Шум за сценой (снова) и Сон в летную ночь (как опера)

***Most of this was written last night, with the translations and pictures added this morning***

Пытаюсь на этот раз чуть-чуть писать на русском. Прошу прошение за ошибки. [I'm trying this time to write a bit in Russian. I apologize for the errors]

Я только что вернулась домой после премеры "Шума за сценой".  Вы, может быть, помните, что была репетиция той пьесы, которую я смотрела несколько раз.  Ну, сегодня была вторая премера (не совсем понимаю почему, но обычно в России есть на менее 3 премеры одной пьесы--в Америке, по-моему только одной) и я бесплатно ее сморела как практикантка театра.

[I just got home after the premier of "Noises Off." You will, perhaps, remember, that it was rehearsals for this show that I watched a few times.  Well, today was the second premier (I'm not sure why, but in Russia there are at least three premiers of one play--in America, I think it's just one) and I got to see it for free as an intern of the theater]

В зале я не знала куда сесть, потому что никто не дал мне биллет, мой руководитель только мне сказала "Войдите, войдите, там свободно". Решила куда сесть и через пару минут ко мне подошла милая тетка.  С начало я думала, что я заняла ее место и она будет сердиться на меня, но она только хотела сесть рядом со мной.  Она, наверно не ожидала встретиться с иностранцем в театре и поэтому говорила очень быстро.  Я только поняла может быть одно слово из пяти, но улыбалась и наделась, чтобы она скоро закнилась.  Вдруг, она задавала меня какой-то вопрос и когда я медлено ответила, сразу поняла, что я--иностранка.

[In the house, I didn't know where to sit because nobody had given be a ticket.  My boss just said "Go in, go in, there are lots of seats." I decided on a seat and a couple of minutes later a woman approached me.  At first I thought that I was in her seat and she was going to yell at me, but it turned out that she just wanted to sit next to me.  She probably didn't expect to meet a foreigner at the theater and so spoke really quickly.  I only understood maybe one word in five, but I smiled and hoped that she'd shut up soon.  Suddenly, she asked me a question and when I slowly answered she understood right away that I was a foreigner.]

Ugh, it's too hard to continue this in Russian.  For those of you who don't speak it, I'm sorry for starting a post like that, I just wanted to try after not writing Russian for a while. I'll translate it later if you care. For now, I'll just finish my story:

As soon as she realized I was foreign, the woman apologized for speaking so quickly and asked why I hadn't said anything. Like many of the questions she asked, this ended up being rhetorical, because just as I was about to respond, she continued with her monologue.  Her name was Natasha (though I didn't find that out until seconds before the first act started), she grew up in St. Petersburg, her father fought in the war and is still alive at 87.  Her daughter works as a French translator and just returned from Algeria where she had been working.  She was home for a few days then left for the dacha with her sister (cousin?), where she's now been for a few weeks. 

Natasha is a philologue and teaches Russian as a Foreign Language.  She taught Moroccans at some point and said they always insisted on calling her "Таваришь мадам" (Comrade Madame--which sounds as odd or stranger in Russian as English).  She learned English in school but dropped it like 50 years ago because she was "lazy".  She also learned Spanish, Polish, German, French and Latin.  She traveled to Cuba in the 1960s, I think, and told me that the reason all the Cubans liked Fidel is he made it so that everything was free for kids under 10--education, bread, milk--she gestured with her hands a bottle 1-1.5 litres big and said "with that much milk you could survive without eating anything else." 

She told me a lot of other stuff that I don't fully remember (and would make this post way too long) but I'll wrap up this section of the post by saying we talked for a total of about 30-45 minutes and I think I said maybe 10 sentences at the most. It was really educational and interesting to hear her life story, but it was a very one-sided conversation as seems to often happen with Russians.  Is it that they're impatient with how long it takes me to be coherent or is it just a Russian trait to monopolize a conversation and tell someone your life story? Seriously, this happens pretty often despite the stereotype of Russians being скритие.

Anyway, the play was really good, which I knew it would be from the few rehearsals and the performance in English I saw in high school.  Not being fluent in Russian, though, the second act was my favorite because it was almost entirely mime (and slapstick mime, at that--three stooges-esque). The costumes and acting were amazing, and the lights and set were basic, but good. If you're in St. Petersburg, I highly recommend seeing it even if you don't speak Russian well.  There's enough physical comedy in it that if you read a synopsis beforehand you'll still be able to follow the story, I think.

---

Which brings me to the other show that I saw recently (the other half of the post title): A Midsummer Night's Dream, the opera by Benjamin Britten, which I saw at the Concert Hall of the Mariinsky Theatre with my friend Nesli.

The libretto for the opera is an abridged version of the Shakespeare play, which I thought was really cool.  As several films have shown us, iambic pentameter means that Shakespeare is easy to rap, and even sing sometimes, but to see it put into an opera is a whole other story.  Nesli and I barely made it to the show, we sprint-hobbled (my knee was bothering me) from the bus stop about 6 or 7 blocks away and made it to the theater 5 minutes after the show was supposed to start, but luckily made it to our seats with a few minutes to spare, as they actually started about 10 minutes late.

