Russian American Rule of Law Consortium

Darlene Simoneau, my administrative assistant, drove me to Portland to meet the bus to Boston. Of course, everything at work came unraveled in the hour before I was to leave. I reluctantly delegated what I could and left the rest to when I returned.

We had to shift items in our luggage in order to make weight for the overseas flight on Lufthansa. Carol thoughtfully underpacked, so she was able to take on the ten-pound package of matted photos I packed for gifts. In exchange I took the medical supplies she was carrying for the Arkhangelsk hospital.

On the bus we met up with Terry MacTaggart, Chancellor of the University of Maine System, and he, I and John Brautigam had a great talk about the exchange.

We had a quick meal at Logan International Airport of burgers and beer, and went over the plans for the trip one last time. We headed out at 9:50 pm on the Airbus for Frankfurt.

The Church of the Resurrection

The flight was uneventful, except for one massive jolt of turbulence in the middle of the night that sent everyone scrambling for their seatbelts. We arrived in Frankfurt around 10:30 am local time, and transferred to another flight to St. Petersburg.

Temperatures in St. Petersburg hovered in the low 90’s when we arrived. We were taken by Sasha, our driver, to the home of Mila Andreyeva—just off Nevsky Prospect—where we were to spend the night before moving on to Arkhangelsk. Mila put on quite a spread of food for us, including sausage, jellied tongue, various cheeses, and among the finest potatoes I have ever had.

We took advantage of our presence in St. Petersburg to walk around the city. We enjoyed fireworks and a beverage by the river and—after touching the door of the house of Pushkin—headed to bed, even though it was still light out at 2:00 am.

We met for breakfast at 9:00 local time. Delicious cheeses, eggs, and coffee—and Mila worried over every detail. John and I set out vainly seeking an internet café; my plan had been to keep a live journal to post on the State website. This plan was thwarted by a lack of consistent internet access, but I continued to keep notes. We met up with Ray, Carol and Neale to change cash from dollars to rubles. I was able to change $1,100 to better than 29,000 rubles. Ray and Carol then went to find a place to register her visa while the rest of us toured up to the Church of the Resurrection, or the Church of Spilled Blood. An amazing place, and even more so that it has survived the ravages of modern history. The church was heavily damaged by shelling during WWII, and was woefully neglected during the Communist reign, being utilized mostly as a warehouse. Recent years have seen it almost entirely restored, and converted to a museum. It derives its name as the site of the spot where Czar Alexander II was murdered by an assassin in 1881; the actual pavement is preserved as a shrine in the back of the church, facing the altar. The church was built over the street and extends over one of the canals.

We met back up at Mila’s and loaded up to head to the airport. We briefly detoured to the memorial of the Siege of Leningrad; not my first time there, but always a powerful place to visit and contemplate. The siege lasted 900 days, from September 8, 1941 to January 27, 1944; ordered reduced to rubble by Hitler so that they would not have to feed the three million Russians living there, the city was subjected to relentless bombing and shelling. Over the course of the siege nearly 1.5 million citizens died of starvation, cold, and as a result of the bombing. Particularly poignant in the displays is a small scale with an actual daily bread ration of 4 grams that was allotted to citizens. The bread was made out of sawdust, glue, and whatever else could be scraped together. It is a town where you finish your meals.

We met in the lobby at 11:00 am. This being a weekend day, we were to explore the region just outside the city and visit the Siskiy Monastery. We stopped briefly for lunch supplies and made our way out. Stanislas Vtory and Ernest Belkrovin and his wife, Lida, joined us.

One of the interesting institutions of Russian life is the roadside picnic, where motorists will pull off the road and dine on pastries filled with fish and other lunch items. Tomatoes are an appreciated treat. This was a new wrinkle for me in the ongoing discovery of Russian hospitality.

The Siskiy Monastery is one of a million fascinating places in Russia. Dating to the 15th century, the founder was eventually found to be a saint and is buried in the chapel. Strange as it sounds, I was feeling unwell until we visited the chapel.

This was to be a good primer on what we were to discover later on Solovky. While American textbooks do an admirable job covering the aftermath of the 1917 Revolution, the most lasting effects are brought out in high relief in the damage and looting of the country’s churches. Much is now being done to restore, for the historic and religious significance, the bulk of these sites.

