Joy of All Who Sorrow

                I managed to wake up after 11 today (oops? There was no class!) and engage in an ill-conceived trip to a market on the outskirts of Petersburg… it was quite interesting. We were looking for souvenirs, and one of the girls found this place… I suppose she assumed it covered everything. However, it turned out to be where real Russians shop – as in, all clothes and food (including gigantic slabs of meat hanging in windows). Four of us turned around immediately, and got back to Nevsky. As disdainful as I tend to be of the rich Russia and Christian Dior shops, poor Russia is a hell of a lot scarier. Anyway, we got to Nevsky, and everyone else went to Дом Книги to look around. I’ve decided that that place is far too dangerous for me (if you don’t know Russian, it’s a gigantic book store – if I had my way, I’d bring half the store home), so I went across the street to the Kazan Cathedral (housing the one and only icon Our Lady of Kazan), to chill with the Theotokos. Because I do stuff like that. I promise, in terms of how bizarre I can get, this is pretty low on the scale. Anyway, it was fun. I got to spend more time with her, and I think I’m going back for liturgy on Sunday (can you imagine? The closest church to me, within 10 minutes walking distance, is the seat of the bishop of Petersburg, with the Kazan Theotokos in it!).

                Our group then congregated for a Dostoevsky house tour (day three of Dostoevsky… can my life get any better?), where our tour guide was a true babushka (actual quote: “his daughter later tried to write, but she was not talented”). I found myself grateful that Dostoevsky was generally poor – his house was very small. Though I enjoy visiting these places associated with authors, I hate the guided tours. I really wish we could just read an information sheet and walk around, and perhaps have a person there to answer questions if needed. Anyway, interesting point – the guide pointed out Dostoevsky’s icon in his study/bedroom. She translated it as the icon of the Mother of God, “Glory of All Who Sorrow,” but the English-speaking Orthodox world tends to call it “Joy of All Who Sorrow” (I just confirmed through google that these are not, in fact, two different icons). The two names really give a different perspective on the icon, and I think I tend to prefer “joy” (though that is perhaps because I’ve had far longer to think about it). Is the Mother of God not truly the last hope of man? Though men may suffer in the world, and weep on their iniquities, she grants gladness to those who come to her in helplessness and supplication (I also just looked on wikipedia… the actual Russian name seems to be “joy” (радость).

                And the day concluded with my last taste of high culture in the city, the Tchaikovsky opera “Queen of Spades,” based on Pushkin’s short story of the same title. I absolutely loved the performance. We had box seats, which were 1400 rubles (about $50) with the student discount. I believe the full price is about twice that. The orchestra was spectacular, and the set looked liked they spent their entire budget on it. That being said, however… it lasted exactly four hours and forty minutes. At least an hour of this was in intermissions. I was not dedicated enough to the concept of the opera to be there until almost midnight. The performers were also on the older side for the characters being portrayed, but that can be forgiven… I imagine it’s hard to find attractive young men with operatic skill. Best aspect: there was an imperial box. It was, of course, unoccupied, but I kept scretly hoping the Tsar would show up. It was kind of like that secret wish everyone had to get a letter from Hogwarts for their eleventh birthday… only better. Because this would be the Tsar. At the opera.