Thursday, 10:35 am. Ergh. Apparently my battery charger has gone kaput, which is really annoying, as I’ve been using the thing for all of a week. I still have plenty of juice left in my camera batteries, so I’m going to wait to go buy a new one until I really need to. Would shipping it back and requesting a new one under the warranty be cheaper than buying a new one over here, do you think?
8:33 pm. I was feeling some major cabin fever this evening (which is rather ridiculous), but it’s been assuaged by a lovely dinner discussion with Lyudmila Afanasyevna and some Russian TV. I really don’t watch much TV at home, but it’s amazing how amusing Russian teen dramas can be when you don’t understand eighty percent of the dialogue and can just watch the actors. Russian-dubbed American TV is pretty entertaining, too, but listening to Angela Lansbury and a Russian actress at the same time is really quite difficult. I’m sure it would be easier if I could tune out one language or the other entirely, but processing both at once is a little much.
I’ve been further exploring Russian food, too, and am happy to say that it’s not at all what the American stereotype (I use that word lightly) had led me to expect. It’s not all cabbage and potatoes, by any means, though I have been eating quite a bit of both. Borshch (no T) sounds very foreign indeed (beet soup?), but at least the version I tried yesterday is quite light, not strongly flavored, and quite pretty, actually. Russians do love their vegetables (Misha Merkushev is actually a vegetarian), though they’re mostly not fresh; usually either pickled, frozen, or canned. While it does make me miss a good American salad, vinaigret (a sort of pickled beet salad) is really quite tasty. Kasha, a ubiquitous porridge, is rather boring by itself, but with some jam on it, it’s lovely! (My host mother made me kasha for breakfast this morning, but she left very early, and it had cooled and mostly solidified by the time I got out of the shower. Two eggs and a huge bowl of kasha are way too much for breakfast, so I cut up the solidified kasha into wedges, put some jam in a little container, and took it with me for lunch.) And the variations on finger food are quite fascinating, too. Pirozhki is the generic term for assorted little pies, dumplings, or similar, mostly any sort of dough with filling inside; I haven’t had any with prunes yet, Mom :), but I’ve had them with cabbage, cottage cheese, assorted meat, and even cherries. Pelmeni, too, are a sort of meat dumpling, bearing a resemblance to ravioli; they’re about half-dollar sized, and you eat a whole bowl of them in a sitting. With some melted butter, they’re absolutely wonderful. I’ve rambled about blini already, but here’s the exciting part: next week, for…Shrovetide? Is that what the week before Lent is called?...we’re supposed to be eating blini EVERY DAY in celebration of the richness of life right before Lent. Now THIS is awesome. :D And I haven’t tried coffee over here yet, but Russia loves its tea. There is nothing the slightest bit unusual about my drinking six cups of tea in a day here. (Oh, and European hot chocolate is sinfully rich. And cheap, too.)
I’ve only been here a week (…nine days, if we count the day I flew in) and I can already sense an improvement in my language skills! The teacher of the conversation class out of which I switched, Irina Vladimirovna (I think), put it best when she described our conversations with our host families: “you speak three languages: pa-angliiski, pa-russki, i pa-gesti (English, Russian, and gestures).” Even now, though, the balance between Russian and English is slowly shifting, to a degree of which I’m actually (possibly irrationally) proud. Several of us American students have expressed to each other our great frustration with the high learning curve, but we’re climbing it slowly, but surely. :)
…also, I think Lyudmila Afanasyevna is trying to play matchmaker for me. Not with her son, thankfully, but with some other boys closer to my age. She keeps hinting about the boys in the program, and about one of the students she invited over Sunday night…“he plays guitar and sings, very nice, you know. –wink-” They’re all very nice boys, but, really? I understand that some people come to another country and meet the love of their life, but that wasn’t really one of my goals for this program, thanks. :)
We don’t have actual homework per se, but I’m reading the first couple of chapters of my history book anyway to have a better grounding for our next Russian History class. Time to get back to St. Vladimir’s role in Kievan Rus.
Friday, February 5, 2010
In which I realize how little I actually know about art
Wednesday, 10:30pm ish. You know, days like today make me wish I actually knew something about art, so I could appreciate the Hermitage a little better. This GIANT art museum used to be Catherine II’s Winter Palace (or the main building did; it’s actually five buildings), and it’s a hugely ornate building to start with, even before you put a bajillion famous works of art inside it. I took a few select pictures, but as a group, we probably spent two hours inside, oh, a twentieth of the museum. (On the other hand, it’s probably a good thing I don’t appreciate art more, or you’d never get me out.) As it is, it’s a lovely place to just stroll through, especially with friends.
About fifteen of us went in together and lost each other almost immediately; six of us came out together and decided that, since our host moms either wouldn’t be home or weren’t expecting us home for a while, we’d eat out in a café on Nevsky. The Literary Café is supposed to be very famous because of its connection with several writers, including Pushkin (there’s a giant portrait of him outside). I’m not sure we got the full experience of that, because with the exception of Irena, who’s a native speaker, we all had to order dinner by the pointing method. But, hey, the food’s great, and we had an experience to brag about, certainly. :D (I had my first borshch! It looks like tomato soup, until you dig down and find all the beet shreds at the bottom. SO GOOD.)
The group split up for separate destinations afterward, and Zoltan and I trekked around in search of a currency exchange for him, then stopped by the Russian National Library. It’s only open 10-5 on weekdays, but we’ll probably head down there again someday soon after classes. Some Wednesday when we’re not having a tour of the Hermitage, probably. :) We headed our separate ways home shortly after, and I curled up with my book for the night. Thankfully, Anna Karenina is so much more readable than The Brothers Karamazov (despite the protests of several friends to the contrary; my friend Matt will not stop his crusade to get me to try Bratya Karamazova again!). I’ll give the latter another try while I’m here, but the copy I was reading back home was almost impenetrably dense. Tolstoy, thankfully, is making me revise my opinion of Russian literature. :)
About fifteen of us went in together and lost each other almost immediately; six of us came out together and decided that, since our host moms either wouldn’t be home or weren’t expecting us home for a while, we’d eat out in a café on Nevsky. The Literary Café is supposed to be very famous because of its connection with several writers, including Pushkin (there’s a giant portrait of him outside). I’m not sure we got the full experience of that, because with the exception of Irena, who’s a native speaker, we all had to order dinner by the pointing method. But, hey, the food’s great, and we had an experience to brag about, certainly. :D (I had my first borshch! It looks like tomato soup, until you dig down and find all the beet shreds at the bottom. SO GOOD.)
