The Eternal Body of Khambo Lama Itigelov

Ivolginsky Datsan is the center of Buddhism in Buryatia. It was founded in 1946, and while it hardly made up for the hundreds of monks who were purged and the scores of datsans destroyed less than a decade earlier (in 1937), it did serve as a center of Buddhism in the Soviet Union following its construction. Whether it is still the center of Buddhism in the Russian Federation is up for debate; I would argue that there exists a geographic division, between Buddhism as practiced in Buryatia and as practiced in western Russia in Kalmykia, but also in St. Petersburg and Moscow, which each have their own Buddhist communities (the former has its own temple). There seems to be a power struggle going on between leading lamas both within Buryatia and between regions, at least this is the impression given by the academic literature.

While Buddhism’s internal politics remain to be sorted out, noticeable at Ivolginsky Datsan is the fact that Soviet ‘patronage’ has resulted in a more integrated and complete religious community. In addition to the main datsan (see photo right), the current version of which was built in the 1970s after the previous building burned, there are a number of smaller temples, and visitors make a clockwise circle of the edge of the complex. The photo at left shows prayer flags tied to trees outside the complex’s walls. There is also a Buddhist university, for novices entering the monastic order, and dormitories that house the monks and pilgrims who have made the trip to Ivolginsky.

The importance of the Datsan as a spiritual center was greatly enhanced in 2002, when, following a decree by the current Khambo Lama (the religious head of Buddhism in Buryatia), the body of Khambo Lama Itigelov (1852-1927) was exhumed from its sarcophagus. Prior to his death in 1927, Itigelov instructed his disciples to exhume his body both 30 years and 75 years after his death, with the latter exhumation being permanent. The Lama had been disinterred twice before, in 1955 (they didn’t quite make it to 30 years) and 1973, in order to check the condition of the body. Both times, it was unchanged, with the Lama still sitting in the lotus position; some claim that his hair, for example, continues to grow at an astonishingly slow rate.

Currently, the body is displayed to pilgrims eight times a year. Khambo Lama still sits in the lotus position, in a glass container (no photos are allowed, but a picture can be found here). The front of the container is open. Visitors are ushered quickly up to the Lama, where they bow their heads and touch his scarf, before being led away. It is important to both approach and move away from the Lama while facing forward; there was a monk in place to make sure visitors didn’t turn their backs. He was part of a retinue of lamas (about 15), who helped make sure that the pilgrims don’t dawdle, both in front of the lama and while praying to the statues and photos (for example, of the Dalai Lama) to the Lama’s side. At the same time, about forty lamas are seated in four rows, reading prayers written by visitors and chanting in Tibetan. There was also the more prosaic task of taking their morning tea while we were there, at around 10 am.

The experience of seeing the Lama was unique, and not totally explicable. Obviously, the body is of religious significance for Buddhists in Russia and elsewhere. At the same time, there remains a need, both within Russia and more broadly, to rationalize religious processes that are not easily explained. The scientific tests done here in Russia have not returned a verdict or offered a counter-explanation for the uncorrupted state of the body. At the same time, the lack of a definitive scientific statement enhances the sacredness of the body for pilgrims and believers. To paraphrase from the Simpsons, in the case of science vs. religion, perhaps a restraining order should be issued for science, to stay at least 500 feet away from religion at all times. This is a quite progressive idea; thanks, Matt Groening.

Battle of the Erudites

For those who don’t know, for the last couple months Mackenzie and I have been part of a trivia team that competes Tuesday nights at a local sports bar, Harpo’s, in Boulder. It is run by a company called Geeks who Drink, which organizes trivia nights at bars in the Mountain West (Colorado, New Mexico, etc.) and, randomly, Virginia. The capstone to the Geek season was Geek Bowl IV, which was held the Saturday before I left for Russia. In general, we do pretty well at trivia, though our performance at the Geek Bowl was disappointing.

