Странно/Strange

Last night, I was in bed reading The Reader, lent to me by Ms. Andrea. The book made me feel deeply and quietly sad in a way that reminded me of one of my favorite books, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. I regretted not having my copy with me, although there was no reason I should have brought it. About ten minutes later, Anya knocked on my door and came in. She commented that I was reading something new and I told her no more than the title, the nationality of the author, and that it was sad. Suddenly, she asked, “Do you like Kundera? Because Grisha’s mom has his books in English and I thought you might want to borrow them.”

It was weird. She’s going to get them for me next time she’s at her mother-in-law’s.

In the meantime, I’ve found English copies of short stories by Chekhov and Hemingway in English in our apartment. Also in English: poetry by Byron and stories by O. Henry. The Russians LOVE them, and none of us can explain this phenomenon.

Soviet Kitsch

I hate to admit it, but I was a bit dull this weekend. I still haven't gotten out to the clubs and bars at night--but I'm working on ideas for this Friday. I'm thinking I'll go back to Masterskaya for dancing (with friends, of course) and see what happens from there--the metro doesn't re-open until 6, so it'll be an experience. Saturday is Anya's birthday; I have already been warned not to make any plans.

This past weekend, though not exciting to retell, was really delightful. Anya and Grisha really wanted to go swimming on Friday, so we dropped Lyova off with Grisha's mother, picked up his 9-year-old sister Varya, and headed to a nearby fitness club. Mostly it was not notable, but a few things struck me: it cost 400 rubles (over thirteen bucks, yikes), we had to put plastic things over our shoes when we came in (presumably because the streets are so dusty), we had to shower before we went into the pool (likely for the same reason), all of the women wore bathing caps (...I looked terrible), and the sauna was SO ridiculously hot. My bathing cap started to burn my ears after a while. I'm not much of a swimmer, so I just spent most of the time watching Varya goof off or floating on my back.

On Saturday, Anya, Grisha, Lyova and I headed out around 11 for a flea market that they were really excited to show me. It was a long trip--we took a bus to a Metro stop, took the Metro to a suburban train (элестричка) station, and took the train a few stops to the market. Best part of the train: they sold ice cream. For real. The market was delightfully run-down, just a long street dotted by sellers' tarps, on which were clothes, knick-knacks, dishes, jewelry, furniture, vinyl, army uniforms. Anyone into stuff from the Soviet era would've had a field day. I kept thinking, "Well, I won't buy that now, in case I run into something else I want. I have to take all of this stuff back to the US." But that screwed me in the end because I didn't buy anything, and after a while it started raining and most of the sellers began packing up. I left empty-handed, but I hope to go back. I want one of these (click for picture). They're metal holders for glasses. Why? I have no idea! But they're an old Russian thing, and some of them are really lovely.

After the flea market, we came back into the city and walked around other stores. I got a pair of tights to replace the ones I'd ripped on Friday (putting tights back on after being in a pool/shower is sort of difficult) at this great store which is basically just stuff for feet and legs. By the time we headed home at about 10, I was exhausted. 11 hours of walkin' around. Anya had wanted to watch Kill Freud, a Spanish film she loves, but we settled down in the kitchen for a snack and didn't leave until 2, when we couldn't stay awake any longer. We spent the whole time talking about relationships openly, and for some reason Anya and I were really giggly at some points. It was wonderful. I feel closer to them every day; it's going to be very difficult to leave.

Finally, time to relax

We had a lot of visitors to the little apartment yesterday. In addition to two deliveries (food and Anya's contacts): Grisha's friends, one shorter and round and loud, and one tall and thin and quiet; the cleaning people, who are from the Philippines; a couple of the kids from my program who go to OSU; and Anya's fashion-designer sister.

So Grisha's friends. They spoke English, too! Geez. Or at least the shorter one, Alex, did. The taller--I can't remember his name, it was very unusual--greeted me in English, but hardly spoke at all even when everyone was speaking Russian. After Alex had thrown himself across the couch (which is really a sort of large bean bag thing) and snuggled up to Anya, getting a dirty look from Grisha, he said, "So. All I know about you is that you're from Ogaio (Огайо, the Russian word for Ohio)." And Grisha said (you'll have to imagine his thick accent), "That is not all you know! You know she has long legs and is redhead." Which was very funny. Alex was dramatic and funny and seemed really good-natured. Grisha's other friend--I feel so bad that I can't remember his name--seems sweet as well. I hope I see them again. Anya and Grisha are considering having a party for Anya's birthday, in which case I'll meet more of their friends.

