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?