On Wednesday nights in Ulan-Ude at the local Spanish restaurant, Carlos VII, they now have trivia. If you ever happen to be here, stop by, although you’ll probably need to register beforehand. And remember, playing trivia in a foreign language is difficult. The first step, of course, is to make sure you understand the question. Next, figure out if you know the answer. Some questions were hopeless. For example, one question gave two lists of individuals and groups; list one included New York, Republicans, Richard Nixon, and Madonna, and a few more, while list two had Atlanta, Democrats, Nick Carter (no, not Jimmy Carter) and Grace Kelly. You had to answer how these two lists differed (give up? The first refers to Pepsi, and the second to Coke). Needless to say no one got this question right.

There is also the issue of translation. An example: one of the questions asked the name of the islands that are exactly opposite Greenwich, England. These are the Antipodes (a World Heritage Site!), one of a set of island groups belonging to New Zealand in the sub-Antarctic. Something that makes this even more tricky is that there are two ways to pronounce the name: the correct, American way (An-ti-podes) and the ‘proper’ British way (An-ti-po-des). When I said my answer, I said it the British way (trying to get in touch with my ancestors, perhaps), so our team captain wrote down the answer ‘Антипский’, which reads ‘Antipskii’. Unfortunately, we got this question wrong; they are sticklers on spelling here. It didn’t matter, though, as we ended up in second place regardless (see the photo of our captain’s hand collecting the winnings).

The folks at Geeks who Drink could pick up a few tips from the Siberian version, and vice versa. First, the quizmaster (who was a little too spiffed up for my tastes) went around the crowd and asked each team to introduce itself. This followed an impromptu solo from a special guest visiting for trivia from some far-off city in Siberia (Novosibirsk maybe, I forget). Thankfully, I was not asked to sing. Second, the between-round breaks featured more singing by a local talent who belted out Whitney Houston (And Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii will always luv you!) and No Doubt (Don’t Stop, which was actually pretty well done). I kept waiting for her to sing Michael Jackson’s ‘PYT’, though it might have been a little over the top. Lastly is the question of money. I like our trivia set-up because the price is right, i.e. free. Here, it was around five dollars a head (R150), with the winning team taking home around R10K, divided among team members.

Ode to Buuzi

Dumplings are popular throughout Russia. The traditional Russian form are called pilmeny, and are small and circular, somewhat crown shaped in form. These can be found at practically any Russian cafeteria (called a stolovaya) or restaurant (the pecтopaн in its Cyrillic form). In Kalmykia, they were called berigi, and were bigger, similar to pot-stickers that can be found at Chinese restaurants in the states. I, however, prefer to call them ‘meat bombs’, as the filling was pure lamb. To help keep cholesterol levels in Kalmykia at extraordinarily high levels, they are served with a pat of butter.

Yet the Buryat buuza now has a special place in my heart. There are a couple of key characteristics that separate the buuza from other, more ordinary dumplings. The first is that you eat a buuza with your hands. It is improper form to use a knife and fork. To further complicate things for those among us who have pretentions to refinement, the buuza is packed with a meat broth that is the result of the cooking process (as you can see in the photo, the outer shell forms a convenient container for holding this broth). To eat a buuza properly, you make a small hole in the side and then suck out the broth. This works pretty well, though you have to be careful to make sure that the broth isn’t too hot.

Another culinary delicacy in Buryatia is the omul, a fish from Lake Baikal. For dinner on Sunday evening we had omul with potatoes. It’s a delicious fish, with a texture and taste similar to trout. And in Buryatia it’s everywhere; for example, smoked omul was available for purchase on the train from Irkutsk to Ulan-Ude. Those living around the Lake are in a bit of a fix, however, because while the omul makes up a large proportion of the Baikal fishery, and hence the local economy, and is considered a delicacy throughout Russia, it has also been listed as an endangered species by the Russian government.

In which I land in a pot of jam

Ulan-Ude is the second stop on my trip through Russia studying Buddhism and national identity in the Buddhist republics. As I previously wrote, it’s an attractive city; I’ve included some more pictures, of something other than Lenin’s head, to prove it (although that pesky noggin does sneak into the first of these photos, of the aptly named Lenin Square). A little more information about Ulan-Ude: its population is approximately 350,000, meaning that one in three residents of the Buryat Republic lives here; one of the most well-known business based in the city is the Baikal Farm, which produces vodka and other spirits; and, like in other Siberian cities, there are a number of derevniye doma scattered throughout the city (meaning there’s no running water inside the house and that the toilet is a communal outhouse).