The group split up for separate destinations afterward, and Zoltan and I trekked around in search of a currency exchange for him, then stopped by the Russian National Library. It’s only open 10-5 on weekdays, but we’ll probably head down there again someday soon after classes. Some Wednesday when we’re not having a tour of the Hermitage, probably. :) We headed our separate ways home shortly after, and I curled up with my book for the night. Thankfully, Anna Karenina is so much more readable than The Brothers Karamazov (despite the protests of several friends to the contrary; my friend Matt will not stop his crusade to get me to try Bratya Karamazova again!). I’ll give the latter another try while I’m here, but the copy I was reading back home was almost impenetrably dense. Tolstoy, thankfully, is making me revise my opinion of Russian literature. :)
In which my inner five-year-old comes out to play
Day 7. 4:55 pm. First real day of classes. Right now, I’m going to check my email, then walk home and pass out before dinner; more to come this evening.
9:55 pm. I’ve been answering Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s phone for her when she’s out, because she’s waiting on some important calls and doesn’t have an answering machine (or a regular schedule, right now). About half the calls I can answer, and about half of them degenerate into English. I’m really rather embarrassed right now. >.<
So, first day of classes! We were placed into groups based on our language abilities as demonstrated by the placement test. I have to admit, though, I think the placement system was flawed. The Russian grammar/conversation group in which I’m currently placed has two students with one semester of the language, and four students with three semesters. While I’m flattered that I apparently impressed the teachers, I fear that productivity would be severely impacted by the fact that I understood maybe forty percent of what the professors told us today. The rest of the class knows all six cases, future tense, and many more complicated grammar things; Sam and I each have two and a half cases (we were using the same book). I’m going to talk to Jarlath tomorrow and see about switching. I understand the need to challenge oneself, but there’s a difference between ‘challenged’ and ‘over my head.’ Other than that, though, Russian Ethnic Studies seems to be a rather ill-defined class, but definitely an interesting one.
I got home about five o’clock and really did pass out for half an hour before warming up some leftovers for dinner. After Lyudmila Afanasyevna made it home (about seven-thirty) and ate, I had planned to go for a walk in the Tauride Gardens with a couple of girlfriends; neither of the girls could make it, so my host mom and I went together. Some evening, after school, I need to get a bunch of friends to stick around Smolny for a little bit and walk down to the gardens with me after it gets dark. Tavricheskiy Sad, as it’s called (and badly transliterated), is also the City Children’s Park (Dyetsky Sad), so there are several playgrounds, dogs all over the place (nice dogs, not strays), and plenty of kid-friendly places. We saw two parents pulling toddlers on sleds, people throwing Frisbees for dogs, kids on the playgrounds, the hockey goals on the frozen lake...actually, I went down onto the lake (it’s VERY thick ice) and made a snow angel, just for the sheer fun of it. Lyudmila Afanasyevna had never seen a snow angel! Oh, and the best part? Ice slides. I’m not sure whether these are intentional or just worn into the hillside, but there are several paths that are clear of snow and form natural slides, just out of ice. They’re SO MUCH FUN, especially if you go down standing on both feet and fall into a snowbank. :D
So, my inner child (well, okay, not really inner) is indulged for the night. We don’t have any homework just yet, so it’s time to settle in with Anna Karenina for the night. I think we’re going to the Hermitage tomorrow; THAT ought to make for an exciting post. :D
9:55 pm. I’ve been answering Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s phone for her when she’s out, because she’s waiting on some important calls and doesn’t have an answering machine (or a regular schedule, right now). About half the calls I can answer, and about half of them degenerate into English. I’m really rather embarrassed right now. >.<
So, first day of classes! We were placed into groups based on our language abilities as demonstrated by the placement test. I have to admit, though, I think the placement system was flawed. The Russian grammar/conversation group in which I’m currently placed has two students with one semester of the language, and four students with three semesters. While I’m flattered that I apparently impressed the teachers, I fear that productivity would be severely impacted by the fact that I understood maybe forty percent of what the professors told us today. The rest of the class knows all six cases, future tense, and many more complicated grammar things; Sam and I each have two and a half cases (we were using the same book). I’m going to talk to Jarlath tomorrow and see about switching. I understand the need to challenge oneself, but there’s a difference between ‘challenged’ and ‘over my head.’ Other than that, though, Russian Ethnic Studies seems to be a rather ill-defined class, but definitely an interesting one.
I got home about five o’clock and really did pass out for half an hour before warming up some leftovers for dinner. After Lyudmila Afanasyevna made it home (about seven-thirty) and ate, I had planned to go for a walk in the Tauride Gardens with a couple of girlfriends; neither of the girls could make it, so my host mom and I went together. Some evening, after school, I need to get a bunch of friends to stick around Smolny for a little bit and walk down to the gardens with me after it gets dark. Tavricheskiy Sad, as it’s called (and badly transliterated), is also the City Children’s Park (Dyetsky Sad), so there are several playgrounds, dogs all over the place (nice dogs, not strays), and plenty of kid-friendly places. We saw two parents pulling toddlers on sleds, people throwing Frisbees for dogs, kids on the playgrounds, the hockey goals on the frozen lake...actually, I went down onto the lake (it’s VERY thick ice) and made a snow angel, just for the sheer fun of it. Lyudmila Afanasyevna had never seen a snow angel! Oh, and the best part? Ice slides. I’m not sure whether these are intentional or just worn into the hillside, but there are several paths that are clear of snow and form natural slides, just out of ice. They’re SO MUCH FUN, especially if you go down standing on both feet and fall into a snowbank. :D
So, my inner child (well, okay, not really inner) is indulged for the night. We don’t have any homework just yet, so it’s time to settle in with Anna Karenina for the night. I think we’re going to the Hermitage tomorrow; THAT ought to make for an exciting post. :D
In which I explore my new school with dry shoes
Day…6? Right, 6. First semi-official day of school! Busy, and not terribly productive in the students’ opinion, but a happy day nonetheless.
I just stumbled my way through a two-minute phone call from a colleague of Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s asking where she is. Apparently her son Misha is in the hospital because of (from what little I could make out, I’m guessing) ruptured sinuses or something. He’s her only son, and she dotes on him (understandably -smile-), so she left for the ‘poliklinika’ right after dinner and doesn’t know when she’ll be back. I didn’t understand most of the phone conversation, but after I explained that I’m not Lyudmila Afanasyevna, I’m the American student staying with her, we managed to communicate in English for a few sentences. I feel strangely accomplished.
Oh, and we’re getting along just fine with mixed-language texts, except that all of our Russian spelling is lousy. Having to look things up gets to be its own adventure. :)
So, the day. Lucky duck that I am, I was able to shower before school and still sleep in until 8:30. :D Lyudmila Afanasyevna walked me over (I’m proud to say I know the way now!) and I met up with a gaggle of Americans taking up the whole hallway. (Note: whenever you enter any major Russian building, you’re expected to remove and check your coat. This applies to large wet boots, too, so I brought a large plastic bag and my leather shoes to change into. Much better than tracking slush all over the building.)
