Four of the 2018 World Cup sites rest along the historic Volga river, but life continues as normal outside the stadiums.
Russia’s mighty Volga river stretches 2,193 miles (3,530 kilometers) from the northwest of Moscow down to the Caspian Sea in the south. It’s the country’s principle waterway and the historic cradle of the entire state. Along Volga’s banks, Ivan the Terrible began Russia’s expansion during the 16th century, the Battle of Stalingrad claimed over 1.5 million lives in Volgograd in the early 1940s, and Vladimir Lenin was born in 1870 in Ulyanovsk. And now, in 2018, four cities along this monumental stretch of water will host World Cup matches.
While football fever may have consumed large parts of Russia during the tournament, Italian photographer Davide Monteleone, who spent 10 days exploring cities and towns along the Volga during the event, was most interested in the region’s deep-rooted culture and customs.
“Four out of the 11 host cities are on the Volga, but I didn’t want to take pictures of stadiums or fans, because I didn't want to do a story that was only for the moment,” Monteleone says. “It was the occasion of the World Cup, but the pictures that I took are of how the Volga was, is, and is going to be for a few years still.”
During his survey of life along “Mother Volga,” as the locals call it, Monteleone visited both large host cities—Volgograd, Kazan, and Samara—as well as the rural towns between them. In the smaller locales, such as Lipovka, Vinnovka, and Sviyazhsk, which are close, in Russian terms, to the host cities, life continued in the slow way it always has.
“Rural Russia is one of the most interesting parts, because it hasn’t really changed since the 18th or 19th century. The people conduct a very simple life,” he says. “Here, people were just getting on with their lives as they have done for years. They knew the World Cup was happening, but it was not really the main thing.” Evening activities would more likely involve playing traditional games or a gentle promenade around the main square, he says.
Monteleone’s photographic approach partly echoed this parochial, immutable pace of life. “Most of the time I worked with a large format camera with a digital back that required a tripod. It's pretty slow photography,” he says. Through this method, he created a series of formal, carefully constructed portraits that reveal a culture which still has religion, agriculture, and tradition at its heart. “I had a preconceived idea to try to have portraits that reveal the geography and the sociology of the place,” he says.
The large host cities, however, were caught up in the frenzied excitement of the country’s first World Cup, and the packed restaurants, bars, and newly erected arenas weren’t the only impacts of the tournament. Monteleone, who has been documenting Russia for more than 18 years, also noticed a shift in the general culture and demeanor.
“Russians are famous for being pretty cold most of the time, especially with foreigners,” he explains. “But everyone was very welcoming. And you saw this feeling of freedom that you could do whatever you want. For example, it was a little bit strange to see people dancing in the street and the police not doing anything. Normally, when people gather in the street they get dispersed.”
These cities, outside the usual attractions of Moscow and St. Petersburg, may have welcomed this temporary influx of tourists, but Monteleone suspects these changes won’t last once the streets empty. “It is a moment in contemporary Russia—it's good leverage for Putin and for the government to pursue this welcoming appearance to the world but I'm not sure it will have a big long-term impact,” he says. “Russia has a very slow history. When the World Cup finishes the people will go back to normal life.”
Monteleone’s ongoing work focuses on the relationship between the state and individuals in post-Soviet countries—and that’s just as present in the architecture as anywhere else. In Volgograd, the newly erected arena may be the main attraction for now, but The Motherland Calls, a towering 279-foot statue erected after the Battle of Stalingrad, still looms larger.
Original Website: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/culture-exploration/2018/07/russia-volga-river-life-towns-photos-culture/
mighty 巨大的
stretch 延伸
Caspian Sea 里海
cradle 摇篮
claim 剥夺（生命）
tournament 联赛
occasion 时候
conduct 实行
promenade 散步，骑马
parochial 狭小的，教区的
immutable 不变的
tripod 三角架
preconceived 预想的，先入的
frenzied 狂热的
erect 建设，树立
arena 竞技场
demeanor 态度
dispersed 分散的，被驱散的
influx 到来，流入
leverage 影响力
statue 塑像
loom 朦胧出现
Monday, July 16, 2018
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Secret Code Prevents Cleaner Shrimp From Becoming a Meal
---- Reef shrimp and their fish clients use special signals that communicate cooperation, a new study says.