I’m staying here in the apartment of a local scholar, Zhargal, and her son, Arsalan, who in currently studying at one of the local universities. The location is marvelous (it's the building with the blue porches in the center of the picture at right). I’m maybe three minutes from Lenin’s head, which besides being a landmark is also the center of the city. The excellent national library is just a little further, and there are good restaurants for lunch and such close by. And I've had ample opportunity to practice my Russian, too, as Zhargal's research is on Buddhist holy sites in Buryatia.

As for my own research, so far my stay in Buryatia has been productive. After getting oriented, I met with Vladimir Iusifovich Antonov, a local Doctor Nauk(which, to simplify things, means he has two PhDs), who works as an advisor on questions of identity in the regional parliament (the Khural). Antonov is a close fried of Valeriy, of Kalmykia fame, and well connected in the local academic community. On Thursday, I took the tram to the Institute for Mongolian, Buddhist, and Tibetan Studies, where I introduced myself and my project to other local academics. Since this is a preliminary trip, and since it’s short (only two weeks total here in Buryatia), it has been important to meet as many people as possible. Highlights that are arranged for this coming week include a trip to Ivolginsky Datsan, one of the key religious sites here in Buryatia, located about 40 kilometers outside of Ulan-Ude, and focus groups with student and believers on Wednesday and Friday, respectively.

Look at the size of that noggin!

Irkutsk is the nearest big city to Lake Baikal, and as such has become a hub for travelers to the lake. The city is sited on the Angara River, another of those large, north-flowing rivers in the region, and the only one to drain Lake Baikal. On Friday night, I stayed in a hostel in the center of the city, where the Russian hostess was surprised to have a visitor who spoke the local language. I haven’t really done the hostel thing since I was in New Zealand about 10 years ago. I’ll say this: the worst thing about hostels is that I keep getting older and the kids staying there stay the same age.

The next morning I took the day train from Irkutsk to Ulan-Ude, which travels along the southern shore of Lake Baikal. Baikal is one of the natural wonders of the world and one of the most important sites in the Russian national consciousness. It holds 80 percent of Russia’s freshwater and twenty percent of the world’s supply. This is primarily a result of its depth; at roughly 5400 feet, it is by far the world’s deepest (you can read about the recent expedition to the bottom here). In comparison, it holds more water than all of the Great Lakes combined. The lake is also home to the one of two freshwater seal species on the planet, known as nerpa, which evolved after the lake was cut off from the sea. Moreover, Baikal was one of the first sites of importance for the nascent Soviet environmental movement, associated specifically with the construction of a cellulose processing plant lakeside in the 1960s (I wrote my junior paper during undergrad on this topic). After all that, I have to say I wasn’t very impressed. I’m willing to give it a second chance, however, given the overcast weather and the fact that I was traveling along the south shore, which is the most developed part of the lake, and looking out a rather dirty window. One program that I'm interested in is the Great Baikal Trail, which is working on developing eco-tourism in the region through the construction of a hiking trail that circles the lake.

On Saturday night, I arrived in Ulan-Ude, the capital of the Buryat Republic. It’s an attractive city, situated in the Selenga River valley (the river is one of the major inflows into Baikal, and unfortunately caries much of Mongolia’s untreated wastewater), and boasts the world’s largest Lenin head. The locals say that Lenin’s head has its own weather system (this is more than a joke; the head has not developed any guano reserves since it was installed in 1970 for Lenin’s 100th birthday).

To Siberia

After leaving Elista on Monday, I traveled by bus back to Volgograd. I wanted to see the memorial to the Battle of Stalingrad, which includes a complex about three kilometers to the north of the central downtown area, as well as a set of memorials along the Volga River. I ended the day with dinner at Yelki-Palki, which is kind of like the Russian version of Sizzler, if Sizzler served Russian food. I’m in the process of creating another tour of the city, though the internet functionalities I have access to right now are a little limited.