We were talked at for a while by our Russian soon-to-be professors, of which talk I may have understood twenty percent; Jarlath then summarized for the Language Program students (thank goodness). Then came the dreaded placement test. It wasn’t that bad, actually; though I did peter out around question 42 of 140, so did all the other one-semester students I talked to. We’re being placed into groups based on our ability as determined by our scores on here. I’m happy with whichever group I end up in; too high and I’ll have no idea what’s going on, but I think the group below the one I’ll end up in will be the group of students with no Russian whatsoever. In any case, it’ll turn out just fine.
Afterwards came lunch in the café; it’s really a darling little place, with white walls hung with paintings, little iron-worked tables, and tablecloths, and the whole shebang. Then we all wandered around the building for a while as Jarlath pointed out our classrooms, the Internet-connected computer lab, the offices, the bathrooms (very important—and they all smell like chlorine), and the CIEE special rooms. I borrowed two books from the informal library (I left all of my literature at home because of the weight limit), Anna Karenina and The Other Boleyn Girl. Now I have something to do before bed other than caption my photos! :D (They have a strangely large stock of trashy romance novels. Is that really what people pack for a semester abroad? :P)
Post-tour, most of the students left to visit the bus stops where they’ll be commuting to every day; everyone came with their host mothers this morning, but the staff wanted us to know how to get to Smolny ourselves. For the few of us within walking distance, though, this wasn’t really necessary, so a handful of the girls stayed behind to check our email and write to our parents (and, in my case, post to my blog). That took until nearly dinnertime, so I walked home and got here about five minutes before Lyudmila Afanasyevna. She left right after dinner, so I’m sitting writing and drinking several cups of tea. A good thirty of us are planning to meet at Kazansky Sabor around nine and head out for a walk along Nevsky, probably including a bar, so I’ll write more later if anything interesting happens.
12:14 am. Got home shortly before midnight. A stroll along Nevsky did turn into ‘hey, there’s this great cheap bar along Nevsky,’ so the crowd of us made it a social occasion and met up with a few of our Russian tour guides from yesterday. SPB (not quite sure what the Russian name is) is, apparently, a cheap bar frequented by students; it wasn’t bad, really. Then again, it was the first time I’ve actually been to a bar, so I’m not sure I’m one to judge. It was clean, at least!
Had my first beer tonight, too. Beer is…definitely an acquired taste. I took the advice of Megan, who was on the program last semester, and ordered a very basic light beer, called Baltica 7 (and drank it over the course of about two hours). I’m not sure how to describe it…it’s pretty weird for me, but probably drinkable again. (I paid effectively $3 for half a liter, which is the smallest size the bar offers. As I understand from friends, this is a couple of beers stateside.) In any case, this will not be happening very often on Monday nights; we don’t have to be at the school until 11 tomorrow, so there should be enough time for even Fred to sleep off his pitcher. Yes, I do realize I’m not legal stateside. Very few of us are. I’m curious, and I figured I’d try it over here where I am legal, and it’s cheap. Now I know that beer is not something I want to try in great quantities in the US. I felt a little tipsy when I first stood up, but that’s about it.
I got home to Lyudmila Afanasyevna watching TV in her room, back from the hospital. I gave her a Baltimore Orioles baseball to give to Misha shortly before she left; she handed me a very nice note from Misha when I returned. (I did have to look up a couple of words, but I do for nearly every conversation.) I’m quite looking forward to meeting him, once he makes it out of the hospital!
The alarm is set to go off in eight hours, so it’s time to clock out. Hasta luego, all!
I just stumbled my way through a two-minute phone call from a colleague of Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s asking where she is. Apparently her son Misha is in the hospital because of (from what little I could make out, I’m guessing) ruptured sinuses or something. He’s her only son, and she dotes on him (understandably -smile-), so she left for the ‘poliklinika’ right after dinner and doesn’t know when she’ll be back. I didn’t understand most of the phone conversation, but after I explained that I’m not Lyudmila Afanasyevna, I’m the American student staying with her, we managed to communicate in English for a few sentences. I feel strangely accomplished.
Oh, and we’re getting along just fine with mixed-language texts, except that all of our Russian spelling is lousy. Having to look things up gets to be its own adventure. :)
So, the day. Lucky duck that I am, I was able to shower before school and still sleep in until 8:30. :D Lyudmila Afanasyevna walked me over (I’m proud to say I know the way now!) and I met up with a gaggle of Americans taking up the whole hallway. (Note: whenever you enter any major Russian building, you’re expected to remove and check your coat. This applies to large wet boots, too, so I brought a large plastic bag and my leather shoes to change into. Much better than tracking slush all over the building.)
We were talked at for a while by our Russian soon-to-be professors, of which talk I may have understood twenty percent; Jarlath then summarized for the Language Program students (thank goodness). Then came the dreaded placement test. It wasn’t that bad, actually; though I did peter out around question 42 of 140, so did all the other one-semester students I talked to. We’re being placed into groups based on our ability as determined by our scores on here. I’m happy with whichever group I end up in; too high and I’ll have no idea what’s going on, but I think the group below the one I’ll end up in will be the group of students with no Russian whatsoever. In any case, it’ll turn out just fine.
Afterwards came lunch in the café; it’s really a darling little place, with white walls hung with paintings, little iron-worked tables, and tablecloths, and the whole shebang. Then we all wandered around the building for a while as Jarlath pointed out our classrooms, the Internet-connected computer lab, the offices, the bathrooms (very important—and they all smell like chlorine), and the CIEE special rooms. I borrowed two books from the informal library (I left all of my literature at home because of the weight limit), Anna Karenina and The Other Boleyn Girl. Now I have something to do before bed other than caption my photos! :D (They have a strangely large stock of trashy romance novels. Is that really what people pack for a semester abroad? :P)
Post-tour, most of the students left to visit the bus stops where they’ll be commuting to every day; everyone came with their host mothers this morning, but the staff wanted us to know how to get to Smolny ourselves. For the few of us within walking distance, though, this wasn’t really necessary, so a handful of the girls stayed behind to check our email and write to our parents (and, in my case, post to my blog). That took until nearly dinnertime, so I walked home and got here about five minutes before Lyudmila Afanasyevna. She left right after dinner, so I’m sitting writing and drinking several cups of tea. A good thirty of us are planning to meet at Kazansky Sabor around nine and head out for a walk along Nevsky, probably including a bar, so I’ll write more later if anything interesting happens.
12:14 am. Got home shortly before midnight. A stroll along Nevsky did turn into ‘hey, there’s this great cheap bar along Nevsky,’ so the crowd of us made it a social occasion and met up with a few of our Russian tour guides from yesterday. SPB (not quite sure what the Russian name is) is, apparently, a cheap bar frequented by students; it wasn’t bad, really. Then again, it was the first time I’ve actually been to a bar, so I’m not sure I’m one to judge. It was clean, at least!
