sound of the wheels, then what a joy it is!

Our Christmas comes from afar, very quietly. The snow is deep, and the frost is getting stronger.

Once you see the frozen pork being delivered, then you know that Christmas is near. For six weeks people were fasting on fish. The wealthier ate beluga, sturgeon, walleye, navaga; the poorer had herring, catfish, bream… In Russia, we had all kinds of fish. But at Christmas everyone ate pork. At the butcher’s, they would lay those pigs, like tree logs – up to the ceiling. The gammon was cut off, for corning. And so these cuts were lying in rows, and the snow dusted the pink stripes on the ground.

The frost was so strong that it riveted the air, turning it into a foggy frosty haze. The wagon trains were coming for Christmas. What is it, you ask? Well, it is like a train, except there were wide sledges instead of carriages, and they were riding on the snow, coming from the distant lands. One after one, they went in single file, stretching for miles.

The horses were from the steppe, to be sold. The drivers were all healthy, strong men from the Volga Region, near Samara. They brought pork, piglets, geese and turkeys, from the “ardent frost”, as they said. Then there was a Siberian grouse and a black grouse. Do you know a Siberian grouse? It is mottled, or pockmarked, that’s what its Russian name means. It is as big as a pigeon, methinks. It is a game, a forest bird. It feeds on rowan, cranberry, and juniper. And what taste it had, my brother! Here this bird is rare, but in Russia it was delivered by wagon trains. The merchants would sell everything, including the sledge and horses, buy the cloths and calico and go back home by cast iron. What is cast iron? Ah well, it is the railroad. It was more profitable to travel to Moscow on a wagon train: the merchant carried his own oats for his horses from his plants on the shoals of the steppe, and sold the horses in the capital.

Just before Christmas, in Konnaya Square in Moscow – or the Horse Square, for they sold horses there – the groans never stopped. This square… how to say it? It was more spacious than… the one where the Eiffel Tower is, you know? And there were sledges everywhere.

Thousands of sledges stood in rows. Frozen pigs were piled like firewood for miles on end. The snow would cover them, but snouts and bottoms were lurking from beneath. Next stood the vats as great… as this room, perhaps! The corned pork was cooked there. The frost was so strong that the brine froze, and you could see thin ice on it. The butcher was cutting the pork with an axe, and sometimes a piece of it, as much as half a pound, would bounce off – no care! A beggar would pick it up. These pork “crumbs” were thrown to beggars by armful: have it, the fasting is over! In front of the pork there was a piglet row, for another mile. And farther they traded geese, chicken, ducks, black grouse, Siberian grouse… They traded directly from the sledge. There were no scales, and everything was mostly sold by piece. Russia is a very hearty country: no scales, things are done by the eye. Sometimes the factory workers would harness themselves to the large sledge and off they went, laughing. And in the sledge there was a pile of piglets, and pork, and corned pork, and mutton… Life was rich then.

Translated from Russian by Julia Shuvalova.

Russian Orthodox Christmas: Peace and Victory

Many of my friends with whom I exchanged the New Year and Christmas wishes expressed a special hope for Peace and Victory. Judging by dispatches from the Western media, the end of the Special Military Operation is imminent because the West is losing the nerve and financial capacity to carry on with the campaign.

Despite our common wish, we harbour no thought that the end of a military campaign might turn the time back in domestic policy. So many changes are due, and people are so keen, that the year 2024 is set to be a decisive one in many careers. Still, today, when the Star of Bethlehem is shining upon our world yet again, we feel immense gratitude for witnessing the Miracle of Love. The energies of Love and Goodness (Kindness) are presently revisited, showing the majorities the previously unknown (unrecognized) facets. Here, war truly becomes an act of Love whereas peace at the cost of one’s independence is an unequivocal Evil. We don’t redefine things; rather we begin to see them for what they truly are.

Holy Night to all my Orthodox readers! Happy Christmas, Peace, and Love! Let us celebrate Glorious Nativity of Jesus Christ!

On the Eve of Russian Orthodox Christmas

It’s been a custom to write a “sochelnik” (Christmas Eve) post here on January 6th. I don’t normally do it in December because I don’t celebrate Western Christmas as a religious festival. However, I do celebrate the Russian one. A few years ago I even went to a night service at my local church. This year it is still very cold, so I’m going to connect to an online service at one of Moscow churches.

Christmas Eve is the time when less religious people make wishes and burn candles; the more faithful pray in the solitude of their homes and get ready for a service. I love to watch the long day of the Eve slowly enter the Holy Night of Nativity.

There were many attempts to “see” the Nativity of Jesus Christ. St Brigitte of Sweden, for example, had a vision that the Child miraculously left His Mother’s womb and lay on a spread cloth. The Byzantine tradition believed in a “real” birth, in which Mary remained “untouched”, nonetheless. Yet these are the details that may appear insignificant on the grand scale, whereas the most important thing is that the Creator chose to come and live among people.

To me, this is a metaphor of a person with a mission who comes here to realize it here, on Earth. The mission is not about “saving” anyone; it is about the understanding of God’s plan for your life and following it through. If there is anything truly sad about the story of Jesus Christ and the apostles, it is that the physical martyrdom and death have got strongly associated with God’s will. Naturally, not many people want to leave this life too soon, so they shun away from discovering their mission altogether. As a result, we are deprived of many talented people.

