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!