(A Friend's Journal on visiting Moscow for
Nina's 20th anniversary gala at the Bolshoi Theater, December 5-10, 2001)
With Nina’s
twentieth anniversary gala at the Bolshoi (Dec. 7) as a centerpiece, a Friend of Nina
planned her very first trip to Russia in early December. Much research was spent on the internet,
finding airfare and hotel discounts, as well as ground transportation arrangements. With a
majority of the American public still wary of flying due to the events of what is now
commonly referred to as “9/11”, it was relatively easy to find a well-priced
nonstop flight (Delta) from New York to Moscow. And, courtesy of a great website find,
hotels-moscow.ru, affordable accommodations at Arbat Hotel, just off Moscow’s Bohemian
pedestrian section, were expeditiously made. The website staff also quickly provided visa
support papers and arranged for an English-speaking driver to pick me up at the airport.
On December 4, equipped with snow boots, fur coat, hats and gloves, all incongruous in a
New York City still enjoying temperatures in the high sixties °F (about 20°C) yours truly departed JFK Airport
with no incident.
December
5
Moscow’s Sheremetevo 2
Airport is relatively small, so there was no long walk to passport/immigration;
formalities were strictly but quickly carried out. Checked luggage appeared at the
carousels with no delay and to my relief, a pleasant young man holding up a card with my
name on it was waiting just outside the doors. He was quick to help with my suitcase and
we were soon off to central Moscow, about an hour’s ride away.
Alex, my driver
spoke excellent English (I explained to him that I knew barely three words in Russian),
having spent part of his early years in Australia, where his father had been attached to the embassy. Our ride
into Moscow
was uneventful; the scenery consisting of the usual dismal elements of exurbia, except
covered with a fine mantle of snow. I also noticed that most cars were covered with an
inordinate amount of mud, and Alex explained to me that the soil of Moscow has an inexorable
tendency to turn into mush. Thoughts of Napoleon’s retreat from the Russian capital
flitted through my sleep-deprived mind…
The Arbat Hotel
turned out to be a very efficiently run establishment, with clean, spacious,
high-ceilinged rooms and what looked like newly renovated bathrooms. (Friends later told
us this was where Communist Party officials usually stayed when attending meetings in Moscow.) Security was good,
and car service was easily arranged with the reception staff. Almost a luxury was the
generous buffet breakfast during which a very accomplished harpist eased the
traveler’s’ groggy passage into Moscow time. (It was somewhat surprising to wake up my first morning
there, look out the window and realize that the moon was still up at 7:45 in the morning!)
A bigger surprise
awaited, however. When I talked to Nina on my arrival, she hinted that all was not well.
She had sustained an injury and was receiving therapy.
December 6
The next day,
further conversations with Nina and her husband, Gregory, made it almost certain that Nina
would not be able to dance at her own gala. By this time, many more of her friends had
flown in from far flung corners of the world, and those closest to Nina urged her not to
take chances with further injury by dancing.
There was nothing
one could do but wait, hope, and see Moscow. I arranged for a private tour guide (from the well regarded
Patriarshiy Dom Tours) to show me around the heart of old Moscow. It being Thursday,
the Kremlin was closed to the public, but my knowledgeable and accommodating guide, Felix,
was able to walk me around most sites in my itinerary. At my request, we took the famed
Moscow Metro from the nearest stop, Smolenskaya, to one of the busiest and most imposing
stations, Ploshchad Revolutsii, so I could learn the ropes of taking the subway. Moscow’s system is
famed for its efficiency---a train arrives almost every two minutes, at most--- and the
stations themselves could double as ballrooms in both size and splendor of decoration. The
Ploshchad Revolutsii, true to its name, was filled with life-size sculptures of idealized
figures---what the Communist Party would have all Russians believe were the achievements
of the revolution. I wondered what current citizens make of them. Other stations are less
politically controversial, being decorated simply by ornate marble facings, fanciful
moldings and startling chandeliers!
We took the very
steep escalator to the surface for my first glimpse of the Bolshoi Theater----the white
building shone in the winter sunlight---and on its façade hung a big banner announcing
Nina’s gala. It was a wonderful sight. Whispering history into my ear, Felix and I
circumnavigated the icy streets towards Red Square---pausing to enter the jewel-like Kazan Cathedral
(reconstructed in 1990-93, according to my guide book) and admiring one of the main gates.