Our discussions for the balance of the day revolved around the history of the church in Russia. We learned that Stas’ grandfather had been a village church elder and had been shot for convening a service to celebrate the harvest. This is an emotional issue for Stas and seems to play a role in his affinity for the church as an institution and a vehicle for improving the culture in modern day Russia. Russians have been slow to return en masse to the church as an institution, and despite the relatively high profile of the return of the church to daily life, many Russians still distrust the potential power and influence of the church. The power of the past was evident at the monastery living quarters, where we enjoyed tea blessed by the monks. Gracing a hallway was a large portrait of Czar Nicholas II.

We stopped on the way home for a barbeque along the Northern Dvina River, and had a fascinating discussion—completely impromptu—about natural resource conservation in Russia. The differences in the desire to access natural resources are identical between Russians and Americans, but the process is entirely different. In Maine we would never dream of driving across a field to set up a barbeque, or fishing in the river with nets—all taken fairly much for granted there. Fishing licenses are not required unless nets are being used—or if you’re a foreigner. There is a general concern for a lack of even enforcement of fisheries laws, and the threats that poses to stocks of salmon and sturgeon.

Fishing on the Northern Dvina river

This was City Day in Arkhangelsk. We slept in (inasmuch as we could, given the din of the festivities), and met Sergei Kochegarov and his son Andrei. We walked uptown, taking in the festivities with an assortment of vendors and venues for children. The scope of the events was truly extraordinary, as there seemed to be a City Day venue around every corner in the city. We went to the main square at the capitol, where the parade ended—the parade would provide a healthy competitor to the Potato Blossom Festival parade in Fort Fairfield, which I would wager to be the biggest one in Maine. Roughly five thousand people eventually gathered in the square for a stream of spectacles, including a rappelling Father Frost—Santa Claus dressed in blue—descending at a 45 degree angle from the broadcast building to the stage. The theme of Father Frost and Christmas apparently was the point of jibes across the city, as it was a theme insisted upon by the mayor; most of the citizens seem to scratch their heads over the point of a Christmas tree in the city square in July. There were singers and dancers in multitudes, and a queue of speakers, including myself—presenting a proclamation from Governor Baldacci declaring that City Day in Arkhangelsk should be observed in Maine as well. Andrei translated for me, and we received a cheer from the crowd.

Watching the performers

Five couples married at the festival, and were regaled by ethnic and regional groups from across Russia who have communities in Arkhangelsk. They were at length taken away on a ‘train’, actually a tractor made to look like a locomotive with cars. After the appearance of the Russian Frank Sinatra, Joseph Kobzon, we made our way back to the hotel. His presence was stunning; dressed in a fine suit, he sang largely patriotic songs, which the older attendees loved and pressed against the ropes to get a better look at him. He seemed to completely captivate the crowd. When he sang a rendition of a song celebrating the victory over Hitler, the crowd rose up and joined in unison. They remember.

We went to a German beer house next to the hotel for lunch. Such institutions enjoy a surreal acceptance in Russia; given the history between the two cultures, Russians seem remarkably comfortable with their relationships with Germany. I still have difficulty really understanding the whole polka band experience.

We napped for a time to catch up on sleep. The White Nights are difficult to explain; it isn’t like a blizzard or a hurricane. It just never gets dark, and it messes up your clock.

We regrouped and went to the Pur Navolok Hotel—where we had stayed in our trip in ’03—for a VIP reception to cap City Day. I spoke again, and Neale, John, Ray and I presented gifts to the mayor and to the city. I spent the largest part of the evening socializing with Dmitry Afanasenkov and his wife. Dmitry is a forward with the Tampa Bay Lightning and both are Arkhangelsk natives. His wife is a professional choirmaster, who is taking a career hiatus for motherhood. The coach of the Lightning, John Tortorella, is a UMaine alumnus; and as president of the University of Maine M Club—the alumni organization for athletics—I found the association an intriguing product of the small world department. Dmitry and I spoke at length about comparative athletics in the U.S. and Russia, and the difficulties of being a professional athlete and family man so far from home.

We took a walk along the river back to the hotel and called it a night.

