More than two months have passed since my return from Russia, but I have yet to write about this very personal journey of mine to the Mecca of ballet. Only two months have passed since my return from Russia, but now the very streets that I walked in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, are "occupied" by hundreds of thousands of Russians protesting against election fraud and general corruption. The passage of time is and will forever be a mysterious duality: A blink of an eye feels like ages ago.
It is amazing how quickly matters can change. It is amazing how two months ago, I left Russia with the impression that politics was dead, and the culture of corruption so entrenched that the belief in the people's power to effect change had been extinguished into indifference. Now, while watching the action from the sidelines, I realize this indifference, or lack of desire, was in actuality a latent desire-- asleep, but not dead.
And now suddenly, something, someone, or perhaps the spirit of the times has caused this sleeping thing to wake and rise in droves of hundreds of thousands of Russians rallying under the Kremlin walls and across the Siberian tundra. How quickly matters can change.
And yet how steadfast other aspects of life appear to be. Ballet still has a hold on me, and no matter the politics of the country, I will always look back upon my brief 12-day sojourn in Russia with fondness and romance, as a place of hospitable hosts, a fascinating and beautiful underground network of trains, and of course, a first-class experience in ballet education.
I should explain that ballet was the reason I went to Russia in the first place. My name is Angelina. I am a 27-year-old woman who discovered ballet only two years ago, but took it up with a passion and rigor that at one point bordered upon obsession (but no longer, I like to believe...) This story of my love for ballet is an ongoing one that neither begins nor ends with my journey into Russia, which is but a few measures of an ongoing tune; a single movement in an ongoing score; an adagio, say...
It is amazing how quickly matters can change. It is amazing how two months ago, I left Russia with the impression that politics was dead, and the culture of corruption so entrenched that the belief in the people's power to effect change had been extinguished into indifference. Now, while watching the action from the sidelines, I realize this indifference, or lack of desire, was in actuality a latent desire-- asleep, but not dead.
And now suddenly, something, someone, or perhaps the spirit of the times has caused this sleeping thing to wake and rise in droves of hundreds of thousands of Russians rallying under the Kremlin walls and across the Siberian tundra. How quickly matters can change.
And yet how steadfast other aspects of life appear to be. Ballet still has a hold on me, and no matter the politics of the country, I will always look back upon my brief 12-day sojourn in Russia with fondness and romance, as a place of hospitable hosts, a fascinating and beautiful underground network of trains, and of course, a first-class experience in ballet education.
I should explain that ballet was the reason I went to Russia in the first place. My name is Angelina. I am a 27-year-old woman who discovered ballet only two years ago, but took it up with a passion and rigor that at one point bordered upon obsession (but no longer, I like to believe...) This story of my love for ballet is an ongoing one that neither begins nor ends with my journey into Russia, which is but a few measures of an ongoing tune; a single movement in an ongoing score; an adagio, say...