From a vantage point, we enjoyed a panoramic view of St. Basil’s Cathedral. Moscow’s most famous
landmark did not disappoint. As familiar as it is on posters and travel guides, the actual
building remains astonishing in all its fantastic jumble of spiral domes, arches and
colors. That day, the bright sunshine made the whole ensemble sparkle, while a dense plume
of cloud provided a picturesque background. (A different angle proved that the
“cloud” was steam from a heating generator across the river.)
Another landmark,
the department store GUM, provided respite from the cold, as well as insight into the new Russia. While this large
shopping arcade was infamous during Soviet times for having nothing to sell, now it seems
to have embraced all the famous Western labels to its bosom. A shopper accustomed to the
temptations of Saks Fifth Avenue would feel right at home. Cafes and restaurants provide fuel for
the weary.
Emerging at the
other end of GUM’s, we at last approached the great cathedral, the formal name of
which is the Cathedral of the Intercession at-the-Moat. It was commissioned by Ivan the
Terrible to celebrate the fall of the Mongol stronghold of Kazan in 1552. (St. Basil
was one of those “holy fools” beloved and venerated by Russian Orthodox
believers; a chapel was added to the building to house his remains.) Familiar as I was
with the spacious naves of Gothic cathedrals, the interior of St. Basil’s was a
surprise. It comprises of relatively tiny spaces, each a chapel dedicated to a particular
saint or event, connected by colorfully painted corridors. Light only streamed in from the
windows below the high domes of each chapel. The approach to the main Chapel of the
Intercession was a challenging set of high steps. It is difficult to see the figures on
the iconostases, but they looked impressive in the dim light. Perhaps because St.
Basil’s is operated as a museum, it did not exude the atmosphere of holiness other
churches have.
Our walk took us
past the Old English Court, while Felix filled me in on how the English cleverly negotiated
trade agreements in the 17th century with the reigning tsar. Our goal was the
Palace of the Romanov Boyars; alas, a school group was in residence, presumably learning
history, so we were able to view only the exterior. We were likewise left to admire only
the impressive façade of the Church of the Trinity in Nikitniki, which is currently being
renovated. Another ride on the metro brought us to the newly reconstructed Cathedral of
Christ the Redeemer, originally built to commemorate Moscow’s deliverance from Napoleon’s invasion. It was
destroyed in 1931, Stalin having planned to replace it with a grandiose Palace of the
Soviets. When that plan was abandoned, the site was developed as a municipal swimming
pool! The reconstructed church once more dominates a prominent junction of the Arbatskaya
section of Moscow. It is a splendid building inside and out, but naturally---in
comparison to the older churches---it lacks the gravity of age.
In the afternoon, I
met with a Japanese journalist who had come to cover the gala for her magazine. She had
resourcefully found out that a cousin of Nina’s owned a Georgian restaurant
(Souleiko) in Moscow, so we went for a late lunch there---a fitting prelude to
another memorable Georgian meal later that week.
Just when I thought
I had had enough surprises, another one popped up around midnight. My American
hotel-mate, who also happens to be a good friend of Andris Liepa, invited me to join them
for a late supper. So off we went to, of all places---the Starlite Diner---an
honest-to-goodness American 1950s style, chrome-clad diner, right in the heart of Moscow. I had met Andris
during his previous visits to New York, and who can forget their first sight of Nina and Andris dancing
together? (Mine was in 1987 - at the
Metropolitan Opera.) It was a magical partnership and their fans still mourn its premature
termination. Andris is retired from ballet now, and is busy producing shows. At dinner, he
told us he had recently come to an agreement with the media giant, Universal, to
distribute his film, Return of the Firebird.
So, we will all get a final look at Nina and Andris, together in The Firebird. The DVD is slated for release in Russia this month.
December 7
With practically no
hope of seeing Nina dance that night, another U.S.-based Nina fan and I spent the morning
viewing Russian art at the famed Tretyakov Gallery, which displays its remarkable
collection in chronological order. Just viewing the pictures gives you a stunning overview
of Russian history. On leaving the museum, we walked around. Enchanted by the beautiful,
snow capped views of the Kremlin towers, my companion and I strayed from the usual taxi
hubs, and before we knew it, we were shivering in the cold in a riverside park, with no
transportation in sight. As we had been instructed by another friend to do, we started
waving our hands, hailing any car that might offer a ride. Sure enough, after a few
minutes, a private car stopped for us; we told the well-dressed young man where we wanted
to go (actually, we just kept repeating our hotel name and the street it was on), and we
had our ride! (We had by then learned that about 300 rubles seemed the going rate for any
ride within central Moscow.)