Of course, as we follow the path of our mission, some parts of us will “die”, figuratively speaking, so that our new self can emerge. Nativity, in this sense, is a celebration of the New Life, La Vita Nuova, that promises the new beginning.

I hope those of us who celebrate Nativity on January 7th will spend the Christmas Eve in soulful gratitude for the gift of Life.

Frozen, Not Stirred

Since Tuesday it’s been abnormally cold in Moscow. Last time the temperature was so low in 2016 when it fell down to -33. This year it hasn’t gone below -30 at night, but -27 in the day isn’t something we’re used to in early January. Such frosts are typical around Epiphany (January 19th) but not Nativity (January 7th).

In spite of this I went out yesterday and today, and I’ll still have to go out tomorrow. It hasn’t snowed since Monday, and the frost seems more bitter when it isn’t snowing.

The streets are unusually empty; those who dare to leave their abode hurry to finish their business and get back home. There is a special atmosphere of a still life where you are but an element of the composition.

Below are some photos to illustrate the point. In the final photo you can see me and my frosty scarf. Even my eyebrows and eyelashes were frosty, too! When I saw it, I vividly recalled the stories about the Arctic explorers who performed their heroic deed in the abnormally cold conditions. Going out for some shopping was not a big deal, after all!

December Magic – 30 (Belgorod Attack)

I wanted to have a lazy day this Saturday, so I didn’t set the clock. Indeed, this is my best way to relax and recharge: to have no alarm clock go off when I haven’t slept enough.

Then I went to do some shopping because I really don’t like to do it on December 30th or 31st. And by that time we had already started getting reports about the Ukrainian forces attacking the city of Belgorod that borders on the Kharkov Region. Yet around 4pm it got worse. The Russian forces obviously worked well to counter the attack. Yet it still resulted in several deaths, including three children’s. Around 20 people are currently in hospital in life-threatening condition.

As I have a student from Belgorod this year, I messaged his mother to ask if they were fine – just in time to learn that she was going to go out for something. Apparently, my mission was to remind her that there are some important things at this time, especially her safety.

This is not the first time something atrocious happens days before New Year. In those years, despite tragedy, no celebrations were cancelled. This year the capital cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg cancelled fireworks, although the decorations and Christmas markets are in full glory. It is evident, however, that when our entire country is investing in our war effort lavish celebrations are inappropriate.

The case with Belgorod has been reported by the other side as an air raid of a military object. But as you can see in the photo the attack aimed at the central square with New Year tree and the Christmas market. Hence the casualties among civilians, including children.

I wrote last year that all the so-called civilized nations and allies had ever done was killing children. Not all children, of course, but certainly those they deemed unworthy of walking the Earth. Such was their treatment of the Soviet children, then the Vietnamese, then the Russian kids at the Nord-Ost musical and in Beslan, then the children of Donbass. In autumn this year we have witnessed a totally unacceptable destruction of Gaza in Palestine, resulting in mass killings of children. The truth is, the same conductors operate this devilish orchestra. And today they ordered an air attack on the Belgorod city centre, two days before New Year.

As much as they understand the futility of these actions, they still undertake them, for their desire to annihilate those they consider their adversaries is stronger than any common sense. We just wait to see this desire finally turning against them.

Our condolences go to the Belgorod families.

November Thanks – 7

November 7th used to be widely celebrated as the birth of the Soviet State. It was considered a benign democratic antidote to the tzarist system.

If we take seriously the fact that the three-coloured imperial flag was changed to the monocoloured red standard, we might say that the October Revolution was the first attempt at a colourful revolution. It wasn’t the Georgian Orange but the Soviet Red that heralded the epoch of “adopted” democracies that ensued.

Today people’s attitude to the October 1917 events has changed, mostly towards a more balanced view of the Romanovs and the role the October played in the events of the first half of 20th century in Russia and elsewhere in the world.

Am I grateful to those late October 1917 events? I see little point in even contemplating this question; but since I chose to give thanks to things, I shall. I believe a sure sign of human maturity is the ability to turn a loving eye to the past of one’s family and country. It is healthier to evolve at one’s own speed, no doubt. Yet in the case with a revolution one has to remember that it never happens for no reason. The society was ready for it, but not for its aftermath. And so we can be grateful for the opportunity to distinguish between the common good and the common evil. The events of 2023 with an unsuccessful mutiny have proved that the people have learned a historic lesson.

November Thanks – 4

On the Day of National Unity our gratitude goes to the patriotic spirit of the 17th century Russian citizens. A chain of ill-thought events following the death of Boris Godunov led to the Moscow throne being seized by the Polish party. For the first time since the end of the Mongol yoke Russian sovereignty as the state was under threat. The people of Russia eventually abandoned their feuds, and all social classes united for one cause.

The icon of Our Lady of Kazan that was miraculously found in 1570s by the future Patriarch Hermogen (who was later imprisoned by the Poles in Moscow for his appeals to people and starved to death) played a pivotal role in protecting the Russian forces. It was then used again in 1812, during Napoleonic invasion; and it is widely believed that a helicopter with this icon on board flew around Moscow in November-December 1941, during the Moscow Battle. However, it was also thought to have been lost; yet this year, Patriarch Kirill announced that the icon was found again.

Our unity as a nation has been tested in 1990s, but since Vladimir Putin came to power the patriotic spirit has been growing. It received a significant kick in 2022, reviving the national pride and the desire to serve one’s Land. And so we are thankful to be Russian, to live in Russia and to work to make it great.