Dispatches from Moscow

A Trip to Tatarstan

2010-05-12T11:11:00.003+04:00

Near the end of April, I spent 3 days in the ancient Russian city of Kazan thanks to a kind-hearted professor I teach: Akhiar Muginovich Gataulin.

Gataulin is a lively, intelligent, 72-year old agricultural economist and statistician and is well-known within Timiryazev Academy, having served as the dean of the Economics department and dissertation supervisor for a number of current professors as far back as 40 years ago. And he’s still going strong. In 1996 he founded the Independent Scientific Agro-Economic Society of Russia as a way to stimulate discussion among agricultural experts regarding the state of Russian agriculture as an integral part of the national economy. Annual conferences are held to discuss the most current research and problems facing Russian agriculture, and this year the conference was in the capital of the Tatarstan Republic, Kazan, and I was invited to participate.

Tatarstan is located southeast of Moscow; Kazan is a hop skip and a jump 11-hour train ride from Moscow (very close by Russian standards). The city is over 1000 years old, and its population is 70-75% Muslim and the whole republic is dotted with mosques whose architecture provides a stunning contrast to the usual Orthodox church-studded landscapes of Russia. Most of the population speaks both Russian and Tatar, a Turkic language that is very similar to Uzbek, Kazakh, Kirghiz, Turkish, and the like. I often found myself in situations when people would be switching back and forth between Russian and Tatar, and I couldn’t help but think that every time they moved to Tartar, they were saying something about me…

Gataulin and I arrived after an overnight ride in a купе (good quality 4-person train compartment; my first time in one seeing as I usually travel in the crowded, smelly, but decidedly cheaper платзкарт section). We shared our купе with a very soft-spoken and curious Russian bagpipe player on his way to a performance and a very outspoken Daniel Craig look-alike with a mullet, whose rate of speech matched the train’s high speed and who waxed poetic about New York City and America after discovering my nationality (“America: what a great country. I love America. There everything works. Doors are simple to open and you know they won’t break when you grab the door handle…”).

We were greeted at the station by the dean of our host center, the Tatar Institute for Advanced Agro-business Training—a man whose company I would keep everyday but whose name I never actually caught. He was a very boisterous and generous man, delighted to welcome an American to his institute. I ate almost every meal next to him in his exclusive dining room lined with elegant red velvet curtains and gold-rimmed chinaware. I was treated to traditional Tatar foods, endless vodka toasts, and was taught a very important lesson in Tartar tradition: “Tatar men eat three things with their hands: chicken, blini, and women.” He then told to marry a Tatar woman and stay in Kazan for life. Thinking this was a joke, I laughed it off, but was then led into the dean’s office and introduced to his young secretary, Oksana…all eyes were expectantly on us.

I was able to squirm out of the situation by saying that I wanted to go explore Kazan before the conference began the next day. The dean and Gataulin stared at me and asked, “By yourself?”

“Yes, by myself. I have a guide book. And I would like to walk around.”

“No, we will get a driver for you.” The vice-dean’s son was requisitioned into driving me around Kazan for an hour and a half and pointing out all the landmarks. He was understandably hesitant and caught off guard, but the drive was very nice, although conversation was limited. I would have really preferred to go alone and not inconvenience Rushan, but Russian hospitality overruled my desires. Plus, they didn’t seem to grasp the concept of independent travel.

Thankfully, in the early evening I was able to meet up with Alyson, the Fulbright ETA stationed in Kazan. She grabbed two of her students and we went strolling through the downtown area, including a walk down Baumanskaya steet—a pedestrian-only avenue lined with cafes and dotted with statues and monuments. It reminded me of parts of Istanbul.

The next day brought the start of the conference—and the end, seeing as not enough people arrived to share their reports for a second day. I sat in a large auditorium and listened to presentation after presentation touching on the conference theme of “Theoretical and Methodological Foundations and Practice of Innovational Paths of Development of Economics of the Agro-Industrial Complex” (a very Russian title). I understood the overall message of most presentations, at least when they didn’t speak too fast, and only after they finished their requisite 7-minutes of thanks and praise to the conference organizers and their superiors (there is something very Soviet about this tradition). One quote that stood out came from one of the conference supervisors, who made a scathing comparison of American and Russian agriculture. He said something along the following lines: “America’s most dangerous and powerful weapon is not nuclear; it is their productive force and the amount of money they make from it. Why can’t Russia match this with its vast agricultural resources? It’s absurd.”