Had my first beer tonight, too. Beer is…definitely an acquired taste. I took the advice of Megan, who was on the program last semester, and ordered a very basic light beer, called Baltica 7 (and drank it over the course of about two hours). I’m not sure how to describe it…it’s pretty weird for me, but probably drinkable again. (I paid effectively $3 for half a liter, which is the smallest size the bar offers. As I understand from friends, this is a couple of beers stateside.) In any case, this will not be happening very often on Monday nights; we don’t have to be at the school until 11 tomorrow, so there should be enough time for even Fred to sleep off his pitcher. Yes, I do realize I’m not legal stateside. Very few of us are. I’m curious, and I figured I’d try it over here where I am legal, and it’s cheap. Now I know that beer is not something I want to try in great quantities in the US. I felt a little tipsy when I first stood up, but that’s about it.
I got home to Lyudmila Afanasyevna watching TV in her room, back from the hospital. I gave her a Baltimore Orioles baseball to give to Misha shortly before she left; she handed me a very nice note from Misha when I returned. (I did have to look up a couple of words, but I do for nearly every conversation.) I’m quite looking forward to meeting him, once he makes it out of the hospital!
The alarm is set to go off in eight hours, so it’s time to clock out. Hasta luego, all!
Monday, February 1, 2010
In which I make my first public transportation mistake
Day 5. 8:23 am. It appears technology and I don’t get along any better in Russia than we did back home. My hair dryer appears to be stuck on ‘low’ (physically stuck), but that’s probably okay, because ‘low’ is still pretty blasted hot. And where in the name of all that is good and holy have my rechargeable batteries gotten to?
9:14 pm. Eventful day! I’m chuckling to myself at our communications within the group; we have very different language levels, so we talk to each other mainly by entertainingly mixed English/Russian text messages. Learning how to read and type with a Russian keyboard on a phone is an adventure all to itself.
Today being Sunday, the first order of business (after breakfast—kasha with jam, mmmmm) was mass at St. Catherine’s (Svieta Katerina). Cecilia and I wanted to attend the Russian-language mass, but that was at noon, when we were due at Kazansky Sabor, so we went to the English one. I won’t bore anyone with the details of my first Catholic mass, but I will say that it wasn’t very different from the Methodist services I’m used to. (And the singers were out of tune. Way. Out. Of. Tune.)
Next order of business: finding me replacement batteries (which I’ll probably regret buying once I find mine from home, but for now, they’re doing heavy duty in my camera) and Cecilia a plug adapter that fit French appliances. This involved walking up and down Nevsky Prospekt for about forty-five minutes, with Cecilia asking questions and me trying to decipher the directions, until we ended up inside the main shopping mall, Gostiny Dvor. Another half-hour in here and we finally found an elektricheskiy magazin, and the errand was successful. I purchased a couple of postcards in Dom Knigi, the city’s biggest bookstore (SO COOL!), and sat and wrote them in a café while we waited until the meeting time.
The afternoon’s activity ended up being “go take pictures of whatever landmarks you can find for two and a half hours, then report back to this restaurant.” A group of ten of us, led by two lovely Russian university students, Ira and Lera (Irina and Valeriya), toured some of the southeastern section of the city and took, oh, only about four dozen pictures. Those will be posted and captioned as soon as I have a place to put them. In any case, it was a beautiful tour, and great fun, being a rather silly group of tourists without feeling too silly about it.
Afterwards, I’m not quite sure how, about six of us ended up with one of the Russian tour guides and two of his friends on a less formal tour of the city (including the main hangouts for the St. Petersburg gay community…who knew?). Fyodor, Kiril, and Yuri wanted us to come back to a Soviet bar with them, but we begged off because of classes tomorrow. The rest of the group went in search of a bookstore, but I cut my tour short to make it home for dinner at six. (I ended up getting off the bus at entirely the wrong end of the street before ours, and being about fifteen minutes late anyway because I was walking the entire bloody length of Suvorovsky Prospekt. Thankfully, my host mother was very understanding, and my friends were on the phone to give directions.)
After dinner, two of Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s students from the medical school came over for a visit, and we sat at the table for a good two hours drinking tea and eating apple cake. I only understood about one word in five, but I was kind of surprised at how much that really was: the conversation centered largely on technical medical school talk, but it hopped around to music, vacations, Yuri’s choral and guitar experiences, Lena’s thoughts about dental school, and on and on. Occasionally, Lyudmila Afanasyevna would translate for me; Yuri spoke perhaps ten words of English and Lena none, but I could figure out enough to at least try to follow the conversation.
It must be said: listening to long conversations in a language you barely understand is exhausting. Time to hit the sack and prepare for our language placement test tomorrow (!!!!).
9:14 pm. Eventful day! I’m chuckling to myself at our communications within the group; we have very different language levels, so we talk to each other mainly by entertainingly mixed English/Russian text messages. Learning how to read and type with a Russian keyboard on a phone is an adventure all to itself.
Today being Sunday, the first order of business (after breakfast—kasha with jam, mmmmm) was mass at St. Catherine’s (Svieta Katerina). Cecilia and I wanted to attend the Russian-language mass, but that was at noon, when we were due at Kazansky Sabor, so we went to the English one. I won’t bore anyone with the details of my first Catholic mass, but I will say that it wasn’t very different from the Methodist services I’m used to. (And the singers were out of tune. Way. Out. Of. Tune.)
Next order of business: finding me replacement batteries (which I’ll probably regret buying once I find mine from home, but for now, they’re doing heavy duty in my camera) and Cecilia a plug adapter that fit French appliances. This involved walking up and down Nevsky Prospekt for about forty-five minutes, with Cecilia asking questions and me trying to decipher the directions, until we ended up inside the main shopping mall, Gostiny Dvor. Another half-hour in here and we finally found an elektricheskiy magazin, and the errand was successful. I purchased a couple of postcards in Dom Knigi, the city’s biggest bookstore (SO COOL!), and sat and wrote them in a café while we waited until the meeting time.
The afternoon’s activity ended up being “go take pictures of whatever landmarks you can find for two and a half hours, then report back to this restaurant.” A group of ten of us, led by two lovely Russian university students, Ira and Lera (Irina and Valeriya), toured some of the southeastern section of the city and took, oh, only about four dozen pictures. Those will be posted and captioned as soon as I have a place to put them. In any case, it was a beautiful tour, and great fun, being a rather silly group of tourists without feeling too silly about it.
