RAJI: On Location in Rostov, Russia

Pleasure is the Absence of Pain in Russia

Entry by Jason Boog

Yesterday, my Russian partner and I went to the military recruiting station so we could drum up a couple statistics for our story. This fresh-faced kid in a lumpy bulletproof vest took us up to the top of the building and we met an honest-to-god colonel with stars and such on his shoulder straps.

Our interview lasted about 30 seconds, and it was so rudimentary that I translated all by myself: “No. Sorry. No. Statistics something-or-other, no. Sorry. No. Thank you.” Elena zipped her mouth closed and squinted through her librarian-glasses; my Russian journalist buddy had contracted my American impatience and self-righteousness like those strains of chicken flu that everybody worries about catching in foreign countries. “We need to get a piece of paper with a stamp,” she said.

Exist no Potatoes Here

Entry by Kate Sheppard

It’s really quite a study in cultural differences here. There have been many small encounters, but the one that makes for the best story was our pursuit of food today.

We arrived at the first cafe we spotted on the Don today, a pleasant looking place shaped like a pirate ship, with waitresses dressed as buccaneers. After consulting Riva, the one girl in our group who speaks Russian, we discovered that there weren’t many food items on the menu, but there was pizza. We asked the waitress for pizza. She returned several minutes later.

What I've Learned in Russia

Entry by Ashley Mathews

I learned that ordering and receiving French fries in Russia may involve tears and begging, and even then the waitress might say, “If you want French fries so much, go to McDonald’s.”

In Russia, every source is like dealing with the New York Department of Sanitation. If you don’t have a stamp, a seal, a receipt, a shot of vodka and letterhead you’re not getting anything from anyone anywhere ever.

I learned that no matter how cute you think the stray dog, “Scruffy,” might be, “Scruffy” doesn’t think you’re cute back. Scruffy’s new nickname is “Bitey.”

Russian vodka will burn a hole in your throat, put hair on your chest and scrape the skin off your knee. In that order.

Even Easy Questions are Hard to Ask in Russia

Entry by Noria Litaker

A couple of days ago my partner Karina and I, as well as our interpretor Katya hopped on a bus and headed for an interview. What the pair had failed to mention was they didn’t know exactly where the were going. After getting off the bus “in the right district” we started to wander in what seemed like the right direction. I went along for a few minutes and then asked curiously, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” They looked at each other and exchanged a brief flurry of Russian. “Can we please ask someone where the school is?” I said hesitantly.

From Russia, With Love

Entry by Varunan Ananda

My most memorable experience in Russia thus far came from an interview I conducted with a pair of local, Rostovite skinheads. At the end of my interview with these gentlemen, in which we sat down and discussed their ideologies over a few beers, my final question for them related to how they felt about being interviewed by a reporter who wasn’t white. They apparently didn’t mind, telling me that I came to Russia intending to stay for a short time, would soon return to America, and would not end up “spoiling the Russian nation” by marrying a Russian girl. To that, all I could do was smile and think, “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t tell them about Sveta!” Cheers, comrades!

"It's Russia"

Entry by Liisa Rebasoo

“It’s Russia.” Everything here seems inexplicable, but if you’re Russian it makes perfect sense. Interviewing a music journalist about CD piracy, I realized my American naivete became a block when trying to understand the Russian way. As the journalist sat there fiddling with his lighter and lighting a new cigarette seconds after he finished his last, he laughed before responding to each of my questions. I wasn’t understanding the complexity of the music industry, asking more and more questions to bring clarity, and finally he said, “You can’t explain this to a foreigner.” My Russian journalist partner sat there, laughing because she already knew it all, while I drooped my head, wondering how to organize in my head the web of corruption that seems to surround everything. It’s not corruption though, it’s Russia.

I say this not to paint a blackened picture of this country. Like my interpreter said, the phrase “It’s Russia” isn’t meant only for the negative aspects of Russia that makes our lives as American journalists hard, but accounts for all facets of Russian culture that an American can’t understand and a Russian just can’t explain.

As an American, I won’t ever accept or understand the simple daily elements of life here that reflect a history of struggle, corruption and distrust. Somehow, despite the cultural divide, and most of the time, a lingual divide, I’ve found common life ideologies with the Russian friends I’ve made.

Rostov Theatre Tries to Usher In New Jazz Age

By Liisa Rebassoo

The articles below, the first assigned by the Institute professors, were reported and written during one day in Rostov. The purpose of the assignment was to introduce American students to the difficulties of reporting in a foreign country, and to aquaint Russian students with American deadline requirements. Students were required to find a newsworthy event on their own, and were then assigned an interpreter if necessary.

A sharp tink and the huge panoramic screen went blank, as the five people in the audience snickered and looked around, wondering what had happened. In the dark theater, some stood and stumbled on the uneven planks of the aisles, trying to grope the hard wooden seats and avoid the nails and staples precariously poking out. The red leather seat coverings hung off in strips, a faint reminder of the fallen power that built this national monument, a theater housing the fourth panoramic screen built in the Soviet Union in Rostov, Russia.

When the Rossiya—the Russian word for Russia—movie theater opened in 1959, buses filled the streets carrying people from all over the Rostov region, selling out the 950 seats.

“Every movie here was a bang. People begged for tickets,” said Ilya Rivoshlikoff, 72, the main engineer of the theater since its construction. Speaking very passionately, he sheepishly hid his hands behind his back and the missing fingertip he lost while working in the basement of the theater.

Modern Theatres Leave Rostov's Oldest Cinema Behind

By Ashley Matthews

ROSTOV-ON-DON, Russia — Every morning, Rostov-on-Don’s oldest movie theater, the Rossya, sleepily pries open its doors to greet the day. But, more often than not, the people of Rostov walk by without a glance, the ticket counter remains deserted and its 750 seats abandoned.

“We cannot even speak of competition with newer theaters because we’re so old,” said Ilya Krivoshlikoff, who has been the theater’s head engineer since it opened in 1959.

The Rossya’s tattered red vinyl seats, dingy curtains and warped floor boards speak little of its better days, more than 45 years ago, when it boasted the most advanced technological equipment available, two bands to perform concerts and the only panoramic movie screen in the region.

“When it opened, it was a very big event,” Krivoshlikoff said, peering out from under a tangle of salt and pepper eyebrows. “People from all over the Rostov region came here to watch movies — the street was full of buses that brought people.”

Now, the Rossya has fallen by the wayside, as privately owned facilities challenge the government-funded theater. The newer theaters’ flashing lights and plush seats serve as a beacon to young Russians who are eager to embrace modernity and progress.

A Stranger in a New Land

Enry by Joe Geraghty

I was shocked by the absence of other tourists in Rostov. In our month there
we met just two other Americans. This was my first travel experience where
I’ve truly been a complete outsider and it was an interesting way to spend
four weeks. I certainly got a sense of what it feels like to be an outsider
and, though I was sometimes uncomfortable with my status as a foreigner, I
certainly learned a great deal.

Some Thoughts

Posted by Jessica McCoy

I really got a lot out of this experience, both on a professional level
and a personal level. Reporting stories in a new place and new
journalistic climate showed me that the American way of doing journalism
isn’t the only way and in some cases may not be the best way. Working in
Russia required a new tenacity for securing worthwhile interviews, which
gave me an appreciation for journalists reporting in this type of
environment.