TELEVISION ADS OFTEN use animals to sell things. How many animals, though, advertise for themselves?
Cleaner shrimp do—their bold stripes and antennae movements advertise their services to fish clients, which have their own way of requesting some crustacean TLC.
Ocean Chatter
In a recent study, Eleanor Caves, a postdoctoral researcher at Duke University, and colleagues looked more closely at these signals between Pederson cleaner shrimp and their clients in the Caribbean Sea.
The team analyzed 199 encounters between shrimp and 10 fish species at a field station in Curaçao, the most common being spotted goatfish and ocean surgeonfish.
When a fish approaches a shrimp and holds its body very still—called posing—the shrimp then wave their antennae, signaling they’re willing to clean (and get a meal of tasty parasites). Fish then typically turn a darker color, an indication they want to be cleaned.
Shrimp who waved or whipped their antennae picked parasites off the visiting fish in 80 percent of cases. Even if the shrimp hadn’t whipped their antennae, fish were three times as likely to get cleaned if they quickly turned dark in color.
Cleaner shrimp are colorblind and likely see in grayscale, Caves says, so the fish's darker hue is a vivid indicator. When shown lighter and darker images of triangles, circles, or rectangles on an iPad leaned up against a tank in the lab, shrimp would more frequently try cleaning the dark images.
Stayin' Alive
But why do fish allow shrimp—typical prey—to scour scales and gills and even get inside their mouths without eating them?
“Reef fishes can become overloaded with parasites and suffer health consequences without the services of cleaning organism,” and will pursue cleaning even before food and mating opportunities, says Nanette Chadwick, a marine biologist at Auburn University.
Fish will migrate to reefs where cleaners are added, Chadwick says, and if they are removed “large fishes migrate away and smaller, less mobile fishes may die.”
Benjamin Titus, of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, notes that Pederson cleaner shrimp are “dedicated cleaners,” devoting their whole lives to this service. Pederson shrimp mostly eat parasites, he says, but they can also remove dead and damaged tissue, promoting healing.
The cleaners also have a mutualistic relationship with a variety of anemones, which offer a safe home among their toxic tentacles, possibly in exchange for the additional nutrients excreted by the fish when cleaned by the shrmp.
Reef fish “even use the sea anemones as visual cues to locate Pederson cleaner shrimp from a distance as they cruise around on the reef," Chadwick adds.
Evolving Cooperation
In doing the research, Caves found more evidence for how different species—a potential predator and potential prey—have evolved to communicate with one another without conflict.
“In this day in age,” she says, “this seems especially important to understand—the evolutionary basis for cooperation.”
reef 礁石
crustacean 甲壳类的
chatter 唠叨，闲聊
spot 发现
parasite 寄生生物
indication 指示
whip 抽打；鞭子
hue 色调
scour 冲涮，擦亮
pursue 追求，进行
gill 腮
dedicated 投入的，献身的
mutualistic 共生的
anemone 海葵
tentacle 触手，触角
excrete 排泄
TELEVISION ADS OFTEN use animals to sell things. How many animals, though, advertise for themselves?
Cleaner shrimp do—their bold stripes and antennae movements advertise their services to fish clients, which have their own way of requesting some crustacean TLC.
Ocean Chatter
In a recent study, Eleanor Caves, a postdoctoral researcher at Duke University, and colleagues looked more closely at these signals between Pederson cleaner shrimp and their clients in the Caribbean Sea.
The team analyzed 199 encounters between shrimp and 10 fish species at a field station in Curaçao, the most common being spotted goatfish and ocean surgeonfish.