As anyone who's seen an opera knows, you're rarely able to understand what the singers are saying because the syllables are so maipulated to make the music pretty. Thus, supertitles are often used so that the audience knows what's going on.  Since this show was in English with Russian supertitles, I rarely knew what the characters were saying unless I happened to remember the scene from the play (it's one of my favorites by Shakespeare, so that happened more than you'd think).  However, because of this I spent a lot more time marvelling at the set, lights, costumes and aerial acrobatics than I did paying attention to the content of the opera.  As it's pretty impossible to describe, here are some photos I took to give you a flavor of what the show was like (click to enlarge):

Oberon and Titania fight

Mortal Lovers enter the forest

Oberon

the Players (Bottom and co.)

I'm not sure why Athenians wear lederhosen, but w/e

Puck bespells Lysander

Titania falls in love with Bottom (who is now an ass-head)

The fairies come to attend Bottom

Oberon observes Demetrius and Helena

Puck gets Hermia to sleep

Puck fixes his mistakes

"Pyramus and Thisbe" at the Court

The Children's Choir (as fairies)

The program (which I got at the first intermission) actually included the full libretto in Russian and English, which was really cool.  I then bought a bottle of water for 150 rubles (insane!) but justified it to myself because the tickets were only 540, which is still a fraction of what opera costs at home.

Tomorrow I'm going to Mazeppa, an opera by Tchaikovsky based on a poem by Pushkin loosely based on a true story from the reign of Peter the Great, which is in Russian with English supertitles so maybe I'll understand what's going on?  I'm going to read up on wikipedia, just in case.

Cinderella

Tonight I went to the ballet with a friend and was again astounded by the artistry of the Marinsky (Kirov) company.  Those who follow this blog will remember that while my family was visiting Peter my parents treated us to front row seats for Swan Lake, making tonight's performance of Cinderella my second time enjoying the best ballet company in St. Petersburg.

Let me start at the beginning: about half way through my bus journey to the theater, two girls sat next to and across from me, looking rather dressed up.  With a quick glance down at my own attire--especially the flip-flops i was wearing instead of heels for the benefit of my bad knee--my first thought upon seeing these two was, 'God, I hope they're not going to the ballet, too. I'll feel even more underdressed than I'd expected to.'

Two stops later, the leggy blonde next to me turned and asked, "Do you speak English--a little?"

With an inner chuckle, I removed my earbuds and replied, "Yes."

"Thank God.  Do you know how to get to this theater?" She asked, while pointing to the Mariinsky on her tourist map (the kind you get from a hotel).

"Actually, I'm going there myself."

"Oh, you are going to the ballet? Do you think we will get there in time?"

"I certainly hope so," I tried to sound confident, even though I'd been worrying about that exact issue ever since getting on the bus.  We did, in the end, arrive with about 15 minutes to spare, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Turns out that these two girls were from Switzerland (the German speaking part, as I found out when they talked to each other). They were visiting a friend who, I guess, speaks and/or is Russian, but she had spent the day at work and left these two to navigate public transport on their own--only knowing, in their words, numbers and a few words of Russian.  Needless to say, they got turned around  and were very grateful that I could provide directions.

The weirdest part of the ride, however, was the man sitting across from me who, when I mentioned being from the US, asked which state.  He said that he was from San Francisco, although his accent made me wonder if he'd grown up somewhere in Eastern Europe.  Anyway, when I said I was from Massachusetts, this guy (who very much looked the part of the California hippie with his shoulder length greasy/unwashed hair and woven tote bag) asked me, of all things, how the weather was in Boston.  When I tried to explain that I haven't been home in a while, he kept talking about how he's heard that the weather there has been terrible recently.  Thankfully he got off soon after, leaving me to just awkwardly sit picking up words here and there in the conversation of the Swiss-Germans.

Arriving at the theater, I successfully found my way to the correct section and found my seat, even having the courage to ask for directions from a few ushers.  I guess after being asked for directions myself from several Russians, I'm gaining more confidence about it.

The ballet was amazing, but not really what I'd expected.  The Swan Lake performance was very traditional, with over-the-top costumes and sets reminiscent of the 19th century.  Prokofiev's Cinderella, on the other hand, looked a lot more like a modern dance performance, with minimalistic sets, scaffolding, and simple costumes.  As I said, though, it was amazing.  I'd never really thought of ballet as a comic medium, but there were several moments of this show that were simply hilarious.  Cinderella's father comes home drunk, with all of the built-in comedy that entails, but also remains oddly graceful throughout the whole thing, somehow.  There was also a scene wherein the step-sisters are given a dance lesson and can't dance. The juxtaposition of a well-choreographed "bad" dance was just ridiculous.


