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.]
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
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)
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)
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)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Research of all kinds
The search is on! Now that I've got my internship lined up and the summer is fast approaching, it's time to find lodgings in the Venice of the North (aka Peter's Great Folly).
I've been looking online and found several places, but everything seems ridiculously expensive to me. Part of this is that my preferences are considered luxuries to Russians. A real bed, not a fold-out couch? A washing machine, you won't just hand-wash? A full kitchen? What extravagance! And so, the cheapest options are still at the upper end of my budget. Maybe I'll be able to negotiate down, but this is Russia--nobody's easily intimidated.
My honors' program--who will be paying my rent--has been extremely evasive every time I bring up concerns about cost. The general feeling of their end of the correspondence is "find something safe, not too expensive, that you like--preferably with a host family or roommate." My appeals that finding a host family or roommate when I have no connections here besides the ones my abroad program has provided have so far fallen on deaf ears. As have my frequent allusions to wanting more independence in the summer (and thus not putting much effort into the host family idea).
So if anyone has suggestions or words of advice on apartment hunts in general, or Petersburg specifically, please let me know! I've never done this before, so every bit of knowledge is welcome, ever that which is considered common sense among *real* grown-ups.
In other news, midterms have arrived. Not nearly as stressful as this season is at Conn, but still some added pressure. I've realized that part of my recent malaise is that I don't get a spring break while in Russia. It's odd, but I didn't miss it until I realized that after midterms we just go right back to class. This piece of news is almost as bad as when I discovered in 5th grade that because Canadians don't celebrate Presidents' Day, I would have to go to school on my birthday for the first time EVER. Okay, so it's not nearly as bad as that, but I've been reminiscing about Canada recently for some reason.
In a development that I'm sure will only interest my parents and the few other readers out there interested in my academic future, I've begun researching for my thesis. Yes, for once in her life, this procrastinator is starting a project months before she has to. At the urgings of my advisor, I'm reading up on translation theory and Russian literature. By which I mean I'm reading things in English about Russia. A lot of it is really interesting, actually, and the history geek in me is finally getting some attention after several years of lying dormant. This book in particular is fascinating to me, as it discusses "Russian Characteristics" that are still somewhat true today, almost 100 years later. [Note: it was written in 1912, 7 years after the first revolution and 2 years before the 2nd and 3rd]
On another unrelated topic, my program is taking us on a trip to the second biggest beer factory in Europe (behind Heineken) on Wednesday. Hopefully it'll be a more interesting tour than our excursion to the water treatment museum this past Wednesday. Seriously. We went to a museum dedicated to the water treatment center of St. Petersburg. For 3 hours we toured an old water treatment plant that has been turned into a museum discussing the methods and mechanisms of clensing water. THREE HOURS!
And then I went to Carl's Junior (a burger place slightly above McDonald's in the fast-food hierarchy). Which is the only thing that saved the day. Well, that and successfully navigating my way back to the metro stop from the clinic. New routes around the city are always a victory in my mind. A trait I've definitely inherited from my dad.
Yes, faithful readers (family members) I have once again fallen ill. Nothing as serious as bronchitis this time, merely a minor case of conjunctivitis. Which I somehow managed to self-diagnose. Seriously. I woke up after a nap Monday afternoon to goop in my eyes and thought "I probably have cunjunctivitis". Which was later confirmed by a doctor who gave me eye drops with anti-biotics and steroids in them. Think the steroids will improve my vision? I always wanted to have a superpower...
I've been looking online and found several places, but everything seems ridiculously expensive to me. Part of this is that my preferences are considered luxuries to Russians. A real bed, not a fold-out couch? A washing machine, you won't just hand-wash? A full kitchen? What extravagance! And so, the cheapest options are still at the upper end of my budget. Maybe I'll be able to negotiate down, but this is Russia--nobody's easily intimidated.
My honors' program--who will be paying my rent--has been extremely evasive every time I bring up concerns about cost. The general feeling of their end of the correspondence is "find something safe, not too expensive, that you like--preferably with a host family or roommate." My appeals that finding a host family or roommate when I have no connections here besides the ones my abroad program has provided have so far fallen on deaf ears. As have my frequent allusions to wanting more independence in the summer (and thus not putting much effort into the host family idea).