When a fish approaches a shrimp and holds its body very still—called posing—the shrimp then wave their antennae, signaling they’re willing to clean (and get a meal of tasty parasites). Fish then typically turn a darker color, an indication they want to be cleaned.
Shrimp who waved or whipped their antennae picked parasites off the visiting fish in 80 percent of cases. Even if the shrimp hadn’t whipped their antennae, fish were three times as likely to get cleaned if they quickly turned dark in color.
Cleaner shrimp are colorblind and likely see in grayscale, Caves says, so the fish's darker hue is a vivid indicator. When shown lighter and darker images of triangles, circles, or rectangles on an iPad leaned up against a tank in the lab, shrimp would more frequently try cleaning the dark images.
Stayin' Alive
But why do fish allow shrimp—typical prey—to scour scales and gills and even get inside their mouths without eating them?
“Reef fishes can become overloaded with parasites and suffer health consequences without the services of cleaning organism,” and will pursue cleaning even before food and mating opportunities, says Nanette Chadwick, a marine biologist at Auburn University.
Fish will migrate to reefs where cleaners are added, Chadwick says, and if they are removed “large fishes migrate away and smaller, less mobile fishes may die.”
Benjamin Titus, of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, notes that Pederson cleaner shrimp are “dedicated cleaners,” devoting their whole lives to this service. Pederson shrimp mostly eat parasites, he says, but they can also remove dead and damaged tissue, promoting healing.
The cleaners also have a mutualistic relationship with a variety of anemones, which offer a safe home among their toxic tentacles, possibly in exchange for the additional nutrients excreted by the fish when cleaned by the shrmp.
Reef fish “even use the sea anemones as visual cues to locate Pederson cleaner shrimp from a distance as they cruise around on the reef," Chadwick adds.
Evolving Cooperation
In doing the research, Caves found more evidence for how different species—a potential predator and potential prey—have evolved to communicate with one another without conflict.
“In this day in age,” she says, “this seems especially important to understand—the evolutionary basis for cooperation.”
reef 礁石
crustacean 甲壳类的
chatter 唠叨，闲聊
spot 发现
parasite 寄生生物
indication 指示
whip 抽打；鞭子
hue 色调
scour 冲涮，擦亮
pursue 追求，进行
gill 腮
dedicated 投入的，献身的
mutualistic 共生的
anemone 海葵
tentacle 触手，触角
excrete 排泄
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Inside the Hidden Lives of a Centuries-Old Religious Community in Siberia
One of the things he remembers most is the services: small, intimate gatherings of no more than 15 people, standing together united in prayer. There was no church in Aidara, a tiny, remote village in Western Siberia, so families and their neighbors worshipped together in a dedicated prayer room in someone’s home. Services took place in the evening, and while some lasted only a couple of hours, others lasted up to seven, unfolding into the early morning. Religious icons decorated the corners of the room. Burning incense and candles cast a warm glow on the focused faces of Russian Orthodox Old Believers as they embraced the divine moments of their deeply embedded faith.
“I think that had the heaviest impact on me,” says Emile Ducke, a photojournalism student currently based in Moscow.
In the summer of 2016, Ducke spent time documenting the lives and rituals of the Russian Orthodox Old Believers, a sect of the Orthodox Church guided by traditions that predate the church’s 17th-century reforms. German-born Ducke was studying abroad in Tomsk, Siberia, at the time and says he became interested in the region’s more remote and isolated communities, particularly those in the northern region along the River Ket. Together with a fellow student, Ducke spent time traveling through villages near the river, learning about people’s daily lives and the obstacles they faced. It was then that they heard about the Old Believers in Aidara.
“We immediately caught interest, because [the Old Believer’s] history is deeply connected to Siberia and to the wider story of communities living there,” Ducke says.