The lighting and other technical aspects of the show were spectacular as well. I even took a few photos at my favorite lighting moments, but I'm too lazy to upload them now. Maybe I'll put them up here later.

In other news, this weekend I (finally) went to the cemetery at the Alexander Nevsky Lavra and saw (among others) the graves of Dostoevsky, Tchaikovsky and Rubenstein.  I'll post some photos of that soon, too.

Как трудно быть самостоятельной (It's hard to be independent)

Surprise! It's another blog post.

It's now been almost a week since my family left and I've been fending for myself meal-wise. This would probably be hard in any city (as I've not done it before), but in a place without many of the groceries I'm familiar with, it's quite a challenge.

In a mixture of laziness and lack of courage in the grocery stores (there are 3 less than a block from my building), I've been mostly eating eggs with cheese and tomatoes mixed in for dinner. I did buy some chicken breasts a couple days ago, but I have yet to figure out Russian spices and thus haven't been brave enough to try cooking them. The stifling heat recently hasn't helped either. Russian bread and пряники have also become staples of my admittedly vitamin-lacking diet. I'm really going to make an effort to do better this week.

Perhaps I should explain. There are a few standards of the stuff I cook at home that I've been unable to buy here. First, spices, etc: salt was obvious, though I'm still not sure which type I ended up with.  Flour and baking powder are also found in abundance, but I don't plan on making anything that involves them (too complex).  Things I still haven't found: pepper (not in little ball form), baking soda ("soda" here seems to refer to the powder--yes Mom, I DO know the difference)--which I wouldn't cook with but would be useful for cleaning.  Vanilla extract and cinammon are also sadly absent, but easier to live without than pepper.  Needless to say, I haven't even tride to find more exotic spices.

The worst thing, though, is fruit and vegetables.  There's some mysterious scale system used to weigh the products and thus price them, which the buyer is supposed to do before going to checkout.  The problem is, though all the Russian seem to know how it works, I'm as yet too intimidated by the notorious "public face" of the Russian public to ask someone to explain it to me. For now I'll stick to canned peas and carrots.

The other option for fruits (and a limited number of vegetables) is the stands that can be found all over the city.  The problem there is that most of them sell everything except the stuff I'd actually like to buy. Though it does tend to look fresher than the stuff in the store.  I may work up the courage this week for a visit to the market a couple kilometers away (where a professor took us on a field trip in March).  We'll see, haggling with people who are either very dismissive of foreigners or are immigrants themselves and don't speak Russian very well is not really an attractive prospect to me.

As a bonus, here are some photos I've taken since my return:

Moscow:

 

Pushkin Museum-Dior Exhibit

my favorite family photo

view from my family's hotel at 11:30 pm (yes, that is sunset)

Then we went to the Hermitage

And Swan Lake at the Marinsky

And climbed the Collonade of St. Isaacs

Apparently dumpsters alight is normal? (this was around 12:30am)

And then I realized I live around the corner from the offices of the Communist Party

2:00 am--twilight or pre-dawn?

Long time coming

Hello again, blogosphere!

Now that I'm back in St. Petersburg after being home for a month (where my dad constantly asked when I was going to post again) I decided a new post is probably long overdue.  In an effort to keep this entertaining, I'm not going to describe everything that's happened since the last post, but if any of you are interested in hearing more about any of the following events, please leave a comment or send me an email (techchik218@gmail.com--don't judge, it's one I made a while ago).

Anyway, since May 15, here's what's happened:

• The final banquet for ACTR, where we ate, drank and were merry. Also where each class performed a skit. I starred as a mosquito, while the other 3 in my group were a frog, a rooster (with a yellow tie as his петушок), and a bear (who wore my fur hat and some big winter gloves.
• An interesting/pathetic adventure finding a wine as a gift for one professor
• Returning home at around midnight to discover gifts my host family had left on my bed, immediately making me feel guilty.
• Saying goodbye to my host family
• Staying up all night because we were leaving for the airport at 3am (by which time sunrise was already starting--white nights!)
• Flying home
• Anticlimactic goodbyes to ACTR people, followed by getting lost on the way to my grandparents' apartment (despite having my grandfather in the back seat)
• Visiting relatives in DC
• Getting 2 wisdom teeth out, but getting WICKED swollen this time
• Lazing around my house for almost an entire month
• Watching the Stanley Cup finals with my Dad (BRUINS!!)
• Going to a Katy Perry concert with my sister
• Flying to Moscow via Heathrow, in first class for the first leg of the trip because my parents used almost all of their accumulated frequent flier miles (so awesome but makes me wonder how terrible my flight home in august will feel in comparison)
• 2 days and 3 nights in Moscow; Red Square, lock bridge, Dior exhibit at the Pushkin, metro
• 5 days guiding my family around St. Petersburg
• Front row seats at a Marinsky production of Swan Lake (that's the Kirov for those of you still living in the Soviet era)
• Cleaning my apartment with my parents, as my Dad was certain I had either bedbugs or fleas. Good news: I don't! Bad news: he first suggested this in the middle of the ballet, which then distracted me for the rest fo the performance.
• 3 days of being independent (and lazy--have only eaten eggs, toast, and yogurt except for the attempt at oatmeal this morning)

also let me know if you want to know about the Dostoevsky tour and/or my trip to the south--hometowns of both Chekhov and Medea

More posts to come as I start my internship on Monday and tomorrow is "Dostoevsky Day" at Сенная Плошадь, which I plan to check out.