So if anyone has suggestions or words of advice on apartment hunts in general, or Petersburg specifically, please let me know! I've never done this before, so every bit of knowledge is welcome, ever that which is considered common sense among *real* grown-ups.
In other news, midterms have arrived. Not nearly as stressful as this season is at Conn, but still some added pressure. I've realized that part of my recent malaise is that I don't get a spring break while in Russia. It's odd, but I didn't miss it until I realized that after midterms we just go right back to class. This piece of news is almost as bad as when I discovered in 5th grade that because Canadians don't celebrate Presidents' Day, I would have to go to school on my birthday for the first time EVER. Okay, so it's not nearly as bad as that, but I've been reminiscing about Canada recently for some reason.
In a development that I'm sure will only interest my parents and the few other readers out there interested in my academic future, I've begun researching for my thesis. Yes, for once in her life, this procrastinator is starting a project months before she has to. At the urgings of my advisor, I'm reading up on translation theory and Russian literature. By which I mean I'm reading things in English about Russia. A lot of it is really interesting, actually, and the history geek in me is finally getting some attention after several years of lying dormant. This book in particular is fascinating to me, as it discusses "Russian Characteristics" that are still somewhat true today, almost 100 years later. [Note: it was written in 1912, 7 years after the first revolution and 2 years before the 2nd and 3rd]
On another unrelated topic, my program is taking us on a trip to the second biggest beer factory in Europe (behind Heineken) on Wednesday. Hopefully it'll be a more interesting tour than our excursion to the water treatment museum this past Wednesday. Seriously. We went to a museum dedicated to the water treatment center of St. Petersburg. For 3 hours we toured an old water treatment plant that has been turned into a museum discussing the methods and mechanisms of clensing water. THREE HOURS!
And then I went to Carl's Junior (a burger place slightly above McDonald's in the fast-food hierarchy). Which is the only thing that saved the day. Well, that and successfully navigating my way back to the metro stop from the clinic. New routes around the city are always a victory in my mind. A trait I've definitely inherited from my dad.
Yes, faithful readers (family members) I have once again fallen ill. Nothing as serious as bronchitis this time, merely a minor case of conjunctivitis. Which I somehow managed to self-diagnose. Seriously. I woke up after a nap Monday afternoon to goop in my eyes and thought "I probably have cunjunctivitis". Which was later confirmed by a doctor who gave me eye drops with anti-biotics and steroids in them. Think the steroids will improve my vision? I always wanted to have a superpower...
Sunday, March 20, 2011
С днем святого Патрика!
Or, as it's said in the English-speaking world, Happy St. Patrick's Day! (A few days late, but give a girl a break, huh?)
As apparently the only person in my program, perhaps in all of Russia, proud of my Irish heritage, I decided to represent and wear my green jeans. The professor that I explained this to seemed rather puzzled that the color should matter for a holiday, but I think she just added it to the (presumably long) list of weird things Americans do. I had actually been planning to buy a green scarf for the occasion, but was unable to find a good one. Which leads me to the actual subject of this post: shopping in Russia.
As everywhere, shopping comes in many forms. In Russia, however, shopping for the same item at different stores can provide a vastly different experience. Excluding food shopping, which deserves its own explanation, one can buy stuff at a variety of places. The most obvious is the Western-style mall, complete with such stores as H&M, Zara, Adidas and Reebok. One of these malls is one block away from my class building, so needless to say, exploring has happened. The Galeria, as it's called, is a brand-new building that apparently only opened last year (the academic year students lament that it's become popular--they loved having their own private food court at lunch).
In terms that people familiar with the Boston area can recognize, the Galeria is like the new wing of the "Natick Collection", only bigger (4 or 5 stories and takes up close to a city block) and it has a grocery store, tailor, dry cleaner, pool hall/bar, TGI Friday's, a few sit-down restaurants and a bank in addition to the usual clothing, electronics and shoe stores. Shopping there is exactly like any mall anywhere in the Western world except that the signs are in Cyrillic and the prices all seem ridiculously high until you do the currency exchange rate calculation in your head ("3,000 roubles? what am I made of money? Oh wait, that's about $100, never mind").