Afterwards, I’m not quite sure how, about six of us ended up with one of the Russian tour guides and two of his friends on a less formal tour of the city (including the main hangouts for the St. Petersburg gay community…who knew?). Fyodor, Kiril, and Yuri wanted us to come back to a Soviet bar with them, but we begged off because of classes tomorrow. The rest of the group went in search of a bookstore, but I cut my tour short to make it home for dinner at six. (I ended up getting off the bus at entirely the wrong end of the street before ours, and being about fifteen minutes late anyway because I was walking the entire bloody length of Suvorovsky Prospekt. Thankfully, my host mother was very understanding, and my friends were on the phone to give directions.)
After dinner, two of Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s students from the medical school came over for a visit, and we sat at the table for a good two hours drinking tea and eating apple cake. I only understood about one word in five, but I was kind of surprised at how much that really was: the conversation centered largely on technical medical school talk, but it hopped around to music, vacations, Yuri’s choral and guitar experiences, Lena’s thoughts about dental school, and on and on. Occasionally, Lyudmila Afanasyevna would translate for me; Yuri spoke perhaps ten words of English and Lena none, but I could figure out enough to at least try to follow the conversation.
It must be said: listening to long conversations in a language you barely understand is exhausting. Time to hit the sack and prepare for our language placement test tomorrow (!!!!).
In which my host mother nearly punches a bs driver
Day 4. 5:45 am. Damn jet lag. Why am I wide awake two and a half hours before I need to be? Grrrrr.
8:55 am. Notes on Russian apartment living:
-As I sort of expected, there is a washer in the apartment, but not a dryer. What I didn’t expect was to look up while taking a shower and see clotheslines strung over the shower. Much better than stringing them outside. :P
-Russian toilet paper bears a very strong resemblance to American paper towels.
-When entering a Russian home, you take off your shoes at the door (which I do in the States anyway) and put on tapechki (тапечки), which are house slippers. I have to say, this is an amazingly practical custom. Not only does it imply respect for the separation of home and the outside world, but it keeps the floors (mostly) free of slush and grime, and it also protects your feet from cold Russian floors in the morning. Dear God, that floor is cold.
Good news, Mom! I’m learning how to cook on a gas stove and haven’t managed to burn anything or blow anything up yet! I’m on my own for breakfast this morning, but Lyudmila Afanasyevna explained something about breakfast last night…and the explanation involved chicken broth, rice, and the word ‘porridge.’ I’m not entirely sure that boiling the rice in some chicken broth until it falls apart is quite what she meant, but that’s what I’m trying. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, I have only my own culinary aptitude to blame, right? :) Another breakfast innovation: tea with Russian jam (or at least the liquid from it). I don’t usually put sugar in tea, but I could get used to this. Mmmmmmmmm.
Couple more notes from last night: Mom, apparently there is no real Russian equivalent of a technical writer. The word I was using for ‘writer’ means ‘author’, literature-wise, so the best we came up with was ‘business writer.’ Also, my whole family has very American names, but we were able to translate Molly into Masha, so that’s your name over here from now on, sis. :)
Operation Porridge was not exactly what I’d call a success, but it’s not bad. Time to finish and do the dishes, dry my hair, and meet Erica and her host mother at ten. Next stop, bus tour of the city! :D
4:22 pm. Just got home. Lyudmila Afanasyevna is apparently still at work, so I just came in and donned my tapechki (and wiped up the floor). The group is trying to coordinate plans for this evening, but we all need to talk to our host moms first, so for now I’m just relaxing.
We met at Kazansky Cathedral for the bus tour pretty much first thing today. Erica’s host mother is the host family coordinator, so she needed to arrive at 10:30 rather than 11:00 for the Area Studies students. It was actually pretty awesome, though, because several of the early arrivers had time to step inside Kazansky Sabor! Cameras are forbidden inside, which is perfectly understandable but also a shame, because it’s a little overwhelming to try to describe it. It’s been a long while since I’ve been inside a church that ornate. Gold leaf everywhere, jeweled icons, mosaics, the paintings on the ceiling, the candles…wow. I haven’t been to an actual service yet, obviously, but apparently the main focus of a Russian church is the lighting of candles/incense before icons; there are no pews. There was even a live choir singing for the little prayer service that was being conducted (at least, it looked little). It was (not to sound sacrilegious in my word choice) magical.
But, I’m getting off track. Bus tour. Right. As far as I understand, we really did tour most of St. Petersburg, with a very nice guide named Yulia pointing out lots of landmarks and letting us stop a few times to take pictures. We did learn (rather late in the tour) that taking pictures is forbidden outside the former KGB building (very imposing place, with six underground floors where most of the dirty work took place), and in the Metro. As beautiful as some of the stations are, it’s considered a strategic area, so taking pictures of it gets you a 300-ruble fine and suspicion of being a terrorist (or a dumb tourist). I’ll buy some postcards instead.
We explored all the major islands, crossed over at least three or four rivers, passed a good three dozen churches, and had a couple dozen museums pointed out to us as well. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing about putting photos on the internet; I’ll post a link once I have one. It’s breathtaking, mind-blowing, feet-numbing…a little of everything, really. (Well, no, a lot of feet-numbing.) We didn’t stop anywhere for more than ten minutes, but all of our brains are already fizzing with ideas of where we want to go first. Actually, for me, I have enough ideas fizzing around that I don’t know where to start. :)
Oh, and one of the sweetest parts of the day? Blini for lunch. :D They’re sort of halfway between crepes and injera (closer to crepes), but they’re bigger than crepes and they don’t form a ball in your stomach the way injera does. They’re plate-sized thin pancakes filled with pretty much anything you want, available from little kiosks on the street, served warm, and they’re SO GOOD. I know that Lyudmila Afanasyevna said that dinner will be pork, so I didn’t want to order pork on a blin…and I ended up getting one with a banana and chocolate sauce. Such a guilty pleasure, but, oh my goodness, was it divine. I sense that blini are going to be lunch fairly often. :D
As of now, it’s just me in the apartment, going through my photos and letting a cup of tea steep in the kitchen (whoops, that reminds me, I forgot about it!). I also painted part of the back of my phone with gold nail polish so I can tell it apart from everyone else’s. I’ll write more later if we end up going somewhere interesting. :) A few of us are trying to find a Russian church service to attend tomorrow before the scheduled walking tour at noon. Keeping my fingers crossed!
10:52 pm. Rather an eventful four hours. Lyudmila Afanasyevna finally made it home from a full day of giving exams at about ten minutes of seven. I wasn’t particularly worried, except for the fact that I had two phone numbers and no idea what they were. We managed to confirm within five minutes of her getting home and are now on the same page…day late, but hopefully not a ruble short. Dinner was a vast assortment of simple but very tasty food. I did discover that my host mother believes in natural medicine, to an extent: she puts ginger in her tea and eats it when she reaches the bottom of the cup, and she also chews raw garlic. The former, I can definitely do. The latter is going to take some getting used to. If you’ve never had raw garlic, imagine biting down on a peppercorn, but multiply it by about twenty. Ergh.