I left not long after the cleaning people came, so I didn't talk with them much--they spoke English with Anya. I went on a walk with Graham and Hanna, who are from OSU. They came back, but Hanna had to leave before dinner. Anya made Graham and I some traditional dish whose name I can't remember. It was not unlike tiny pirogies, and Anya set sour cream on the table and laughed at me. I'm trying to like it, I really am. It's eaten with EVERYTHING here, even more often than I was expecting. Graham seemed to enjoy it just fine. I had a little and then ate the rest plain.

Anya's older sister, Masha (Маша), came over after 8:00. She mostly played with Lyova at first, but then Anya hard-boiled some eggs for us to paint and Grisha came home from the gym and visiting his mother. Grisha, Masha, and I sat down in the kitchen and painted our eggs while Anya put Lyova to bed. Traditionally, Russians paint either end of the egg a solid color and write ХВ, the abbreviation for the Russian phrase meaning "Christ is Risen." I did so, at least on one end. On the other I painted an exclamation mark. My egg was striped white and mustard-yellow. The biggest stripe in the middle was white, and I painted purple swirly things--I wish I had a picture, I'm very proud of it. Masha said, "I like your style." Grisha painted a Star of David at one end of his; he and Anya are both ethnically Jewish, although Anya is also Orthodox by heritage. They are not religious. The rest of the egg he decorated with other symbols and patterns, such as a very well-executed zebra print. Masha painted an absolutely perfect heart on one end, and on the other a third eye symbol with an Aum on it. The rest was striped with various shades of yellow and red.

Masha was fabulous in the exact way I would expect a fashion designer to be. She called me "darling" and said things like, "I don't know, I hate everyone right now" in an absurdly charming, low, heavily accented voice. She is elegantly dramatic, and I can tell I would have a hard time knowing her personally but she was much fun to hang out with for one night. It's apparent that she is a strong, resilient but volatile business woman. There's a lot to like about her. Also, she's a babe.

Anya, Grisha and I watched O Brother, Where Art Thou and ate ice cream. The ice cream was SO DELICIOUS! They put some topping on it, but even alone it was nice, had a stronger cream taste than American ice cream. They gave me the largest serving of ice cream I've ever eaten in one sitting, I think. The movie was sort of dubbed. The original sound was still there, but there was a track laid over it of a man translating into Russian--it was odd, and it seemed like it would be difficult to understand who was saying what. Anya said that it was, but that they could mostly figure it out. I can't imagine enjoying a movie like that, but when it was over, they said they loved it.

This morning, Anya and I will eat the eggs we painted as well as a traditional Orthodox Easter cake called kulich (кулич, I would imagine, though I haven't seen it spelled out). I can't tell you how much I adore Anya. We're very good friends after just over a week.

Night life

Sort of.

Last night, handful of my friends and I were planning on going to Kruzhka, a bar, and then over to Propaganda, a club in Kitai-Gorod. I'd been to Kruzhka on Tuesday and liked it--60-ruble ($2) house beer (which I wouldn't drink more than one of, anyway, so it's quite cheap for me) and it's such a dive. In a very charming, pleasant way. Not much different than the Skull in Athens--only beer, for instance--but about 5 times larger. Anya and Grisha said they'd never go there. Cheap, they said--which is, of course, why we go there. Anya thought it was the sort of place that would have rowdy drunk men who want to fight and hit on young women. But we weren't bothered at all while we were there, and mostly the patrons were young, many of them women. The tables were lit by long candles stuck in beer bottles, and the light actually made the place look pretty classy. Plus they have bathrooms with toilet paper that you don't have to pay for, a rarity here.

I started getting stomach pains on my way to Kruzhka that made it difficult to stand up. But I powered through and made it to the bar. On the ride/walk to Propaganda, it just got worse and worse, and we weren't far when I realized there was no way I'd be able to dance. So Rachel and I took the metro back to our station. I called Anya and stumbled home. When I got there, she was waiting with a box of medicine labeled "Живот" (stomach) and gave me something that tasted like Mylanta. "I hope it wasn't our food!" she worried over and over, suggesting maybe the mushrooms were the culprit. But I'd been eating that dish for the past few days. I didn't say so, but I think the problem was that for dinner, Grisha poured a bunch of leftover vegetables into a skillet and warmed them up with A LOT of cheese. It was so good that I ate the whole pan that he made, and I think that's what did me in--I have a suspicion I'm developing a mild lactose intolerance. But I really hope I'm wrong.

