A lot of Thanksgiving

November has come and gone.
It was a very full month, one that really made me realize how much I love my life here. It's been a time of good food. I hosted a Thanksgiving dinner one weekend and a taco dinner the next, and then the next weekend went to another Thanksgiving dinner. I've been ice skating, to the planetarium, and out walking around the city. In addition to all this, I picked up an Elementary English class and actually started taking Russian lessons: an hour and a half Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. It's hard for me to remember what a quiet month September was.
The Thanksgiving dinner was kind of crazy. Since we work until 9 each weekday, we decided it would be best to have it on a Saturday. We made it early November as a compromise with the Canadian holiday and to give more of the teachers a chance to come. I recall the afternoon and evening through kind of a haze. After getting off work on Thursday night, I made cranberry sauce (really easy to do, by the way). Then, Friday night the real work began. I had decided to make a huge amount and variety of food: pumpkin soup, pumpkin ice cream pie, dinner rolls, green beans, macaroni and cheese, corn bread, mashed potatoes, and probably something else I now, thankfully, cannot recall. I did almost half Friday night, fell asleep, then woke up and tried to finish cooking and clean at the same time. I was very grateful that Randy, the Canadian, took care of the turkey and stuffing. Then came dinner. We talked, gave thanks, played Apples to Apples, and ate a ton. I sent home doggy bags with those who helped me clean, but I still didn't cook for a week. Which was one more thing to be thankful for.
The taco dinner the next week was a lot less work, but still provided me with food for the week. I made tacos and guacamole, as well as found corn chips. The result wasn't really even authentic by any definition, but it was good. My advanced class had a great time, I think, though they almost drove me crazy asking if different permutations of salsa, guacamole, meat, beans, tomatoes, etc were allowed! yes, yes, you can just have cheese and meat. Or cheese and salsa, if you really want. Go for it. They supplied fantastic Russian deserts: blini and apple "pie."
The Russian lessons may kill me. An hour and a half is a really long time. I find myself in a constant struggle. It is very easy for me to see the value of the lessons, and I see clear improvement in my speech, reading, and writing, but after 45 minutes I just keep glancing at the clock. Especially on Friday, when my tongue is often aching from trying to make the palatalized letters properly. My teacher assures me that the way Russians say them is the same way they are supposed to be said in German. Which leads me to 2 conclusion: 1. My German accent must be pretty bad. 2. Everyone still understood me, so how important can the difference in sounds really be? Ha. I'll keep trying.

Nazi?

Over the last few weeks, I've been getting a little braver about trying out my Russian on people. You would think that, living in Russian, I wouldn't really have any option but practice. And it is true that I get plenty of practice saying "200 grams of that salad, please," "yes, a small bag," and "May I have a crepe filled with all sorts of Russian food like mashed potatoes, sour cream, and pickles" (easier to say in Russian, actually), but other than that it is actually really easy to avoid situations where more would be required.
A couple of weeks ago, I ran into one of those unavoidable situations, though. Everyday it seemed my apartment was just a little darker, and it wasn't all to blame on the quickly-shortening days. No, my lightbulbs were all burning out, one by one, and I had no idea really where to get new ones. My roommate always bought them last year. Of course, I should have looked up how to say "lightbulb" in my dictionary, but I never thought about it at the right time. So, with nothing but the idea that they might be in the supermarket, I went looking. No luck. I decided to go to a little grocery store where I'd be able to actually look at every shelf closely. Still, no luck. But there I found a nice woman willing to listen to me fumble with the Russian I did know to ask about this item. Basically, I said: "I need something, but I don't know how to call it in Russian. I have a lamp, but no light. I need this." and then motioned with my hands screwing in a bulb. She somehow understood me, told me the name of the item, and sent me to a store that actually sold them. I was elated, mostly because I was able to understand her entire answer.
That adventure gave me the courage to try more. Last Thursday, I decided to try to buy some peppers and tomatoes from this woman selling them from the back of a truck in a lot near my apartment. I wasn't really sure of the protocol for how to do this. I could see lots of vegetables and a scale, so I knew it would be by weight. I was nervous it was a bring your own bag occasion, but I decided to try and hope that they'd at least be willing to sell me a bag as I always forget to carry one.
I managed to bobble through figuring out the process and was then the proud owner of some incredibly cheap sweet peppers (the good tomatoes for the day had already been taken). Amused by my accent, the lady selling the produce asked me if I was German. In my defense, I'd like to point out that this woman was from the Caucasus and had a funny accent, but I didn't understand the questions. I asked her to repeat herself, and she just said "Nazi?" Horrified, I said "no, no, no (no's come in threes here) I'm from the USA." She and I chatted some more, with her accusing me of being a bad student of Russian. I explained that actually I taught English. I didn't catch everything she was saying, but pretty soon she was inviting me to that most traditional of Russian pasttimes, walking and sitting in parks and drinking beer. I didn't really know what to do, so I started pretending to understand less and changing the subject back to tomatoes. In the end, she put her cell phone in my hands so that I could type in my number and she could invite me later. It was important, you see, because she was a poet, as she proved by reciting poetry at me. I quickly typed a number that closely resembled mine, but differed on a few digits. The trick will be when I want more peppers...