We began round table discussions today with members of the regional Duma, the Arkhangelsk Oblast Administration and neighboring City Councils, and the talks were led by Stanislas Vtory. The meetings were held at the Duma building. Discussions centered on the implementation of Federal Law 131, which we had received copies of prior to our departure from the states and had gone over fairly thoroughly. During adoption of the law, municipal governance in the oblast has grown from 27 to 299 municipalities.

The greatest change in this law for citizens is the transition from municipal ‘raions’, or districts, to running their own affairs with their own councils. It would be as if the only local governance available in Maine were the county seats, and the change were made that towns had to govern themselves. The drawing of town lines has also presented obvious challenges. One benchmark they have tried to maintain is whether someone can reach the center of the municipality by foot. Unorganized lands allocated to the municipal districts through a complex formula. Borders are obviously less difficult to draw for the island communities, but they also lack land space in equity with mainland towns. In three years, 201 mayors and 1891 councilors have been elected in the new municipalities. We noted that in Maine, the trend is in the reverse; many towns seek to deorganize because of the cost of providing services, and other towns seek to consolidate and partner with each other to save costs.

Not everyone likes these changes, of course, and the opponents come from a variety of stripes. Some simply liked the old ways while others voice concerns about more bureaucracy. Property taxes are an issue because the municipalities are unable to tax all the land in a municipality, so that much of the revenue is allocated through the regional administration from the federal government.

One distinct advantage we noted for the Russians in this regard is their ability to plan. In recognition of the need for this and also understanding the difficulty and complexity of implementation, the federal Duma has extended the timeline for implementation.

After lunch in the Duma dining room, our discussions continued in the Oblast Governor’s office, where we met with the vice governor Vitaly Basko and continued the discussion of the difficulties of ‘pushing the rope’ between state and town governments. In both sessions we described the checks on federal and state governments in outright mandating policy, which was met with understanding. Stanislas described a situation in a remote settlement that needed a bridge built so that children could attend a nearby school. He lamented that even though the settlement has 80 lumbermen out of work, and plenty of trees and tools at hand, they still complained for the government to come and build the bridge for them. They feel the inability of much of the population to engage in self-sufficient local activism to be an enormous hindrance.   I suggested that we all visit and begin building a bridge in a slap-dash manner; then Vitaly and Stas could run into town and laugh about the crazy Americans who don’t know how to build anything. The unemployed locals would then probably rush forward and take over to make sure it was done right—which got a hearty laugh.

At the end of the day we joined Sergei Kochegarov and Andrei for a ride out to the open-air Museum of Wooden Architecture, Malye Karely, for a quick walking tour. We also visited the new hotel across the road, which was quite stunning with many amenities. It wasn’t there three years ago. After a quick visit to Sergei’s dacha, we returned with him to his apartment for dinner. We had a fantastic dinner—Ray was unable to join as he was visiting another group of sister-city friends. The discussion was occasionally interrupted by updated scores of World Cup soccer, and as the night wore on, the discussion turned to history. One of the liveliest discussions of the whole trip was over the relative abilities and failures of Marshall Zhukov during World War II.   We were also joined by Andrei’s brother Sasha, who had interpreted for us in ’03. Tanya Kochegarov put on the best show of food and hospitality to date.

Ray and Neale were taken away by business with the Arbitrazh Court, and John and I continued our meetings with the members of the regional Duma. This day’s meetings were focused on parliamentary law, and it was mostly us discussing how procedures are utilized in the Maine legislature.

It was unclear to me what standard authority, if any, is utilized by parliamentary bodies in the Russian Federation. In Maine, as we explained, conduct of the legislature is governed by a distinct hierarchy of recognized authorities: the federal and state constitution, the respective rules of the two houses, the joint rules, precedent and tradition, and then standard references may be utilized. Statute cannot govern legislative proceedings. These authorities include Mason’s, Reed’s and Hughes, or any other standard authority can be used to govern the conduct of business in the House.

Much of our discussion centered around order and decorum. We had previously engaged the translation of a copy of Maine’s rules of order and decorum, a slender volume of traditional unwritten rules that our hosts found fascinating. They like the respect expected by rules of conduct—no jeans, no chewing gum or reading newspapers—and the fact that only the Speaker could recognize people to speak, and that debate was limited to members of the legislature. In Arkhangelsk, members of the governor’s administration can also participate in debate, which provides for a much fuller debate, to be sure, but seems to dilute the effectiveness of the Duma as an independent body. They especially liked the idea that the Speaker has sole authority to name and remove committee chairs, which creates a continuous line of consistent leadership working together.