After returning to Moscow early Tuesday, I flew out early Wednesday morning to Krasnoyarsk. Krasnoyarsk is a vibrant, youthful city located on the Yenisey River (one of the great Siberian Rivers, which Khrushchev had visions of reversing/diverting). It has a couple of main streets, named after Lenin and Marx respectively, and sandwiched between is Prospect Mir (which means peace), the main shopping strip for the city. The weather was improving (it has been a brutal winter even for Siberians, with temperature consistently at -40, leading to an increase in global warming doubters out here) and there were a number of people out during the day Wednesday. That night, I met Vadim, who lives in Krasnoyarsk and works at the local branch of Sberbank (Russia’s oldest, since 1841) and is a friend of a friend in Boulder.

Thursday night, I got my first taste of a long-distance Russian train trip, riding the rails from Krasnoyarsk to the historic city of Irkutsk. I traveled platskart (third-, or ‘hard’, class), and rode with a soldier returning home from western Siberia for his mother’s funeral (Sergey) and a university student from the city of Perm, in European Russia (Maxim). Sergey was particularly interested that I was an American, I think because he had never met one. I traded him a tee-shirt from a local burrito joint in Boulder, Santiago’s, for a belt and a military scarf. The shirt was a couple sizes too big, but he wasn’t deterred. Max spoke some English, and had worked as a life guard in Atlantic City on the Jersey Shore. He is going back this summer with his girlfriend. He is a big fan of Zenit, which is based in St. Petersburg and is one of Russia’s premier soccer teams; they won the UEFA Cup in 2008.

After a good 18 hours on the train, we arrived in Irkutsk. I snapped a photo of the sunrise from our compartment.

So Long, Kalmykia; Next stop, Siberia.

After just under a month in Elista, I will say goodbye to Kalmykia tomorrow and return to Volgograd. The last couple of days in Kalmykia were exciting and very productive. On Friday night (the 5th), I attended the 50th birthday party of one of Valeriy’s friends, Dorzhi. Dorzhi is a martial artist and runs an industrial complex in Elista, the one that had the karaoke set-up in the sauna. This was unlike any birthday party I’d ever been to. Dorzhi’s high school classmates were there, as well as guests from his home village (his zemlaki). This was a parade of well-wishers who sang songs, read poems, danced the Kalmyk national dance, or simply gave a toast in honor of Dorzhi. As the guest from America, I gave a toast (in Russian) and then predictably warbled ‘Happy Birthday’ in my signature off-key style. I was also dragged out on the dance-floor to dance the Kalmyk national dance, which, according to Valeriy, I did very well. Alas, I have no pictures, as I conveniently forgot my camera. When I return in the summer or fall, wedding season here in Kalmykia, Valeriy is going to show what a real Kalmyk party is all about.

On Saturday, we made a final trip to the sauna, another Kalmyk/Russian tradition to recognize those who have achieved (or will achieve in the future) great things, like the defense of a dissertation. I was presented with a sauna hat as a going-away present. It reads: ‘I sweat like a king’.

I have been accomplishing some of my research goals here, too. This weekend, I held two more focus groups, building off of the first two that I previously discussed in the blog. The first was with Kalmyks who actively practice Buddhism, and was held in the khurul’s library. The second was with students, again, to serve as a sort of comparison with the first focus group we conducted last week; in particular, I wanted to see if I myself could conduct the group, as I’m unsure if I’ll have the type of consistent support in Tuva and Buryatia that I’ve had here. The real benefit of these groups is that they’ve allowed me to identify a couple of the central questions/thoughts that I want to ask about further in the survey: whether there is such a thing as Kalmyk Buddhism, or there is only Buddhism as a world religion; the role of the Dalai Lama and the import of his presence in Kalmykia for Buddhists; and the ‘hidden’ nature of Buddhist practice during the Soviet period, among other topics.

I meet with a compatriot

As I mentioned in my last post, one of the benefits of being an American in Kalmykia is that I'm a bit of a rarity. People are interested in why I'm interested in their little corner of the world, how I first came to hear of Kalmykia, and especially what my impressions of Elista and the Kalmyk people are. That said, I'm not the only American here in Kalmykia. In fact, I'm not the only Coloradan, or even the only Boulderite (by the way, is there any other town of 100k people that has its own noun...that should tell you something right there).