But the night ended up being AWESOME. We talked about movies and music, and sat around for hours sharing music with one another. Anya gave me a bunch of CDs to listen to (including 5'NIZZA, woo!), and when the conversation died down she started watching Friends in Russian on her computer! She said she wants to buy it in English. We are amusingly alike--they don't have a TV, but they watch House on the computer, and now I find out she likes Friends. Grisha and I have very similar taste in movies. We, improbably, share a love for the Jim Jarmusch film Dead Man. He's more into Tim Burton than I am, but he also likes the Coen brothers. I was shocked to find out that Anya hasn't seen any Coen brothers movies, though she certainly knows who they are. I'm going to try to convince her to watch O Brother, Where Art Thou with me today in Russian. She found it on the Russian Facebook, В Контакте (I think). They can, apparently, stream almost any movie very easily. Their licensing laws for movies and music are much different than ours--they can get almost anything free or at least cheaply.

I feel better this morning and I'm excited for today, even if I just end up watching movies with Anya at home.

No energy left

Due to many factors, not the least of which is the fact that I spent approximately seven hours of the day on my feet, I am exhausted in every possible way. But there are a few things about today that I'd like to note.

Today, we went on an excursion to the Kremlin (Кремль). It was mostly entirely boring, but at least we didn't have class AND I learned another ridiculous Russian historical fact, one which really gives the Beard Tax a run for its money. In the times of Tsars and stuff, like way back when, they treated bells as though they were human. The bells had tongues--which is understandable. But they were also whipped, executed, and exiled. How the Russians went about doing this, I have no idea. Nevertheless, they did.

After the Kremlin and a stop at Okhotny Ryad for food, a group of us went searching for a souvenir market we were told was good and cheap. We never found it, but we found some pretty interesting spots that I realize now I will have to describe later, when I'm more awake, in order to do them justice. The important thing is, we found a place that Jordan dubbed Hell Town and we're going back this weekend.

The best part of my tiring and not completely awesome day was coming home to Anya, Lyova, and Grisha and getting a surprise--Grisha had made things for burritos, which I'd told them the day before yesterday I really enjoy making at home.

Life is pretty good here.

Although now I have to go and do the homework I haven't done for tomorrow. It's almost 11:00 here. Ugh.

I should stop writing such long entries.

Sunday, March 28, 2010, Day 5, 10:32 a.m. Moscow time, 2:32 a.m. Athens time

We had the daylight savings time switch here last night, so Moscow is again 8 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time in America.

Yesterday was fun, but I was too tired to stay out as long as I had wanted. Every morning I feel awake and I’m sure that I’m over the jet lag, but it’s still hanging around, I think. Inevitably, around 5 or 6 I crash, no matter how hard I try not to. So I ended up at home again—argh! But I have many weekends left to explore Moscow night life. Cool thing: our program director’s daughter has a friend who owns a club. In a few weekends, they’re having an orchestra (or some size group that plays stringed instruments—she told us in Russian, so I can’t be sure) come to play tango music. Now, I can’t tango, but that sounds awesome. So I’ll certainly be going there.

Anyway, yesterday most of our group met at Red Square. (Lyova is still sick, so Anya didn’t join us.) Lenin’s mausoleum was open, but we waited too long to go in. We had to go in groups, as you can’t take anything in with you, but the first group was turned away at the door. It was closing. But again, many more weekends to go. Mostly we just walked around that beautiful area of Moscow, taking pictures. I’m regretting now that I never got my camera fixed. I’ll have to steal everyone else’s photos. We saw a lot of beautiful buildings, but you’ve heard of that stuff—here’s something I hadn’t known about: there is a pedestrian bridge with a bunch of iron tree-type things running across it. You can hardly see the trees, though. They are covered with padlocks. Couples paint their names on the locks and attach them to the trees, especially after weddings. (I’ll find pictures someone else took and post them here, I hope.) Here, following a wedding, couples traditionally visit important sights in Moscow. I saw at least four just-married couples that I can remember, two at the lock trees.