Before leaving for Kazan, Gataulin had asked me to prepare a presentation for the conference, as well. I was initially quite shocked, seeing as I knew nothing about the conference theme, but he later clarified his request and asked me to give a presentation on the higher education system in America, which the conference participants would find very interesting. He told me I would give it in English to a group of students studying the language, but during our lunch break he surprised me with the following:

“Bryan, why don’t you give your presentation right after lunch.”

“After lunch? Well, aren’t there more people scheduled to present on the theme?”

“Yes, but we can squeeze you in, too.”

“OK, but am I going to give it in English? Where are the students studying English?”

“No no no, you will give it in Russian.”

I was completely unprepared. I had made the whole slideshow in English, my mental notes were all in English, and suddenly I had been asked, in between shots of vodka at lunch, to present in Russian. “This is not going to be pretty” was the only thought in my mind, which was already beginning to swim a little from the strong alcohol.

But, there I was at the podium thirty minutes later in front of about 45 Russian agricultural specialists and graduate students giving a presentation in broken Russian about the US higher education system. I decided to keep it as short as possible since the expression on half of their faces upon the announcement of my speech looked like it could burn my soul out. I must have spoken for about 10 minutes and expected to practically run back to my seat afterwards, but surprisingly, they had a bunch of questions for me. I did my best to answer, and Gataulin actually had to cut the questions short so we could move on with the conference. After the last presenter, a group of graduate students approached me and wanted to know even more. After again struggling to answer very broad questions like “how much does a university education cost in the US” and “what kind of salary can you get with a masters degree compared to a bachelors”, we made our way to the banquet dinner.

Here, again, vodka and wine was poured to the brim and I counted at least 10 different toasts that required everyone to raise their glasses and drink to the bottom. Some toasts were short and sweet, some involved singing traditional Tatar songs, and others were 10 minute long anecdotes by people who had clearly had one (or four) too many. I was seated across from a group of five female graduate students from Orenburg (southeast of Tatarstan and bordering on Kazakhstan), who were stunned to discover I was only 22 years old. Their eyes widened and they all gasped, saying out loud that we were the same age, but they had taken me for much older, although they couldn’t tell me exactly why. They then invited me to go to the movies with them that evening, after they had been very awkwardly invited to a night club by one of the drunken members of the conference committee who was easily 25 years their elder.

After the banquet ended, Kristina, Lena, Tanya 1, Tanya 2 and two others whose names I can’t remember took me by the arm and led me down the street to the bus stop, where we hopped on for a quick ride to the center of Kazan. We went to two 10-minute 4-D ‘adventure experiences’ where you watch a 3-D clip and sit in seats that move like you’re in a roller coaster as water and wind are sprayed at you. They thought it was the coolest thing in the world; I was just feeling sick afterwards.

This was followed by a walk to an upscale sushi restaurant where I was further grilled about life in America and my personal life: what are relationships like in the US? How does dating work? We hear that one-night stands are the norm in America…is this true? What do you look for in a girl?

After sushi and some ice cream, we hopped into a gypsy cap waiting outside the restaurant for a ride back to the institute dormitory. The guy driving looked very pleased to have four young women in his back seat, but not so thrilled that I was there in the passenger’s seat…talk about a buzz-kill. Although I had a good laugh when we hopped into the cab and the driver asked the girls if they were freezing (it was quite a cold evening). They replied that they were cold, and the driver then jacked up the heat in the car and said with a smirk: “Now it will soon be like Tashkent in here.”

The following day had been rescheduled from a conference day to an ‘excursion’ day where all participants of the conference were invited to go on a bus tour of the whole city. We made stops at the Kremlin so everyone could wander around for a bit, and even took a 30-minute detour to the Raifskiy monastery outside the city limits. The monastery and churches were essentially like every other monastery and church I had visited so far in Russia, with one exception. This one had a very nice lake on its territory (although ice was still covering part of the lake…in late April). Our guide told us that this was the monastery’s holy lake, to which one woman replied in astonishment, “You mean the whole lake is holy? All of the water?” The guide assured her that this was the case, and that it was the healthiest water in all of Russia to bathe in. Russians really do love their religious superstitions; in their mind, there is no doubt in their truth.

Gataulin had changed our return train tickets to leave that evening since the conference had been shortened, so I spent my final few hours after the excursion going on a walk and sitting in a café with Alyson and the Orenburg girls before heading back to the train station. But it was this train ride that proved to be the most interesting of the whole trip. Gataulin and I had a купе entirely to ourselves, and I inadvertently started the most interesting conversation I have had in Russia when I innocently asked Gataulin if he ever came to Kazan as a child, seeing as he was born in the neighboring Orenburg Republic.