After dinner, Lyudmila Afanasyevna was kind enough to take me on a tour of our neighborhood. I am the luckiest girl on this program to be within an easy ten-minute walk of classes. (I can’t remember street names right now, but the route is easy enough: past the pharmacy, through the construction site by the regional governor’s office, and across the street in the direction of the huge blue-and-white cathedral.) She also took me to the American consulate on Furshtskaya Ulitsa (or something like that), to the Cherneshevskaya metro station (about a twenty-five-minute easy walk, through the beautiful Tauride Gardens!), and to the grocery store just down the street. She decided that we would take a marshrutka (sort of an informal taxi-bus) back to Tverskaya Ulitsa, but apparently the driver had changed from his normal route…I swear they were going to come to blows in another minute. No Kazakh taxi driver is going to mess with Lyudmila Afanasyevna. (We took a regular bus.)
We got back well after ten-thirty, so it’s time to hit the sack. I’m visiting a Catholic church on Nevsky Prospekt, St. Catherine’s, with Katie and Cecilia tomorrow, so if I’m going to shower beforehand, the alarm is set for 7:30 (ugh). Signing off!
8:55 am. Notes on Russian apartment living:
-As I sort of expected, there is a washer in the apartment, but not a dryer. What I didn’t expect was to look up while taking a shower and see clotheslines strung over the shower. Much better than stringing them outside. :P
-Russian toilet paper bears a very strong resemblance to American paper towels.
-When entering a Russian home, you take off your shoes at the door (which I do in the States anyway) and put on tapechki (тапечки), which are house slippers. I have to say, this is an amazingly practical custom. Not only does it imply respect for the separation of home and the outside world, but it keeps the floors (mostly) free of slush and grime, and it also protects your feet from cold Russian floors in the morning. Dear God, that floor is cold.
Good news, Mom! I’m learning how to cook on a gas stove and haven’t managed to burn anything or blow anything up yet! I’m on my own for breakfast this morning, but Lyudmila Afanasyevna explained something about breakfast last night…and the explanation involved chicken broth, rice, and the word ‘porridge.’ I’m not entirely sure that boiling the rice in some chicken broth until it falls apart is quite what she meant, but that’s what I’m trying. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, I have only my own culinary aptitude to blame, right? :) Another breakfast innovation: tea with Russian jam (or at least the liquid from it). I don’t usually put sugar in tea, but I could get used to this. Mmmmmmmmm.
Couple more notes from last night: Mom, apparently there is no real Russian equivalent of a technical writer. The word I was using for ‘writer’ means ‘author’, literature-wise, so the best we came up with was ‘business writer.’ Also, my whole family has very American names, but we were able to translate Molly into Masha, so that’s your name over here from now on, sis. :)
Operation Porridge was not exactly what I’d call a success, but it’s not bad. Time to finish and do the dishes, dry my hair, and meet Erica and her host mother at ten. Next stop, bus tour of the city! :D
4:22 pm. Just got home. Lyudmila Afanasyevna is apparently still at work, so I just came in and donned my tapechki (and wiped up the floor). The group is trying to coordinate plans for this evening, but we all need to talk to our host moms first, so for now I’m just relaxing.
We met at Kazansky Cathedral for the bus tour pretty much first thing today. Erica’s host mother is the host family coordinator, so she needed to arrive at 10:30 rather than 11:00 for the Area Studies students. It was actually pretty awesome, though, because several of the early arrivers had time to step inside Kazansky Sabor! Cameras are forbidden inside, which is perfectly understandable but also a shame, because it’s a little overwhelming to try to describe it. It’s been a long while since I’ve been inside a church that ornate. Gold leaf everywhere, jeweled icons, mosaics, the paintings on the ceiling, the candles…wow. I haven’t been to an actual service yet, obviously, but apparently the main focus of a Russian church is the lighting of candles/incense before icons; there are no pews. There was even a live choir singing for the little prayer service that was being conducted (at least, it looked little). It was (not to sound sacrilegious in my word choice) magical.
But, I’m getting off track. Bus tour. Right. As far as I understand, we really did tour most of St. Petersburg, with a very nice guide named Yulia pointing out lots of landmarks and letting us stop a few times to take pictures. We did learn (rather late in the tour) that taking pictures is forbidden outside the former KGB building (very imposing place, with six underground floors where most of the dirty work took place), and in the Metro. As beautiful as some of the stations are, it’s considered a strategic area, so taking pictures of it gets you a 300-ruble fine and suspicion of being a terrorist (or a dumb tourist). I’ll buy some postcards instead.
We explored all the major islands, crossed over at least three or four rivers, passed a good three dozen churches, and had a couple dozen museums pointed out to us as well. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing about putting photos on the internet; I’ll post a link once I have one. It’s breathtaking, mind-blowing, feet-numbing…a little of everything, really. (Well, no, a lot of feet-numbing.) We didn’t stop anywhere for more than ten minutes, but all of our brains are already fizzing with ideas of where we want to go first. Actually, for me, I have enough ideas fizzing around that I don’t know where to start. :)
Oh, and one of the sweetest parts of the day? Blini for lunch. :D They’re sort of halfway between crepes and injera (closer to crepes), but they’re bigger than crepes and they don’t form a ball in your stomach the way injera does. They’re plate-sized thin pancakes filled with pretty much anything you want, available from little kiosks on the street, served warm, and they’re SO GOOD. I know that Lyudmila Afanasyevna said that dinner will be pork, so I didn’t want to order pork on a blin…and I ended up getting one with a banana and chocolate sauce. Such a guilty pleasure, but, oh my goodness, was it divine. I sense that blini are going to be lunch fairly often. :D
As of now, it’s just me in the apartment, going through my photos and letting a cup of tea steep in the kitchen (whoops, that reminds me, I forgot about it!). I also painted part of the back of my phone with gold nail polish so I can tell it apart from everyone else’s. I’ll write more later if we end up going somewhere interesting. :) A few of us are trying to find a Russian church service to attend tomorrow before the scheduled walking tour at noon. Keeping my fingers crossed!
10:52 pm. Rather an eventful four hours. Lyudmila Afanasyevna finally made it home from a full day of giving exams at about ten minutes of seven. I wasn’t particularly worried, except for the fact that I had two phone numbers and no idea what they were. We managed to confirm within five minutes of her getting home and are now on the same page…day late, but hopefully not a ruble short. Dinner was a vast assortment of simple but very tasty food. I did discover that my host mother believes in natural medicine, to an extent: she puts ginger in her tea and eats it when she reaches the bottom of the cup, and she also chews raw garlic. The former, I can definitely do. The latter is going to take some getting used to. If you’ve never had raw garlic, imagine biting down on a peppercorn, but multiply it by about twenty. Ergh.