Finally, we went to Охотный ряд (it looks strange in our letters: Okhotniy ryad), a mall, to find some food. An uninspired choice, but we were all very hungry and not excited by the prospect of wandering until we found a decently-priced place that everyone approved of. We ended up, because the food court was PACKED, in a chain Italian restaurant called Il Patio. I know, entirely unexciting. But none of us have been thrilled by Russian cuisine so far (I’ve been very happy with Anya’s cooking, but it doesn’t sound like the food my friends eat with their host families), and it was nice to get full on something relatively familiar. The poor waitress was a good sport, and we eventually ended up with all of our food. The portions were a great deal smaller than at American restaurants, which was fine. I ended up spending about $17 all told, not a big surprise. Afterwards, I got ice cream at one of the many stands in the mall. It looked so pretty, set out like gelato. It was 65 rubles for a scoop, two bucks and some change, but the scoops were very small. Not tragic, because the ice cream was rich—it was probably the best strawberry ice cream I’ve ever had. I can imagine, though, that by the time I get home, the amount of cheap food we have access to in the US will overwhelm me. (For some reason, I am already craving mac and cheese, and anything with lots of sugar.)

I’ve been bad: I speak English frequently with my host parents. I wrote them a note in Russian when I went out yesterday, and they said it was very good, that they were impressed. Haha—they put it on the fridge. But anyway, I’m so glad that Anya speaks English. I wouldn’t be able to get very close with her otherwise. We have gotten to know one another well, and when I was missing people back home last night, she listened to me talk and talk and talk. It was comforting. I like Grisha very much, too, but he isn’t home as often when I am. Oh—I found out yesterday that Lyova was born four days before my nephews.

Someone is supposed to come tomorrow to hook up the router. I can’t wait. I am unfortunately reliant on the Internet. But when I’m here for long periods of time and I end up in my room alone, it can be sort of depressing. I can only read and write for so long.

12:45 p.m. Moscow time, 4:45 a.m. Athens time

I want to clear up the remark I made about cheap, available food. It’s not that they don’t have food here. But a lot of things we’re used to—like cereal—are expensive, and the foods they have here that are like things we have in the US are often slightly different. It’s not primitive or anything at all. Surprisingly similar, really. I’ve been especially amused by the products in the shower room: Clean & Clear, Herbal Essences, Colgate. Really, the culture shock is minimal, doubly so for me because I live with young people who are pretty much like young people in the states.

One funny difference: the toilet paper in my apartment does impressively resemble, in both color and texture, the yellow napkins they used to have at McDonald’s. I have not noticed it elsewhere, though.

Facts

Friday, March 26, 2010, Day 3, 10:11 p.m. Moscow time, 3:11 p.m. Athens time

A fact of Moscow life: no one looks good on the Metro.

A fact of study abroad: at any time, anywhere, I see people I mistake, for a split second, for friends back home.

I have noticed a lack of: hipsters (as we conceive of them), old men, DRINKING WATER (almost no one drinks water here, and much of the bottled water is с газом—bubbly).

I have noticed the prevalence of: 90s-esque clothing, heavy makeup, slightly more smiling than I was led to believe I would see in Russia, the tendency to use ketchup where Americans use tomato sauce (Anya didn’t seem to mind that I declined to squirt it on my spaghetti at dinner).

I am surprising even myself tonight by doing homework. On a Friday night! My first Friday night in Moscow! I need a new SIM card for my (Russian) cell phone, which Grisha is going to pick up for me while he’s out, and so I haven’t been able to call anyone to see what they’re doing tonight. Of course it didn’t occur to me until around 9:45 that I could have used the house phone—but too late. The Moscow metro closes at one in the morning. More likely than not the trip to wherever my friends went would have taken me at least half an hour to 45 minutes (I don’t live very close to the center of the city). Anyway, being out in Moscow at night without a cell phone is not something I’m comfortable with, especially after having been here only a few days. I’m sort of bummed that I’m not out dancing somewhere, but there’s plenty of time for that. Tomorrow everyone’s meeting at Red Square to wander around that area—Anya might join us! If Lyova is feeling better. He had a fever today.

Surprises

Thursday, March 25, 2010, Day 2, 11:24 p.m. Moscow time, 4:24 p.m. Athens time

I thought getting over jet lag would be much easier, but I woke up at three this morning! It was impossible to avoid taking a nap when I got home around 6:00. I hope tonight is better.

Today, my host, um, sort-of dad, Grisha—who speaks much better English than he claims to—accompanied me to school. The walk to the metro from our apartment is about ten minutes, the metro ride about half an hour, and the walk to school about twenty minutes. I suppose that’s a long commute, but because everything was new, it didn’t feel it. Between the trip there and the trip home, I think I understand the metro well. It’s fairly simple. I’m lucky because one of the guys in my group takes the same metro station I do, so we worked it out together on the way back today.

At school, we did written and oral exercises so that the instructors could get a handle on how far along we are. The instructor who was talking with me during the oral exercise kept asking me questions about my stories after I told her I liked to write, which quickly and unfortunately evolved into an attempt to explain the exposition of a story I’ve been writing. “Uh…how do you say ‘She leaves her husband’ in Russian?” It wasn’t easy. I wish I’d stuck to things like family or literature in general.