The more Russian version of shopping is not evident in the city centre, which is one of the few reasons I'm glad to be living on the outskirts. As it's been staying light later (7pm!!) and I thus have more energy after getting off the metro at the end of the day (seriously, 4pm seems like noon!) I've begun exploring the neighborhood shops more. Something I've been meaning to do almost since I arrived.
Next to my metro stop is (what I think of as) a true Russian shopping center. In the complex are a few big stores, including Буквоед [book-va-ed], a bookstore that I'm sure will become my favorite place once I can actually read full books in Russian. Think of it as the Russian Borders/Barnes and Noble. There are a couple of other chain stores like McDonalds (with free wi-fi), something that from the outside looks like Target, and a few others, but most of the space is comprised of a uniquely Russian phenomenon--the tiny little hole-in-the-wall shop, amongst several others of its kind, that only sells one type of merchandise.
There are hat shops, shoe stores, fur coat closets, dress shops, and even a few shops that only sell men's dress shirts. The amazing thing to me about all these little places is the sheer amount of products they manage to fit into a space that's no more than 10'x10'. The most impressive of these is the hat shops. There are quite a few of them scattered around the 3 floors of the mall and except for the different women scowling behind the counter, you'd swear it was the same shop! Each has hats lining the walls, easily fitting 100+ into the tiny area as well as often having hat stands on the floor limiting your wandering space even further. As the kind of shopper who likes to feel merchandise and look at the price tags, but is also quite short by most standards, this set-up is incredibly frustrating to me.
Russians have a different system of shopping. When you see something you like, or want to look at, you ask the worker at the shop "девушка, скажите пожалуйста..." or "вы не скажете сколько стоит вот эту?" which literally translate respectively as "girl, please tell me..." and "you won't say how much that costs?" the polite ways of asking for help. The problem with this system, however, is that I'm still a bit shaky on my numbers in Russian and I'm also wary of letting people know by my accent that I'm not native. Of course, I'm sure my mannerisms give me away, but I like to pretend that I'm fitting in perfectly. I have decided, however, to get over my pride and buy one of those stereotypical "Russian fur hats" before it's truly spring so I can wear it for at least a few days.
A third and, in my view, stranger system of shopping here in Peter is Gostiny Dvor' (their transliteration). It used to be the site of a market where farmers and tradesmen would come with their goods. At some point in history, it got closed in and is now a huge building that covers a large city block. The odd thing about this place is that when they closed it in they basically made it into a continuous hallway. So to go from store to store, you don't window shop and then pick out where you want to enter, instead you actually walk through the stores on your way to things that actually interest you.
While wandering in Gostiny Dvor' last week, I experienced my first (that I know of) salesperson hovering to make sure I wasn't stealing anything. It was in a fur store, so I guess the merchandise is pretty valuable, but at the same time, what are the odds of me being able to walk off with something? Anyway, as part of my continual search for an affordable yet stylish yet stereotypical fur hat, I stopped in this store. Along one wall were a lot of hats, so I went over to get a closer look. The corridor that people walk through separated this small area from the cashier, but I didn't think that mattered. Five minutes later, when I just couldn't bring myself to pay $100 for a hat (is that normal for fur?), as I turned to leave, I noticed a rather surly employee glaring at me from the other end of the hall wall (about 10 feet away). Now, I hadn't seen her before this moment, but from her stance and the way she followed me with her eyes as I proceeded on, I'm pretty sure she'd been watching me for quite some time.
As a white girl from the suburbs, I've never encountered this attitude from a salesgirl before. I'm aware, of course, that this is often a major issue of racism in the US (blacks being profiled as likely to steal) but the distrust has never been aimed in my direction. Very eye-opening.
So that's my summary of Russian shopping, which I'm sure you were all riveted by. By the way, word to the wise: Russians often don't accept credit cards, even when the price is several thousand roubles. The tiny little shops in the mall near me don't even have machines that are capable of that sort of transaction, but more often than not, the salesperson just doesn't want to deal with the hassle.