After dinner, Lyudmila Afanasyevna was kind enough to take me on a tour of our neighborhood. I am the luckiest girl on this program to be within an easy ten-minute walk of classes. (I can’t remember street names right now, but the route is easy enough: past the pharmacy, through the construction site by the regional governor’s office, and across the street in the direction of the huge blue-and-white cathedral.) She also took me to the American consulate on Furshtskaya Ulitsa (or something like that), to the Cherneshevskaya metro station (about a twenty-five-minute easy walk, through the beautiful Tauride Gardens!), and to the grocery store just down the street. She decided that we would take a marshrutka (sort of an informal taxi-bus) back to Tverskaya Ulitsa, but apparently the driver had changed from his normal route…I swear they were going to come to blows in another minute. No Kazakh taxi driver is going to mess with Lyudmila Afanasyevna. (We took a regular bus.)
We got back well after ten-thirty, so it’s time to hit the sack. I’m visiting a Catholic church on Nevsky Prospekt, St. Catherine’s, with Katie and Cecilia tomorrow, so if I’m going to shower beforehand, the alarm is set for 7:30 (ugh). Signing off!
In which I move in with my host family
Day 3, technically. A two-day-old peanut butter sandwich tastes surprisingly good at midnight when it’s on a Mom roll. :D I’m feeling rather like a wallflower back here, but Rebecca and Kristin are having enough trouble talking to Sasha that I’m very reluctant to butt in and try my one semester’s worth of the language. We’ll see how this goes.
…oh, and apparently we have Sudoku on our Russian phones. I am still, much to my surprise (not), no good at Sudoku. Hey, here’s my chance! :)
Day 3, for real this time. 10:50 pm. What a day. What. A. Day. (I’m practicing Cyrillic typing here, so bear with all of the parentheticals, please.)
I’m writing this from the bedroom in the apartment of Lyudmila Afanasyevna M. (Людмила Афанасиевна), a professor of chemistry at Pavlov Medical School (at least, I think that’s the name). She’s hosted many times before, and she welcomed a rather confused and way overtired American girl who speaks broken Russian with open arms. I have very good feelings about this semester. :D
We spent most of the day in orientation mode, more discussions of cultural differences, health and academic policies. Honestly, most of the group was glazing over during the academic presentation; we picked our classes before hitting the ground in Russia, anyway. (We went over social do’s and don’ts in the cultural differences section; apparently women are strongly discouraged from sitting on cold surfaces, for fear that they’ll freeze their ovaries and never bear children.) But the tension grew as we drew closer to meeting our host families; maps and addresses were distributed at the same time, so we immediately mapped out who’s where in the city and swapped numbers. I lucked out with my location: I’m literally less than ten minutes from the Smolny (Смолнй) campus of St. Petersburg State University! Erica and I are actually in the same building on Tverskaya Ulitsa (Тверская Улитса), even closer to the university than to the Cherneshevskaya (Чернешевская) metro station. Ella is just across the street, and Cecilia and Irena are not very far away (and Irena’s host mother is friends with my host mother, apparently. So is Kim’s host mother). The group is really spread all over the city, from the very southern end near Moskovskaya (Московская) Station (where we were for the first two days) to the very northern part of the city. The Smolny campus of the university is pretty far to the west on our maps, while much of the group is on the eastern island, Vasilievsky Island (Василевский), near the main campus. (I got confused looking at my guidebook over break and thought we were all commuting to Vasilievsky. They’re kind of on opposite ends of the city, so it’s a very good thing CIEE didn’t have us try to find Smolny on our own.)
I’m going to be living in the room that used to belong to Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s grown son, Mikhail (Михаил) (he’s thirty). The bookcase is full of his old books, videos, and what I think are probably scrapbooks; the closet still has his belts hanging in it. As far as I understand, he doesn’t live with his mother anymore, but he comes over very frequently. (He also speaks very good English, at least from his mom’s perspective. My Russian is quite a bit worse than Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s English, but hey, we got through dinner somehow!) The combination of his and his mother’s taste in décor runs to lots of little tchotchkes throughout the apartment, a couple of dried flower arrangements, and sports equipment in this room; my phone is charging on top of a couple of hand weights. There’s also a giant stuffed gray-white owl on the wall above the bed, which I imagine would be rather fearsome in the dark. It’s okay, though. I’ve named him Volodya. We shall be great friends…won’t we, Volodya?
Lyudmila Afanasyevna (never just Lyudmila, even on the blog) is an inch or two shorter than me, blonde, and probably about sixty. It’s just her and me in the apartment. We talked about our families and interests and discovered that we’re both very much into classical music; she has plans to take me to the St. Petersburg Philharmonic sometime, which would be VERY exciting. :D She has been teaching chemistry to medical students for thirty years, married one of her colleagues from the medical school, and divorced when Mikhail (Misha/Миша) was twelve. I felt very awkward upon asking if there was a Mr. M and finding out she’s divorced, but she was very frank about it. She definitely believes in the strength of Russian women, and in the two and a half hours I’ve known her, I can see why. : ) She wouldn’t let me help with the dishes tonight, but ‘maybe tomorrow,’ she said. I don’t think she believes in a woman allowing anyone to do everything for her, the way Russian men seem to be expected to. It’s a comfortingly familiar outlook.
Dinner was an interesting mix of cuisines: hot dogs (which come in a string and are smaller than the American standard) with fried cabbage, some sort of mixed vegetable salad including beets, another raw vegetable salad with sour cream (smetana/сметана) for dressing, and a couple of types of garlic sauce to try with the hot dogs. (I can’t remember the name right now, but I’ll figure it out in the morning. Whatever it is, the Finnish version comes in a tube and is thicker and less spicy; the Russian version comes in a jar and is heavy on the garlic, and something else…maybe horseradish. Not easily identifiable, but VERY good.) Afterwards came stewed fruits (jam), which Lyudmila Afanasyevna cooks herself (it’s like American jam, only chunky and not as overpoweringly sweet); little tea biscuits; and actual tea. “Not strong tonight, but in the morning, strong,” we managed to work out. (My host gift of two-and-a-half pounds of Starbucks coffee was greatly, greatly appreciated. I don’t drink coffee, but she does, and she had a jar of instant in the cupboard. The American University mug I brought joined her collection of mugs in a little kitchen nook; it was perfect! I’m wondering if Misha likes American sports, and if so, he’ll receive a couple of my smaller host gifts…maybe the Terrible Towel.)