They related some of their frustrations with the disruptions that have occurred during floor debate and how there are times when things grind almost to a halt because of the gridlock created by temper flare-ups between members. They were quite taken with how Maine legislators are bound by the rules that they must agree to. Maine has a reputation for strong civility during debate; but we also highlighted some recent problems that have arisen because of a lack of understanding of the rules, and also the importance of the symbiotic relationship between the Speaker and the membership in the utilization of authority.

The Institute for the Protection of Children

One member, Yuri Barashkov, was so taken with the rules that he wanted them in both Russian and English. We gave him a full copy of the House Rules of Order and Decorum. Yuri, a historian who has written many books about Arkhangelsk and Russia, was once a member of the national Supreme Soviet, so his knowledge and understanding of Russian politics is authoritative.

After lunch in the dining room, we met Neale and Ray back at the hotel and went to the Institute for the Protection of Children, which is part foster home and part child protection agency. This was something that I really wanted to do and see. The facility was in the heart of the apartment district in town, and was home to around thirty young children. Many of them were gone on a camping trip when we were visiting. Those that were there were well-prepared for us with songs and dances that they had practiced.

We were given a complete tour of the facilities, which include a woodshop, sleeping quarters, and classrooms. Many of the clients are street children that the members of the institute seek out; others come from dysfunctional families where substance abuse, neglect, and physical abuse preclude keeping the children in the home. In some cases, the institute will actually strive to obtain custody of the children, which because of legal tangles can take many years.

I had obtained from the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife about 65 small balsa-wood toy planes with the Maine Warden Service insignia, which the Department uses as an outreach tool for children. Because of their relative size and weight, they made ideal gifts for the children. They had never seen such a thing before, and the disassembled planes in plastic sleeves were a great mystery. When I put one together and flew it across the room to demonstrate, there was a collective “Oooooh!!!” from the children. I brought enough so that each child could have two or three for themselves. They were incredibly delighted, and it occurred to me that for some of them, it may have been the first toy they could call their own. This moment for me made the whole trip.

Ray and Neale gathered much information about the center, and made a donation to the work of the Institute on behalf of the Sister City committee as well as personal donations.

John, Ray and I went to an Internet café, which was the thing we could not find in St. Petersburg. It had been my plan to set up a daily log on the state Secretary of State website, but our lack of internet access had made that somewhat difficult. On this day we were able to catch up with events at home and handle affairs that needed attention.

That evening we took a long stroll—that Andrei had promised was ‘just down the street’—of about two miles to The Wheel, a restaurant and dance club that is the home base of the music group Blind Vandal, who visited Portland and other areas around New England in 2005. Here we met up with a number of friends, including a former judge. We made presentations to Blind Vandal of an assortment of license plates—their theme—including two that said ‘BLIND’ and ‘VANDAL’ that I had had made up for the occasion. This night, one of their members was engaged in a duet with symphonic flutist Nikolai Plotnikov doing various classical numbers, exposing the musical range of a ‘rock band’.

Today we continued our discussions over Federal Law 131, and this day found us in the neighboring town of Novodvinsk, home to a large paper mill. Our hosts were Milana Martyusheva and Sergei Vishnyakov, from the mayor’s office and council respectively. We were also joined by Stas and Yuri Barashkov, as well as local administrators and other councilors.   They had great interest of the makeup of the Portland city council, including the number of city departments and employees, who is eligible to be a candidate for the council, etc. I was pretty much useless in these discussions, so the discussions were led largely by Neale and John.

At the entrance to the city

Property taxes are a variable problem in Novodvinsk; aside from the allocation from the Oblast, they depend on property taxes—but collect on only 17% of all property that could be considered taxable in the city. This is partly because business may register in some other city—in the case of the paper mill, St. Petersburg—and thus pay no or little taxes in Novodvinsk. This is a major issue for the city, as the mill supplies all the steam heat for the city; ironically, the city owes the mill tens of millions of dollars for the heat supply, but cannot collect a kopeck in property taxes.

We discussed the issue of service centers in Maine, and the difficulty that centralized towns like Old Town and Portland have in providing and paying for services utilized by neighboring citizens who pay nothing to support those services. We were met with understanding nods.