The Old Believers separated from the Russian Orthodox Church following a set of reforms introduced by Patriarch Nikon in 1652. The changes, which were made in order to more closely align with the Greek Orthodox churches, included the spelling of Jesus' name in the prayer books and the number of fingers used to make the sign of the cross. Unwilling to accept the revisions, Old Believers were imprisoned or persecuted. Many went into exile and moved to the isolated plains of Siberia.
Though there are populations of Old Believers living today in Moscow and parts of the Americas, those who remain in Siberia, particularly in Aidara, fascinate Ducke.
“We’re talking about this region where everything is already cut off,” Ducke says. “And going three hours by boat [to Aidara] means they are even more cutoff than most.”
The village seems to exist in a world all its own. “Arriving there is something special,” Ducke says. The only way to reach the town was to travel three hours along the Ket. A relative of one of the Aidara villagers took Ducke and his colleague upriver by a small motorboat to the settlement. From there, a nearly two-mile walk landed them in hayfields at the village’s edge. Aidara was practically hidden.
Ducke had little idea what to expect when he reached his destination, both from the landscape and from the people he’d encounter.
“Visually, it reminded me of the pictures of Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii, who 100 years ago had been on assignment for the Russian czar,” he added. Tsar Nicolas II commissioned Prokudin-Gorskii to document the Russian empire, and the photographer produced the first color photos of Russia in the early 20th century.
Ducke and his colleague stayed in an empty house owned by one of the families. It was fascinating to see how structured life was, Ducke says.
“There’s the religious life and the working life, and there isn’t so much in between,” he explains.
The Old Believers kept aspects of their religious lives out of focus. Eventually, though, some families invited Ducke and his colleague to their prayer services—a massive honor and a sign of trust, Ducke says, though they asked that he leave his camera behind.
“There are no pictures of the religion directly,” Ducke says. “I think the biggest challenge for me as a photographer is not being able to photograph such an essential part [of their world].”
He found other ways to translate their religious identities: photographing some of the children as they learn the Church Slavonic language from their prayer books; creating images of the Aidara cemetery, where the three-barred cross of the Russian Orthodox Church marks each grave; and making pictures of the Old Believers in their prayer clothes.
Though Ducke admired the community’s connection to nature, he could see the challenges that came with their chosen lifestyle. The Old Believers don’t have televisions or internet, but there are power stations that generate electricity during the day and people use tractors and motorcycles to carry out their daily tasks. Still, there are obstacles. Post is delivered by helicopter every two weeks, and summer brings the threat of forest fires in the woods that trace Aidara’s borders.
“There was a forest fire in the first days, and it was basically the whole community of Old Believers in the forest trying to lie down counterfires to cut off the fires,” Ducke says.
Alongside prayer services, witnessing the community come together to fight the fire was among the most moving experiences for Ducke during his time with the Old Believers. He believes it helped set the foundation for the bond he came to form with the community.
“We shared a lot of these moments, intense moments together, and I think this helped open the trust for [documenting] Aidara.”
service 礼拜仪式
intimate 安静的
in prayer 祷告
worship 礼拜
dedicated 专用的
unfold 展开
incense 香料
Russian Orthodox Old Believers 东正教旧礼仪派
divine 神圣的
embedded 深入的
ritual 仪式，习惯
sect 派系
predate 提早日期，居先
reform 改革
obstacle 障碍
revision 修正，改订
imprison 禁锢
persecute 迫害
exile 流亡
fascinate 吸引
hayfield 干草甸
czar 沙皇
commission 委任
out of focus 模糊
cemetery 非教会的共同墓地
intense 热烈的
“I think that had the heaviest impact on me,” says Emile Ducke, a photojournalism student currently based in Moscow.
In the summer of 2016, Ducke spent time documenting the lives and rituals of the Russian Orthodox Old Believers, a sect of the Orthodox Church guided by traditions that predate the church’s 17th-century reforms. German-born Ducke was studying abroad in Tomsk, Siberia, at the time and says he became interested in the region’s more remote and isolated communities, particularly those in the northern region along the River Ket. Together with a fellow student, Ducke spent time traveling through villages near the river, learning about people’s daily lives and the obstacles they faced. It was then that they heard about the Old Believers in Aidara.