My dear host mother actually has to go to the medical school very early tomorrow (seven-thirty—on a Saturday! Ugh!) to proctor an exam, so she told me I’m on my own for breakfast, after showing me where everything is and giving me full permission to use the (gas) stove. I was very flattered, actually; I understand that her schedule necessitates this kind of a welcome, but I also consider it a sign of great trust. (That being said, I will probably stay away from the stove. I know my limits, and cooking is one of them.) We’re due at Kazansky Sabor (rough transliteration of Казанскй Совор/Kazansky Cathedral) at 11 to start a bus tour of the city; I think we’re splitting up and going with Jarlath to take the tour in English. (We did manage to see a good deal of the city tonight while dropping off students. Nevsky Prospekt/Невский Проспект…the frozen and snowed-over Neva river…a couple of the bridges…it’s all…wow.) I’m meeting Erica and her host mother downstairs at 10, so it’s probably time to sign off and enjoy a real night’s sleep for the first time in four days. G’night, all!
…oh, and apparently we have Sudoku on our Russian phones. I am still, much to my surprise (not), no good at Sudoku. Hey, here’s my chance! :)
Day 3, for real this time. 10:50 pm. What a day. What. A. Day. (I’m practicing Cyrillic typing here, so bear with all of the parentheticals, please.)
I’m writing this from the bedroom in the apartment of Lyudmila Afanasyevna M. (Людмила Афанасиевна), a professor of chemistry at Pavlov Medical School (at least, I think that’s the name). She’s hosted many times before, and she welcomed a rather confused and way overtired American girl who speaks broken Russian with open arms. I have very good feelings about this semester. :D
We spent most of the day in orientation mode, more discussions of cultural differences, health and academic policies. Honestly, most of the group was glazing over during the academic presentation; we picked our classes before hitting the ground in Russia, anyway. (We went over social do’s and don’ts in the cultural differences section; apparently women are strongly discouraged from sitting on cold surfaces, for fear that they’ll freeze their ovaries and never bear children.) But the tension grew as we drew closer to meeting our host families; maps and addresses were distributed at the same time, so we immediately mapped out who’s where in the city and swapped numbers. I lucked out with my location: I’m literally less than ten minutes from the Smolny (Смолнй) campus of St. Petersburg State University! Erica and I are actually in the same building on Tverskaya Ulitsa (Тверская Улитса), even closer to the university than to the Cherneshevskaya (Чернешевская) metro station. Ella is just across the street, and Cecilia and Irena are not very far away (and Irena’s host mother is friends with my host mother, apparently. So is Kim’s host mother). The group is really spread all over the city, from the very southern end near Moskovskaya (Московская) Station (where we were for the first two days) to the very northern part of the city. The Smolny campus of the university is pretty far to the west on our maps, while much of the group is on the eastern island, Vasilievsky Island (Василевский), near the main campus. (I got confused looking at my guidebook over break and thought we were all commuting to Vasilievsky. They’re kind of on opposite ends of the city, so it’s a very good thing CIEE didn’t have us try to find Smolny on our own.)
I’m going to be living in the room that used to belong to Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s grown son, Mikhail (Михаил) (he’s thirty). The bookcase is full of his old books, videos, and what I think are probably scrapbooks; the closet still has his belts hanging in it. As far as I understand, he doesn’t live with his mother anymore, but he comes over very frequently. (He also speaks very good English, at least from his mom’s perspective. My Russian is quite a bit worse than Lyudmila Afanasyevna’s English, but hey, we got through dinner somehow!) The combination of his and his mother’s taste in décor runs to lots of little tchotchkes throughout the apartment, a couple of dried flower arrangements, and sports equipment in this room; my phone is charging on top of a couple of hand weights. There’s also a giant stuffed gray-white owl on the wall above the bed, which I imagine would be rather fearsome in the dark. It’s okay, though. I’ve named him Volodya. We shall be great friends…won’t we, Volodya?
Lyudmila Afanasyevna (never just Lyudmila, even on the blog) is an inch or two shorter than me, blonde, and probably about sixty. It’s just her and me in the apartment. We talked about our families and interests and discovered that we’re both very much into classical music; she has plans to take me to the St. Petersburg Philharmonic sometime, which would be VERY exciting. :D She has been teaching chemistry to medical students for thirty years, married one of her colleagues from the medical school, and divorced when Mikhail (Misha/Миша) was twelve. I felt very awkward upon asking if there was a Mr. M and finding out she’s divorced, but she was very frank about it. She definitely believes in the strength of Russian women, and in the two and a half hours I’ve known her, I can see why. : ) She wouldn’t let me help with the dishes tonight, but ‘maybe tomorrow,’ she said. I don’t think she believes in a woman allowing anyone to do everything for her, the way Russian men seem to be expected to. It’s a comfortingly familiar outlook.
Dinner was an interesting mix of cuisines: hot dogs (which come in a string and are smaller than the American standard) with fried cabbage, some sort of mixed vegetable salad including beets, another raw vegetable salad with sour cream (smetana/сметана) for dressing, and a couple of types of garlic sauce to try with the hot dogs. (I can’t remember the name right now, but I’ll figure it out in the morning. Whatever it is, the Finnish version comes in a tube and is thicker and less spicy; the Russian version comes in a jar and is heavy on the garlic, and something else…maybe horseradish. Not easily identifiable, but VERY good.) Afterwards came stewed fruits (jam), which Lyudmila Afanasyevna cooks herself (it’s like American jam, only chunky and not as overpoweringly sweet); little tea biscuits; and actual tea. “Not strong tonight, but in the morning, strong,” we managed to work out. (My host gift of two-and-a-half pounds of Starbucks coffee was greatly, greatly appreciated. I don’t drink coffee, but she does, and she had a jar of instant in the cupboard. The American University mug I brought joined her collection of mugs in a little kitchen nook; it was perfect! I’m wondering if Misha likes American sports, and if so, he’ll receive a couple of my smaller host gifts…maybe the Terrible Towel.)
My dear host mother actually has to go to the medical school very early tomorrow (seven-thirty—on a Saturday! Ugh!) to proctor an exam, so she told me I’m on my own for breakfast, after showing me where everything is and giving me full permission to use the (gas) stove. I was very flattered, actually; I understand that her schedule necessitates this kind of a welcome, but I also consider it a sign of great trust. (That being said, I will probably stay away from the stove. I know my limits, and cooking is one of them.) We’re due at Kazansky Sabor (rough transliteration of Казанскй Совор/Kazansky Cathedral) at 11 to start a bus tour of the city; I think we’re splitting up and going with Jarlath to take the tour in English. (We did manage to see a good deal of the city tonight while dropping off students. Nevsky Prospekt/Невский Проспект…the frozen and snowed-over Neva river…a couple of the bridges…it’s all…wow.) I’m meeting Erica and her host mother downstairs at 10, so it’s probably time to sign off and enjoy a real night’s sleep for the first time in four days. G’night, all!
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