Babies and Flowers and Shoes and Other Pretty Things for Women

I've started teaching in-company, as a substitute for one of the regular English teachers who is on vacation. It's pretty cool- I go out to the factory, have to go through security (the first time the red light confused me, and a metal gate sprang up blocking my entrance, but I soon learned), and then teach in the upstairs of a modern, well-equipped building. They tell me it's the nicest building in the complex. 

I teach 3 men- I was briefed before I went out (and I mean OUT- it is a long and dusty bus ride out to the edge of the lower part of the city) that they are "top managers" of this company, so they have the prerogative to cancel, come late, or not show up. But, I was told that I'll still be compensated, so it's vsyo ravno (all the same) to me. 

Today was my second class with them, and I was confident that this lesson would be a breeze, as I had prepared several pages and activities from the textbook, only to soon find out that they had already done those pages (and written the answers in the book). I traded my untarnished book with one of theirs and asked them to do it again, and wasn't so surprised when they didn't know the answers. 

It was difficult to command their attention, or more so their respect, I thought because I was younger than them. (One of the 3, however, is extremely bright and respectful.). Come to find out, it's really more about the fact that I'm wearing a dress and lipstick. 

Our first exercise was to read an article about women scientists in Britain, and the difficulties that they face. I'm sure that this exercise (to read, answer questions, and discuss) would have been stimulating for young people, and especially, women, but it was a joke in this context. They snickered while reading it, and when asked what were some difficulties that the author mentioned, they might have well just said, "because she's a woman, that's why." I was told, and this is exact reiteration, that women can't work as well as men, because they are always distracted by thoughts of their their family. I then prompted (really, I was trying to get a discussion going so that they could practice their English, but I was interested to see how far they would go), well, what if the woman is not married, and has no children. I was told (silly me!) that she is actively thinking about finding a husband, all the time. This interferes with her ability to do her job. He then said, although I do have to give some leeway here, for mistranslations happen and I am an English teacher so I understand our words don't always match our meanings, that women need to do "simple" work. 

At this point I was foaming at the mouth, so I knew that I needed to change the topic if I was to remain professional. I couldn't help thinking, though, as several alcohol-related jokes were told, that even if women do spend a lot of time thinking about their children, how is that worse than the amount of time men spend thinking about drinking and girls? There is a serious drinking problem here, and it's not generally the women that you see with a beer in hand on the bus, on the way to work in the morning. And it's not women who make crude remarks to men waiting at the bus stop, as if they are public property.

This article was written by a prestigious female English scientist, who wrote about how much more comfortable and easy women were able to work in laboratories in France than in comparison to England. Oh, if she had come to Russia...

There never was a feminist revolution here. Of course, there are pros and cons to this. They don't have rampant "feminists" who criticize women for having children, or deciding to be stay-at-home moms instead of pursuing careers. Women want to get married (in the traditional sense) and start a family, and create a loving home. This is great- it's every woman's choice to decide whether she wants to work inside or outside the home. 

But the truly sad reality is evident every where you look. America, and the West, is blamed for the sexually-provocative clothing that Russian women commonly wear. Before the infiltration of the "evil" West, there wasn't pornography, women were decently dressed, etc, etc. Yet when you walk the street in America, if you saw a woman dressed the way the average Russian woman is dressed, you would literally think that she is a prostitute. American women do not dress like this. European women do not dress like this.

So, yes, maybe some of the problems have come from the West, but they could not have taken hold if there was not a deep place for them. Russian girls are brought up to be pretty- you have to be beautiful, so that you can find a husband. If you are not married by your early 20's, there is something wrong with you, and your chances of ever getting married severely decrease. 

I'm not blaming either side for this problem- arguments can be made from both sides. Men treat women badly, but when a woman is dressed like a prostitute, isn't she receiving the attention she was seeking? And women, so desperate for a husband and solid future, think it normal to dress flashily and act similarly. It's a problem in the mass-culture, and the movies and TV shows are doing nothing to help. But as I am not blaming either side, I am likewise not making excuses for either side. If everyone allows it to go on, it will never change.

Maybe things are changing- and I truly believe this. I have many Russian female friends that are graduates of university, and from traditionally "male" faculties such as radiophysics and economics. The first step to be treated as fellow human beings, instead of as objects to be admired and then tossed away, is to give girls equal opportunities in education. I think, gradually, the mindset will change, but it will take much too long if women don't take the lead and start something. And I also know a handful of Russian women and young ladies who do not fit into this post- they are modest yet bright, quietly sophisticated yet can be the life of the party, and inside are very strong, intelligent and wise, solid women. These are the Russian women that great Russian literature refers to, not the Russian women referred to on websites selling Russian brides.

