A lot has happened in the days since my last post, including my 21st birthday, actually eating a couple of meals with my host mom, my first perusal of the Hermitage, and meeting my contact at the St. Petersburg Comedy Theater. I started to write a post about my visit to the theater, but I've decided that it was too detailed and would probably be boring for anyone but me. Instead, here are some more general thoughts about that and other things. It's a lot longer than I originally intended, so feel free to skip the bits that bore you.
My meeting at the Comedy Theater had been on my mind for weeks. In November, when Marina Viktorovna first contacted me, I was overjoyed and convinced that this first offer was merely the first of many to come. After a couple of months without receiving any other offers, or even any contact from most of the other theaters that CISLA sent letters to, and after hitting dead-ends with my networking, I had begun to get a bit discouraged. The Comedy Theater is an amazing organization, but they are going to be closed for the entire month of June, meaning I could only work there in July and August. Due to my love of the city, a desire to see more of it when everything isn't buried in snow and a personal imperative to see the White Nights in all their glory, I'd really like to be here in June as well. So the search had continued.
Last Tuesday I received an email from Marina Viktorovna telling me to call her to set up a meeting. Paralyzed by fear at my lack of language ability and my usual aversion to phone calls in general, I didn't actually make the call until Thursday. When the call went through, I began my prepared "Здраствуйте, Марина Викоровна? Это Александра Вольф," (Hello, Marina V.? This is Alexandra Wolf) hoping that my pronounciation and intonation were good enough that she would actually understand. After saying hello, however, I realized that she was in fact not talking to me. I could hear her voice, which sounded far away, but she was clearly talking to someone else. I'm still not sure if I was overhearing a phone conversation or if there was someone in her office. When she did pick up, what followed was a painful (for me) discussion of when we could meet. I was very glad that my grammar class has recently been focusing on time constructions so that I could, with a modicum of confidence, tell her that I could not come before 4pm. I stumbled with the case ending though, so it definitely could have gone better. Despite my self-consciousness, we agreed to meet on Monday at 4pm at the theater.
Friday was my birthday, which I had a lot of fun celebrating with friends from my program. Stops included a "Настояшый англиский паб" (Real English pub)--complete with pictures of Queen Elizabeth II, McDonald's for dinner, followed by another bar and a couple of places with dance floors. All that and I still made it home before the metro closed!
Saturday I tried to meet up with my friend from Conn who's here on another abroad program, but we had a miscommunication and her phone battery died, so we missed each other. Upon my return home (much earlier than I'd said I'd be), my host mom immediately asked if I had eaten dinner. When she heard that I'd only eaten some soup before leaving, she started preparing several more courses, and declared that we would celebrate my birthday.
After I finished the meatball and green beans that she warmed up for me in the microwave, I was mostly full but capable of eating more. Waiting for my tea to cool off enough to be palatable, I sat at the table as Sasha continued cooking. For a moment I was concerned that the food she was then cooking on three burners was all for dinner that night, but she soon mentioned that she was also preparing tomorrow's dinner and tonight's treat was still to come.
When she noticed that I was sitting without eating anything, Sasha pulled down the basket of cookies and candy from the shelf above the microwave, and put it in front of me. When I still sat there for a few minutes waiting for my tea to cool, she turned around and asked me why I wasn't eating. "I bought these for you!" she exclaimed as she pulled out more cookies from a drawer and added them to the spread. Weighing the wisdom of saying I was saving room for later, I decided it was better not to argue and dutifully picked up a cookie. Satisfied, Sasha turned back to the stove top.
A couple of hours later (I think), the treat was ready. Sasha told me the name of it, but all I was too distracted by her original explanation to pay attention. "It's kind of like pizza". Right. If pizza included mayonnaise instead of tomato sauce and was cooked on a cookie sheet. There was also a dessert version which was just dough and shredded apples covered with sugar. The latter was pretty tasty (like an apple tart) but after about half of the pizza one I had to struggle past the mixture of mayonnaise and olive taste.