Telo Tulku Rimpoche has been the leader of Kalmykia's Buddhists for the past 16 years. He was born in Philadelphia and at the age of seven was sent to a Tibetan monastery in India to begin his training as a monk. At some point (I'm not sure if it was before or after he went to India), he was recognized as the reincarnation of Telo Rimpoche. His family now lives in Colorado, and he divides his time between there and Elista, although from what I gather he also makes frequent trips to India. He suggested that we hold our next interview on the Pearl Street Mall, Boulder's main commercial pedestrian strip, and after the fact (as I enjoyed some dotur ["Immediately after the sheep’s carcass was carved, the Kalmyk used to cook all internal organs, including, liver, kidneys, heart and lungs. This dish (dotur) used to be a meal for a whole village."] at Valeriy's friend's birthday) I was thinking maybe at Chipotle. That would be both convenient and tasty; I don't think I've gone without a burrito for this long since my year-off trip to New Zealand.

I met with the Rimpoche in his office at the main khurul. He speaks English like the native speaker he is, though I'd be interested to know what other languages he knows. Without question Kalmyk and Tibetan, and I have heard him converse more than adequately in Russian, too. Our conversation was 'off the record', to borrow the terminology of the fourth estate, and was primarily about the revival and development of Buddhism in Kalmykia. I won't bore you with the details, though there are a couple of points worth mentioning. First, Telo Tulku Rimpoche, like others I've spoken to here in Kalmykia, emphasized the importance of the Dalai Lama's visits for Kalmyks. His last visit was in 2004 (he was also here twice in the early 1990s), and this trip played a central role in getting the khurul built. As the Dalai Lama ages, Buddhism is entering a period of uncertainly, and from what I gathered Kalmykia, being the only officially Buddhist territory in Europe, will play a key role in that future. The Rimpoche also railed against meditation, at least as it has been appropriated in western societies; in his view, it's become more like daydreaming, and not an mentally active reflection on one's existence. Here's a picture of the two zemlaki (Russian for compatriots, although it has a specific association with the land).

15 Minutes of Kalmyk Fame

The last couple of days have been a bit of a whirlwind, trying to finish off my preliminary research here in Kalmykia before I head off to Siberia. Last Friday, I attended a conference at the main khurul for local scholars. The main speaker was Geshe Lakhdor, who is the head of the Tibetan Library in Dharamsala, India. Dharamsala is the seat of the Tibetan government-in-exile and where the Dalai Lama makes his home. The theme of the conference was the relationship between Buddhism and science, with an emphasis on the compatibility between these two worldviews as ways of thinking. The conference was particularly interesting given the current debates going on in the United States, with science and religion positioned as mutually exclusive spheres.

Sunday was another full day. I was invited to Valeriy’s in-laws for lunch (again, the meal of the day), to celebrate the birthday of his youngest sister-in-law. She turned thirty, and is the youngest of five girls, which I thought was interesting symmetry given that that is my age and that I’m (virtually) the youngest of five boys. Birthdays and other gatherings in Kalmykia, and in Russia more generally, are marked by a series of toasts, with the well-wishers drinking their vodka do dnya, or ‘to the bottom’. Fortunately, Valeriy’s family didn’t keep too close of tabs on me (although his mother-in-law did check in from time to time...hmmm), so I got away with a sip of vodka for a couple of the toasts. After that, it was on to the local Sporting Academy, where one of Valeriy’s friends is a higher-up, and where Kalmykia was hosting the regional championships for wrestlers from southern Russia. Having never wrestled growing up in America, it was interesting to see how one of these events worked; there were two matches going on at the same time, with different weight classes (85, 100, and 120kgs) rotating through. Afterward, we went out to a Buryat restaurant, which provided me with a nice introduction to Buryat cuisine for my upcoming stop there. I'm looking forward to the encore of meat dumplings and mutton.

Yesterday evening I enjoyed, or at least laid the groundwork for, my fifteen minutes of fame in Kalmykia, as I was interviewed by a student at KSU for the local school newspaper. I talked about my project, gave my impressions of Kalmykia, and served as an academic consultant on the question of non-verbal hand gestures used by English-speakers. I made the drinky-drinky, hang-loose, and cuckoo signs for Ilyana, the student who interviewed me, as she is writing her senior thesis on these signs as used by Russian, German and English speakers. An erudite inter-cultural exchange if ever there was one.