Please respond to let me know someone's still reading this and to tell me which adventure you'd like me to expand upon.

From SPb with love, Sasha

This little piggy went to market

In the past few weeks I've had the pleasure of going to a few different markets here in Russia, and I thought some of you might be interested in my experiences.

The first Russian market that I ever went to is an indoor one that's a few blocks from my school here.  In late February (when 0degC still seemed like impossible warmth) my Speech Practicum class took a field trip to the market to supplement the unit we were doing at the time--vocabulary about food and how to buy food.

Growing up in Boston and Toronto, my only experiences with markets were Faneuil Hall (which stretches the definition a bit) and St. Lawrence market. Of course, being in Russia, the market near the Dostoevskaya metro stop was quite different than either of those other markets.

As we walked through the warehouse-like building, which looked much older on the outside than in, our professor pointed out the different products for sale and at each group of stalls prodded one of us to ask a seller about their wares.  First, Alden was told to ask about flowers (what are they called, how much per bloom, etc.) then Dan was roped into talking with the tvorog sellers (sampling several variations of the cottage-cheese-like substance, asking about prices, but not buying any).  I was then volunteered to talk to a honey seller, which I was actually glad of, because it's rare that Americans get to try the huge variation that exists in Russian honey, as it's illegal to take any out of the country.

My biggest surprises at the market were: the fresh fruit, until I learned much of it was from Greece, not Russia; the live fish in tanks--calling to mind restaurant lobster; and the whole rabbits, which were skinned except for the fur that remained on their feet and tails. Upon seeing the rabbits, our professor told us that if that part of the market interested us, we could go for a closer look, but she'd be staying where she was--safely about 20 meters away.


Of course, no Russian market would be complete without a pickle section and a dried fish display.  For the uninitiated out there, in Russia a pickle does not only mean a pickled cucumber (as it does in American English).  For Russians, anything and everything can be salted, dilled, and soaked in brine including, but not limited to: cucumbers, garlic, tomatoes, onions, green onions, carrots, and cabbage (aka sauerkraut).  In markets, where nothing is displayed in a jar, the smell of the pickles can be pretty overwhelming even from 5 meters away. The sellers must be immune to the odor or something.

The other Russian food staple that is, I think, less well known in the West, is dried fish.  Keep in mind, this is not done with every fish, there's a very specific type that is dried out and served (allegedly) with vodka for men who are watching sporting events. Which makes it kind of the Russian equivalent of tortilla chips. But much grosser. These fish still have their eyes and, I assume, all of their guts, when Russian men (and it is only men, as far as I can tell, who eat them) bite off the heads and then do a shot of vodka to wash it all down.  To be fair, I've never actually seen these fish consumed, but I doubt that my imagination is inaccurate.


My next market experience was not until a couple of months later, during my group's final day in Sochi.  In preparation for our 45-hour train ride, we left our luggage in a guarded room (камера хранения--tough to translate) and walked to the market down the street to stock up on food.

The market in Sochi was an amazing sight and something that you would never see in America (USDA would not approve of birds landing on fruit that was being sold).  There were 4 unique parts of the market: the butchers and dairy products that were inside a building; the picklers and spicers under a large awning just outside, which still felt inside-ish; the pomegranate and other fruit and vegetable sellers who had little awnings over their stands outside; and the various sellers who had set up underneath the large tent roof that covered most of the courtyard next to the building not covered by the aforementioned awnings.

Unfortunately, I was too self-conscious to take any pictures of the market, so that vague explanation will have to suffice for now. If any of you ever go to Sochi, though, I'd definitely put the market on the list of sites to visit--don't let the locals convince you that the only stuff worth seeing is the construction sites for the Olympics and the boardwalk that's lined with souvenir shops.

In case you need more enticement, here are a few of the sights of the market: about 30 butchers, each with their own counter, one who had placed an entire pig's head next to the day's offerings. I guess the lack of flies surrounding the jaundiced thing was supposed to indicate the freshness of the meat on the table? Also, string cheese that's actually in the form of string--like balls of yarn, but cheese! About 10 fresh strawberries for about a dollar, pickled carrots (yum!), steamed squid, and lots and lots of spices rounded out the offerings.


