Welcome to the Village of Topol'noye

Written and photographed by Nikolai Burlakoff

Our gang in Topoln'oye with a folk choir from the village of Gornai Altai (in traditional dress).

Since my second trip to the Soviet Union in 1975, when I helped to shepherd a dozen Johnson State College students on a multi-week seminar throughout that country, I dreamed of returning. Circumstances of life distracted me from that dream. In 1991 the Soviet Union disappeared from the map of the world. In 2017 I learned of the possibility of a scholarship from the American Friends of Russian Folklore to do folklore fieldwork in Russia, the successor state to the Soviet Union (many Americans don’t realize that the country of Russia is completely different from the Soviet Union).

I became excited by that possibility—my graduate work, at Indiana University, was done in Russian literature and folklore. I applied for the scholarship, and while I was awaiting the decision by AFRF, my wife suggested that even if I didn’t receive the scholarship I should go. I did not get the scholarship, and I went anyway.

Of the expeditions AFRF offered for the summer of 2018 I chose the one to Altai in Siberia. We were to work in the Old Believer village of Topol’noe. Old Believers are Eastern Orthodox Christians who maintain the liturgical and ritual practices as they existed prior to Patriarch Nikon’s reforms between 1652 and 1666.

Work in the Altai and in an Old Believer village was another dream coming true. I am currently working on a book about Russian Buddhism, and the Altai figures prominently in the history of Russian Buddhism of the early part of the 20th century. Altai is where the Russian Theosophist Nicholas Roerich searched for the Buddhist kingdom of Shambala (Buddhist paradise in the Tibetan tradition), and the Old Believer land of Belovodie (White Water). While Roerich did not find Shambala or Belovodie, I wanted to find out if there were traces of the two legends extant nearly a century after his expedition.

A glimpse of Buddachika Mountain which is said to show a silhouette of the Buddha in repose. According to legend, Buddha walk along the lower slopes of the mountain on his travels to Tibet.

The trip to the Altai Krai, where our fieldwork was to take place, was the beginning of a wonderful adventure. It took me two days to reach the city of Barnaul (the capital of Altai Krai) mostly because of a long layover in Moscow and the 12-hour time difference between New York and Barnaul. I was met in Barnaul by our expedition liaison, who accompanied me to our hotel. As I was overcoming jet lag, the other members of our expedition appeared; first our expedition leader and interpreter, followed shortly by two other American participants. We spent a day in organizing and travel chores, such as exchanging money and acquiring Russian cell phone services. Next morning, we were off, in a stuffed Nissan van (seven adults and driver, luggage for a 10-day stay, plus parcels for villagers) on a four-hour journey to the village.

I was in heaven. I admired the scenery and the excellent main road we were on. As we came closer to our destination the roads got progressively more primitive. Finally, we were on a dirt road with potholes of such dimensions that our driver had to maneuver like a skier on a slalom course. Our trip ended with arrival in front of the one-story log house that would be our home for the next 10 days.

It felt familiar, as if I had arrived home after a long absence.

The driver stopped in front of a group of village women waiting in front of the gate in the wooden fence that surrounded “our” house. As we disembarked the women sang a song of welcome. Then we proceeded through the gate to the log house, passing a hand-powered water pump on our left and a log sauna bathhouse on the right.

Dr. Alevtina Tsvetkova, our team leader in fern wreath on St. John's eve.

As the oldest, and the only male, I was enjoined to enter the house first. Dutifully, we followed the Russian custom of taking off our shoes before entering the domicile, and went in.

We entered the kitchen and sitting area. There was a large brick stove, painted white, in the corner of the room. A refrigerator, and a sink with faucet telegraphed that this house had some modern creature comforts. In addition to the kitchen, there were three bedrooms. Later, I found out that one room was carved-out of the kitchen area especially for me. As the only male in our group, I received special treatment. The job of constructing that room was done so skillfully that it appeared to have always been part of the house.

The following ten days passed in a happy blur of experiences. Daily visits to “grandmothers” (female community elders who hold the culture in oral tradition), were supplemented by visits to the village museum, the regional museum, a local “living” farm museum, and other points of interest. We observed, and participated, in the St. John’s Eve celebration by weaving fern headdresses (the belief is that ferns bloom on St. John’s Eve and anyone who acquires a fern flower can see the future), ritual food, bonfire, and games for the young people. We also participated in the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul by cutting grass with a scythe.

May honey on the breakfast table. Its purity is evidenced by the way it falls off a spoon.

Everyone enjoyed the food we ate. Among the most popular was May honey, gathered from village beehives, unprocessed, not pasteurized, light golden in color, and tasting faintly of spring flowers. The honey was so popular that most of us bought some to take home. Another item that found great favor were the Siberian cedar pine nuts. Our hosts slaughtered a lamb for our meat. The resulting dishes, such as the borsch, made with this meat were unbelievably good. A free-ranging lamb raised on spring grasses and flowers yields absolutely delicious meat. We had a chance to learn and practice making Siberian pelmeni, a type of local ravioli. Our hostess even provided warm milk from a just-milked cow when she learned that I liked such milk. In short, local food was a complete success.

Our interpreter, Dr. Yizbabeva, in fern wreath and traditional dress, participating in games.

We had our problems: the electric water pump died, and we had to use the hand pump in front of the house. That was not so bad during the day but was a chore in the evenings when we filled the water tank for our sauna bath/laundry. More troublesome was the daily shut-off of electricity, for almost a week, necessitated by repairs on the main electric lines. The lack of electricity during the day forced us to do our work at night, or very early in the morning. We spent almost a week without any access to modern communications during the day. Wonders be, no one perished as a result. In fact, we had more time to talk, to take walks, to go swimming, to loll in the grass and, to collect more folklore materials.

Taylor examining an object in the village museum. Behind her, a bust of Lenin wears a Pioneer (Soviet Scout) kerchief.

In terms of my folklore research, the stay in Topol’noe was a complete success. I recorded two versions of the Belovodie legend and one version of the Shambala legend. In addition, two stories of encounters with St. Nicholas were shared by our informants. That the stories were told was an important indicator that the structure of religious belief among the people we interviewed allowed for the possibility that the legend of Belovodie may be interpreted literally, at least by some. There simply was not enough time to explore that possibility.

Our official photographer, Stephanie, is moved by the beauty of the a cappella folk singing.

After ten days we piled ourselves and our stuff into the Nissan van that had brought us to the village, and off we went to Barnaul. There we went our separate ways. My American colleagues went to see Lake Baikal, our expedition leader and interpreter went home to Kazakhstan, while I stayed in Barnaul, resting before embarking on a prolonged journey to Lake Svetlojar, and exploration of the legend about a sunken city beneath its waves. But that’s another tale. To sum up the experience in village on an emotional level, while everything was experienced for the first time, it felt familiar, as if I had arrived home after a long absence. That feeling gave me great joy.

Saying goodbye is never easy. Our team and our host family pose for one final photo.

About Nikolai Burlakoff

Nikolai Burlakoff is a Harvard and Indiana Universities educated writer, photographer, folklorist, and cook. As a non-profit and museum executive and consultant for more than three decades he has worked with a wide range of ethnic communities in the United States. See more of his writing here.