Gataulin launched into a nostalgic memoir of his childhood during the war, during which he worked as a 12 to 15-year old bookkeeper on a kolkhoz measuring the wheat and oat production of every woman in the commune. He said it was here that he became fascinated in agriculture, and recounted several stories about how he made measurements, developed new techniques to make his job easier, and even delivered horse-drawn carts of wheat to a town 10 hours away through the driving winter snow as a 14-year old. He told me of how almost all of the family’s belongings were transferred to the front in the war effort, and how after the war the country was in a state of disarray. He told of how banditry and gang wars were rampant, especially among the teenage population, and how he became an experienced train-jumper in order to get anywhere, seeing as his family had no form of transportation and he had no money to afford a ticket. He said that train conductors were often sympathetic to the young boys traveling without tickets, as they understood well the hardship of life at this point. He even remembered one time riding in an empty, open-topped cargo cart when two rival gangs hopped in and began a knife-fight, during which Gataulin was cut across the hand before he managed to hop out. It was the first time I got a really true feeling about what the war meant to Russia, and the nature of its lasting effects.

Later, he told of how he made his way to Moscow to enroll in the Timiryazev Agricultural Academy, seeing as he had received highest marks in his schoolwork in Orenburg. Again, he train-jumped to get to Moscow (a 24+ hour ride), and immediately asked the dean if he could get a job while studying so he could earn money to send home. He was attached to a work team that reaped wheat in the fields by the academy, and he again excelled in his studies. After a few years of post-graduate studies, he became a full-time professor in the Economics department and has been moving ever-forward since then.

He then recalled a story of a visit he paid to the agriculture minister of the scarcely-populated yet huge Yakutia Republic in the northeast of Siberia. He was taken by helicopter along with the minister and a few other people to a remote fishing ground, where they were to spend the day outdoors. The weather in Yakutia is very harsh and tempermental, and when the helicopter returned to look for them, it could not locate the group through the thick fog, although they could clearly hear the helicopter not far off. They were stranded and forced to spend the night in the wild. They built fires, made makeshift tents out of wood and leaves, and waited until the next day when the helicopter made another effort and finally found them. So Bear Grylls.

All in all the trip was a huge success. I formally participated in an official Russian conference, made some new Russian friends, heard a GREAT story, and thoroughly enjoyed the city of Kazan, which I found to be much more friendly and personable than Moscow. And after just one week of being back at work, I took off for St. Petersburg. But I’ll save that for my next post.

You can see my photos of Kazan here.

Someone has flipped the switch

2010-04-09T12:19:00.004+04:00

Finally.

Over the last two weeks, Moscow has been blessed with a very dramatic change in the weather. We have risen out of freezing temperatures, all the snow and ice has melted, and we've been basking in temperatures around 60 F for the last few days. After a 5-month winter, I feel like it is well-deserved. I have seen grass for the first time in Russia since early December, and I can finally start exercising outside again.

I can't afford to get my hopes up too high, however, as I have been warned that frosts can (and usually do) return to Moscow by the middle of May, and the city has been known to suffer frosts as late at as the first week of June. I will go crazy if this turns out to be true.

Well, it's been a long time since my last update. To keep things short, however, I'll just tell you the basics of what's been going on since the first week in March.

-I've been to a Russian cabaret performance. GREAT.

-I went to see the wonderful Picasso exhibit at the Pushkin Fine Arts Museum. Since the exhibit opened, there hasn't been a day when the line hasn't been at least a two-hour wait. Worth it, though.

-I went with a couple friends in search of an Old Believer's community in the east of Moscow, but we were foiled by the Lonely Planet's directions and the trolley-bus system. Instead, we ended up hiking across east/southeast Moscow for about 3 hours until we reached Kolomenskoe, a beautiful territory where a few tsars/tsarinas used to reside occasionally. Here is a photo of some of the grounds.

-I participated in a student conference here and gave a presentation on the cultural difference of smiling between Russians and Americans.

-Had an American-style beer-party with some friends here, during which we played quarters. I missed Paul's Deli on that night. And I even missed Bud Light...which goes to show you the quality of Russian beer, and why they stick to vodka.

-I checked out Kuskovo Park where Count Sheremetyev had one of his several palaces. Beautiful grounds, especially when approached through the adjoining forest, which gives you a great view across the massive pond where the count used to stage naval battles to entertain the masses. Unfortunately, the weather and the lack of funding has taken its toll on the exterior of the buildings. There is no heating inside, either, making for a very chilly experience in the winter months.

-I went with Thaddeus to a Russian hockey playoff game. Unfortunately, Spartak (our team) lost to Yaroslavl's Lokomotiv in overtime and were soon after eliminated from the competition.