I've also explored a few of the other markets in St. Petersburg recently, including a trip back to the souvenir place where I bought my hat, this time for a magnet that I successfully got for 60% of the original price, adding to my growing confidence in confrontational Russian.  I also briefly walked around the "book fair" (direct translation, really more like an indoor market that has books, jewelry, souvenirs, and bags) but refrained from buying anything because as my date of departure looms nearer, I've begun worrying about the weight limit for baggage and fitting all of my stuff into my bags.  I did, however, at a third market, get a new duffel (with wheels!) which will hopefully hold my winter coat and books without being over 23 kg.

The place where I bought the new bag is next to the biggest clothing/souvenir/random junk market I've ever seen (it took about 45 mins to walk the length of it with minimal stopping). Definitely somewhere to revisit this summer when I've got more time and more space in my luggage.

I return to the United States in 4 days. This semester has gone by so quickly!  Slightly disappointed to be leaving after only 2 weeks of real spring, but thankfully I'll be returning in a month.  It's going to be weird to return to the land of racial diversity, drivers who obey traffic laws, and sunsets at 7pm (it's twilight here until about midnight now).

So thanks to all who care enough to read this blog, stay tuned for my re-entry into America, several delayed stories from my semester experience, and come back at the end of June for my return to the motherland!

A promise of more to come

Dear readers of this blog,

First, let me apologize for not updating in almost a month. A ton has happened in the interim and I've been so busy that the time-consuming blog posts have fallen by the way side, as it were.

I have 2 posts I'm currently working on, one about the Dostoevsky tour I went on a few weeks ago, and the other about the trip my abroad program took to Rostov-on-Don (Ростов-на дону), Taganrog (birthplace of A.Chekhov), and Sochi (site of 2014 Olympics).

So let this brief post serve as a promise to tell you all about all of that as soon as I can.

More recent random news:

• was punched by a woman on the metro as we vied for a seat
• bought several books including children's lit by L.N. Tolstoy and A.S. Pushkin and several grammar references (14 books for less than 2000 rubles)
• successfully found housing for the summer and have received a budget from my university
• survived 88 hours in a Russian train (3 separate journeys)
• glimpsed Asia but was too lazy to walk over the bridge
• danced with Cossacks
• drank mead (yes, like they did in the Middle Ages--though we didn't have any goblets)
• had tea with host grandmother and 5 of her school friends
• learning more about the blockade of Leningrad and realizing how little we're taught in the US about Russia's role/losses in WWII
• will try to make it downtown for the parade on Monday (VE day)

My executive decision

I have decided that it is spring.

I don't care that the predicted high of the next few days is only +7 C. I don't care that earlier this week I busted out the long underwear again after swearing that I had used it for the last time a couple of weeks ago. I disregard the fact that I just bought a fur hat, which colder weather would give me cause to wear. It is mid-April, most of the snow has melted, grass that was once frozen is now visible, and so it is SPRING, I tell you, SPRING!

All of which is an explanation of the new background image of the blog. The snowy image of the cathedral was just making me depressed. So now I give you a much more spring-y background! Hooray!

[Note: this photo was probably taken in the summer.]

More strange journeys (and photos!)

As promised, here's an update continued from the previous post. As more time has passed between these posts than I originally intended, I'll just give the highlights of what I had planned to tell.

After my semi-disastrous [read: embarrassing and frustrating] marshrutka saga, I returned home much earlier than Tatiana Dmitrievna had expected me. Which was around her lunch time, so I was, of course, instructed to "Иди! кушай!" (come and eat).  I'm pretty sure it was like 2 pm, and I'd already eaten in town during my wanderings, but when a Russian expects you to eat, there's really no point in arguing. Besides, it looked tasty.

We then had a great discussion (or rather, I listened to an excellent lecture) about Russian history and politics.  As I'm only giving the highlight reel, here are the most interesting subjects we touched on, please feel free to comment below or email me if you want to hear more.

Russia never invaded another country, they were always invited. That's why the empire lasted as long as it did. Specifically, as regards the Baltic States: Russia wasn't occupying their territory, it was defending them from outside aggressors. Gorbachev and Yeltsin were not good leaders. The Soviet system needed to come to an end, but it should have been done better. Especially when it comes to social services--now, instead of good education and health care and universal employment, Russia has oligarchs who got rich taking money from the people. They should give some (all?) of the money back to the people and invest in education and health care.

Another adventure I promised to tell is my trip to the hostel on the outskirts of town. Now, to be fair, this place was not nearly as far from the center as I live, but I'm pretty sure it was about 20 minutes from the nearest metro stop, which seems to be a better marker of level of civilization here that objective distance from the center.  Anyway, I walked the whole way, since after my marshrutka experience I was extremely wary of getting on the wrong bus or getting off at the wrong stop.  Having checked and double-checked the address (conveniently located on the same street as my university, but a couple hundred numbers away) I set off after school. Seeing the street change as I got farther and farther from Nevskiy Prospect was really an eye-opening experience and a great illustration of the wealth disparity in modern Russia.