Why does a woman have to wear a short, tight dress and high heels to go to the grocery store? Why can't she leave the house without full makeup, and why does her hair need to be dyed and bleached beyond recognition? I was told, before I came to Russia, that, "American women dress to be comfortable. Russian women dress to be beautiful." It's true; it's nice to see women dressed up every once in a while, and it's nice when people take care in their appearance and try to look attractive. But, although Russia might have the most beautiful women, it is so hard to see their natural beauty behind the fake, sexually-provocative facade. It makes me sad, more than anything, especially when I see my 11-year-old host sister prancing around in her mom's heels and makeup. Not because that's not normal- lots of little girls like to play dress up. But because here, it's normal to play dress up your whole life.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Arthur C. Clarke

Yesterday the topic of Live English, the English discussion group that I lead, was technology. While researching for the class, I was surprised to find a majority of negative comments on the effects of technology on the human race. Well, thankfully, this morning, the New York Times restored my faith in useful technology, with an article about ATM's that may or may not be someday installed in some places in Russia that use voice detection software and lie detector tests. However, that's not the "useful" technology I'm referring to- this I found later in the article:

In the Russian national railway call station, they have a system that detects the anger level of the caller: “ "Within seconds, the computer can sort incoming calls into red, yellow, green and blue categories, based on the emotional state of the speaker. Red calls typically prompt a supervisor to listen in.

In a demonstration, technicians played a recording of an actual call that caused the program to illuminate a red dot next to a phone number displayed on the screen. It was the voice of a passenger who had just learned she could not take her small dog onto a first-class car.

“Do you know how much a ticket costs? Yes, it’s big money, and you are telling me I cannot bring a dog?” the woman said. “The dog, it’s no bigger than, I don’t know, a pack of cigarettes! What should I do, throw it out the window?” “

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/09/business/global/09atm.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&ref=global-home

Novwi Zhizn

Congratulations to Hannah : ) поздравлаю и Бог благословит тебе и твоей новой семье!

One Flew Into the Cuckoo's Nest

A bird flew into my head yesterday. Yes, into my head. I was walking to School 48, just like every other Friday morning, when I suddenly felt a smack of feathers on the side of my head. Is this normal? Do I need a flashing red light on the top of my head, like high towers have so that airplanes don't run into them? Maybe it would be a good investment (or a nice Christmas present).

This was my last Friday at the school, since the school year has ended. It was a bit sad, knowing I'll never see these kids again, but I will be going back a few times in the summer to work in the English Language camp, so it wasn't my absolute last time in the halls of School 48, or talking with Galena Alexandrovna, one of the best teachers I have ever met. 

I, too, am wrapping up my time here in Russia, and preparing for the summer months ahead. My final exam is a little more than a week away, and then I will have some free time (I use the word "free" tentatively, as I will still be working) before I begin taking private lessons in July. Hopefully, my mother and sister will be able to visit in the end of June, and in the beginning of August, I am off to Spain for World Youth Day 2012!

The weather is nice here- the climate is similar to early spring in America (often in the 60s or low 70s). Lately it's been raining a lot, which has offered a nice relief from the mosquitoes- due to a massive failure in logical thinking, I spent a hot day next to a pond at a cookout, and came home covered in 30 mosquito bites! My legs looked diseased, but since it is common for Russian women to wear nylons under shorts, I was able to semi- hide my hideous half-eaten nogi (legs).

I am preparing to say my goodbyes to students and friends who are leaving after the exam- this will be by far the hardest thing I've had to do in Russia. Most of the students either go home or stay with relatives in Europe, India, etc. for the summer, in order to work (and get a break- Russia can be a bit overwhelming!). My friend Andra will leave on Wednesday night, so we will rent a marshrutka (a van-taxi of sorts) and take her to the train station, from which she will board a train to Mongolia. It will take her 4 days by train to get home- I am  envious; I dream of taking a train across eastern Russia, to see the majestic scenery and the infamous Lake Baikal. But, I figure that I have to return to Russia eventually (to keep up my Russian, of course), so this might be my next adventure!

Out With the New, in With the Old

Time change today! My iPod changed automatically; unfortunately, for once I used my not-so-technically-advanced cell phone's alarm instead of my iPod, and, hence, my tardiness to mass this morning (luckily we had a guest priest, who doesn't know me).

Even more interesting than my iPod's awesomeness, is the fact that President Medvedev has decreed that Russia will no longer have time changes, starting this autumn. Who does that?! I am president, and I decide the time. When I'm president, I'm subsidizing the price of chocolate. Let's do something that actually helps people. 

In other news, Little Women is still a fantastic movie, flannel procures greatness, and I overcooked my spaghetti, again. 

Galena Ivanovna, the English teacher at Schola 48, where Evan and I help out on Fridays, took us to two museums on Saturday. The first was the private gallery of an artist, who creates his art entirely from dried leaves. He collects the leaves in the spring, after their colors have faded, then glues them to a canvas. 

His art is extraordinary, and looks like it is painted with fine oils. It's only when you look closely that you notice the texture of the leaves, which makes it more interesting. He began creating his art after he became a pensioner. He needed more money, wanted to create art, and couldn't afford paints, so he thought creatively and came up with this solution. I've seen art made from Birch bark here, but never from dried leaves. 

I found his works to be soothing and amusing, as they are depictions of common Russian scenes, in natural browns, whites, and pale blues; all natural pigments of the leaves. He has the typical Russian sense of humor, as in one painting he titled "Old Goat," which depicts and actual goat, and an old babushka in the background. 