After our meetings, Neale, John and I met up with Tatiana Zykina and cruised around the harbor of Arkhangelsk on a coast guard cutter. This was one of those gee-whiz things—Neale is a Navy veteran and my late father was a coast guardsman—sailing on a Russian cutter (a small one, but a vessel in sound shape) was a special treat. Neale engaged the first mate Constantine in a deep, non-translated discussion over the similar terminology for various pieces of deck gear and nautical equipment. Neale has a peculiar gift of being able to communicate effectively without a translator, and armed mostly with the Russian words for “little gift.”

After our cruise we went to the city prosecutor’s office for a brief meeting in a building that under the Communists was a court of military justice; prior to that, it was owned by the church and taken during the Revolution.

Despite the lack of sleep, we rose early to make the plane to Solovki. I figured we could sleep on the plane—which eventually we would do. We met up with Carol at the hotel and then we drove to the Vaskovo Airport, one of two that service Arkhangelsk.

Because of high winds on Solovki, we were delayed over 5 hours. Stuck in an airport with only hard metal chairs, primitive bathrooms (the toilet consisted of a low basin in the floor) and restaurants that smelled deeply of fish, our lack of sleep made us all very quiet.

Eventually we did fly out—experiencing our first setback with luggage, as the airline only allowed 1 kilo of luggage per passenger, and we each had about 30 kg—and were richly rewarded for all of the troubles of the day. After a deep sleep on the plane—a small twin engine prop plane—I felt greatly refreshed.

Walking below the walls of the fortress

We were met at the airport on Solovki by the mayor, Dima—or Dmitry Lugovoy, Anna Balandina, Olga Koroleva, and Sveta Lebedeva. We had previously hosted them in Maine last December, and it was great to see them again. They had visited as delegates of the Open World program, and made good use of the Sister City vector. Because we were late, we dropped our bags and went immediately to the fortress for a guided tour.

This place is world-class. The fortress was erected in the 16 th century, and the monastery dates back to the 15th. It has to be nearly a mile in circumference, with walls nearing thirty feet thick and forty feet high with five large gun towers with distinctive cone-shaped wooden roofs. This place drips with history; aside from the shelling by the British during the Crimean war, it was seized after the Revolution and became the archetype for the Gulags. Some 80,000 prisoners were sent here over those years, amazingly living outside year-round; about 20,000 perished. Particularly moving were the recovered letters that inmates would attempt to write home, but which prison officials would never send. Ironically, all of the prison directors met fates similar to their charges—all were imprisoned in gulags. The gulag was closed in 1939, and the area was used as a military base. Now the Federal government is investing heavily—30 million rubles last year and 60 million next year—in the renovations of the museum and reserve. Part of the monastery has been turned back to the Church, and 47 monks live and conduct services in part of the fortress.

After the formal tour, we had dinner and then Carol, Neale and I took a walk around the fortress as a nightcap. It was cold enough even during the white nights that I had to borrow a parka from Dima. That night, I slept well. It always seems like I sleep better on an island.

I was late for breakfast, only because I was in no hurry to get out of bed. The breakfasts in Russia are arguably the finest in the world, usually consisting of the simple things in life; fruit, bread, cheese, coffee.

Representative John Brautigam at the Solovki School

Some of the school’s students were away on an archeological dig in Crimea, and the students from Moscow were the children of some of the volunteers who were escorting the Solovki students in Crimea.

Among the campers we met a young fellow who spoke very good English who was studying bivalves and insects on the island. The intricate nature of his research was reminiscent of graduate level work in the U.S.

We took note of the school’s phone number posted on a black board for the use of the campers’ families in Moscow: 8-888-35-90-286. Could be a handy number to have should we ever wish to follow up with the school.

Our next stop was at the hospital, situated in the administration building. The hospital also serves as a nursing home for the aged who simply cannot care for themselves. It was a small facility, also built in 1939, and the chief physician, Nikolai Shiryaev, is ‘retired’ from pediatrics, although he obviously puts in long hours at the hospital. Previously he had taught at the university.

The doctor spoke of many gaps in services; at one time, they did surgical operations here, but now they use the operation theater only in emergencies. I had not seen many operating rooms before, but had never seen one with a bay window.   Emergency patients are frequently flown out to the regional hospital for service.   There are only 3 doctors on Solovki, which is enough for emergencies but not enough to effectively run the hospital.