-I went to a free concert at a nightclub by this really strange gizillion-person band whose oldest member appeared to be about 19. They were dubbed the "Russian Arcade Fire" because of their range of instruments and the fact that they covered "Wake Up." You could only distinguish about five of the instruments, however. And we waited all night for them to play 'Wake Up', which was their finale, and it was terrible.

-I went to the city of Tula with some friends for a day-trip. There we went to three museums which exhibit the reasons for Tula's fame: samovars, prianiki (apple/honey-filled cakes), and weapons. It was a nice little city. The highlight, however, was the Ukrainian restaurant that we lunched in. Here's a photo of a GIANT samovar.

-I had tickets to see Swan Lake at the Kremlin theater with some friends, but we arrived only to learn that the costumes for Swan Lake had been left in Beijing, from where the troupe had just returned. So, they had The Nutcracker on stand-by for us. It was beautiful, although a little out-of-season.

-Went to an English pub to watch the first leg of the Arsenal-Barcelona Champions League match-up. Great comeback by Arsenal, although ЦСКА Moscow was also playing that night, so the whole pub was shouting about that game, which they lost, of course. Arsenal also went on to get schlaked by Messi and Barcelona the next week.

-Had a great visit by a few W&M people to Moscow: one a fellow ETA in Tolyatti, and one studying abroad in Vladimir---both in Moscow to show the city off to friends from home. We had a great Georgian dinner and a fun time at a bar (after getting face-controlled at another bar...ouch).

-Returned to Kolomna on Easter Sunday for a day-trip with a tour group. The convent and cathedral were open this time, so I got to see some things I hadn't seen earlier. We also witnessed a fun Easter egg-rolling game for the kids. Plus, the weather was gorgeous.

That's what I've been up to (in addition to work, of course), and here's what I've got coming up:

1. A trip to Kazan from April 22-25 to participate in a conference.

2. A vacation to St. Petersburg, leaving from Moscow on May 1. I don't have a return ticket yet, and I might just keep it that way.

3. Another student conference May 21-22 at my univeristy.

4. A big FAO conference is being hosted at my university June 2-3. Apparently, I was signed up as a representative of the US by my uni, without first asking me. I'm not quite sure what my responsibilities are going to be, but it sounds intimidating.

5. Immediately following this conference, I'll be making my way to Elista from June 5-12 to teach in an English camp for students. Elista is the capital of the Kalmykia Republic in southwest Russia, and is the only Buddhist republic in Europe. I'm really looking forward to it. Plus, they say that the weather there in June is HOT--just what I'm looking for.

After returning from Elista, I've only got two more weeks of teaching left!!! Then, I've got some hopes to go to Lake Baikal for a week in July before returning home. Can't wait. Not being able to watch the Phillies or the Master's is eating away at my spirits.

The Land of Celebrations

2010-03-06T18:42:00.002+03:00

You may be wondering why I have not been blogging as frequently in the previous two months as during the final months of 2009. Or, if you're like I imagine you are, you really couldn't care less. Except you, Tim Bacon. But, the reason for my general absence is more or less as follows: Russia has a lot of celebrations during the beginning of the new year, and I have been taking full advantage of them. A recap:

January: a 10-day New Year's vacation, during which I frolicked around Red Square and learned to handle my vodka as though I'd been drinking it from the womb. Then I jetted to Istanbul for a few days. After returning to teach for two weeks, I made my way to Vladimir and Suzdal on the Golden Ring before our mid-year Fulbright seminar.

February: I spent the wee hours of the morning on Monday, February 8 watching the Super Bowl in an American diner...and losing three bets on the way (why, Saints, why?).

The next week/weekend was Maslenitsa--an old pagan holiday that is still celebrated by many in Russia to welcome the coming of spring. I could not help but notice that it was, indeed, still the middle of February, which generally means at least two more months of winter weather in Russia. I spent Sunday the 14th in the middle of a snow-covered forest with friends where a large clearing was made to hold festivities. This day deserves a more detailed description.

First of all, this celebration was 'secret'. That is, it was planned by a select group of individuals and 'advertising' was done by word-of-mouth only. Supposedly, this tradition is over a century old. Every year, the festivities are held in a different location somewhere outside of Moscow, but the location is always kept a secret until the day before. I spent the day prior at Lyoha's house with some other people making blinis (pancakes--the traditional Maslenitsa dish, as it represents the sun). At some point in the evening, one of the guys received a phone call and was told the location of the celebration and how to get there. The next morning, we hopped onto an elektrichka and rode about an hour outside of the city to a random stop in the middle of a forest (I mean, absolutely no civilization sight...why there is a train stop there is beyond me). Here, however, almost the entire train disembarked and the hundreds of people who had been informed of this 'secret' jumped across the train tracks and started trekking for almost another hour through the woods with snow up to their hips.