Galena also took us to a crafts museum, which displays the common handicrafts of the Nizhniy Region. I saw the beautiful carved wood moldings from the exteriors of houses, Russian lace, pottery, pastry molds, matroyshkas (nesting dolls- there's a huge one with 40 pieces!!), traditional clothing and shoes (of peasants and the wealthy), toys, carved furniture, tools, etc. Some of my favorite things were the painted tiles, and a pair of grand wooden chairs. The chairs appeared to have a pair of gloves lying on their seats, but the gloves were actually wooden and carved from the same piece. 

A lot of the handicrafts, especially the traditional lace and painted dinnerware (Khokhloma), are still made today. I'm hoping to take a day trip to a nearby village to see how they do it- I love seeing traditional artisanry still alive and flourishing!  

 After the museums I went to an All-Star basketball game at the local sports arena. They had compiled the best players in Russia- foreigners and Russians, and the result was quite impressive and entertaining. There were a few Americans playing, too, which I guess is pretty common in sports here. Also common, dancers in sparkly almost-non-existent spandex outfits (with hats and kneepads). I have to admit, though, they were pretty good- I especially liked their rendition of square dancing (and so did the men behind me). After the game, they had slam dunk competitions, and Artyom told me he was waiting for me to go show them my skills. I told him next time- I don't want to outshine the Russian All-Stars!

CLOUDBURST

I have an outstanding dictionary on my computer. It can translate pretty much any word or phrase into pretty much any language, and I don't need to be connected to the Internet to use it (which is useful, considering the temperamental nature of Internet here). However, the one complaint I have is this annoying little beaver, that pops up at the most inconvenient and inappropriate times, and resolutely (and loudly) proclaims his current word fixation. Usually it's something to do with the weather, like thunderstorm, or sunset. So I'll be sitting at my computer, and all of the sudden, out of the blue, Buddy Beaver will pop up and shout "WET!" This used to result in me spilling my cup of coffee and quickly reaching out to silence the little monster, but now I'm used to it. I'm sure there is some way to turn him off, like how you can silence the pesty Miscrosoft Word paperclip; unfortunately, the program is in Russian, as are all instructions and Help explanations. 

Anyway, this morning I turned on my computer to be greeted by "FOG!" Buggy Beaver has a British accent, and I have to say, his proclamation sounded more like a certain expletive than a geological element. I choked on my coffee and stared through half-shut eyes at my screen, not believing the little demon would dare shout this word at me (but a little impressed with his varied vocabulary), only to see the word, "fog." Badger: 1, Amanda -3.

Life has been busy here; besides getting sick and preparing for the GRE's (which I will hence forth never mention again), I had a certain visit from a certain someone, who decided to take a boat over to the Motherland. Just kidding, she flew.

I met Anthea's plane in Moscow (after an "interesting" train ride, "unusual" morning in the train station with some friends from my dorm, and a "joy ride" around SVO airport). We had a GREAT time in Moscow- we stayed at a fabulous hostel, Napoleon (if you ever visit Moscow, STAY THERE), and tried to see all of the important sites and museums. I was able to appreciate Moscow much more this trip than my first time seeing the city, when I was overwhelmed and awestruck (and, frankly, cold. it was one of the coldest weeks when I went to Moscow with my RSP group in December). This time, having to find our way around on our own, and picking which things we wanted to see and do, I found the city much more manageable and exciting. It was definitely a trip to remember.

After Moscow, Anthea and I rode back to Nizhniy together on a very comfortable train, in a compartment with four Russian middle-aged ladies. I think they still try to separate cars by gender here (of course I'm referring to when you're not traveling together with mixed company, but by yourself or another person of the same gender), because they ask M/F when you buy your ticket, and I've found they tend to put you in compartments with the same gender. 

The women were very friendly, even though conversation wasn't really possible because of the language difference (plus, Anthea and I watched a movie). When I asked one of the women which stop we were approaching, I think she was surprised that I speak Russian (choot-choot). It's difficult to hold prolonged conversations with people, however, when you only have a basic outline of the language, and not a knowledge of the every-day words and slang that people commonly use. But, we all shared a laugh at the abominable little boy that repeatedly ran up and down the corridor (and, after 45 minutes of this, we shared impatient looks of annoyance towards whomever had fed him candy and/or crack cocaine, whatever he was on).

Sadly, Anthea only stayed in Nizhniy for a few days, then I took her to the train station (even the weather mourned her departure- it was a miserable, rainy evening), from which she took a train to St. Petersburg. We had a good run in HH, though, and even found some secondhand shops I didn't know existed. Yesterday I wore a dress that I bought for about $4USD at one of the stores, and when I told my Russian complimenters where I bought it, I was met with looks of embarrassment and shock/horror. Apparently the idea of dumpster diving in thrift stores hasn't quite become "cool" here yet.

But, despite my anguish at the loss of Anthea, I was soon placated by the arrival of a package from home. (FINALLY.) I've been waiting for it since January. Since this watershed event, I've been eating a steady diet of Reeses for 3 days, thanks to my wonderful parents. To every American who reads this, I want you to never take for granted the ease with which you can simply stop into any store, gas station, or even vending machine, and buy a Reeses. For this reason I hate you. But, after my dwindling supply disappears, I have vowed to start running. Or maybe after the snow and ice melt.. so.. that's like, July here. Or August...