It was actually really fun and we had a great conversation touching on topics as varied as gender roles, which museums and theaters I should visit while I'm here, and World War II and Germans. Somehow, every time that I have a conversation with my host mom (who is in her mid-thirties) that lasts longer than 30 minutes, we always circle back to talking about World War II, Germans, and her study of the German language. China comes up a fair amount, too. My first week here, one conversation discussing trains and modes of transport in Russia somehow led to how the Chinese make all their own trains and railroads, while the Russians import German trains (damned outsourcing!). Sasha's conclusion: "Китайцы--молодцы" (the Chinese are great/do things right).
Sunday I went to the Hermitage with my tutor and was astounded. When I have time and the motivation, I've decided that I need to go back on my own to really appreciate everything. As a student of the Russian Federation for the semester I get free entry, so I really don't have a good excuse not to. For those of you who don't know, the Hermitage is basically the Russian equivalent of the Louvre, only more so. The Louvre is certainly interesting, but from what I remember of it, it's a lot of white-washed walls and the interior decoration is the same as most art museums I've been to. The Hermitage, in contrast to that, boasts some really impressive architecture and several of the rooms seem designed around the artifacts that they house. The Greek and Roman section, for example, includes a room with granite columns that almost has the feel of being in a Greek or Roman temple.
I really can't adequately describe the Hermitage, especially after only 2 hours of brief perusal. If you'd like to know more, please look up their website.
Wow, this post has gotten really long, but please bear with me! Just one more important event of the last week: the meeting at the Comedy Theater.
After briefly agonizing on Sunday night that none of my nice clothes were nearly warm enough for the predicted high of -18˚C (I think in Celsius now, apologies to readers who need to convert that) and that I did not feel ready to do as the Russian girls do and wear heeled boots on the icy paths, I decided to bring my heels to change into later and wear my UnderArmour underneath my tights.
Classes went fairly smoothly, though by the final period I was distracted enough by anticipation of the meeting that my professor asked me if I had a headache or something. Not one of my prouder moments, especially after that same professor had given me a birthday present on Thursday. (A story for another time.)
Deciding that changing my shoes in the lobby of the theater would not make the best first impression, I chose to brave the ice and join the thousands of Russian women who somehow survive the winter without breaking an ankle or worse while stalking around town in heels. This was great, and made me feel confident and like I fit in more...until I realized that my feet fit those boots much better when swollen with summer heat. In this bone-chilling weather, I could feel blisters forming even though I only walked about 2 blocks (1 to the metro and 1 to the theater). Cursing myself for not wearing socks and not having the courage to stop and put some on before I arrived at the theater, I got there about 15 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin.
After an awkward and only mildly lost in translation moment with two men who seemed like security guards, and waiting at the foot of the stairs for about 10 minutes, Marina Viktorovna came to get me. As she led me upstairs to her office, I concentrated on what she was saying, but all I was really thinking was "This building is beautiful! I can't believe I might get to work here." More waiting on a couch upstairs followed, as Marina Viktorovna explained that she was really busy and would come back for me shortly.
When she returned and began the conversation with "So what would you like to do for us?" I again cursed both my nerves and my 6-year-old language capabilities. Scratch that, maybe more like a 3-year-old with a really weird vocabulary who stumbles over words a lot. Anyway, after my stilted explanation that I'm interested in what we had discussed earlier, helping expand the repertoire and look for American plays for them, but would also love to observe their rehearsal process, she asked me what my major is. Upon my response that I'm a double major in Russian and theater, she clarified: "Do you want to act? Direct? What's your area of interest? What do you want to do as a profession?" Realizing that I had misunderstood специалность, as I've only ever heard it used in an academic context, I did my best to explain that I'd like to become a set designer and am also interested in stage management.
