Ivan’s Island

A cruise ship sank in the Volga River in heavy weather a few weeks back, with more than 100 lives lost. On the radio I heard President Medvedev vow to banish the antiquated boats that ply Russia’s waterways. A commentator called them “rust buckets,” and a shiver went down my spine.

Sviyazhsk, 2001

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Eight years ago I went out on the Volga in just such a rust bucket. Looking back, I realize that our excursion to the historic island of Sviyazhsk was memorable not just for the sights we saw but also for the nagging unease I felt about that rickety boat.

On the surface, we were an enthusiastic group​—​several score Americans and Tatars out for a picnic lunch, followed by Frisbee and volleyball or, for the less energetic, a walking tour of the sparsely populated island. The outing was part of a Tatar-American festival organized by some Americans teaching English in Kazan, capital of Tatarstan, one of the Muslim republics of the Russian Federation. 

The festival was intended as a meeting of two cultures. We Americans stayed with Tatar families, and we were each assigned an English-speaking student as our personal interpreter. Our hosts and interpreters joined in some of the festival activities​—​performances of country music and Tatar folk dancing, a banquet and fashion show, a visit to an English-immersion school, a tour of Old Kazan, and the day trip to Sviyazhsk.

As soon as we boarded, I noticed the absence of the emergency-preparedness overkill that’s standard at home. Most of the Tatars I spoke with had never been out on the river before. But we got caught up in conversations. I remember telling one young man about learning to play the “Song of the Volga Boatmen” on the piano as a kid. He was shortly to leave for Indiana University, and he had clearly done some homework. He asked me whether Indiana was one of the 33 states with Indian reservations.