Their greatest needs revolve around diagnostic equipment that is internet-enabled; with that equipment, sick patients would require fewer trips to the mainland hospitals. Small digital x-ray machine, portable sonogram equipment, and an electrocardiogram that can be hooked up to the internet would enable them to connect with mainland doctors. For a hospital that still uses wardrooms, this would be a huge thing.

From the hospital we went to the power station, another 1939 facility that runs off of diesel locomotive engines. Our host for this was Elena Ambroshka, director of the power station. The station provides electricity and some heat for the homes of Solovki; about 20% of the island’s housing has central heat; the others are heated by indoor sources such as wood. They burn 2000 tons of fuel each year. Each of the four locomotive engines has a capacity of 630 kw/h; in the summer, they don’t run under full capacity. We met the head engineer—his name, I believe, was Alexander—and he actually spoke quite good English, which he had learned while working in India.

We went to the mayor’s office for a formal roundtable discussion with the mayor. The main topic was tourism—along with the continuing discussion of Federal Law 131. Prior to passage of the federal law, Solovki was a raion—roughly the equivalent of a county seat. In the reorganization Solovki has lost that status, and as a result many of the government jobs attendant to providing other communities with services have departed as well. Olga is a victim of this, and will be leaving Solovki this fall to find work in Arkhangelsk. We were joined in our meeting by Sveta and two local councilors: Olga Bachkaryova and Lyudmila Pavrova.

Dima is enthusiastic about the promise of tourism. Tourism has increased exponentially in recent years with the development of the museum and reserve and the restoration of part of the monastery to the Russian Orthodox Church. About 30,000 tourists per year visit Solovki, with better than 90% of those being Russians. It is estimated that approximately 6,000 of the total are pilgrims to the monastery. Dima feels that the islands could handle up to 50,000 tourists per year with the current infrastructure, although privately others expressed reservations about the ability of the community to handle so many people. Tourist hotels have accommodations for 256 people at any one time in the summer, a number that shrinks to 20 beds in the winter.

The infrastructural challenges facing a prospective tourist community here are massive. Trash disposal is a dead end; what they can gather they simply heap on a pile. Sewage is pumped into the harbor, and signs in the bathrooms instruct visitors to dispose of toilet paper in the trash. While the accommodations are first rate, most Western tourists don’t really expect to actually rough it while on vacation, so true tourist development may mean making some of these additional accommodations.

At the weather station

After lunch, we rushed to the airport to meet Christopher Brown. Chris is the USAID director in Russia for democracy initiatives, and we had anticipated the possibility of his joining our group at some juncture. He had made contact with us by way of Tatiana Zykina, but we were given only nebulous indication of when to expect to see him. As it developed, he had come in on an earlier flight so we did not actually see him at the airport.

We proceeded to follow our hosts to a lakeside boat rental and explored a few miles of the island’s canals. Excepting the ancient constructs of the canals, we could easily have been exploring anywhere in Northern Maine. The similarities were uncanny. There are hundreds of lakes on the islands and many of them were connected by canals by monks in the 16 th and 17 th centuries to enhance commerce. They are, like everything else on the islands, extraordinary structures and are still completely navigable.

After our canal venture we visited the Botanical Gardens, which solemnly were largely planted by inmates of the gulags. The sheer variety of plants and trees is amazing, and remarkable in their similarity to Maine’s flora. On the crest of the hill (called Sekirnaya Mountain) is the house of the former head of the monastery which had served as a retreat in the pre-Revolutionary days. I wasn’t clear as to why the inmates were put to work planting trees and shrubs, except that hard labor was de rigueur for the inmates of the Gulag. But the results seventy years later are poignantly beautiful.

We met up with Christoper Brown at dinner; as it turns out, he is completely fluent in Russian and seems to have a deep appreciation for Russian culture. Both he and his wife are career diplomats and live in Moscow. He was very interested in seeing our exchange in action and later stated that this is the type of program you could never create, but that this was true for many of the best ones; they tend to create themselves. He, like Dima, is quite enthused by the prospect of tourism as an economic development tool. At dinner he had many questions about the islands and the community, as well as the nature of our program and its many facets.