At this last, Marina Viktorovna perked up and told me that there was a meeting discussing the set for their new show going on in her office--would I like to sit in? Astounded that she would let me do such a thing after only meeting me about 10 minutes earlier, I excitedly replied something like "Yes, that would interest me very much!" Upon which she led me into her office.
Entering the room, I noted three men whose rapt attention was on a disorganized pile of plans spread over a coffee table. In front of the man who was introduced to me as Alexander ("You share a name!"), the set designer whose patronymic I've forgotten, sat an empty teacup on a saucer, a shot glass, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a small ashtray with a single smoked cigarette bent into it. The ultimate summary of what a Russian man needs at a business meeting.
The other two men were introduced as Tolya/Anatoliy, the technical director, and "the second technical director" whose actual name was never given. After Marina Viktorovna introduced me--"This is Alexandra, she's a student--an American, is it alright if she sits quietly and watches the meeting?"--and sat me down in a chair, she left the room and the men continued their discussion.
From the little I understood and a lot of what I inferred, the meeting was like many I've observed over my years working in tech theater wherein the designer presents his artistic vision and the tech director questions him on most points to find out if they can do it cheaper or in a more utilitarian way. In the end, after Alexander had smoked two more cigarettes and Anatoly had one, they left amiably with a few jokes among the group about how the budget was never going to be big enough.
I then had another painfully stilted discussion with Marina Viktorovna in which I expressed my great interest in the process and repeated that I'm not really sure what I'd like to work on. She suggested that perhaps I'd like to observe more meetings like the one I'd just witnessed, and she could ask the director if I could observe rehearsals. Trying both to remain professional and show her how exciting that idea was to me, I said that I'd really like that. It was at about this point in the conversation that Marina Viktorovna finally told me the title of the show that they are preparing: "Шум за сцене". After a brief moment of self-doubt (was it possible that one of the few shows I know was miraculously the one they were working on? It couldn't be, surely I'd heard wrong) I realized that it was indeed Noises Off, a show that my high school had performed one spring and many of my friends had worked on.
Marina Viktorovna printed me out a copy of their Russian translation and sent me on my way. Elated, I left for the metro to make my way home.
Feet hurting from my stylish boots (though I had finally put on some socks) I entered the familiar metro station from a different direction than usual, but being distracted both by a need to change shoes and excitement at the prospect of working in a real theater, I went to the right side of the platform on autopilot. Upon getting into the subway car, I hurriedly changed my shoes, having lost all desire to fit in and simply wanting to stop the blisters before they burst. Which I was convinced would be soon. I was also operating on the assumption that I had gone in the correct direction on the line, which would mean needing to transfer in a couple of minutes.
After changing my shoes and ignoring the scornful looks of my fellow passengers, I waited for the familiar process of the train slowing, the lights blinking, the car stopping, and the announcement of "Mayakovskaya" (my transfer point). Instead, the train sped up. And continued to go for perhaps two or three times as long as it should have. Only after this did I realize that I had gone in the wrong direction. 'Oh well,' I thought, 'I'll just get off at the next stop and go back the other way.' So when the train finally stopped after what seemed like 15 minutes of going in the wrong direction, that's what I did. Thankfully, nobody was waiting for me at home who knew that I wasted almost half an hour in this way. It dulls the sting of humiliation somewhat, though, that I've done similar things on public transit in Boston (taking the 86 bus instead of 66, C line instead of D, etc.) so it's not the unfamiliar city, it's my own ability to be easily distracted :-)
Oh! Almost forgot, yesterday my program director told me that through the abroad program I might be able to work at the Musical Comedy Theater during the semester. So after months of worrying that I wouldn't even have one job, I've somehow ended up with 2. Though I'm not sure that the Comedy Theater is aware that I'm looking at other options...that could get awkward...
So after this ridiculously long post, which I applaud anyone for reading all the way through, that took me several hours to complete (I kept getting distracted), I should really get down to business and do that Grammar homework that's due tomorrow...
Until next time! С днем защитникой отечества! (Happy Day of Defenders of the Fatherland!)
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