Sunday, February 3, 2008

The Day I Visited Dostoevsky's Childhood Home




The weather had decievingly warmed up that day, leaving giant puddles just past the curb and forcing the three of us on the tour to walk several meters away from the corner and back down towards the corner on the street. The sidewalks and streets really leave something to be desired after pedestrian (and street-drain) friendly America.






Our tour guide was very proud that we, as foreigners, were visiting Dostoevsky's Childhood Home. Many Russians, even Muskovites, have not been to this historic place. Since it was my first weekend in Moscow, I was eager to begin sightseeing, even if it meant visiting the home of an author I had never read. That isn't to say I didn't try - but when you are in middle school and pick up Crime and Punishment the first few pages do not inspire further exploration. Based on what I learned about Dostoevsky's childhood, it was filled with the precisely the macabre and depressing experiences that would later influence his writing.






The house we visited was part of a medical facility -the hospital is still being used today! Fyodor Dostoevsky's father was a surgeon at the hospital and during Dostoevsky's childhood the hospital patients would be allowed out into the courtyard to sit in the sun, with the Dostoevsky children ordered to stay inside and not mingle. Fyodor would go out anyways, and while listening to the patient's stories he'd also catch glimpses of chain gangs walking on the street on their way to and from the nearby lunatic assylum and/or criminal cemetery. The neighborhood, even today, isn't very savory and out of the way. One of the only indications that Fyodor Dostoevsky lived in the area is a somber statue in the courtyard of the hospital. We weren't allowed to take photos inside the home, but much of the original furniture and belongings remain. Wandering from one dismal room to another and peering out the small windows at the snow covered courtyard made me appreciate my living space at the Embassy and in America and I sympathized with the young Dostoevsky and his humble origins.