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Showing posts from June 2, 2019

The Final Day

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by Kit Lorentz
On the morning of our last day, diverse groups fanned out to diverse activities and sites — various museums, shopping downtown or in the flea market, or just a contemplative walk in the woods near the hotel.  Some weary ones slept in and took a breather from the rigors of successive days of brisk long walks, long times standing in Church service, relentless sightseeing and late-night revels around town or in the hotel’s “Garage Bar”.
In the late afternoon everyone gathered at the Spaso House, in the old Arbat district.  This elegant 1913 NeoClassical mansion, originally built by a prominent Russian industrialist, has been the American Ambassador’s residence since 1933 and has been the venue of many an extravagant ambassadorial fĂȘte.  Stepan, during his Fulbright scholarship, had been in communication with several of the staff including Ambassador John Huntsman, and had been given a significant State Department grant to help fund this YRC Russian Tour.  The YRC was invited…

Rock on

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by Zosia Caes
The day started off with a sound lesson for the undergraduate contingent: three hours on a bus is not the same as another three of sleep. Their three AM trek to the nearby woods and shwarma stand was cruelly met with a wake-up two hours later for a bus to rural Rostov, on which young choristers curled into speed-deprived and slightly-hungover balls vainly trying to catch up on sleep. An hour in we stocked up on gas station delicacies, and forged on to the Rostov Kremlin. The 11th century cathedral looked the worse for wear, with scaffolding running up the sides and great holes where icons and sturdier stone were once found. Yet, there was beauty in such imperfection. And it seems that similar sentiments were held toward the performance of the YRC’s “liturgy crew” by the faithful, as they wore pious smiles despite us reinventing the sounds of the Orthodox Liturgy with great liberty and reckless abandon in traditional style.

While the “lit crew” pressed on, the remainder of …

Saint Petersburg

by Andrew Scott

On this rest day a group of choristers, myself included, decided to travel to St. Petersburg and explore the city. We boarded a sleeper train for an overnight ride to the former Russian capital. It was an exciting journey, filled with lackluster sleep and bunk beds that were too small for my above-average height. We made it to St. Petersburg early in the morning and immediately set out into the city. We admired the wide boulevards, the intricate facades of the Savior on the Spilled Blood church, and the KFCs which were along our path.

The most important part of our walk, however, was its destination: the Hermitage. An intricate complex of buildings, the Hermitage contains a truly massive collection of artwork. We were treated to a free tour of part of the Hermitage, a sign of our growing clout (and a tour originally meant for two people, not fifteen, but nevermind that). The most interesting part of the tour was the well protected Gold and Diamond Rooms. They are filled …

Back to Our Roots

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by Stepan Sveshnikov
After a morning rehearsal we all headed to the Red Square. We wanted to recreate that famous photo in front of Saint Basil’s Cathedral and Emma Kazaryan, our videographer, wanted to film us singing in Red Square, and an echo and tribute to the old black and white footage of the Mickiewicz chorus gathering a public crowd.
The photo – as you can see – was a success. If we manage to produce an album from our four recordings, it will make a splendid cover.

We intended to sing on Red Square next, but because of a festival and a security drill we couldn’t get onto the square, so we sang off to the side, on the road that leads down to Saint Basil’s. A bit nervously at first, but with more confidence as a crowd gathered (half Chinese tourists half Russians) and the police showed no sign of intervening. Our spirituals received applause, as did Poidu li and Borodino. People in the crowd sang along, and one person even walked up to sing with us (nobody noticed but me).
After, pe…