As I usually take the metro to and from school, and my wanderings are usually limited to the area close to Nevsky, this was my first glimpse of the progression, and it was quite striking. First, Let me start with some basic geography for those who haven't already fled to google maps or a similar site.  The main street in central St. Petersburg (for the nit-pickers out there, I'm excluding Vasilevsky Ostrov) is Nevsky Prospect. At one end are located the Hermitage and the Winter Palace, it then travels past several cathedrals, theaters, and other places of cultural significance, reaches Ploshad' Vosstaniya (or, as Google Translate puts it: "The Area of the Revolution"), and continues to its other end at the Alexander Nevsky Lavra (as a friend explained, "a Lavra is basically a really fancy monastery").

When most people talk about "the Center" of St. Petersburg, they mean Nevsky Prospect and anywhere within a 15 minute walk of it. So when my adventure took me about 1 hour's walk from Nevsky (45 minutes from school) there was a lot to be seen. Of course, now that I'm trying to explain it, I can't seem to describe anything. Maybe the allergic reaction is distracting me. Anyway, here are a few pictures from that walk, hopefully they illustrate the point I'm trying to articulate. (click to enlarge)

there's a cat in there

The English really confused me.
Only time I've seen it somewhere other than Nevsky

After all that, when I got to the address that the website said the hostel was at, I couldn't find an entrance to the building. There was a sign that said something about Herzen University, but no visible entrance to the building. Deciding I wouldn't really like to live in that neighborhood anyway (as a girl who would inevitably be going home in the dark at some point) I decided to give up and head home. So I walked a couple of blocks, got on a bus, and got back to the metro stop next to school in about 10 minutes. Proving how slow I was walking.

As is a recurring theme here on Notes from Aboveground, I've not told nearly half of what I intended to. Further highlights: seeing grass for the first time; rediscovering what my neighborhood looks like now that the snow's gone (I'll have to do a before and after for you all soon); new Russian friends; one of the weirdest films I've ever seen (probably made weirder by being a bad Russian dubbing of Czech--it's called Little Otik in English, look it up); adventures in allergy diagnosis (otherwise known as: why have these hives lasted 4 days?); an apparent love of parentheses; a (brief) trip to the Peter and Paul fortress, complete with the noon cannon salute (that took us by surprise and was REALLY loud); and the apartment hunt continues.

So stay tuned and I might go into more detail about that stuff. Or I might just skip to this week's group excursion: Dostoevsky's St. Petersburg, which apparently may involve some mild trespassing. Which just makes it more Dostoevskian. Given the name I gave this blog, that one's going to have to get an extensive entry. Here's hoping it'll be cloudy! (To set the appropriate mood)

You are French, yes?

I know I said I'd finish the stories of adventures from the last week in my next post, but I need to write what happened today before I forget all of it.

Today I met Nesli/Masha, my friend from Conn who is on the Bard/Smolny program, who I haven't seen in a few weeks. We sat at a  pâtisserie and болтали (chatted) for a few hours, then decided to wander aimlessly for a while, as that's always a fun way to see a city and today it got up to almost 50˚F! Also, although it was cloudy all morning, by the time we left the bakery the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in sight.

After about an hour of wandering, we were getting hungry again and decided to get some пышки (Russian doughnuts).  I knew of a place nearby, but on the way, got sidetracked by the souvenir market near the Church on Spilled Blood.

I'd originally intended to just go through it, but then I saw the hats. The glorious fur hats. I think I've mentioned before that one of my goals was to find a fur hat that didn't cost a fortune? Well, here was my chance to try. With only 1500 rubles in my wallet, I decided to at least try on a hat and see how I liked it.

What followed was one of the most hilarious interactions with a salesperson that I've ever had.

As I got to the cart that displayed about 50 different varieties of hat, i asked the man "Сколько стоят?" (how much do they cost?) He responded, in English, "It depends on the kind you want, they're all different. What color do you like?"
 -"Черный или коричнывый" (black or brown)
-"Well, this one is a very nice hat, black, and it has the ear flaps for when it's really cold," he said as he placed a black rabbit fur hat on my head. Now, as far as I know, I don't have a very strong accent in Russian, but as the guy insisted on speaking to me in English, I just gave up and started speaking English as well.

I don't remember the exact order of what followed, but he originally told me that the black rabbit fur would be 3000 rubles.  There was another rabbit fur hat that he pulled out when I insisted that I didn't have that much money, but it was not nearly the quality of the first one. When I said that I didn't like it, he praised my good taste, explaining, "The black one, that is Siberian rabbit, but the gray one is Chinese. You can see, I don't know how to explain it, but (he picked up the hat to show me closer up) there are places where the fur is not as good. This is because it is Chinese. The Siberian is much better quality."

After trying on a couple of more hats, I really wanted one, which I suspect he could tell.  But I still only had 1500 roubles with me.  After I lamented to him that I really didn't have enough money, he turned to Nesli, who had been standing nearby the whole time, and asked her to "borrow" me some money.  "She is your friend, so she can't ask, but I'm asking. Pleeease (he almost whined) please borrow her some money so she can buy the hat."  In the interim, by the way, after my first hesitation, he had lowered the price from 3000 to 2000 for the black rabbit fur. I was really glad that I didn't have the money on me, as I probably would've paid the original asking price without a second thought.