In other news, CONGRATULATIONS to my favorite newly-engaged couples : )

Buzzz Buzzz.. helloo

So I'm sick. I have a насморк. Which means a head cold.. or something. I probably deserved it, but still; this is quite an unfortunate situation. 

I woke up this morning and decided class wasn't in my best interest, so I knocked on my neighbor's door and asked him to inform my teacher. Everyone here is very kind, and I was offered numerous cold tablets ("tablets" is the general word for any kind of medication here), though I came to Russia well-prepared with a stock of cold pills. My host mother insisted that I apply a vodka-compress to my throat, but as of yet I haven't followed her advice (DON'T TELL HER). This is what you do: heat up a shot of vodka in the microwave (2 problems with this in the dorm: no microwave, and alcohol is forbidden), pour the hot vodka on a towel soaked in hot water, apply this compress to the front of the throat, wrap in saran wrap, then wrap with a scarf- tightly. Keep this torture device on for at least 6-8 hours. I prefer DayQuil.

I have been downing fluids, and exercising a lot (the bathroom is down at the end of the hall), so hopefully I will get better soon. I will still go to the Russian school tomorrow to help teach, although I will probably only stay for the older kids' classes, as I do not want to infect the little ones (although they are so cute!!). 

Life has been pretty interesting of late; I went to a jazz club last Sunday night and almost learned how to swing dance (big emphasis on almost). I was invited by the saxophonist, and he was really, really good. It was a small, underground (literally) club, with an intimate feeling and a close group of artsy Ruskies who love jazz and swing. I was duly impressed when several couples arose from their booths and started swing dancing- intricate footwork, red lipstick and all. I later learned, after some of the saxophonist's female friends adopted me into their circle, that most of them take dancing lessons at the same school, which explains the brilliant show. But at first, I just felt incompetent... should I be able to dance like this? Can all sophisticated artsy people dance like this?!

It amazes me how easy it is to make new friends here. Here, and anywhere, really. Of course it doesn't hurt that I don't stick out much from my surroundings, minus my height (but, there are some tall Russian women too, believe it or not). I know it's always easier to be accepted when you look like the people by whom you want to be accepted. But more than that, you have to not be afraid to show your true personality, your opinions and shortcomings, even to make a fool of yourself sometimes. In short, show them you are human, just like them. I certainly didn't impress anyone when one of the guys tried to teach me to swing dance- but I know at least a few of them got a laugh out of it, and they appreciated that I tried. And, importantly for all Americans, show them that you are not the egotistical, ethnocentric snob that they see in the movies or read about in the media. I can't tell you how many people have said that they had certain stereotypes about Americans, until they met me, and found me to be friendly, and normal (for the most part, haha!). I truly believe the path to world peace lies in personal relationships, because when people get to know each other as human beings, political labels and disagreements become secondary to shared experiences and bonds.

I live with people from countries not generally considered close allies to the United States, or places Americans typically choose as travel or academic destinations. I have classes with students from the Cote d'Ivoire, Syria, Italy, Cameroon, China, Turkey, Egypt, Algeria, and other places. Sometimes it amazes me to think of the variety of countries and backgrounds of the students with whom I live. But I hardly view the person as their political label: when I talk to someone, although it may be somewhere in the back of my mind, I do not see them for their country; I see them for their funny jokes, or their annoying perfection on the grammar homework, or their extraordinary ability to cook perfect rice. 

I see a person as exactly that: a person, with a personality, flaws, dreams, friends, problems, experiences, a past. I wish I had time to get to know each and every person, because there are so many issues that I would love to discuss with them, on a personal level (how do you feel about the treatment of women in predominantly Muslim countries? What do you think the best course of action is for the US in the ME now?...etc, etc.). But to be honest, although I have had some serious conversations with some of the students, usually we just talk about normal, day-to-day things- the cold weather, what's going on down the hall (those guys are ALWAYS in trouble with the key lady), new music, Russian class. Because we didn't come here to study each other; we came here, from all different backgrounds, to study Russian and to study at the university here. Sociologists and psychologists would have a field day here analyzing our odd little microcosm, but I think they, too, would just find normal college kids, skipping class and complaining about curfew (don't get me wrong, there are many excellent, diligent students here...). I can't help but wonder what it will be like to return to America, where I am in the majority, not the minority (I'm literally the only American in the entire dormitory).

I think, it will be quite skuchna (boring).