What brought me back

In Prince Caspian (the book, of course), Lucy asks Aslan why he didn't just make everything right, the way he did against the White Witch. As I recall, Aslan looks through her tears and says things never happen the same way twice. His answer is true in that story, I've seen it to be true in general, and it is certainly the truth in the case of my return to Volgograd.
Of course I knew things would be different this year, but somehow I still took a lot of the aspects of my life last year for granted. Last year, the young foreign teachers all hung out together. We had fun exploring the city's limited tourist attractions and trying out its various cuisines. This year the other teachers, while interesting and enjoyable people, are at too many different stages of life to make hanging out automatic or natural-seeming. That's where it's really good that at least on Sundays I get to spend time with some real friends in fellowship and good conversation.
While last year I shared an apartment overlooking the Volga river, this year I'm living alone in a comfortably run-down flat with its own set of unique quirks of personality. For example, when I wish to wash dishes in the kitchen, I must first turn on the hot water in the bathtub, then turn on the faucet in the kitchen, then turn down, but not off, the tap to the tub. And, as I discovered today, all the plugs in the whole apartment are on the same circuit. Thankfully, I quickly discovered the correct button to push and I'm rarely so busy that I would need to do laundry and vacuum at the same time.
My classes this year are also different, but I actually know a lot of the students from last year. Since I'm teaching exam preparation courses, many of my students were in my upper-intermediate classes last year. It's fun to get to see so many of the same faces, but the fact that I know them so well makes me feel more emotionally involved in making sure they are prepared to pass their exams. Of course, having a test looming in the distance means the lessons are a little less free-form and fun than they were last year.
All this is not to say that I'm having a bad time here. It's different, and there are certainly times when I wish it weren't. But the fact that things change is not the only lesson in Prince Caspian. There was a reason things were different, even if it was one that Lucy couldn't grasp. Lots of times, I don't really know why I'm here, but that's okay. What brought me back is surely nothing as dramatic as the blowing of Susan's horn, but I trust that there is something.

Sept 3, 2009

As you can surmise from the fact that I’m writing this, I made it to Volgograd safely and without major incident. My flight from Atlanta to DC was fine, and I even got seated in the Economy Plus section, where the 5 extra inches of legroom were nice, but not really necessary for such a short flight. Sitting around the DC airport went okay, particularly because I was able to purchase a day’s worth of wireless access and thus say goodbye, again, to Adam and James and whoever happened to be online at the time, as well as kill time watching my own choice of TV. DC to Moscow was fine, but long. It was no great surprise that I got very little sleep.
When I arrived at the Moscow airport and got through security (the lines are longer but the process shorter than in the states) I soon became very grateful for my cell phone. No one was there to greet me, but I was able to get in touch with Volgograd, who confirmed for me first that there was someone on the way, then that that someone had had car troubles and a new driver was on the way. Crises averted, though sitting around the airport while dead tired is not much fun.
I found myself dozing off over and over the whole afternoon as I was shuttled between the airport, the school office, the apartment where they let me nap, the school again, and finally the train station. Even with that napping, I still fell asleep almost immediately when I got on the train at 7:30 in the evening and, short of maybe 2 hours of waking up and reading for a bit, slept straight through until 11:30 the next morning when my compartment mate finally decided I really needed to wake up.
As soon as I got off the train at 5 pm, I was greeted by Elena, one of our administrators. She took me to my new apartment, which happens to have been Sarah’s apartment last year. It is comfortable and close to the school, as well as a number of other things. It will have a washing machine starting Monday and internet access in about 9 days. The only thing I’m worried about right now is learning how to use the oven . The stovetop works fine and is easy to light, but I can’t figure out how to turn on the oven, and the landlord had no clue. I know Sarah used it last year, so I’m confident that it will eventually work out.
Classes start on Monday, so between now and then I’ll have lots of free time to settle in (and look around for internet for the coming days). It looks like the teaching staff will be sort of staggering in this year, coming at a number of different times. I hope this doesn’t make our schedule really tough at the beginning before others get here. Right now it looks like I’ll be teaching mostly exam prep courses. I’ll let you know more when I know more.