Our day was not over after dinner. We made light of the aggressive schedule, with the running joke being the schedule itself. “From 3:00 am to 5:00 am: Free Time,” John laughed, as we boarded the bus to take us fishing at 10:00 at night.

I wrote my monthly piece in the Northwoods Sporting Journal about this fishing trip, which I will pass on as an addendum to this report (I have written for the Journal for ten years on legislative matter relating to hunting and fishing, and am a member of both NEOWA and OWAA). It was a great thing to check off the life list: fishing for arctic cod in the White Sea during the White Nights. Carol caught our only fish—a smallish sculpin—but like everything else, they treated us with grand hospitality. The spread of snacks was what you would find in a fine hotel and the setting was beautiful. I counted something like 15 of us on a 20 foot boat, so it was a little crowded and we had to fish in shifts, but it was great fun.

Our discussions with Christopher were great here. He developed a growing enthusiasm for our effort and was deeply interested in Ray and Neale’s efforts with the Rule of Law consortium, and spoke expansively of the social value of face to face exchanges in a host of topic areas. His family is from the Adirondack region of New York, and we spoke of home, and how our childhood impressions of Russia have been well dynamited by our actual experience with Russia. We spoke candidly of the problems that diplomatic loggerheads bring to programs like ours, and the effects of the post 9-11 world in encouraging high school students to come to Russia. Russian students want to come, but need hosts, and that’s where American students come in. Christopher was very interested in helping us reinvigorate our student component, especially using the USAID FLEX program. Negative statements by high government officials—which Brown seems insulated by in a non-partisan position—reinforce those sentiments in the public and make our work more challenging. He positively brimmed over with ideas and appears sincerely to be a valuable partner in the future for us.

After breakfast—eggs and crepes—we met up and proceeded to the main harbor and dry-dock for a visit to Bolshoi Zayatsky (Big Hare) Island. Chris was a full-time member of our delegation at this point. Our guide was a paleoarcheologist named Alexander (I forgot to write down his last name). We traversed the bay in two small boats that afforded little splash protection; the best place to sit was in the middle of the boat. When we arrived we had to tie up to a larger vessel and then climb up gunwales to cross over to the pier. Not exactly handicapped-accessible, but the remarkable thing is how Russian women manage this rather acrobatically in skirts and heels.

Big Hare is a remarkable place in its own right. It is home to a small chapel—St. Andrew’s—and a small man-made harbor that was visited by Peter the Great. Also a small hostel with a kitchen used to be there as well, and passing sailors would stop there. A later hotel burned before the Revolution. Largely barren—much like a blueberry field—the island has a series of Paleolithic labyrinths and funerary rock formations scattered about, the purposes of which are only guessed at; perhaps religious, perhaps astronomical; many arguments have been ruled out but study continues.

During the gulag period, Big Hare was utilized as a separate punishment locale for the ‘Juliets’—women interred in the main camp who developed romantic relationships with male inmates (‘Romeos’). Kept in harsh conditions, sadistic punishments like being forced to sleep outside in the winter and sitting scantily dressed in foul winter weather on top of a tall pole were visited upon the inmates. The Romeos were kept in a separate camp with similar cruelties bestowed upon them. Some of the inmates scratched their names on the inner walls of the chapel.

On our return, we went to the hotel for lunch—the usual Russian course of salad (finely cubed vegetables and meat, soup with sour cream, and a main course of meat and potatoes or pasta), and then went to Dima’s office for more discussions of Federal Law 131, NGO’s and other topics similar to our earlier meeting.

After, we split off: Neale and Carol went to the weather station and the rest of us visited the Negotiation Stone, the site where in 1854 British warships had sparked a minor skirmish by firing a salute; alarmed and thinking that they were being fired on, the monks responded with live cannon fire, sparking an actual shelling by the British. At length a cease fire was agreed to and the departure of the British was negotiated. A nifty piece of history at the end of a pleasant hike.

That evening we attended the vespers service of the Orthodox Church. It was comforting that we were so welcome, and Anna advised on how the rituals would be performed and what the norms were that we should follow should we choose. The service was scheduled to run from 5:00 to 10:00 pm, and with no pews, those who stayed for the whole thing got quite a workout. People tended to move from the back to the front, with the ritual hymns being sung the whole time, occasionally reaching a crescendo. Monks tended to rotate in and out, and folks would occasionally step outside to refresh and recollect themselves. It was an amazing service. John and I sat outside for about an hour and reflected on the whole of the Solovki experience.