Green Eye and Purple Skates

We went ice skating at Mega Mall tonight (which is just what it sounds like, a giant mall). My host family attempted to take me swimming, but there was an accident on the back road we take to get there. So, after hailing the militsia-van that drove by (my host dad jumped out of our car and walked right up to it as it was speeding past- I was shocked but they actually stopped and talked to him), my host dad decided to try a back road off the back road, since "3 cars had driven down there." We soon found out, after sailing over the snowy, bumpy road (I now know why I was born with abnormally poofy hair: to cushion my head as it repeatedly hit the ceiling in this very occasion), that these 3 cars had only made it so far, and were now attempting to turn around and come back. There wasn't enough room the turn around on the narrow 1-lane road (with high snowbanks on either side), so my host dad drove in reverse most of the way back, until he somehow did a crazy K-turn and righted the car (then we were facing another car who had decided to try this road, and was now reversing). What a mess. But once again, I must reiterate my awe of Russian drivers- in America, we crawl in 2 inches of snow- here, they fly through it like it's a dry road (ok, so, hence the accident, but they occur relatively rarely). 

My ice skating is improving, and I even made a new friend, a girl around Nastya's age who skated up to me and asked me my name and where I was from (Nastya told me I should have said a Russian name- that I'll scare her). The girl has studied English some, and apparently really wanted a new friend, much to Nastya's dislike.

(Sidenote: By the sounds of the pounding, slamming, yelling, and laughing upstairs, I think someone is either being initiated into a secret society or murdered. Dormlife is the best.)

I think the girl just wanted to practice her English, and I'm probably the first American she's met. Nastya just thought she was strange. 

After skating, my host parents gave us donuts and juice boxes (don't judge, Detskee Juice is delicious and 100% natural), and drove me to the bus stop. I managed to make it back to the dorm before curfew at 11pm, although I considered curling up and dying on the walk home (it's currently -14.8°F). Another day, another layer.

Tahrir

     I learned a new word on Friday: "tahrir." It's the Arabic word for liberation, and I heard it over and over again during the hours of live footage of Egypt that we watched on Al Jazeera. 

There is a group of Egyptian students that live on my floor, and the emotion and joy and excitement was tangible as they ran down the hall, shouting the news to their fellow countrymen, then, draped in their flag, sang their national anthem, smiling from ear to ear. 

Samira, from Algeria, even teared up, overcome with emotion for her fellow Arab brothers. She translated some of the news for me, and explained what was going on. I talked to some of the Egyptian students, who said that they wish they were home right now; they would have been taking part in the revolution that has swept their country. After 30 years, Mubarak no longer retains his solid grip on the government, and the students are hopeful and enthusiastic for the future of their homeland. 

I realized how lucky I am to be here among Egyptians. If I was at home I might have read a few news articles about it, but the gravity and historical significance of the situation would not have been impressed upon me. Of course it's different when it's your country, when it's your life that's changing- not when it's happening to someone halfway across the world. I have no idea what will happen in Egypt in the future, but I hope that Egyptians retain the enthusiasm for freedom and justice that I see they have now. Puzdrahvlayu, Egypt!

The Wonder of Winter

You know when you take the first sip of a cup of tea, and it's the perfect temperature: not scalding, but too hot to drink quickly? I think that's why I drink it, and probably why I drink at least 3 or 4 cups a day. I didn't drink tea before I came to Russia, and I still prefer coffee, but there's something soothing about tea with which coffee just can't compete. 

My host mother serves great tea; sweet, without needing to add sugar. I drank a lot of tea over the weekend, between skiing, swimming, and ice skating. I don't actually live with my host family anymore, but I take the bus out to their house on the weekends, and they always welcome me with open arms (and cake). 

This weekend was pretty active: Saturday night Nastya and I went to the neighborhood schoolyard, where there is a small hill and a skating rink strung with brightly-colored Christmas lights. It was crowded with people- the rink scattered with middle-schoolers and highschoolers playing pick-up games of hockey and skating (mostly, just kids getting out of the house and fooling around), and the slope covered with kids sledding and parents teaching their little ones how to ski.

Nastya and I brought cross country skis, and I learned how to climb hills while wearing them ("learned" does not imply 100% success).  I think it only appropriate that I learned to ski amidst toddlers- I'm at about the same level of Russian language as them. But it was a lot of fun, and Nastya even called her friend Julia (Yoolia) to come ski with us. (Julia wanted to meet the American girl). At one point Nastya fell, and I asked her (in Russian) if she was ok. She mumbled something and shot me a look, and then when I went over to her she told me not to talk; that people will hear. I said Nastya, I spoke in Russian. But Amanda, she cried, your accent! I guess my pronunciation isn't as good as I'd hoped...

Sunday morning we arose early- 6:15am, to be precise- to go swimming. The indoor pool is in a huge sports complex, which is located outside the city. The further we drove from the city, the more white everything became, until we were driving through the country surrounded by pure white fields. When we turned off the highway, the country roads were covered in snow, and my host father handled the car expertly as we slipped and skidded. I've noticed Russians are quite adept at maneuvering cars through 6 inches of thick snowy slush, while passing another car on a road that almost isn't wide enough, thanks to the 7ft-tall snowbanks on either side. It's not that they couldn't clear the roads (although I've heard the snowplows come in from Moscow, 5 hours away); it's just, why bother? It's going to snow again soon anyway, and where are they going to put all that snow?? In the city, they have an ingenious machine that has a giant claw arm which scoops the snow onto a ramp, which then carries it into the back of a dump truck. I wonder where they dump all of that snow... 