As apparently the only person in my program, perhaps in all of Russia, proud of my Irish heritage, I decided to represent and wear my green jeans. The professor that I explained this to seemed rather puzzled that the color should matter for a holiday, but I think she just added it to the (presumably long) list of weird things Americans do. I had actually been planning to buy a green scarf for the occasion, but was unable to find a good one. Which leads me to the actual subject of this post: shopping in Russia.
As everywhere, shopping comes in many forms. In Russia, however, shopping for the same item at different stores can provide a vastly different experience. Excluding food shopping, which deserves its own explanation, one can buy stuff at a variety of places. The most obvious is the Western-style mall, complete with such stores as H&M, Zara, Adidas and Reebok. One of these malls is one block away from my class building, so needless to say, exploring has happened. The Galeria, as it's called, is a brand-new building that apparently only opened last year (the academic year students lament that it's become popular--they loved having their own private food court at lunch).
In terms that people familiar with the Boston area can recognize, the Galeria is like the new wing of the "Natick Collection", only bigger (4 or 5 stories and takes up close to a city block) and it has a grocery store, tailor, dry cleaner, pool hall/bar, TGI Friday's, a few sit-down restaurants and a bank in addition to the usual clothing, electronics and shoe stores. Shopping there is exactly like any mall anywhere in the Western world except that the signs are in Cyrillic and the prices all seem ridiculously high until you do the currency exchange rate calculation in your head ("3,000 roubles? what am I made of money? Oh wait, that's about $100, never mind").
The more Russian version of shopping is not evident in the city centre, which is one of the few reasons I'm glad to be living on the outskirts. As it's been staying light later (7pm!!) and I thus have more energy after getting off the metro at the end of the day (seriously, 4pm seems like noon!) I've begun exploring the neighborhood shops more. Something I've been meaning to do almost since I arrived.
Next to my metro stop is (what I think of as) a true Russian shopping center. In the complex are a few big stores, including Буквоед [book-va-ed], a bookstore that I'm sure will become my favorite place once I can actually read full books in Russian. Think of it as the Russian Borders/Barnes and Noble. There are a couple of other chain stores like McDonalds (with free wi-fi), something that from the outside looks like Target, and a few others, but most of the space is comprised of a uniquely Russian phenomenon--the tiny little hole-in-the-wall shop, amongst several others of its kind, that only sells one type of merchandise.
There are hat shops, shoe stores, fur coat closets, dress shops, and even a few shops that only sell men's dress shirts. The amazing thing to me about all these little places is the sheer amount of products they manage to fit into a space that's no more than 10'x10'. The most impressive of these is the hat shops. There are quite a few of them scattered around the 3 floors of the mall and except for the different women scowling behind the counter, you'd swear it was the same shop! Each has hats lining the walls, easily fitting 100+ into the tiny area as well as often having hat stands on the floor limiting your wandering space even further. As the kind of shopper who likes to feel merchandise and look at the price tags, but is also quite short by most standards, this set-up is incredibly frustrating to me.
Russians have a different system of shopping. When you see something you like, or want to look at, you ask the worker at the shop "девушка, скажите пожалуйста..." or "вы не скажете сколько стоит вот эту?" which literally translate respectively as "girl, please tell me..." and "you won't say how much that costs?" the polite ways of asking for help. The problem with this system, however, is that I'm still a bit shaky on my numbers in Russian and I'm also wary of letting people know by my accent that I'm not native. Of course, I'm sure my mannerisms give me away, but I like to pretend that I'm fitting in perfectly. I have decided, however, to get over my pride and buy one of those stereotypical "Russian fur hats" before it's truly spring so I can wear it for at least a few days.
A third and, in my view, stranger system of shopping here in Peter is Gostiny Dvor' (their transliteration). It used to be the site of a market where farmers and tradesmen would come with their goods. At some point in history, it got closed in and is now a huge building that covers a large city block. The odd thing about this place is that when they closed it in they basically made it into a continuous hallway. So to go from store to store, you don't window shop and then pick out where you want to enter, instead you actually walk through the stores on your way to things that actually interest you.
