Cognitive Dissonance

"Jesus is coming - look busy!" I love that saying. I first encountered it on one of those campy refrigerator magnets where illustrations of 1950s housewives appear against vibrant backgrounds with inappropriate sayings plastered above their heads in bold lettering. Today I thought of those magnets as I stood in the dorm kitchen making breakfast.

It isn't Jesus but NATO that's coming to Moscow, so I guess the Russians are preparing to look busy as various fighter jets from various decades roared in the skies over the dorm at 10am this morning. They were terribly loud, and, today being our first of several free Tuesdays, some of my classmates *were* sleeping-in (until the rehearsal for the air show began).

It's been interesting in Moscow for the last week. As my computer crashed and died (and it is now slowly pulling itself out of its coma) and the world inside the dorm went through some storm and stress, the world outside made itself beautiful. Moscow is beginning to flower, and as we approach May 9 - Victory Day - the streets are beginning to be adorned with orange and black and yellow and red ribbons.

There's a lot of Red in Moscow. Some of it is very ... interesting. Like the circus. We went to the circus on Sunday and it was amazing! Cotton candy and acrobats and death defying feats of strength and artistry -- and Communism!

Yep - the hammer and sickle was raised over the audience at the circus. Why? Because Russian history is, in part, Soviet history -- it was the Soviets who helped defeat Hitler. So ... it makes sense that the hammer and sickle are raised, right? Because if they aren't then we're revising history and that is bad, right?

Beyond my Western mind being blown (air raid drills are a memory for me -- albeit a distant one), there was the theme of the circus itself. The performers emerged in army fatigues, and scenes of reality and fantasy would reveal themselves. In the bright lights of "day," the troops would perform impressive balancing acts using items that they seemed to collect from the materials around them (well, ok - maybe finding the tight-rope was a bit far-fetched). They were idle soldiers entertaining themselves -- and the wounded (carried into the ring on stretchers with bloodied bandages wrapped around their heads or arms).

The reality of what we were celebrating was never far from the illusion, even when the illusion took over.

As the lights dimmed and the soldiers fell asleep, from the troop emerged a female soldier who was gazing dreamily at the sickle-shaped moon. Slowly she stepped out of her skirt and military boots to reveal a beautiful pink sequined circus outfit. She was then catapulted to the rafters so she could fly through the air with the greatest of ease on her flying trapeze.

Then, before day break, a video would play: documentary footage of the battlefield. Soldiers storming Berlin - bullets flying, planes dropping bombs. Images normally found on the History Channel loomed over the sleeping soldiers below. But, as day broke and both night and documentary sobriety receded from view, so did the tension -- THE CIRCUS WAS IN TOWN!

Yes, the circus came to the circus. Beautifully theatrical and theoretical (a theater presenting a theatre of war that is visited by a theatre), a 1940s flatbed truck wheeled onstage carrying beautiful girls in party dresses who sang songs, danced with the GIs and brought gold-suited strongmen, clowns, and monkeys with them. It should have been precious, but it wasn't -- the frosting colored performers were the perfect remedy to the somber black and white documentary images.

It was after this that the flag of the USSR was raised. In what was, I believe, the fall of Berlin, Soviet banners were hoisted throughout the arena - including a massive flag that would send chills down any baby-boomer's spine. Then came the parade of swastikas -- the captured banners of the Third Reich were laid at the feet of ...

who? "Is that supposed to be Stalin?" was my remark to Rachel. But I don't think it was supposed to be Stalin. The white-haired commander, mounted on a black and white horse, received the banners and then began a massive equestrian show. Between the emotional juxtaposition of horror and beauty and the thwack of "sign and signification," I was dumb-founded, overwhelmed, and thoroughly entertained.

The circus might be have been the best thing I've seen in Moscow. No joke -- I'm studying at some of the most storied and respected institutions in the world, and it was the circus that left me speechless.