First things first, I'm sorry for having been a bum and not updating earlier.
The last few weeks have been very busy and very, shall we say, cranky. In case it hasn't been in the news in America, and I really don't know if it has or not, I'll start this post by letting you all know that it's the hottest summer in Russian history, literally. It's been over 100 for days. Because of the extreme (and may I add extremely abnormal) heat, there's a horrible drought in Russia, and there are fires all over, including in our province. Also, they're stopped grain export because of the drought. Bad deal. The air in Kazan has been filled with smoke and smog for about a week and a half. So, we've all been a touch cranky. Russians rarely have AC or ice, by the way.
Other than that, things have been rolling pretty normally, but busy. I spend almost every evening out with my friends, and I know that the Yakovlev's and my Russian friends will be what I miss most about Kazan. I'm already sad to think about leaving them!
But of course, what would a blog update from me be without some kind of anecdote? Here goes.
Tuesday was a long day. I had classes, then spent 5 hours kicking around town waiting for friends to call me, only to find out they had changed the plan, they were late, etc. We were going to go souvenir shopping, and I didn't get as much of that done as I wanted, so basically it was a disaster. About 7:30 I was about to head home when Ivan called me to see if I wanted to hang out. I wasn't ready to go home yet, since I knew how hot it would be in the apartment, so Ivan and I met up, bought some bananas and juice, and went to sit down on a beautiful square. This square is paved and has many fountains, and is on the edge of a lake. It might actually be more like a bridge. On the edge of the square is a short wall, and directly below the lake. Straight shot, forty feet down.
Ivan and I sat down on said wall and had a chat, just shooting the breeze, when all of a sudden we heard "bloop". We both looked down at the ring of ripples in the water, looked at each other, and began to laugh hysterically. My phone had fallen right out of my pocket into the lake. It was such a ridiculous situation on top of a horrible day, we had to laugh.
Now, my friends are great. Ivan instantly called Damir because he had an old phone I could use, and the next day our director Natasha bought me a new sm card for my phone (they have a different phone system here, always 'pay as you go') and all is well. But I was so distraught after that day that Ivan and another friend Irek go on my bus with me and walked me home.
"You're having such a bad day, we're going to escort you home".
On the way I taught them idioms like "icing on the cake" and "ticking time bomb". It was a blast.
Right now, I'm getting ready to have lunch with Damir and say goodbye. He has to go to the village for his great-grandmother's funeral, so we won't see him again. I can feel the water-works coming on already. Tonight is our final concert; we'll be reading poems, singing, making toasts, etc. with our host families and our whole group. We're tired, and I wish I could say we're all very very excited but well, like I said, we're tired.
I'm looking forward to going home. Most of all, I want to see my family and friends, but I also want BBQ and AC. Soon, I'll be home, missing Kazan.
Jane
Friday, August 6, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
I'm on a boat and, it's goin' fast and...
This weekend we had a trip on the "teplahod", or, as Colin pointed out to us as we were chanting it down the street, "big boat".
-"TEPLAHOD! TEPLAHOD! TEPLAHOD!"
-"You all know you're chanting 'big boat', right?"
-"TEPLAHOD! BIG BOAT! TEPLAHOD! BIG BOAT!"
Needless to say, we were slightly excited.
We went on a three day river cruise up the Volga (the largest river in Europe, also unfortunatly the dirtiest despite what locals tell you) to the city of Samara, which is about the same size as Kazan, million and a half. Samara is a center for Russian industry; there are plane factories, a chocolate factory, and various other industries. The real gem of the city, howerver (at least from a touristic standpoint) is Stalin's Bunker. More on that later.
We got onto the boat around six on Friday; we made up about 1/3 of the crowd going on the cruise, and we were the only young people. Everyone else was middle aged or older. That did not, however, stop anyone from having a party. We may have partied a little too much, in my opinion. I don't drink, so I had a very interesting time watching everyone else who did. About five or six of us stayed sober, everyone else, less so. I'm fairly certain that there were some Russians who didn't sleep at all that first night. It wasn't necessarily miserable, but it wasn't exactly a gas either. Fortunatly, that was a real low point of self-control on the trip, so it wasn't a total "booze cruize" the whole time.