Warned about
intermittent traffic jams, we arranged to have a car pick us up at 5:30---so of course
there was no traffic and we arrived almost an hour before the 7:00 p.m. curtain.
Fortunately, they open the doors early at the Bolshoi, so we didn’t have to wait long
in the cold. It was fun to observe and participate in the rituals of the theater. The
ushers make little rips in your ticket then hand them back to you (great for souvenirs).
They then offer you an array of brochures, including the evening’s program; there are
also albums of Bolshoi history and lists of upcoming presentations, all for a modest
price. The snack bars open before curtain time, so hurried patrons can have open-faced
salmon and red or black caviar sandwiches, along with a full array of beverages. It is
obligatory to check coats and big packages before being admitted to the auditorium, and
here again they check your ticket to make sure you are handing your coat to the assigned
coatroom. At last you enter the great white, red and gold hall and at once you feel that
this place is special. History seems to emanate from the six tiers of the auditorium. The
chandeliers dazzle. You are charmed by the individual armchairs that accommodate each
viewer on the orchestra level. Since Nina seated us in the first row, we couldn’t
help noticing that the stage curtain still bears the CCCP initials of the old regime.
The program confirmed that our ballerina has
heeded advice and is not dancing. People all around us are distraught, although most
friends had had an inkling of this disappointment. Nina appeared before the curtain
to explain her condition and apologize to the public. Her colleagues from the Bolshoi and
American Ballet Theater are courageously filling in for her. (Later, I learned that Nina
also appeared on TV that evening to explain her absence from the gala.)
The first half was
comprised of Act I of Don Quixote, with Anna
Antonicheva as Kitri, Andrei Uvarov as Basil and Maria Alexandrova as Mercedes. The
energetic forces of the Bolshoi Ballet showed themselves to be in great form, under the
baton of the masterful Alexander Sotnikov. ABT’s Paloma Herrera and Jose Manuel
Carreño followed with Balanchine’s Sylvia
Pas de Deux. Other numbers included excerpts from Bournonville’s Flower Festival at Genzano (Anastasia Goriacheva,
Andrei Bolotin), La Sylphide (Inna Petrova,
Sergei Filin), plus Balanchine’s Tchaikovsky
Pas de Deux (Herrera with Giuseppe Picone. The rousing finale was a truly exciting
performance of Ratmansky’s international hit, Dreams
About Japan---with most of Nina’s parts simply excised. All the participating
artists showed their love and respect for Nina by dancing with utmost virtuosity and
feeling. Uvarov was particularly fierce and playful in Dreams, while the Bournonville dancers were so
good, Frank Andersen, the Royal Danish Ballet
artistic director-designate, was reported to be ready to steal them all away.
Flowers, speeches and confetti
filled the stage at the conclusion, of course, but that was not the end of the evening
for many. The Nina lovefest continued at (another surprise) that same Georgian restaurant
the journalist and I had visited the day before. The party included probably all the
international guests, almost all the artists and musicians and Nina’s significant
others, including her parents, who came from Tbilisi. And what a party! Table hopping among the Houstonians, New
Yorkers, Londoners, etc. was rampant and joyful. Georgian music and a capella singing
added to the general gaiety. Alexei Fadeyechev arrived early, and we conversed about his
new company, the Moscow Dance Theater. Nina arrived late (from other fêtes hosted by gala
sponsors) and quickly announced that though she may dance another twenty years, she will
never again have a gala with her name on it! We all competed in reassuring her we loved
her whether she danced or not.
Of the food, I seem
to remember tasting at least a dozen appetizers, including roast suckling pig and various
wonderfully spicy eggplant concoctions. Suffice it to say that at 2:00 a.m., we were just
starting on the main courses (including a wonderful, garlicky chicken dish)! Those who
stayed to the end reported that the party finally broke up at 5:30.
December 8
Determined to see
more of Moscow and environs, I made myself get up early enough the next morning to make a
trip to the famed Trinity Monastery of St. Sergius at Sergiev Posad, about 47 miles from
Moscow. On the way, Felix filled me in on the history of this religious center, which
intimately intertwines the rise of Russian Orthodoxy and the formation of the Russian
state. It was an eye-opening lecture, and gave more meaning to all the sights I saw later
in the day. The first view of the walled monastery complex, from a snowy promontory just
outside, is truly awesome. Even from that distance, the various styles of architecture of
the most prominent buildings are intriguingly obvious. But what stands out most in my
memory are the blue and gold domes of what I later learned is the Cathedral of the
Dormition (Assumption), the monastery’s main cathedral. At the gate, we were met by
our official guide (a novice monk who it turned out is also a poet, who had spent some
time at a writers’ community in upstate New
York!) He completed my initiation to the history of
the place, and the various buildings donated by rulers of Russia from every epoch.