While wandering in Gostiny Dvor' last week, I experienced my first (that I know of) salesperson hovering to make sure I wasn't stealing anything. It was in a fur store, so I guess the merchandise is pretty valuable, but at the same time, what are the odds of me being able to walk off with something? Anyway, as part of my continual search for an affordable yet stylish yet stereotypical fur hat, I stopped in this store. Along one wall were a lot of hats, so I went over to get a closer look. The corridor that people walk through separated this small area from the cashier, but I didn't think that mattered. Five minutes later, when I just couldn't bring myself to pay $100 for a hat (is that normal for fur?), as I turned to leave, I noticed a rather surly employee glaring at me from the other end of the hall wall (about 10 feet away). Now, I hadn't seen her before this moment, but from her stance and the way she followed me with her eyes as I proceeded on, I'm pretty sure she'd been watching me for quite some time.
As a white girl from the suburbs, I've never encountered this attitude from a salesgirl before. I'm aware, of course, that this is often a major issue of racism in the US (blacks being profiled as likely to steal) but the distrust has never been aimed in my direction. Very eye-opening.
So that's my summary of Russian shopping, which I'm sure you were all riveted by. By the way, word to the wise: Russians often don't accept credit cards, even when the price is several thousand roubles. The tiny little shops in the mall near me don't even have machines that are capable of that sort of transaction, but more often than not, the salesperson just doesn't want to deal with the hassle.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Sasha 3
I have been thus dubbed by my fellow ACTR students, as there are 2 other Sashas who are Academic year students. As much as I complain at home about there being too many Alexes (Alexs? how does that pularize?) being in Russia takes the commonality of the names Alexandra and Alexander to a whole new level.
A breif list of the Sashas I've met (besides myself, of course): my host mom, the other 2 in the abroad program, my peer tutor's boyfriend, the guy who sold me my cell phone, several waiters, a main character of my favorite Russian tv program and innumerable other people who pass me on the street.
There really isn't a good comparison to make in the US, as most names in English aren't gender-neutral. Katherine for girls is popular, but there are plenty of Екатеринаs here as well. Michael for boys? but it's not gender-neutral and Michelle is not nearly as popular in the States as Alexandra is here.
In any case, you get the point. The most frustrating thing for me about all this is that I decided recently to ask people at home (not my family, they're already too used to "Alex") to call me "Sasha", as it's a less common nickname in the States. Plus, I like it. But now, with the legions of Sashas in Russia, I've again become a number.
Oh well, such is the life of Alexandras everywhere.
Until next time, Sasha 3
A breif list of the Sashas I've met (besides myself, of course): my host mom, the other 2 in the abroad program, my peer tutor's boyfriend, the guy who sold me my cell phone, several waiters, a main character of my favorite Russian tv program and innumerable other people who pass me on the street.
There really isn't a good comparison to make in the US, as most names in English aren't gender-neutral. Katherine for girls is popular, but there are plenty of Екатеринаs here as well. Michael for boys? but it's not gender-neutral and Michelle is not nearly as popular in the States as Alexandra is here.
In any case, you get the point. The most frustrating thing for me about all this is that I decided recently to ask people at home (not my family, they're already too used to "Alex") to call me "Sasha", as it's a less common nickname in the States. Plus, I like it. But now, with the legions of Sashas in Russia, I've again become a number.
Oh well, such is the life of Alexandras everywhere.
Until next time, Sasha 3
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Lessons from a six-year-old
Of the many things I've learned so far in Russia, probably the most practical lessons have been (inadvertently) taught by my 6-year-old host sister, Nastya. And not all of them have to do with language, or even Russian culture.
For example: growing up with a sister who is only 2 years younger than I am, I never really had the experience of someone constantly coming into my room asking "Whatcha doin'?" and not leaving even after I'd answered. As a fairly common theme in teen movies is the unwanted younger sibling getting in the way, I was, of course, aware that this happened to others, but it's not until recently that I fully appreciated what it meant.
In an effort to not be anti-social, I usually leave the door to my room open. This was fine when it was just my host mom and me living here while the other two were on their spa vacation (I'm really still unclear on what they did there--it wasn't that far away, so I don't know why they were away for 3 weeks), but now that Nastya has returned, the open door has taken on a whole new meaning.