On Saturday, we arrived in Samara around two and hopped on a tour bus. We looked around downtown, saw some of the new developments, and then went to see the highlight of the tour, Stalin's Bunker. Back in 1941 the USSR began construction of a secret bunker in Samara, where Stalin could flee in case the Nazi's took Moscow (which they never did, but they were very very close). It goes some seven stories underground and could house a lot of personel. So, we walked down who knows how many flights of stairs and saw all the rooms of Stalin's bunker, even the staff room with the giant map of Western Europe and the ominous desk, reminiscent of an old movie. But here's the kicker: Stalin was never actually at the bunker. Never went there. Never saw it. Didn't need it. Acutally, some people think that maybe there was a chance that Stalin could have possibly at some time secretly visited the bunker in disguise, but there's no concrete evidence. Hoorah?
For me, the most interesting thing was at the monument we visited, a huge paved square with a giant tower of socialist realism in the middle. In Russia, most weddings start at the government office, signing the papers, and the most popular day for weddings is Saturday. After the signing at the office and before the party, Russian couples get into decorated cars (they usually have little wedding-ring flower displays strapped to the top and lots of ribbons) and go to some memorial to take pictures. I probably saw seven brides at this memorial, all wearing almost the same dress (tight and a little too revealing on top, a tulle explosion on the bottom). They and their wedding parties walked around the square, took photos, and occasionally stopped for a cigarette break. Ah, love.
We got back on the boat four hours later and the next afternoon, we arrived back in Kazan, and were all feeling really really grateful that we didn't live in Samara. It just didn't have the same vibe as Kazan.
The best part of the trip was being so close together, because normally we're pretty spread out. On the boat, we could walk down the hall and find our friends, or we could all do things spontaneoulsy together. In that respect it was really great. I think the cultural value of this trip was relativly low, but as a fun vacation, it was good.
The food on the boat, by the way, was horrendous. BUT, that was very soon forgotten because the night we got back, some of us found a Georgian restaurant. Incredible.
That's the trip up the Volga! Three more weeks, and "Georgian restaurant" will mean Famous Daves.
Jane
-"TEPLAHOD! TEPLAHOD! TEPLAHOD!"
-"You all know you're chanting 'big boat', right?"
-"TEPLAHOD! BIG BOAT! TEPLAHOD! BIG BOAT!"
Needless to say, we were slightly excited.
We went on a three day river cruise up the Volga (the largest river in Europe, also unfortunatly the dirtiest despite what locals tell you) to the city of Samara, which is about the same size as Kazan, million and a half. Samara is a center for Russian industry; there are plane factories, a chocolate factory, and various other industries. The real gem of the city, howerver (at least from a touristic standpoint) is Stalin's Bunker. More on that later.
We got onto the boat around six on Friday; we made up about 1/3 of the crowd going on the cruise, and we were the only young people. Everyone else was middle aged or older. That did not, however, stop anyone from having a party. We may have partied a little too much, in my opinion. I don't drink, so I had a very interesting time watching everyone else who did. About five or six of us stayed sober, everyone else, less so. I'm fairly certain that there were some Russians who didn't sleep at all that first night. It wasn't necessarily miserable, but it wasn't exactly a gas either. Fortunatly, that was a real low point of self-control on the trip, so it wasn't a total "booze cruize" the whole time.
On Saturday, we arrived in Samara around two and hopped on a tour bus. We looked around downtown, saw some of the new developments, and then went to see the highlight of the tour, Stalin's Bunker. Back in 1941 the USSR began construction of a secret bunker in Samara, where Stalin could flee in case the Nazi's took Moscow (which they never did, but they were very very close). It goes some seven stories underground and could house a lot of personel. So, we walked down who knows how many flights of stairs and saw all the rooms of Stalin's bunker, even the staff room with the giant map of Western Europe and the ominous desk, reminiscent of an old movie. But here's the kicker: Stalin was never actually at the bunker. Never went there. Never saw it. Didn't need it. Acutally, some people think that maybe there was a chance that Stalin could have possibly at some time secretly visited the bunker in disguise, but there's no concrete evidence. Hoorah?
For me, the most interesting thing was at the monument we visited, a huge paved square with a giant tower of socialist realism in the middle. In Russia, most weddings start at the government office, signing the papers, and the most popular day for weddings is Saturday. After the signing at the office and before the party, Russian couples get into decorated cars (they usually have little wedding-ring flower displays strapped to the top and lots of ribbons) and go to some memorial to take pictures. I probably saw seven brides at this memorial, all wearing almost the same dress (tight and a little too revealing on top, a tulle explosion on the bottom). They and their wedding parties walked around the square, took photos, and occasionally stopped for a cigarette break. Ah, love.