The longer that I'm here, the more I realize that people here aren't ignorant, or unwise just because they don't do things like Western countries (for example: plowing the roads every time we get a half-inch of snowfall). It would be ridiculous, expensive, and ultimately, unnecessary. Russians may not always have or use the latest technology, but a lot of the time it's because they believe in the philosophy of, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Tanya was telling me it was strange to see a new-style of a garlic press in Evan's kitchen, because everyone she knows still has the same Soviet-Era press. We do have a lot of unnecessary things in America, but I think that's just another reason that makes America so great- we can afford to have luxury, to have leisure. As long as it's all taken in good measure.

Speaking of leisure- the pool was magnificent. To get in, I had to pretend to be deaf and dumb, I think because only Russians are allowed to use the facility, and obviously if they asked me something I didn't understand, or if I ... well... spoke, they'd know. Or maybe it was just because my host mother got the pass for me instead of me getting it myself, I'm not sure (Also, my name is now Amanda Alexandrova Boyekovo). You have to get the pass from a doctor though, who says you are healthy and can use the pool. My host family asked if this was like America, and I said no, you just pay for a membership, no doctors are involved. But, they inquired, what if someone who is sick goes to the pool?! The everyone will get sick!! I looked at them and said if someone is really sick, they won't go to the pool, and they sort of laughed like that would never happen. It seems here that there is a lot less emphasis on personal responsibility. There seems to be the concept that if something is wrong, then it will be forbidden, by the government, or the establishment, or some authority. Because otherwise, people would do it. If it's not forbidden (or even sometimes if it is), then it's okay to do! Or so it follows...

But, after ignoring the ladies at the front desk and the coat check lady (I felt bad, but I thought staring at the proudly-hung pictures of the Olympic athletes who'd trained there was safer than making eye contact with anyone), we changed and went into the pool. This was 8am on a Sunday morning, so there were only a few other people there, and we all pretty much stayed in our own lanes. 

The pool itself was pretty standard, but one wall of the room was all glass, with a full view of snow-covered evergreen trees outside. It started snowing, the thick, huge, fluffy snowflakes, and we floated in the heated kiddie pool and watched the blizzard outside. It was strange, but wonderful. 

On the way back, we stopped at a little country church outside a village. It was a quaint little log Tserkov, with 2 very warm rooms full of people offering prayers and petitions (and perhaps a little gossip). 

I enjoyed going out into the country so much, and as I walked down the road, returning to the car, I could see the traditional wooden houses of the village through the softly falling snow.  I looked back at the little wooden church, stuffed full of women wearing headscarves and long skirts that take them out of the current era and suspend them in some timeless place of Russian tradition, and then to the rolling white fields surrounding me, and then to the forest of birch trees in the distance, and finally understood exactly all of the poems and novels and films that have been written about the rugged beauty of the Motherland.It's not something you will see in a Russian city, nor something you can really see at all- it's something you feel, like the feeling you get from that hot cup of tea.

Calendar Days

Today was a day I crossed things off my list. It feels so good, every time my pen makes a clean line through the completed tasks, one more little burden lifted off my shoulders. Not that every task is a burden, but it is nice to see things finished and put out of mind. 

I finally registered for the GRE, which I will be taking in March, when I head into Moscow to meet Anthea. Now I have a little over a month to prepare, so I'll try to add daily GRE prepwork after my Russian homework (yet another thing to put on a list!). I should be nervous about this test, but I'm more excited for Anthea's visit than worried about my apparent competency to receive a gradutate education. 

Things are going well here; the party was deemed a success, and we all enjoyed ourselves (Americans and Russians, and even a Frenchman thrown into the mix). Tanya and I spent all day preparing the food, which turned out really well. She concentrated on a crab salad, which was delicious, and I made various pizzas (my specialty). It may seem like a no-brainer to make pizzas in America, or probably even any Western country, but over here they haven't quite grasped the concept of a good pizza. I gasped in horror when Tanya told me that they usually use a mayonnaise-ketchup mixture for the sauce- and I marched to the sauce aisle and grabbed a jar of tomato sauce. I had insisted that we go to the large supermarket, which is 30 minutes away by bus, because of their incomparable selection and fresh produce. I think the inconvenience of lugging the groceries back is worth it many times over for the quality of the products, although some may people disagree. 

Besides the food, the company was good and I was happy to see a gathering of many of the Russian students that were in the International Office last semester, as we no longer have group gatherings due to the close of RSP. They came bearing gifts, and they sat me down on a chair and stood around me in a circle, and one at a time offered a toast in my honor. It was much more impressive- and heartfelt- than making me sit through a cheerful, yet out-of-tune "Happy Birthday to you...." and I was honestly moved. 

So next birthday party I attend in America... be prepared to have this happen to you!

On My Днем Рождения

This was a special day for me; specifically, it was my birthday. Technically, it still is in America. 

My day got off to a rough start, with my stomach rejecting the omlette that my hands had made for it, and an exceedingly long and boring Russian language class (we went over comparative and superlative forms of adjectives- there's a formula, but so many exceptions to the rule it's almost pointless to learn). However, prospects upturned with my trip downtown to the walking street, Pekrovka. I meandered in and out of the stores, rummaging through end-of-season sales, finding nothing I dreadfully needed, but enjoying the relaxing nature of the activity. It really is therapeutic to me- shopping is a universal language. 

