Halloween, Ulan-Ude Style

Despite our dear nearly-departed president's claims to the contrary, our greatest cultural export isn't freedom/democracy/liberty. I think it might well be Halloween, which I've been able to celebrate not once, but twice so far this year (with an invitation pending for a third!). And it's not even October 31st yet.

Last Friday, Carolyn, the third in our little trio of Amerikanky, and I were invited to judge the annual Halloween competition between English classes at Buryat State University. I'll admit to a little trepidation at first, mostly because the Russians feel strongly that there always has to be a winner in something like this. Since I grew up in the warm fuzzy days of supportive education, I want everyone to win. At least everyone (including me!) got cake at the end.

The contest was amazing. And, consequently, really hard to judge. The students sang, danced, performed skits, made stunning posters, and came dressed up in extravagant costumes that demonstrated how much more goth Russian Halloween is than our Halloween. The most impressive thing that I heard was a complete rewrite of an entire verse of Pink Floyd's "Another Brick In the Wall" (for obvious reasons, "We don't need no education/teacher leave those kids alone" wasn't so appropriate) sung in unison by 15 teenagers with really funny mock British accents. The most impressive thing I saw was a guy who wore an enormous jack-o-lantern on his head; it was so large that he had to have a friend lead him around the hall because he couldn't see. And then there was the trivia contest - they could name the architect of Westminster Cathedral and the capital of Wales, but the question that stumped everyone was the one about the name of the American national anthem.

The next night, Kate had Carolyn and I, a couple of her Buryat friends, and the ever-helpful head of the International Center, along with their wives and kids, over for a little party. We broke out the markers and construction paper and made decorations. Kate even found a pumpkin to carve, albeit a green one. We bobbed for apples (yours truly was first up - I did a much better job than when I was 6), and even had an ersatz trick-or-treat that resulted in my having to sing "I'm a Little Teapot," complete with gestures, in order to get my candy. There's nothing like a minor embarrassment to make chocolate taste better.

But in the middle of all the joking and laughter there were a couple of solemn moments that made me very happy to be here. Two of Kate's guests gave beautiful and classically long toasts, one in Russian and the other in Buryat. They are both academics, and their toasts impressed on me just how isolated from the world they sometimes feel living in an out-of-the-way place like this and not having the salaries or connections to get out into the wider world. That, in turn, made me feel incredibly lucky to have the opportunity that I have and the chance to meet people like them who are so eager to welcome foreigners and exchange ideas.

Still no serious snow, and still solidly above freezing in the daytime, apparently unlike both Montana and Minneapolis. And yet I keep getting chided, by everyone from my landlady to my Russian teacher to the security guard at the archive, for my "inappropriately light" coat. As I've been told, "This is Siberia, you know."