Breakfast and packing, and then a last meeting with Dima to discuss future plans. We reviewed the Solovki situation and Dima’s plans. Elected in ’04, he wants to first promote a better life for the citizens of Solovki. With the bearing and demeanor of Humphrey Bogart, he’s someone anyone would want for a mayor. We talked of the rapid progress they have made, including increasing tourism and doubling the municipal budget (up to 1.9 million rubles this year) and increased cooperation with the monastery, the museum/reserve, and the village. The museum also provides internet access to the island via satellite, which gives a real window to the world. This is the type of cooperation that makes the possibility of the internet capable diagnostics for the hospital viable. We noted their websites: www.solovki-wa.ru (Russian only), and www.solovki.museum.ru (English available), where the 24 hour webcams can be found.

The plans discussed included formation of a Maine non-profit such as Friends of Solovki to promote the islands. Also we talked of plans to continue exchanges that would be beneficial to both, including sending some Museum staff to Maine to work with me at the State Archives for a month or so. Some of what they do is far advanced of us. In any case, this has obviously blossomed as a key part of the relationship. We said our goodbyes to Christopher, who elected to stay a while longer.   After stopping to purchase a few gifts for home, we stopped for a quick lunch and began to make our way to the airport and back to Arkhangelsk. As the plane raced down the runway, I could see Anna, Sveta, Olga, and Dima standing outside the fence waving us goodbye.

We rose early to make our last meeting: a visit to the Dobrolyubov Library. Since we first visited in 2003, we have made sure that a steady stream of American texts travel with each delegation. Between the lot of us, we presented over 50 pounds of books, CD’s, and DVD’s about Maine and America. We were hosted by Olga Stepina, the director, and Victoria Podolskaya, the librarian for the American Corner. We had a great discussion of the future of libraries in the electronic age and fading municipal support, especially in light of the changes brought by Federal Law 131. Book theft continues to be a common problem, but so is the passion for reading and providing resources to the community.

We began to make our way back to the Talagi Airport to make the plane to St. Petersburg. This time we were seriously whacked for overweight charges for our luggage. I was the most expensive at 1,113 rubles for my 38 kilo bag. An uneventful flight that allowed me to catch up on sleep, a rare commodity during the White Nights. We settled back in at Mila’s after clearing baggage control, and went to the Laima for dinner—my third time there in as many trips. Apparently it’s a must if you go to St. Petersburg. I enjoyed veal with mushrooms and cheese. We met up with Mila and took a canal boat ride, enjoying the sights and chocolate. Our guide, Anna, was great. After the tour we went back to Mila’s and went straight to bed.

Our formal meetings done, we took a hydrofoil on our own dime to the Peterhoff. I had been there before, but this time we hired a guide (Maria, a friend of our canal boat guide) and got a tour of the palace, the magnificence of which cannot be described, it must be seen. It was certainly worth the wait in line. The many ornate rooms and rare treasures reflect the value that Russians place on history and culture. Of course, there is the usual run of tourist stuff, including people in period costumes who will take a picture with you for a fee, but the intrinsic value of the place only highlights the economic value. We had lunch and headed back. We returned to St. Petersburg just in time, as a major storm blew through the Gulf of Finland after we returned, apparently stranding a number of tourists at the Peterhoff.

Traveling makes me anxious, and we were all anxious to get home. I rose early and dressed, finished packing, and took a walk along the river to St. Isaac’s, whose golden dome was used by the Germans for rangefinding to shell the city during the siege. The columns still bear the pockmarks of shrapnel from shells that exploded in the street in those dark days. With the upcoming G8 summit, the NVD showed itself in force around the city, with troops gathered on every corner and in between as well. It occurred to me that I had left my ID and passport at Mila’s, and without papers and a good command of Russian it may make my status worth investigating, so as inconspicuously as I could, I made my way back to Mila’s.

We left at noon, made our way to the airport, and began the journey home. After a layover in Frankfurt, we boarded the overseas flight and went through screening that was as thorough as I’ve seen, and then arrived late that night in Boston. We breezed through customs, rented a van, and went on to Portland. Darlene met me at the bus station; just like that, we were home.