Tuesday, July 3, 2012

How Lace and Butter Can Time Travel

So this weekend, after many of us stayed up all night listening to manic life stories, we decided the best possible idea was to take a two and a half hour car trip to the city of Vologda. Thankfully, we guilted Sveta, our translator from heaven into coming with us. A decision she would later deeply regret.

Upon arrival, we learned that it was the town's 865th birthday. Towns here are OLD, guys. Yaroslavl is 1,002. How did we know this? Because we stopped RIGHT IN FRONT OF A PARADE. Like first car at the stop light of the intersecting parade route. Hands down the best part of it was the float filled with Russian brides.

Even though initially we went there to see the lace factory and museum of forgotten things, we stumbled upon a group of people in what looked like just one big party. It was, but the party was a combo of a renaissance fair and a town celebration and a whole lot of weird. Then we found out Becky was obsessed with the renaissance as she LOST HER MIND and went sprinting down the field and straight into some kind of jousting ring.

As we continued to wander the city and wrangle Becky in, the renaissance fair only got bigger but by that point we were on a ravenous quest to find food. Thank god for Russian pastries and the ability to act things out like it's a sport. I've never seen a stranger smattering of people and entertainment in all of my life. A giant ampitheater was set up in the town square where acts from a spinning teacup dance of small children to strange traditional singing took place. This entertainment even included street performers such as the Russian renaissance dance troupe (which looks a lot like German dance) which featured singing and dancing young children (including two boys who would have been perfect matches for Teagan and Lydia in their little German and Russian outfits). I don't think my words can possibly do justice to what was happening or how horrified the look on Sveta's face was that she had spent her Saturday off leading her group of obnoxious Americans through what had turned into the strangest city on earth.

We visted the museum of lace which was probably the most beautiful thin I've seen in Russia thus far. Each piece was handmade and some of them spanned entire walls.

After a walk filled with boats of dancing old people, questionable meat pies, graceful swan impersonations, and something called "kettle ball dancing" outside a log fortress, we were on our way to the museum of forgotten things. It turned out to be inside what looked like someone's old house and should really have been called the museum of hilarious old portraits and a haunted piano.

Thankfully, we all had the car ride back to decompress and try and figure out what had happened to us... or in Lauren's case try to figure out the town's "butter and lace conspiracy." How could the town use both of these things and why would they pick them to be famous for?! The world may never know.

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