I did make a purchase, though: a fairytale book with a deep indigo fabric cover and beautiful pages and illustrations. I had eyed it longingly last semester, but decided it wasn't worth the price. (Happy birthday to me!) That's okay, my grandkids will enjoy it. As long as they can read Russian.

I also bought dinner for myself: pelmini (of the frozen variety), a bottle of wine, a bar of chocolate, a package of pastries, bread, and my favorite cheese. Hey, this day only comes once a year. I realized despairingly on return to the dorm that I had no corkscrew, yet this dilemna was solved by yet another of Samira's friends, Kamel (he stressed during our first acquaintance that's Kamel with a "k," not a "c."). Kamel set off to find the answer to my birthday calamity, and came back 10 minutes later not only with a corkscrew, but also a small bag of delicious caramel candies.

I was doubly fortunate to be able to spend time on my birthday with friends in Russia, and a few American friends via Skype. I'm not really sure what people did before Internet. They probably learned things faster (less procrastinational possibilities). Tomorrow we will have a little get-together here to celebrate, well, I guess my birth, but more so it's a chance for everyone to get together. I, with the help of Tanya, will be cooking for the fete. 

I spent a little time today reflecting on the past 22 years, and what I want to do with the next 22. I've decided it's too soon to tell, but I did find a quote that I like:

When I hear somebody sigh, "Life is hard," I am always tempted to ask, "Compared to what?"

- Sydney J. Harris

: ) So, thanks to all those who have made my 2+ decades all that it has been!

Love, Amanda/Stilts/Аманда/Twinkletoes

Pray for the victims of the terrorist attacks and for their families.

The Lost Craft

I got my watch fixed today! I walked into a jewelry store, and at the back was a hallway with windows for different repairs, like ticket windows. I went to the Watch Repair (Remont Chahsie) window, gave the man behind the glass my watch (I told him I speak Russian badly and he didn't try to ask me questions). He immediately took the watch apart, and I watched him dismantle the entire thing, fix it, and put it back together, carefully cleaning it out with a paint brush and leaving no trace of human intervention. He even set the time and date for me. All this in five minutes, and then he wrote a receipt, I paid him cash (a small amount), and went on my way, my watch as good as new. 

Do we have watch repair places like this in America? Every time something breaks, something under $50, we go out and buy a new one. I've gone through a few watches in the past several years. It amazed me to see the watch master (it says "Master" on my receipt, and he initialed next to it) so deftly and quickly fix it, and the fact that he repaired it immediately. I was expecting to drop it off and pick it up in a few days, which I'm sure I would've had to do in America, and I would've been charged all sorts of little fees.

In other news, it's cold here. The wire on my earbuds froze after a minute or so outside, so I quickly took them off and put them in my bag before it snapped. And then on the bus ride home, the doors didn't close properly, and the inside of the windows and doors were covered in a layer of ice. It was actually really pretty, because the thousands of little crystals played with the light, and the whole bus glowed pink or blue or yellow depending on the lights we passed outside. Surprisingly, it wasn't even very cold, I suppose because of all the warm bodies, bundled in fur. Tomorrow, the forecast is a high of-14*C (7*F), and a low of -24*C (-11*F). Tomorrow, I will layer.

Also, I will be eating a lot better now, thanks to the One-and-Only-Spar (actually I think there's 2 or 3 in Nizhniy). I usually go to the Magnet (Magneet), a large grocery store near the university, but decided to stop at the Spar on my way home from the jeweler's. They have a much larger variety of vegetables, and little things like tomato sauce and boneless/skinless chicken breasts that will make my culinary experience here in Russia much more exciting. They also have a lot of imported brands, but they tend to be expensive. 

Well, it's Friday night and I'm going to go study imperfect and perfect verbs, because it's just too cold to go back outside (my toes are just thawing now). Tomorrow, I have to get my phone fixed (it stopped turning on today). I would go to a phone repair place, but I think I might just buy a new one (you can take the girl out of America, but you can't take America out of the girl).

Days of Our Lives

Today, I saw an old man slip and fall on the ice and a young man stop and help him up, I cooked dinner with a Nihilist, and watched Titanic dubbed in Russian. Tomorrow, grocery shopping...

I leave you with a riddle:

Q: How do you know when it's really cold outside? 

A: The hallway outside the bathrooms in the classroom building is filled with smoke (it's too cold to go outside to smoke). 

"Pictures and shapes are but secondary objects and please or displease only in the memory." Francis Bacon

Hometask Humbug

Russian class is a bit overwhelming right now. I'm not caught up with the rest of the class yet, and I had another one-on-one lesson with Ksenia today. She gives me a few weeks worth of information in a few hours, and then I have to go back to my dorm and learn it. During class, I try to pick out words I know and pray that she doesn't call on me. The other students are nice, though, and it's a small class. My terror and humiliation in class inspire me to work hard outside of class, however, my aspirations are not always achieved. Like tonight, when I spent way too long on a simple exercise, stuck on one sentence. It read,

                       "On the bus I was in my homeland."