As people who have had extended interactions with young children know, they aren't always comprehensible even when you're fluent in the language they're speaking. Something to do with youthful lisps and mispronounciations, I'm sure. In any case, while adults may know that kids are hard to understand, the kids themselves are rarely aware that someone who isn't their mother may have difficulty parsing their words. And Nastya is especially unforgiving if it takes me a minute to understand her excited babbling. The other day, when I returned home, she came running up spouting a fountain of energetic Russian at me. Actually, it was the day I went to the opera and had about an hour and a half to change, eat, and be on my way (aka I was NOT focusing on what she was saying). Anyway, Nastya ended her chatter with "Мы печем пиццу" [We're baking pizza].
As frazzled and distracted as I was, it took me a minute to digest her monologue. Apparently I took too long, as she repeated the phrase. Met once more with my blank stare (or perhaps furrowed brow as I tried to figure it out), Nastya yelled into the other room "Мама! Саша не знает, что такое пицца!" [Mom! Sasha doesn't know what pizza is!] To which, I of course responded "No, I know what pizza is!" I was going to explain that she'd just been talking too fast, but she was already bored of the conversation and returned to watching TV in the other room.
A brief explanation of my confusion: I had only just learned the verb "to bake" [печь] a few days before this, and it had only been taught in the context of blini. Thus, when Nastya used it describing pizza, it took me a moment to remember. Also, with the lisp she tends to get when excited, "pizza" was a nearly unrecognizable word.
More common examples of Nastya entering my room are when I'm on my computer and she comes in saying the Russian equivalent of "Whatcha doin'?" and doesn't leave. She's fascinated by everything I do, which is really sweet, but at the same time, it's not like I really do anything worthy of interest. I'm usually checking email, doing a crossword, looking at facebook, or reading a book or article online. All these activities are in English, by the way, which Nastya does not read, despite her assertions to the contrary. On the one hand, I'm glad that her reading over my shoulder is limited to her trying to identify individual letters, but on the other hand, if she could actually read English, she wouldn't ask me every few seconds "What's that letter?" or, more commonly, point to a key on the keyboard and ask if she's reading it right (which can actually be a challenge as I have cyrillic stickers on most keys thus each one has two letters--latin and cyrillic).
In summary, the most important things I've learned so far are: patience with myself even when others are impatient or make fun of me; and patience with young kids. If I ignore her for long enough, Nastya gets bored and runs out, usually with a toy of some kind in hand.
For example: growing up with a sister who is only 2 years younger than I am, I never really had the experience of someone constantly coming into my room asking "Whatcha doin'?" and not leaving even after I'd answered. As a fairly common theme in teen movies is the unwanted younger sibling getting in the way, I was, of course, aware that this happened to others, but it's not until recently that I fully appreciated what it meant.
In an effort to not be anti-social, I usually leave the door to my room open. This was fine when it was just my host mom and me living here while the other two were on their spa vacation (I'm really still unclear on what they did there--it wasn't that far away, so I don't know why they were away for 3 weeks), but now that Nastya has returned, the open door has taken on a whole new meaning.
As people who have had extended interactions with young children know, they aren't always comprehensible even when you're fluent in the language they're speaking. Something to do with youthful lisps and mispronounciations, I'm sure. In any case, while adults may know that kids are hard to understand, the kids themselves are rarely aware that someone who isn't their mother may have difficulty parsing their words. And Nastya is especially unforgiving if it takes me a minute to understand her excited babbling. The other day, when I returned home, she came running up spouting a fountain of energetic Russian at me. Actually, it was the day I went to the opera and had about an hour and a half to change, eat, and be on my way (aka I was NOT focusing on what she was saying). Anyway, Nastya ended her chatter with "Мы печем пиццу" [We're baking pizza].
As frazzled and distracted as I was, it took me a minute to digest her monologue. Apparently I took too long, as she repeated the phrase. Met once more with my blank stare (or perhaps furrowed brow as I tried to figure it out), Nastya yelled into the other room "Мама! Саша не знает, что такое пицца!" [Mom! Sasha doesn't know what pizza is!] To which, I of course responded "No, I know what pizza is!" I was going to explain that she'd just been talking too fast, but she was already bored of the conversation and returned to watching TV in the other room.