We got back on the boat four hours later and the next afternoon, we arrived back in Kazan, and were all feeling really really grateful that we didn't live in Samara. It just didn't have the same vibe as Kazan.
The best part of the trip was being so close together, because normally we're pretty spread out. On the boat, we could walk down the hall and find our friends, or we could all do things spontaneoulsy together. In that respect it was really great. I think the cultural value of this trip was relativly low, but as a fun vacation, it was good.
The food on the boat, by the way, was horrendous. BUT, that was very soon forgotten because the night we got back, some of us found a Georgian restaurant. Incredible.
That's the trip up the Volga! Three more weeks, and "Georgian restaurant" will mean Famous Daves.
Jane
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Americans Bring the Party (and Everybody Know It)
First, the story of three of the coolest people I know: Ivan, Irek, and Damir.
Through a person in our programm who randomly met these three at MacDonalds, my friend Colin and I have become close friends with three of the coolest Russians I know. Ivan and Irek are programmers with Fujitsu, and Damir is seeking employment after being layed off (the economic crisis hit Russia very hard). Ivan is Russian, and Irek and Damir are Tatar, so we get some awesome perspective on all aspects of life in Kazan. Plus, these guys are just awesome.
Almost every day Colin and I, and sometimes other members our group, hang out with them around Kazan. We go to restaurants, bars (which here are a lot more like restaurants: less drunkeness and more food), and walk around the beautiful city. They tell us about the youth culture, take us to the hang-outs, and have generally been great friends to us.
I don't know how we got so lucky; these guys are nice, polite, intelligent, and they're athletes (Ivan and Damir were city champions for the Russian Bells, and Kazan is the sports center of Russia so that's a pretty big honor) so they don't really drink, and Damir (and I would assume Irek since he's also Tatar, though I haven't asked) was raised Muslim, so it's just not in their culture. As a side note, the stereotypical Russian alcoholism seems to be much much less prevalent in the youth; I very rarely see young Russians drunks. Not to say they don't exist, but it seems to me that they've learned a lesson looking at their fathers and grandfathers.
Anyway, lately we've been meeting up with our big group at a bar to hang out (even our group of young Americans doesn't drink that much, just a few beers), and one night we decided to go clubbing together. Of course, our Russians know where to go, a club whose name translates to "4 Rooms". So we arrived at the club and found out that the cover was 300R, about $10. I've never been to a club, but apparently here that's expensive. So our group, about 12 of us, started to leave. HOWEVER, when they heard we were Americans, they let everyone in for FREE! Why? Americans bring the party, and everybody knows it.
The club was really cool; there were four rooms (go figure) with four different kinds of music. As soon as we got there and started dancing, everyone joined in, and it was really fun. REALLY really fun. Here a few things that made it really great. A) Our Russians are awesome, and made sure the whole night that everyone was ok. B) Russians don't dance at clubs like Americans do. A lot more actual dancing, a lot less...ick. C) Nobody was drunk, because who wants to dance drunk? No one at this club apparently.
We left late (2 am or so, which Damir complained was way too early) and went home, all amazed at how much fun it was. I think it all depends on the group, and the awesome Russians plus the fun Americans made a fantastic combination. Tonight we're meeting up to play "futbol" (soccer), and I'm already looking forward to seeind my favorite Russians. My only complaint is that my footies are a little swollen after dancing in heels all night.
Ivan, Irek, Damir, you guys are gems.
Jane
Through a person in our programm who randomly met these three at MacDonalds, my friend Colin and I have become close friends with three of the coolest Russians I know. Ivan and Irek are programmers with Fujitsu, and Damir is seeking employment after being layed off (the economic crisis hit Russia very hard). Ivan is Russian, and Irek and Damir are Tatar, so we get some awesome perspective on all aspects of life in Kazan. Plus, these guys are just awesome.
Almost every day Colin and I, and sometimes other members our group, hang out with them around Kazan. We go to restaurants, bars (which here are a lot more like restaurants: less drunkeness and more food), and walk around the beautiful city. They tell us about the youth culture, take us to the hang-outs, and have generally been great friends to us.
I don't know how we got so lucky; these guys are nice, polite, intelligent, and they're athletes (Ivan and Damir were city champions for the Russian Bells, and Kazan is the sports center of Russia so that's a pretty big honor) so they don't really drink, and Damir (and I would assume Irek since he's also Tatar, though I haven't asked) was raised Muslim, so it's just not in their culture. As a side note, the stereotypical Russian alcoholism seems to be much much less prevalent in the youth; I very rarely see young Russians drunks. Not to say they don't exist, but it seems to me that they've learned a lesson looking at their fathers and grandfathers.