Nesli and I briefly conferred--in French, so he wouldn't be able to understand--and she agreed to lend me 500 roubles.  The next problem was that I had now decided to buy the more expensive, more fashionable, fox fur one that was the third or fourth I'd tried. His original price was 4500 for it, but my hesitation and clear lack of money got him to bring the price down which was probably what he wanted to sell it for anyway.  I was now short of the price, however, even with the loan.  As Nesli and I conferred again, this time in a mix of French, Russian, and English, I mentioned that I could just go to an ATM and come back, and she suggested I ask him to hold it for me while I got more money.

Overhearing me mention the ATM (I think I used the Russian word) he perked up. "You need the ATM?" he asked, "I know where the closest one is, follow me."  And so he turned toward the nearest building.  Hat that I was buying in hand, Nesli and I followed.  As we approached the entrance of the building, he told us that inside was a collection of old cars that one man had that was now a museum. A really good museum. We should be sure to go to it, he really recommends it.

While I stood there getting my money, he asked "You are French, yes?" At which Nesli and I both laughed and said "No." "No, you are French, I can tell, don't lie to me." To which we just shook our heads. Not only are we not French, but I haven't spoken French in almost a year (excepting the one class I went to at the start of last semester) and Nesli is Turkish, and looks it.  After getting the money I paid him, got a plastic bag for the hat in return, and he left with a cheery "Take care, girls."

Later I realized that at any point from when I had the hat in my hands I probably could have run off with it. His confidence in my honesty was impressive.  I also really hope that the ATM wasn't rigged to steal my card info. I'm usually good about only using ones at banks.

Other random parts of the story which didn't fit into the above narrative:

After trying on the first hat or two, he took down another black rabbit fur one, explaining that it was the exact same, only smaller.  When it didn't fit, to measure my hat size, he circled his hands on my head and said "Yes, you are a 68," looked at the size of the hat he had first put on my head, and said "Yes, 68, this is the perfect size for you."

At one point in the transaction, in between when he was putting hats on me, a couple of Chinese men walked past the stall, looking curiously at the hats. Without missing a beat, my salesman called to his compatriot, "Коля! какие-то китайцы пришли!" (Kolya, some Chinese have come) upon which Kolya rambled over (the man was rather plump) and began speaking Chinese to the tourists. I was amazed.

I would like, if I may...to take you on a strange journey

This post title (for those who didn't get the reference) is a quote from The Rocky Horror Show, and I have been waiting for the right occasion to use it in a blog post for way too long.  Showing how big of a musical theatre geek I am.

In any case, there are actually a few strange journeys which I have taken in the past week, but I'll start at the very beginning, as I've heard it's a very good place to start.

On Sunday I went to the Russian museum with my peer tutor.  As she's been there many times, we basically did the speed-though strategy and didn't actually spend a lot of time looking at anything.  I plan to go back on my own though, perhaps after reading up on the collection a little, as my student ID gets me in for free. I'm going to miss the perks of being a student of the Russian Federation.  Anyway, the most interesting part of the museum, to me, was the folk art.  They had all sorts of things that I can't remember the names of and could only describe using a lot of gestures, but just trust me that if you ever have the chance to come to Petersburg, it's worth a stop.  My tutor explained to me that most tourists don't go to the Russian museum, because they prefer to see the European art in the Hermitage, so I'm doing my part to promote the place.

On Sunday my tutor and I also bought tickets to Oliver! which I'm really excited about. Did I mention how I'm a huge musical theater geek? It's funny, turns out that completely independently, my host grandmother and Nastya decided to go see the show.  I tried to contain my enthusiasm about it, because I've heard a a few of Tatiana Dmitrievna's rants against the current state of music and theatre in Russia ("How dare the Alexandrinsky reinterpret classics?" or "When I was young, musicians could actually sing and the songs had meaning and musical merit") I haven't heard whether or not Nastya enjoyed the show, but I overheard Tatiana Dmitrievna telling someone on the phone that the girls "looked like prostitutes" and the music wasn't any good. Thankfully, she didn't complain about it to me, as I don't think my musical fan-dom could have remained silent.

On Monday I had my Phonetics midterm, which went surprisingly well.  My reaction to that class is often that I end up hearing "Why Can't the English?" on repeat in my head as I struggle to pronounce ль, сг, дь, сж, ы, or щ (which don't exist in English, so for those who don't know what that means, I really can't explain it).  However, after I read my excerpt from a children's poem (Айболит for those who care to look it up) and only stumbled slightly on the paragraph that she gave us to prepare, my professor told me that except for soft "L" (ль) I have barely any accent when reading in Russian!!! She qualified this, of course, by reminding me that reading is not the same as speaking without an accent, but I don't care! Наконец-то мне хорошо получилось!