A brief explanation of my confusion: I had only just learned the verb "to bake" [печь] a few days before this, and it had only been taught in the context of blini. Thus, when Nastya used it describing pizza, it took me a moment to remember. Also, with the lisp she tends to get when excited, "pizza" was a nearly unrecognizable word.
More common examples of Nastya entering my room are when I'm on my computer and she comes in saying the Russian equivalent of "Whatcha doin'?" and doesn't leave. She's fascinated by everything I do, which is really sweet, but at the same time, it's not like I really do anything worthy of interest. I'm usually checking email, doing a crossword, looking at facebook, or reading a book or article online. All these activities are in English, by the way, which Nastya does not read, despite her assertions to the contrary. On the one hand, I'm glad that her reading over my shoulder is limited to her trying to identify individual letters, but on the other hand, if she could actually read English, she wouldn't ask me every few seconds "What's that letter?" or, more commonly, point to a key on the keyboard and ask if she's reading it right (which can actually be a challenge as I have cyrillic stickers on most keys thus each one has two letters--latin and cyrillic).
In summary, the most important things I've learned so far are: patience with myself even when others are impatient or make fun of me; and patience with young kids. If I ignore her for long enough, Nastya gets bored and runs out, usually with a toy of some kind in hand.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Happy International Women's Day!
In honor of the holiday, I did absolutely nothing. Which is sometimes the best way to celebrate. Yesterday I went skating and had tea at a cafe with some friends and a professor, had a holiday feast with my host family, and met up with one of the Russians I met at that meeting a little over a week ago.
Tomorrow I'm going to another rehearsal, where I'm going to try to come up with some questions to ask the director. Then a brief meeting for ACTR and it's home for me, to do all the homework I neglected the past few days. Watching The Incredibles in Russian with my host sister was clearly more important than preparing my presentation. Besides, Speech Practicum should be about thinking on your feet, right?
Shortest blog post yet, sorry for the lack of detail, I just don't have the energy for a long post. Maybe I'll tell more about the rehearsals in the next one.
Пока!
Tomorrow I'm going to another rehearsal, where I'm going to try to come up with some questions to ask the director. Then a brief meeting for ACTR and it's home for me, to do all the homework I neglected the past few days. Watching The Incredibles in Russian with my host sister was clearly more important than preparing my presentation. Besides, Speech Practicum should be about thinking on your feet, right?
Shortest blog post yet, sorry for the lack of detail, I just don't have the energy for a long post. Maybe I'll tell more about the rehearsals in the next one.
Пока!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
It's not over until the fat lady sings
Yesterday I went to my first opera, hence the title of this post. Amazing as it was, I was a bit disappointed that a few stereotypes were not fulfilled. No female member of the cast was fat (although a few of the men were quite толстый), the sets were rather minimalist, and the death by shooting didn't involve a big red handkerchief to represent the blood. I mean, in general, all of those things would be great, but for my first opera, I kind of wanted the stereotype.
The show we saw was Evgeniy Onegin, an opera written by Tchaikovsky based on the poem/book by Pushkin. I read the wikipedia article for both (in English and Russian) before watching the opera, so I had a vague idea of the storyline, but I think that to be an educated Slavic Studies major I'm going to have to read the original text at some point. When I have the language skills.
Overall I enjoyed the opera, but there were several scenes that were really boring. I much preferred the big crowd scenes to the monologues/dialogues that dominated the piece. The famous letter scene involves the main female character singing by herself for like 20 minutes. After about 3 I was ready for her to be done. There was actually a point about halfway through the piece where there was a pause in the music and everyone thought that the song was over, so they started clapping. The actress, however, remained in place with her arms raised, props in hand, and the lights didn't change so after a minute people got the hint. And the aria continued for another ten minutes.