Wait, what? Why only on the bus are you in your homeland? Are you not in your homeland when you are not on the bus? Is the bus traveling to your homeland, or in some kind of time-space continuum?

This train of thought continued, until I reread the sentence and realized it said not auvtobuse, but auvguste (August).

It's nice to see my college education pay off, once in a while.

This is the look I would've gotten from Anne had she been here to witness my fail.

Life's Little Luxuries

Today, I braved the kitchen. Within 15 minutes, I had met 5 Turkish students and a student from Egypt. And this is at 10:30 at night... if I cook every meal in the kitchen I will have met the entire dorm by Tuesday. 

Cooking here is not as easy as it sounds. First, Katie (my American roommate) and I had to brave the snow and ice and walk 10, 15 minutes to the store. (Come on, Amanda, don't be so lazy...) Right, but not 5 minutes into the walk, I wiped out on a giant hill of ice. The sad part is, Katie was walking in front of me, and I watched her slip, made a conscious effort to be extra-careful, put my foot down, slipped, caught myself, and then the next thing I know I'm thinking, "Well, so much for that, I'm falling, this is inevitable." And BAM. I'm probably going to have a bruise tomorrow, but I like to think of it as proof that I live in Russia. 

By any means, once I arrived at the store, found something edible (their selection of fresh vegetables is sadly lacking, no matter how many types of sausage they have to make up for it), and made it to the check-out line, I still had to deal with an angry check-out lady. Angry check out ladies are kopeck fiends. Kopecks, the Russian version of a penny, except worth way, way less, are effectively useless and a burden to humanity. Nevertheless, without fail, Check Out Lady will ask you for exact change, including kopecks. And heaven forbid you hand her an 1000 ruble bill, which is worth roughly $30 and is basically the only thing ATM's give out. You will get a look of death. However, pass this stage of public humiliation, and all you have to do is lug your goods home, get past the guard (I'm new, so I still have to flash my dorm card), and cook them. 

This is the tricky part, and the reason it's taken me 3 days to brave this new territory. The stoves are gas, at least 50 years old, and you have to light the burner yourself. With a match, or a lighter, whichever method you prefer to burn your hand. Katie showed me how to light it with a match, which was not as hard as I anticipated, and luckily Jack (which is not his real name, but it's the American version for, well, Americans who can't pronounce his actual name, which sounds more like "Jzhenk" ) was on hand to re-light the burner, twice, when I tried to turn the flame down and overshot. 

Then I decided I wanted to add a vegetable to my meal, only, my vegetable lives in a can, and we don't have a can-opener. Or so I thought... Samira (my Algerian roommate) texted her friend Mourire, the human can-opener. A minute later, he showed up at our door and proceeded to open my can of corn with a knife-blade. I know college guys like to cut stuff unecessarily with knives, in some kind of adolescent fit of masculinity, but it's quite impressive to see one actually cut something open with a knife for a real purpose.

Anyway, I would say the whole experience was a positive one, in which I leaned a meaningful life lesson. Or something like that. 

Here's the result:

Back in the USSR

Lame title, I know, but I'm working with very few hours of sleep here. So, I am back in Russia, Part Deux, from January to June of 2011. I decided to return to Russia after completing the Russian Studies Program in the autumn of last year, for multitudinous reasons. 

After a brutal battle with S7 airlines (including a cancelled flight, a night spent in the airline's hotel in the middle of a snowy forest, a fight with the check-in lady, and my next flight delayed), I arrived in Nizhniy Novgorod, the city in which I will be spending most of my time during the next 4 and a half months. I am going to be studying the Russian language, and have already had my first class, as well as my first private-catch up session outside of class with my teacher (as I am coming into the program late and I am behind the other students). My teacher, Ksenia, is maybe all of 5 feet tall, young, speaks very fast and is unbelievably patient. This morning she tutored me for 4 hours (straight), and has given me a lot to learn over the weekend, but she told me if I don't know what is going on in class, "nothing bad will happen." Well, that's a relief. I was a bit worried.

I'm hoping to tear myself away from my books for a while to wander around the town- Nizhniy looks nothing like when I left- everything is covered in 2 feet of snow! Apparently this city has received the most snow this year out of any place in Russia (you can check my facts, but I can show you how I can literally ski to the grocery store). Speaking of the grocery store, I now live in a dorm where I have to cook for myself. Good thing I brought approximately 6,000 vitamins (thanks, Mom!). I'm wondering how long it will take for me to get nauseous at the sight of bread and cheese, since this has been my staple for the past few days. But then I can always move on to instant soup... We have a fridge in our room, which, if anyone asks, we received from "a friend in the city," (Katie, my American roommate, had quite the ordeal with the Kommandant and the key lady), and the "kitchen" is next door- a tiled room with two ancient stoves and sinks, and a scrappy table between them. This means I actually can cook, if I want to. And, I've been told that the kitchen is the place to meet all the cool kids, which is a major draw. Pasta tonight, anyone?