Anyway, lately we've been meeting up with our big group at a bar to hang out (even our group of young Americans doesn't drink that much, just a few beers), and one night we decided to go clubbing together. Of course, our Russians know where to go, a club whose name translates to "4 Rooms". So we arrived at the club and found out that the cover was 300R, about $10. I've never been to a club, but apparently here that's expensive. So our group, about 12 of us, started to leave. HOWEVER, when they heard we were Americans, they let everyone in for FREE! Why? Americans bring the party, and everybody knows it.
The club was really cool; there were four rooms (go figure) with four different kinds of music. As soon as we got there and started dancing, everyone joined in, and it was really fun. REALLY really fun. Here a few things that made it really great. A) Our Russians are awesome, and made sure the whole night that everyone was ok. B) Russians don't dance at clubs like Americans do. A lot more actual dancing, a lot less...ick. C) Nobody was drunk, because who wants to dance drunk? No one at this club apparently.
We left late (2 am or so, which Damir complained was way too early) and went home, all amazed at how much fun it was. I think it all depends on the group, and the awesome Russians plus the fun Americans made a fantastic combination. Tonight we're meeting up to play "futbol" (soccer), and I'm already looking forward to seeind my favorite Russians. My only complaint is that my footies are a little swollen after dancing in heels all night.
Ivan, Irek, Damir, you guys are gems.
Jane
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Story of my Weekend
An email home:
"Here's the story of my weekend.
I didn't end up going to the dacha as planned, which turned out to be a good thing because Colin and I met some new Russian friends that we spent the weekend with. Ivan, who is Russian, and Damir and Eerick who are Tatar. Ivan and Eerick are programmers at some Japanese company, and Damir was laid off recently. We spent the better part of three days hanging out with them; they're really really nice, and want to improve their English. So it's not exactly great for my Russian skills, but I do speak Russian with them and they help me. It's a win-win.
Yesterday (the 4th) we were going to go to the lake, but it rained all night and into the morning. We met at 1:30 (about half of our group, plus Ivan and Damir) and decided to go to our RD Leslie's apartment. She had brought marshmallows from home, so we made s'mores and played charades. We followed this up with McDonalds, because hey, it's America Day. After this Colin, Ivan, Damir and I went to a cafe to hang out. Lots of laughs, fun conversation. They're great, as is Colin.
That's about it for my weekend. Masha comes home (from summer camp) tomorrow, Anatoli left (for Minsk on business) yesterday. I'm going to try to find a camera for skype today, not sure if I'll see the guys. I'm tapping this out between classes. There's a computer lab in the institute. I just had grammar and will now have practicing speech.
I'm really starting to miss you guys. I would be ready to come home. But, five more weeks. It'll fly by, I know, but I miss my folks. Especially Wyatt, since I haven't heard a PEEP from him in almost four weeks.
I love you guys, and I'll talk to you later.
XOXO Jane"
Normal week ahead, more updates to come!
"Here's the story of my weekend.
I didn't end up going to the dacha as planned, which turned out to be a good thing because Colin and I met some new Russian friends that we spent the weekend with. Ivan, who is Russian, and Damir and Eerick who are Tatar. Ivan and Eerick are programmers at some Japanese company, and Damir was laid off recently. We spent the better part of three days hanging out with them; they're really really nice, and want to improve their English. So it's not exactly great for my Russian skills, but I do speak Russian with them and they help me. It's a win-win.
Yesterday (the 4th) we were going to go to the lake, but it rained all night and into the morning. We met at 1:30 (about half of our group, plus Ivan and Damir) and decided to go to our RD Leslie's apartment. She had brought marshmallows from home, so we made s'mores and played charades. We followed this up with McDonalds, because hey, it's America Day. After this Colin, Ivan, Damir and I went to a cafe to hang out. Lots of laughs, fun conversation. They're great, as is Colin.
That's about it for my weekend. Masha comes home (from summer camp) tomorrow, Anatoli left (for Minsk on business) yesterday. I'm going to try to find a camera for skype today, not sure if I'll see the guys. I'm tapping this out between classes. There's a computer lab in the institute. I just had grammar and will now have practicing speech.