My favorite scene was the ball in the third act, but my favorite moment was at the top of the final scene, at a serious, romantic moment, a gel fell out of a light above the stage. (For those who don't know, a lighting gel is the little piece of colored plastic placed in front of a light tint it.) I doubt that I was the only one who noticed it, but I suspect that most other spectators either thought it was done on purpose or didn't know how important the tiny piece of plastic actually was. Somebody got yelled at after the performance, for sure. Perhaps several someones.
*******
In other news, today is the final day of Maslenitsa. For all of you non-Slavists out there, Maslenitsa is a very old pagan celebration that originally lasted 14 days, but has since been shortened to 7. When Christianity came to Russia, the peasants continued most of their pagan traditions, sometimes with a new Christian twist to it. In general, though, the holiday maintains its pagan feel. No need for me to say all here, if you're interested do an internet search (the wikipedia article is sadly lacking, FYI).
In honor of the holiday, my program took us to the Russian equivalent of Sturbridge village/ Plymouth plantation to learn about old Russian traditions and how to properly celebrate the week. Which included, among other things, a couple of informative talks (that I mostly understood), several games, a drunken man in a bear costume who played the games with us, traditional dances, eating blini (they represent the sun--eating them is supposed to make spring come faster, though I'm still a little fuzzy on the logic of that), and sledding.
OK, so the sledding isn't really a part of the holiday, but it was really fun. As I keep saying, being a low-level language student and living in Russia, in many ways I've regressed to childhood. Field trips, class discussions of simple/everyday topics, grammar lessons, being told I need to bundle up more, having people worry about where I am if I don't call, etc.
Today I also got to watch a rehearsal at the Comedy Theater, but this blog post is long enough that I'd better save that story for another time.
The show we saw was Evgeniy Onegin, an opera written by Tchaikovsky based on the poem/book by Pushkin. I read the wikipedia article for both (in English and Russian) before watching the opera, so I had a vague idea of the storyline, but I think that to be an educated Slavic Studies major I'm going to have to read the original text at some point. When I have the language skills.
Overall I enjoyed the opera, but there were several scenes that were really boring. I much preferred the big crowd scenes to the monologues/dialogues that dominated the piece. The famous letter scene involves the main female character singing by herself for like 20 minutes. After about 3 I was ready for her to be done. There was actually a point about halfway through the piece where there was a pause in the music and everyone thought that the song was over, so they started clapping. The actress, however, remained in place with her arms raised, props in hand, and the lights didn't change so after a minute people got the hint. And the aria continued for another ten minutes.
My favorite scene was the ball in the third act, but my favorite moment was at the top of the final scene, at a serious, romantic moment, a gel fell out of a light above the stage. (For those who don't know, a lighting gel is the little piece of colored plastic placed in front of a light tint it.) I doubt that I was the only one who noticed it, but I suspect that most other spectators either thought it was done on purpose or didn't know how important the tiny piece of plastic actually was. Somebody got yelled at after the performance, for sure. Perhaps several someones.
*******
In other news, today is the final day of Maslenitsa. For all of you non-Slavists out there, Maslenitsa is a very old pagan celebration that originally lasted 14 days, but has since been shortened to 7. When Christianity came to Russia, the peasants continued most of their pagan traditions, sometimes with a new Christian twist to it. In general, though, the holiday maintains its pagan feel. No need for me to say all here, if you're interested do an internet search (the wikipedia article is sadly lacking, FYI).
In honor of the holiday, my program took us to the Russian equivalent of Sturbridge village/ Plymouth plantation to learn about old Russian traditions and how to properly celebrate the week. Which included, among other things, a couple of informative talks (that I mostly understood), several games, a drunken man in a bear costume who played the games with us, traditional dances, eating blini (they represent the sun--eating them is supposed to make spring come faster, though I'm still a little fuzzy on the logic of that), and sledding.
OK, so the sledding isn't really a part of the holiday, but it was really fun. As I keep saying, being a low-level language student and living in Russia, in many ways I've regressed to childhood. Field trips, class discussions of simple/everyday topics, grammar lessons, being told I need to bundle up more, having people worry about where I am if I don't call, etc.
Today I also got to watch a rehearsal at the Comedy Theater, but this blog post is long enough that I'd better save that story for another time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)