“We immediately caught interest, because [the Old Believer’s] history is deeply connected to Siberia and to the wider story of communities living there,” Ducke says.
The Old Believers separated from the Russian Orthodox Church following a set of reforms introduced by Patriarch Nikon in 1652. The changes, which were made in order to more closely align with the Greek Orthodox churches, included the spelling of Jesus' name in the prayer books and the number of fingers used to make the sign of the cross. Unwilling to accept the revisions, Old Believers were imprisoned or persecuted. Many went into exile and moved to the isolated plains of Siberia.
Though there are populations of Old Believers living today in Moscow and parts of the Americas, those who remain in Siberia, particularly in Aidara, fascinate Ducke.
“We’re talking about this region where everything is already cut off,” Ducke says. “And going three hours by boat [to Aidara] means they are even more cutoff than most.”
The village seems to exist in a world all its own. “Arriving there is something special,” Ducke says. The only way to reach the town was to travel three hours along the Ket. A relative of one of the Aidara villagers took Ducke and his colleague upriver by a small motorboat to the settlement. From there, a nearly two-mile walk landed them in hayfields at the village’s edge. Aidara was practically hidden.
Ducke had little idea what to expect when he reached his destination, both from the landscape and from the people he’d encounter.
“Visually, it reminded me of the pictures of Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii, who 100 years ago had been on assignment for the Russian czar,” he added. Tsar Nicolas II commissioned Prokudin-Gorskii to document the Russian empire, and the photographer produced the first color photos of Russia in the early 20th century.
Ducke and his colleague stayed in an empty house owned by one of the families. It was fascinating to see how structured life was, Ducke says.
“There’s the religious life and the working life, and there isn’t so much in between,” he explains.
The Old Believers kept aspects of their religious lives out of focus. Eventually, though, some families invited Ducke and his colleague to their prayer services—a massive honor and a sign of trust, Ducke says, though they asked that he leave his camera behind.
“There are no pictures of the religion directly,” Ducke says. “I think the biggest challenge for me as a photographer is not being able to photograph such an essential part [of their world].”
He found other ways to translate their religious identities: photographing some of the children as they learn the Church Slavonic language from their prayer books; creating images of the Aidara cemetery, where the three-barred cross of the Russian Orthodox Church marks each grave; and making pictures of the Old Believers in their prayer clothes.
Though Ducke admired the community’s connection to nature, he could see the challenges that came with their chosen lifestyle. The Old Believers don’t have televisions or internet, but there are power stations that generate electricity during the day and people use tractors and motorcycles to carry out their daily tasks. Still, there are obstacles. Post is delivered by helicopter every two weeks, and summer brings the threat of forest fires in the woods that trace Aidara’s borders.
“There was a forest fire in the first days, and it was basically the whole community of Old Believers in the forest trying to lie down counterfires to cut off the fires,” Ducke says.
Alongside prayer services, witnessing the community come together to fight the fire was among the most moving experiences for Ducke during his time with the Old Believers. He believes it helped set the foundation for the bond he came to form with the community.
“We shared a lot of these moments, intense moments together, and I think this helped open the trust for [documenting] Aidara.”
service 礼拜仪式
intimate 安静的
in prayer 祷告
worship 礼拜
dedicated 专用的
unfold 展开
incense 香料
Russian Orthodox Old Believers 东正教旧礼仪派
divine 神圣的
embedded 深入的
ritual 仪式，习惯
sect 派系
predate 提早日期，居先
reform 改革
obstacle 障碍
revision 修正，改订
imprison 禁锢
persecute 迫害
exile 流亡
fascinate 吸引
hayfield 干草甸
czar 沙皇
commission 委任
out of focus 模糊
cemetery 非教会的共同墓地
intense 热烈的
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