I'm really starting to miss you guys. I would be ready to come home. But, five more weeks. It'll fly by, I know, but I miss my folks. Especially Wyatt, since I haven't heard a PEEP from him in almost four weeks.
I love you guys, and I'll talk to you later.
XOXO Jane"
Normal week ahead, more updates to come!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Russian Hair: I Now Have It
The other day, I looked in the mirror and sighed: it was time for a haircut, and I had some legitimate fears. I knew that I would need to get my hair cut some time in Russia before I left, and I knew also that no matter what I did, I would probably end up with a Russian haircut. And I was right.
I walked into the salon on the bottom floor of the Koltzo shopping center and looked around. I wasn't even sure how to go about asking for a haircut. Fortunately, out of the blue, the receptionist was incredibly friendly and helpful (not qualities usually found in the service industry in Russia). I told her that I needed my hair "just a little shorter" (because I didn't know how to say "trim") and she smiled, sat me down to wait, and brought me tea.
When it was my turn, I sat down in the chair and tried to explain to the stylist (20-something, died-black hip haircut, rail thin, unsmiling) what I wanted which was, for the record, my normal style, only shorter. How well did she listen? Ha.
The entire process was unnerving, made worse by the fact that she was unfriendly and not particularly gentle. She pulled, yanked, and jostled with reckless abandon. I almost said something about her combing my ears at one point, but thought better of it. Anyway, she lifted up a big piece off of the back of my head and CUT FOUR INCHES OFF. That's when I knew that she didn't care what I said, and that I was getting Russian hair.
After the first cut I almost cried out, because I didn't really want a new style, but it then occurred to me that I also didn't want a big weird chunk of hair missing off the back of my head, so I let her do here thing. And did she ever. My bangs have never been more perfectly straight in my life.
At the end of the day, most people would probably not notice a huge change, and honestly it does look good, but after she finished, I almost started to cry. This is what she says. "You like it?" I say, "Well...I'm American, and this looks very Russian to me, but it's not bad". Her response, with a smile, "But it's lighter, isn't it??" She got me there.
Actually, it's far from awful, and it's growing on me. But it was a shocking experience. Russian hair: I now have it.
I walked into the salon on the bottom floor of the Koltzo shopping center and looked around. I wasn't even sure how to go about asking for a haircut. Fortunately, out of the blue, the receptionist was incredibly friendly and helpful (not qualities usually found in the service industry in Russia). I told her that I needed my hair "just a little shorter" (because I didn't know how to say "trim") and she smiled, sat me down to wait, and brought me tea.
When it was my turn, I sat down in the chair and tried to explain to the stylist (20-something, died-black hip haircut, rail thin, unsmiling) what I wanted which was, for the record, my normal style, only shorter. How well did she listen? Ha.
The entire process was unnerving, made worse by the fact that she was unfriendly and not particularly gentle. She pulled, yanked, and jostled with reckless abandon. I almost said something about her combing my ears at one point, but thought better of it. Anyway, she lifted up a big piece off of the back of my head and CUT FOUR INCHES OFF. That's when I knew that she didn't care what I said, and that I was getting Russian hair.
After the first cut I almost cried out, because I didn't really want a new style, but it then occurred to me that I also didn't want a big weird chunk of hair missing off the back of my head, so I let her do here thing. And did she ever. My bangs have never been more perfectly straight in my life.
At the end of the day, most people would probably not notice a huge change, and honestly it does look good, but after she finished, I almost started to cry. This is what she says. "You like it?" I say, "Well...I'm American, and this looks very Russian to me, but it's not bad". Her response, with a smile, "But it's lighter, isn't it??" She got me there.
Actually, it's far from awful, and it's growing on me. But it was a shocking experience. Russian hair: I now have it.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Email: the Head-cold and the Rebellion
Here's another edited version of an email recently sent home:
"...In other news, I'm ill. It's been 1000 degrees out, hot in the house, not enought rest, and I've caught some kind of cold. Marina told me,"oh, it's probably because it's so hot out and you drink cold things". Um...yeah, that probably did it... And what cold things was I drinking? They don't belive in ice in this country! Everything is lukewarm at best! So we'll see what kind of home remedies come up. I don't know if Marina fully realizes that this may be a multi-day event. Russians think that drinking cold things gives you a sore throat, so I don't think she's at the "virus" stage of thinking. Yeah Marina, all that "cold" stuff I drink. Bless her heart, she's working with what she knows.