The real adventure of this week, however, took place on Wednesday.

Ever since we first received the list of excursions at the beginning of the semester, the trip to the Baltika brewery was one of the ones I was most looking forward to. Especially after we were told that the tour ended with a beer tasting (that's right, like a wine tasting, only for beer).  Also, Baltika is the 3rd largest company in Russia and the brewery we were going to is the second largest in Europe and almost completely automated.

So Tuesday night Sasha (my host mom) told me how to get to the metro stop where I was supposed to meet the group.  Now, she didn't tell me how long it would take to get there, but after looking at a map, I figured it should take about as long on the marshrutka as it usually takes me to get to school.

Wednesday morning, running a bit late but not overly concerned, I made my way to the bus stop and waited under my (new) purple umbrella, which was protecting me from the wet snow that has recently been plaguing our existence here in the motherland.  Just as I was beginning to worry that the marshrutka wouldn't come in time, it arrived and I followed the other travelers onto the small bus, fumbled in my wallet for the 30 rubles that it cost, accepted the change the driver gave me, and fell into a nearby seat with a sigh of relief. First obstacle conquered!

At this point, a brief explanation of marshrutkas is probably needed for those readers who haven't been to Russia.  The term "marshrutka" is actually a shortened form of "маршрутное такси", which means a taxi that has a fixed route.  The system has evolved a bit, however, since the name was coined, and the marshrutkas that operate in my neighborhood would best be described as smaller buses. Some of them are big yellow vans, but the majority look just like a normal public transit bus, only slightly smaller.  As the city transit in St. Pete is severely lacking (one of my host mom's favorite rants), marshrutkas fill in the gap and go on different routes through the city that normal buses either don't do, or don't do frequently enough. They tend to cost a bit more (real buses are only 21 rubles) but with the convenience factor, they still do pretty good business.

Back to my marshrutka saga:

After a moment of panic, being stranded somewhere I was completely unfamiliar with, I decided that there would probably be another marshrutka that would come along with the same route, or at least one that could bring me to the metro.  I'd be out another 30 roubles, but at least I now had a plan for how to get home.  Mistake number 2 was taking the next marshrutka.

As I looked around for the best place to wait for the next bus, I noticed several people running to meet one that was coming down the street. When I saw the sign on the front that said "бесплатно" (free) I joined them.  When I saw that the one stop listed on the side (how Russian buses indicate routes) was the metro stop I was trying to reach, I got in with the rest of the crowd.

It was not until about 20 minutes later that I realised my error.  Instead of ending up at the metro, the bus (for this one was the size of a normal bus, just with more standing room) brought us to a big shopping complex centered around IKEA. Again, very much not my intended destination.

As the bus pulled up to the stop outside the huge building, however, I noticed a sign on the bus stop that said the name of the metro stop I was trying to reach. Thinking that there was a small chance that the metro was located somewhere near this big complex, I got off the bus. Third mistake.

After wandering into the parking lot next to the bus stop (the building was on stilts so the parking was effectively the ground floor) I realized that the metro was decidedly NOT there.  After looking at my phone for the time, and seeing that I was already at least 5 minutes late, I considered calling my resident director to say I was lost.  Then I decided that since I was already late and now had to wait for the next bus, I might as well give up on the field trip and just find my way to the metro.

Defeated, I made my way back to the bus stop to wait for another 15 minutes. This time, the bus did get me where I wanted to go and I finally reached the meeting place about 45 minutes after I was supposed to be there and at least 20 minutes after the group had left.

Resigned to the fact that I'd missed it, I noticed a bookstore next to the metro.  Those who know me well will recognize that this almost immediately raised my spirits.  So I went in and wandered through the aisles for a while before finding 2 Chekhov books (relevant to my thesis) and a huge bin filled with books in English. This was the most English-language I'd seen in a store here that wasn't framed for people learning English (aka it was unabridged and without a glossary in the back).  This small victory alone almost made up for missing the excursion.  I ended up buying the Chekhov and Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.  There were a few other English books that interested me, but I reasoned a small one would be better for carrying around (as I am wont to do).

I then decided that as this metro stop was on the blue line, and I had no desire to brave the marshrutkas again, I might as well go wander through the center for a while.  I walked around Nevsky, the Hermitage (outside), St. Isaac's Cathedral (though I didn't know it's name at the time), and after a big circle decided to see the rest of Gostiniy Dvor', since I'd only made it about half way the last time. Also, my search for a fur hat that costs a reasonable amount is always in the back of my mind.

So after what was probably way too long, without finding anything that didn't cost an arm and a leg, I made my way back into the metro and headed home.

Stay tuned for my history lesson from Tatiana Dmitrievna, further wanderings in the city, Friday's April Fools' celebration, and my trip to the cheap hostel that CISLA found. This post is already long enough, so those adventures will have to wait until the next one.