Russian New Year 2011
The final hours of 2010 involved hibernating with my beloved computer in the guest bedroom of my parents' house, while a familiar chaos engulfed my otherwise civilized family. There was shouting, pouting, door-slamming and other attempts to cajole each family member to participate in packing two cars for a short trip.
Each New Year's Eve, we celebrate with family friends who also have a Russian-American background. We have one live-in grandmother, and they have one live-in grandmother. We have two kids, and they have two kids. They have one American spouse and one Russian spouse, and so do we. I am the in-between, between generations, between cultures; a perfect documentarian.
We feasted on caviar, smoked fish, olives, two cakes, mushroom-stuffed pies, salads (though that recipe calls for bologna, but we use chicken).
I cut up the Olivie salad above. The mushroom-stuffed pies below are something I look forward to each year.
We toasted to the passing year, and greeted the new year in traditional Russian style (which involves toasting, sipping vodka, taking a bite of the caviar sandwich, and taking a second sip of vodka).
The most anticipated part of the evening for me - after continuous eating, drinking and chatting - is the singing. I don't know how to say this without sounding quaint, so I'll just say it: I love when a group of people sing along to guitar, when everyone knows the words. I taped about 11 songs using my phone, and of course it refuses to connect with my computer, so you'll hear them another time. Maybe.
Gori, Gori, Moya Zvezda (Shine On, My Star) has been one of my favorites since I was little. It's a romance ballad that's over 200 years old, and was beloved by the White Army. The version we recorded wasn't half bad, so if technology cooperates later this week, I'll link to our rendition.
In an effort to walk off our gluttony, we walked around the neighborhood and saw this snow family.
I am grateful to a new beginning, to spending the first day of the new year, new decade with loved ones who bridge the divide between two of my cultures. I am thankful that I rallied and joined my family and our family friends to eat, drink and be merry together.
Each New Year's Eve, we celebrate with family friends who also have a Russian-American background. We have one live-in grandmother, and they have one live-in grandmother. We have two kids, and they have two kids. They have one American spouse and one Russian spouse, and so do we. I am the in-between, between generations, between cultures; a perfect documentarian.
We feasted on caviar, smoked fish, olives, two cakes, mushroom-stuffed pies, salads (though that recipe calls for bologna, but we use chicken).
I cut up the Olivie salad above. The mushroom-stuffed pies below are something I look forward to each year.
We toasted to the passing year, and greeted the new year in traditional Russian style (which involves toasting, sipping vodka, taking a bite of the caviar sandwich, and taking a second sip of vodka).
The most anticipated part of the evening for me - after continuous eating, drinking and chatting - is the singing. I don't know how to say this without sounding quaint, so I'll just say it: I love when a group of people sing along to guitar, when everyone knows the words. I taped about 11 songs using my phone, and of course it refuses to connect with my computer, so you'll hear them another time. Maybe.
Gori, Gori, Moya Zvezda (Shine On, My Star) has been one of my favorites since I was little. It's a romance ballad that's over 200 years old, and was beloved by the White Army. The version we recorded wasn't half bad, so if technology cooperates later this week, I'll link to our rendition.
In an effort to walk off our gluttony, we walked around the neighborhood and saw this snow family.
I am grateful to a new beginning, to spending the first day of the new year, new decade with loved ones who bridge the divide between two of my cultures. I am thankful that I rallied and joined my family and our family friends to eat, drink and be merry together.