I'm going to the dacha (Russian cottage) tomorrow with the family, just for the day. Anatoli went to Moscow on business yesterday but he's returning tomorrow morning, and we'll spend the day up there. Dachas are really different here; they're all clustered super close together on the outskirts of town. Whole little villages with tiny yards and gardnes, about twenty feet apart, all in little rows. It's strange. And it only takes about an hour to get to ours.
For my birthday me and Laura are going to hit the mall: it has an Ikea (n.b: this sounds like a weird thing to be excited about, but I've never been to an Ikea, and besides the mustard we eat here at home is from Ikea and I want to get them another bottle) and some other stores we like, then maybe come back here and bake cookies or something before dinner: sushi at a different mall with my peeps. Kazanites love sushi and Italian food. Go figure. There are sushi and pasta places ALL OVER. After dinner I'm having some friends over to the house. Anatoli and Marina are so cute: "Do you want us to leave when your friends are here? We can go if you want. Do you want us to be gone?" Um, NO! All my friends are dying to meet you. It's adorable. I told them they were welcome at dinner if they wanted and they wouldn't even entertain the idea of "intruding" on my party. They're great.
Also, we had a rebellion. All of us, that is. Our group is divided into three small groups for classes, but the levels in the groups are all over the spectrum, from the best to the worst in each group. It was making things really really difficult in all the classes, because for some people it was way too fast and for some it was way too slow, so at our last meeting we talked with Leslie, our on-site American director, and self-divided into three groups. I think I'm pretty squarely in intermediate, so that's where I am now. Natasha, our Russian group director (btw Natasha is probably 45 or 50, Leslie is probably 23) was ok with it because she's a lovely woman and has our best interests at heart. Hopefully on Monday things will go better.
Well, that's about all the news I have. I'm alone at home relaxing and trying to recoup, but I'm already bored with Russian TV because I can't understand it. I'll check a little email, goof on the internet, and do who knows what else.
I love you and I'll talk to you all on Sunday.
XOXO Jane"
"...In other news, I'm ill. It's been 1000 degrees out, hot in the house, not enought rest, and I've caught some kind of cold. Marina told me,"oh, it's probably because it's so hot out and you drink cold things". Um...yeah, that probably did it... And what cold things was I drinking? They don't belive in ice in this country! Everything is lukewarm at best! So we'll see what kind of home remedies come up. I don't know if Marina fully realizes that this may be a multi-day event. Russians think that drinking cold things gives you a sore throat, so I don't think she's at the "virus" stage of thinking. Yeah Marina, all that "cold" stuff I drink. Bless her heart, she's working with what she knows.
I'm going to the dacha (Russian cottage) tomorrow with the family, just for the day. Anatoli went to Moscow on business yesterday but he's returning tomorrow morning, and we'll spend the day up there. Dachas are really different here; they're all clustered super close together on the outskirts of town. Whole little villages with tiny yards and gardnes, about twenty feet apart, all in little rows. It's strange. And it only takes about an hour to get to ours.
For my birthday me and Laura are going to hit the mall: it has an Ikea (n.b: this sounds like a weird thing to be excited about, but I've never been to an Ikea, and besides the mustard we eat here at home is from Ikea and I want to get them another bottle) and some other stores we like, then maybe come back here and bake cookies or something before dinner: sushi at a different mall with my peeps. Kazanites love sushi and Italian food. Go figure. There are sushi and pasta places ALL OVER. After dinner I'm having some friends over to the house. Anatoli and Marina are so cute: "Do you want us to leave when your friends are here? We can go if you want. Do you want us to be gone?" Um, NO! All my friends are dying to meet you. It's adorable. I told them they were welcome at dinner if they wanted and they wouldn't even entertain the idea of "intruding" on my party. They're great.
Also, we had a rebellion. All of us, that is. Our group is divided into three small groups for classes, but the levels in the groups are all over the spectrum, from the best to the worst in each group. It was making things really really difficult in all the classes, because for some people it was way too fast and for some it was way too slow, so at our last meeting we talked with Leslie, our on-site American director, and self-divided into three groups. I think I'm pretty squarely in intermediate, so that's where I am now. Natasha, our Russian group director (btw Natasha is probably 45 or 50, Leslie is probably 23) was ok with it because she's a lovely woman and has our best interests at heart. Hopefully on Monday things will go better.
Well, that's about all the news I have. I'm alone at home relaxing and trying to recoup, but I'm already bored with Russian TV because I can't understand it. I'll check a little email, goof on the internet, and do who knows what else.