After the test, we had lunch at a nearby cafeteria. I can’t say I loved it, but—it was cafeteria food. I prefer the Georgian foods Anya made for dinner.

We (the group from OU/OSU) took a bus tour of Moscow. Today, I saw the beautiful parts of the city—much better than the ride from the airport yesterday. We drove and walked through Kitay-Gorod and Red Square, past Arbat Street—what you think of when you hear Moscow, if you think of anything. The strangest thing—outside the gates to Red Square, we saw Homer Simpson (a costume), Spongebob, and a couple of other familiar characters I can’t remember. (Unrelated: we also saw a monkey in a coat.) It’s difficult to get away from America here; I heard the Bee Gees playing in a nearby restaurant. Grisha has a Mickey Mouse tattoo.

I adore my host family. They are currently giggling in the living room. They sing often, especially when Lyova is having a bath. (Anya has a light, clear voice—like a bird, though I hate to use a cliché.) Today, I gave them gifts—a piece of pottery made in Athens, and an OU onesie for Lyova—and they gave me a little metro guide, and we showed off pictures of our families. Their wedding pictures were wonderful, sweet and funny. They wore t-shirts and Converse to the ceremony. I found out last night that Anya was born the year before me, and Grisha two years before me. It’s too strange to call them my host parents.

The router is coming tomorrow, so I’ll have wireless soon. I’m glad—I’m beginning to miss everyone. I’m not homesick for America, but I am for my friends and family.

First impressions

Wednesday, March 24, 2010, Day 1 of 72, 4:30 p.m. Moscow time, 9:30 a.m. Athens time

That was some plane ride. But, admittedly, uneventful. It got dark quickly, remained dark for a while, and then was suddenly sunny morning—although for us, internally, it was 3:00 a.m. When the pilot announced that we were beginning our descent into Russia, I couldn’t believe it—all I had seen for miles was snow, ice, and water with the exception of a couple of small towns in the middle of that vast expanse of nothing much. And then, suddenly, I was in the biggest city I’ve ever seen.

All I did to get here was sit, so it felt strange when I got up and suddenly everything was in Russian. I couldn’t really feel my progress. It was like I had never left. The reality didn’t hit me until I was on Russian ground. It didn’t hit as hard as I had expected, which I suppose is a good thing. I don’t feel very odd at all.

But I do feel exhausted and jet-lagged.

My family: I have not met my host “dad,” Grisha (Грища), yet. I put “dad” in quotations primarily because he and Anya (Аня) are not far from my age. I haven’t yet decided how rude it would be to ask their exact ages. They have a little baby boy who is seven-and-a-half months old—the same age as my nephews, who I miss already. The baby’s name is Lev (Лев) or Lyova (Лёва) as a diminutive. Anya and Lyova are wonderful! Lyova is shy and pink-cheeked and has more hair than I’ve ever seen on a baby his age. Anya has very short dark hair, and she is a child psychologist who works with children with serious mental disabilities. She—fortunately or unfortunately—speaks absolutely perfect English with almost no Russian accent. She spent time in the states with her parents in the 90s. She and I have been speaking English today because I’m so tired, but we’ll switch to Russian soon, as Grisha doesn’t speak much English and I need all of the practice I can get with Russian.

I’m feeling very optimistic about my language skills. The staff at the Kitaygorodskaya School (Школа Китайгородская) are vibrant and enthusiastic, and the building is warm and welcoming.

Moscow in most places I’ve seen so far looks like Cleveland (but must be one hundred times the size). It is prettier in some areas, but I think Andrea said it best on the bus from the airport to the school—“I want to put this entire city through a car wash.” Most buildings look very dingy on the outside, but I suspect that, like my apartment building, they are fine on the inside.

I haven’t done much yet, so stand by for homesickness and culture shock.

Один день - One day

I have tomorrow left in the US and that's it, I think. (Sort of. I'll spend a lot of Wednesday in US skies/airports.) Tomorrow will be time to rush around buying last-minute necessities and freaking out about the things I've forgotten to do. Tonight is time to finish writing a story I've been working on, because I need to convince one of my professors that he wants to be my thesis advisor. It is difficult to worry about here-stuff when I'm mostly concerned about there-stuff.

Gifts for my host family: an OU onesie for the baby, a piece of locally-made pottery for the couple. I didn't get anything for the rats.