Sept 2, 2009

The Statue is Still Standing

Last year in Volgograd, I heard some disturbing news: the statue of Mother Russia, the most visible landmark in the city, might be falling. Its base is slowly eroding, and while the Russian government assures the populace that they are correcting the situation, many remain unconvinced. Certainly the loss of this statue would be a devastating loss to the people of this city. Anyone with a passing knowledge of history knows of the battle that took place here, the deadliest battle in history, but how many outside Russia could tell you that Stalingrad is now known as Volgograd? The change in name, while laudable in intention, hides the “Hero-City’s” past from the casual observer. The statue, built on the strategically important Mamaev Hill, is a powerful link to this past. Also, as any of my students is quick to remind me, it is bigger than the Statue of Liberty.
All that said, as an outsider, I have no strong emotional attachment to the statue. It is extremely impressive, but when I learned the artist fashioned her after his wife, all I could think was “he must have hated his wife.” I had thought that the menacing look on her rather ugly face was simply meant to inspire fear into Soviet Russia’s enemies. If she fell, I’d feel bad for the citizens of Volgograd, but I’d be more concerned with 1) not having it land on me and 2) taking pictures and hoping to be an on the scene reporter for some English speaking news source with limited resources. In fact, some of the other (foreign) teachers and I had a running joke about starting a betting pool placing odds on when she would fall. Also on where, if one were to be visiting the hill when she fell, one should run in order to survive.
Still, I was pleased to see as my train chugged past that Mother Russia is still standing, tall and proud. I look forward to exploring the city in the next couple of weeks to see what changes have occurred over the summer, but it seems like a good sign that the statue, at least, is still standing.

286 down, 6 to go

In each of our classrooms there is a clock, and on each of those clocks there is the date. For the last week, each time I see that date I'm a bit shocked. After being here for all this time, months and months on end, I'm actually going home. I'm certainly excited and can't wait to see everyone and experience America again, but it's hard to wrap my mind around. What will it feel like to see a policeman smile or to have to remember that a 5% tip is simply not acceptable?
It's going to be difficult to explain my experience. I know I've been guilty of asking incredibly vague and useless questions about people's travels and fully expect to get plenty of "How was Russia?" and the like. To prepare myself, I've decided to try to list 10 things I've learned.
1. In America we take reliability for granted. In Russia, if you see the cereal you like on the shelf, buy it. It might disappear tomorrow and be gone for a month. Also, keep several large containers of water in your apartment at all times so that when the water doesn't work for half a day, you can still function normally.
2. Not speaking the language of the surrounding culture has both advantages and disadvantages, but the second outweigh the first. I love the feeling of breakthrough when I communicate successfully in Russian and I have to admit that I enjoy the liberty to talk about people in front of them without their understanding, but I often wonder what I would do if I saw someone who really needed help. Also, not being able to speak Russian makes the post office that much worse.
3. In America we take the trustworthiness of our politicians for granted. Sure we have corrupt politicians and we make that stereotype the butt of many of our jokes, but we are honestly shocked when true corruption is revealed. Here it is simply expected.
4. Beets don't taste all that bad. Neither does cabbage. Especially when your body starts craving fresh vegetables. But mushrooms are still horrible.
5. British English and American English are actually remarkably different considering the common history and the frequent cultural interaction between the two nations. While the British system of saying "in hospital" does make sense, there are many ways I still hold that the American language is superior.
6. Living without faith in public figures seems to bind people more closely to their friends and loved ones.
7. I'm pretty sure fate has conspired to prevent us from ever finding Chinese food in Volgograd. Though since the "Mexican" food was covered in barbeque sauce and dill, that might have been for the better.
8. Anything can go on pizza, but that doesn't mean it is good. While fish is predictably horrible, fried egg is remarkably good.
9. While Americans could, and should, do more for the environment, we do care a lot more than some other nations.
10. The internet is probably the most wonderful invention of all time. As much as it pains me to say it, I think it equals the printing press.

In Russia, I mean, Ukraine pictures

A few pictures from inside the 3rd class compartment. That little table flips down to the level of the benches and becomes a berth.


From the Kara-Dog nature preserve. Even with the clouds, it looked amazing.



From the Kara Dog museum. Sadly, we didn't see any of those fluffy eared squirrels in real life. Also our guide who looked like he could destroy us if we dared pick a flower.


Some flowers from Chekhov's dacha and the Ukrainian countryside, as seen from a bus.


Some pictures of Yalta from the bucket lift and a model posing at the Swallow's Nest

The Swallow's Nest: A tiny and apparently useless castle, but the scenery is amazing.



A Yaltan Confederate Flag anyone? In the Simferopol Panarama, notice that men in speedos and sombreros are banned. And the bucket lift of Yalta.



The scenery around Chersonessus, the cathedral built in honor of the baptism of the first Christian Czar, and the gazebo marking the place of the baptism.