I love you and I'll talk to you all on Sunday.
XOXO Jane"
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Uzhas Kashmar
In Russian, there's this really (sadly) useful word, "kashmar" (кашмар) that means "nightmare". It's used more idiomatically, as in, "how was your trip over here?" "Oh, it was a kashmar; I lost my laptop in Dulles". Uzhas kashmar (ужас кашмар) is a terrible/awful nightmare. Why explain this? Onto my day.
It was a day that started out normally and ramped up in the kashmar department, until it finally peaked at 10:30 outside of a club on the wrong side of town. But that's yet to come. As a note, I can see how God provided for me in all of this situations, and also I have a good sense of humor about it. If you don't have a good sense of humor when you travel abroad, you will die.
This morning was normal: breakfast with Marina, classes at the institue, then I went to the mall to pick up some groceries and laundry soap (their mall has a grocery store, and yes, it's a real mall). I picked out my laundry soap, all proud of myself, ate a Bigmac because I'm feeling a little homesick (incidentially, the Bigmac made me sick like it always does at home) and returned to the apartment. I gave Marina the soap feeling all happy with myself, and she kind of looked at me and said, "um, this is for washing the laundry by hand. You need the kind for the machine." Hand washing? Not something I normally look for when detergent shoppings That's about 40R down the drain (ha). Fortunately, I decided not to buy the large bag of it, only a little box. God kept me from buying a ton of it. That's the first kashmar.
The second came at dinner. I did all my homework in the afternoon and felt like seeing friends that evening, so Laura, Eli, and I went to a nice Tatar restaurant, nicer than we would usually go to. I decided to order the lamb because it was 195R which is about six or seven dollars, and I love me some lamb. So we have a lovely meal, and when the check comes, it shows that my lamb cost something like 350R. As it turns out, the price was by the kilogram. Who does that? Russians apparently. But, I had a big bill on me, so I was able to pay no problem (thanks again goes to God that I had the money).
Well, Marina wanted me home by ten because of the hoodlums that live in our neighborhood, so I left dinner around 9:45 to catch a bus. At that point, I knew I would be about five minutes late, so I called Marina to let her know I was waiting for a bus. All is fine. TWENTY MINUTES LATER a bus rolls up to the stop. I was downtown across from the big theater and the obligatory Lenin monument, not like I was on the outskirts of town. So I hopped on the bus, number 22, and took off. Here begins the uzhas kashmar.
I know that I live in the opposite direction of the Kremlin (n.b. each major city has their own "kremlin"; it's the government complex, usually a very old fort. THE Kremlin is in Moscow. The Kazan Kremlin is a UNESCO World Heritage Site) so when the bus started to go towards it, my stomach felt not-so-hot. When we crossed the giant bridge over the Volga and I then had a clear view of where I wanted to be, miles away, I wanted to die. But fortunately I did not die, because over the past few years I've been able to learn to "go with it" more than I maybe am comfortable with. So I ended up on the complete opposite end of the world in the new developemnt area of town. Big deal.
I decided that I could either wait for the bus to loop back into town and then call a cab, or get off then and call a cab, so I decided on the latter. I hopped of the bus and went towards a "restaurant" I had seen. Now, my ability to read Russian quickly is lacking, and my ability to read Russian cursive in neon letters is still farther behind, so what I thought was a restaurant actually turned out to be a club. Remember those hoodlums Marina was worried about? The place was swarming with them.
Since I had my emergency number card with me (thank you, Lord) I was able to call a reputable cab company to come save me, but I of course understood not a word of what they said on the telephone. I finally told them where I was and they said they'd call me in a few (call me?), so I waited patiently on the curb while the hip youngsters either swarmed into the club on a happenign Monday night or sat outside and smoked moodily.
When the cab finally arrived, the driver happened to be a Russian incarnation of MacGuyver. Not that he fixed anything crazy, but he kind of looked like him and had a similar personality. If you've seen the show, you know what I'm talking about.
Fortunatly I know my address (Marina laughed as I told her the cab saga when I spat out my address for her; she wasn't sure if I knew it) and he took me home for about $4, but it was totally an uzhas kashmar.
Anyway, Marina and Anatoli think I'm a total dork. Oh oh, and by the way, I made an apple pie this afternoon and we were going to have it at tea tonight, but somebody had to go and get lost...