Not all of these
buildings are open to the public, but even an incomplete tour gives the visitor an inkling
of the importance the monastery plays, even today, in the lives of believers. The
candle-lit interiors were filled with pilgrims eager to view important icons, touch relics
and offer prayers. Even a non-believer has to be touched by such faith. The contrast
between the bright exteriors and dimly lit interiors of Russian churches was most stark
here, perhaps because the snow-covered ground gives startling brilliance to the
pastel-painted edifices.
An anecdote related
by Felix sticks in my mind. One of the buildings, a charmingly blue-painted circular
baroque one called the Church of the Virgin of Smolensk, apparently served as a sort of
prison for the future Catherine the Great. She was kept there by her mother-in-law,
Empress Elizabeth, to learn her Orthodox catechism. The young princess apparently was
denied even her meals until she could recite her day’s lessons by heart. She had her
revenge years later by not donating a single ruble to the monastery!
The trip to and
from St. Sergius, with a leisurely lunch and a slight detour to Radonezh, the saint’s
birthplace, took seven hours and was well worth it. However, the highlight of the day was
still to come, as a company of friends were invited to Nina’s place for dinner. What
a treat to see Nina and Gregory’s apartment in Moscow---with art-filled rooms overlooking the river. Nina proudly
showed us her “ballet study” where custom designed closets housed all her tutus
and other costumes in orderly array. A roomy corner of the apartment also sported a short
barre.
After dinner, we
viewed tapes of Nina’s most recent works. In November, Moscow Dance Theater gave the
premiere of Leah, a piece based on The Dybbuk, with choreography by Alexei Ratmansky
and music by Leonard Bernstein. Nina danced the title role, with Giuseppe Picone in the
role of the lover/ malevolent spirit. The new ballet was very well received in Moscow, and another
performance was planned for late January as of this writing. It is a vividly dramatic
piece and gives Nina and Giuseppe strong character parts. The effectively color-saturated
settings should be wonderful to see live. Other
dances we saw on tape included the lyrically gorgeous Green by Stanton Welch, a piece any company would
be fortunate to have. (See Photos by Igor Zakharkin)
December 9
More snow started
falling this morning, topping up the former accumulation with a fresh layer. Finally
tuckered out from sightseeing, I spent the morning just window shopping on Arbat Street, a pedestrian
walk with many antique shops, cafes and street vendors offering the usual
souvenirs---meticulously painted lacquer boxes, nesting doll sets, hats, scarves etc. In
the end, I bought only a subtly tinted watercolor of a wintry scene, with the domes of a
neighborhood church peeping above snow-covered houses. I will think of my first visit to Moscow every time I see it.
That evening, we
went to the Bolshoi again---to see Vasiliev’s Anyuta.
I found the production enchanting, although the ballerina in the title role, a very
capable dancer, did not have the requisite charm to bring off the character. But then, I
have the tape of Maximova… I was more impressed by the various male dancers,
especially Gennadiy Yanin as the husband, Modest Alexeyevich. Alexei Barsegyan and Rinat
Arifulin, both tall dancers, also caught my eye in the roles of the Student and Artynov,
respectively. The orchestra was again outstanding, conducted by Fuat Mansurov.
This last night was
capped by another meeting at the Starlite Diner with Andris. This time, we were joined by
his wife, Katya, an ex-Kirov dancer who now directs fashion shows. In fact, she was
overseeing one the next day---for the house of Kenzo. Meanwhile, Andris was putting the
last touches to a gala honoring his father, Maris, who was also a star dancer of the
Bolshoi. But the main event of this meeting was viewing Nina Alovert’s portfolio of
Andris’s photos, from the start of his career. He is planning to have a photo album
published in Moscow. Watch out for it.
December 10
Another snowfall
accompanies my mid-morning departure from the city. The pre-boarding inspection is tighter
in Moscow, and
I have to unpack my in-flight bag to show the inspectors a harmless metal instrument which
showed up on the scanner screen. But all is well, and I pass. In the lounge, I meet a
fellow Nina pilgrim from New York who has caught a cold. She gratefully accepts some Comtrex from
my emergency kit. The flight, thankfully, was uneventful. My first trip to Moscow certainly was not. I
will remember it all my life.
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