As I was showering a few moments ago, I happened to glace and Anatoli's can of shaving cream and read "contents under pressure". Indeed.
Jane
P.S. Forgive me if there are any spelling errors. It's late, and when I hit the spell check button, the whole page lit up like a Christmas tree. This computer is formatted in Russian :)
It was a day that started out normally and ramped up in the kashmar department, until it finally peaked at 10:30 outside of a club on the wrong side of town. But that's yet to come. As a note, I can see how God provided for me in all of this situations, and also I have a good sense of humor about it. If you don't have a good sense of humor when you travel abroad, you will die.
This morning was normal: breakfast with Marina, classes at the institue, then I went to the mall to pick up some groceries and laundry soap (their mall has a grocery store, and yes, it's a real mall). I picked out my laundry soap, all proud of myself, ate a Bigmac because I'm feeling a little homesick (incidentially, the Bigmac made me sick like it always does at home) and returned to the apartment. I gave Marina the soap feeling all happy with myself, and she kind of looked at me and said, "um, this is for washing the laundry by hand. You need the kind for the machine." Hand washing? Not something I normally look for when detergent shoppings That's about 40R down the drain (ha). Fortunately, I decided not to buy the large bag of it, only a little box. God kept me from buying a ton of it. That's the first kashmar.
The second came at dinner. I did all my homework in the afternoon and felt like seeing friends that evening, so Laura, Eli, and I went to a nice Tatar restaurant, nicer than we would usually go to. I decided to order the lamb because it was 195R which is about six or seven dollars, and I love me some lamb. So we have a lovely meal, and when the check comes, it shows that my lamb cost something like 350R. As it turns out, the price was by the kilogram. Who does that? Russians apparently. But, I had a big bill on me, so I was able to pay no problem (thanks again goes to God that I had the money).
Well, Marina wanted me home by ten because of the hoodlums that live in our neighborhood, so I left dinner around 9:45 to catch a bus. At that point, I knew I would be about five minutes late, so I called Marina to let her know I was waiting for a bus. All is fine. TWENTY MINUTES LATER a bus rolls up to the stop. I was downtown across from the big theater and the obligatory Lenin monument, not like I was on the outskirts of town. So I hopped on the bus, number 22, and took off. Here begins the uzhas kashmar.
I know that I live in the opposite direction of the Kremlin (n.b. each major city has their own "kremlin"; it's the government complex, usually a very old fort. THE Kremlin is in Moscow. The Kazan Kremlin is a UNESCO World Heritage Site) so when the bus started to go towards it, my stomach felt not-so-hot. When we crossed the giant bridge over the Volga and I then had a clear view of where I wanted to be, miles away, I wanted to die. But fortunately I did not die, because over the past few years I've been able to learn to "go with it" more than I maybe am comfortable with. So I ended up on the complete opposite end of the world in the new developemnt area of town. Big deal.
I decided that I could either wait for the bus to loop back into town and then call a cab, or get off then and call a cab, so I decided on the latter. I hopped of the bus and went towards a "restaurant" I had seen. Now, my ability to read Russian quickly is lacking, and my ability to read Russian cursive in neon letters is still farther behind, so what I thought was a restaurant actually turned out to be a club. Remember those hoodlums Marina was worried about? The place was swarming with them.
Since I had my emergency number card with me (thank you, Lord) I was able to call a reputable cab company to come save me, but I of course understood not a word of what they said on the telephone. I finally told them where I was and they said they'd call me in a few (call me?), so I waited patiently on the curb while the hip youngsters either swarmed into the club on a happenign Monday night or sat outside and smoked moodily.
When the cab finally arrived, the driver happened to be a Russian incarnation of MacGuyver. Not that he fixed anything crazy, but he kind of looked like him and had a similar personality. If you've seen the show, you know what I'm talking about.
Fortunatly I know my address (Marina laughed as I told her the cab saga when I spat out my address for her; she wasn't sure if I knew it) and he took me home for about $4, but it was totally an uzhas kashmar.
Anyway, Marina and Anatoli think I'm a total dork. Oh oh, and by the way, I made an apple pie this afternoon and we were going to have it at tea tonight, but somebody had to go and get lost...
As I was showering a few moments ago, I happened to glace and Anatoli's can of shaving cream and read "contents under pressure". Indeed.
Jane
P.S. Forgive me if there are any spelling errors. It's late, and when I hit the spell check button, the whole page lit up like a Christmas tree. This computer is formatted in Russian :)
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