We had been told prior to leaving that we had to learn a Russian folk-song to gain entry into the festivities. Myself and a group of other internationals chose the most easy of all folk songs, Катюша, and prepared ourselves to sing once we finally reached the entrance to the clearing where three women in traditional Russian outfits judged our performance. Upon hearing that we would be singing Катюша, however, they moaned that they had already heard it too many times that morning. Sensing that we were not from these parts, they asked us to sing a folk song from our own countries. Everyone balked, but then I remembered the one song that has brought me so much joy over the last couple years: Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel" (a W&M 'education' at the Green Leafe comes in handy SO often). While not exactly a folk song, it has folk qualities, so I stepped forward and gave it my all--the women were amazed, gave us a huge smile, and parted to let us through.

The first things I noticed were the huge ice/snow sculptures that littered the clearing in the woods. There was an old-fashioned viking-like ship upon which children climbed and played-our imaginary battles with passerby, an ice-mouse, a turtle (I think) and a huge wall that was meant to be 'raided' by common-folk while the event organizers pelted them with snowballs from above and pushed them off the wall if they made any progress trying to scale it on the shoulders of their comrades. Then looking to my left, I saw a huge log standing completely vertical in the snow. Men wearing nothing but their underwear tried to ascend this log to reach the prizes hanging at the top. This log was easily 100 feet tall, and the men scurrying up and sliding down were rewarded with scrapes and scratches all over their body as well as near frosbite in the -25 weather. I have no clue why they thought this was a good idea.

I had been forewarned that this event would be full of "positive energy"--that is, no alcohol, and even though things might get a little 'rough', it was all in good fun. I soon figured out what was meant by 'rough'. The games offered at this celebration ran the gamut from traditional singing games, jump-rope competitions, tug-of-war, and duck-duck-goose types to the more 'masculine Russian' games such as Стенка-на-стенку (Wall-to-wall). This is played by lining up two groups of men opposite one another and then having them scream and charge at full-speed until they smash into each other head-on like a rugby scrum. This is repeated until one-by-one, men start dropping out of the game. I saw one guy spit a tooth out in a pool of blood.

There was also Слон, or Elephant, where a team of people lined-up and bent over, grabbing the hips of the person in front of them to make a sort of wall. Meanwhile, members of the other team took turns leap-frogging up the line of people, landing on the backs of the first team until their combined weight forced the wall to collapse. There was also wrestling, arm-wrestling, and a game where opponents were blindfolded, spun around to lose their orientation, and then commanded to swing pillow-like sacs until they finally found and knocked down their opponents. After nearly having my skull crushed against the hip of a teammate in Слон, my shoulder dislocated by a random dude in arm-wrestling, and several bones snapped in Стенка-на-стену, I decided to take a rest. But it was all about positive energy, man.

We spent a full day in the forest, keeping warm in the frigid weather either by participating in competitions or taking tea and blini breaks and sitting by the campfire of some other jolly Maslenitsa-ers. The day was incredibly fun, and you can find my photos from this event at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2144793&id=7606312&l=57bbbedb65.

February 15 was the celebration of Valentine's Day in Lingva, so I co-organized a little shindig for the English students where we sang Sinatra's "My Funny Valentine", read a poem about love, and played a few games before sitting down to tea and cakes.

The next weekend I attended a wedding of an American man and Russian woman who I had met through a few other Americans doing missionary work in Moscow. It was a lovely ceremony, and had a nice touch of America as all of the groomsmen wore cowboy hats to represent the groom's home state of Texas.

February 23 is the Day of the Defender in Russia (formerly Red Army Day but now a day celebrating all of the past and present members of the Russian Armed Forces). It is sometimes referred to simply as Man's Day. I was invited out for drinks with a few other Russians, and guess what: Man's Day means cheap vodka at every dining institution. And that means a lot of drunk men. You can guess what followed.

Last weekend I took a trip to Sergeiv Posad, an iconic old Russian monastery-town on the Golden Ring that draws thousands of tourists to see the beautiful monastic buildings and to pay homage to St. Sergius, the patron saint of Russia, who is buried in the Trinity Cathedral. Just outside the entrance to the Cathedral of the Assumption across the courtyard is the grave of Boris Godunov, the only tsar not buried in the Moscow Kremlin or in Saint Petersburg's SS Peter & Paul Cathedral. There is also a great archeological/ethnographic/history museum and a fun toy museum! I hope to have pictures edited from this trip soon, so I will post a link when I've got time.

Last Wednesday, I attended a great free concert with American friends of a female Russian guitarist and her group. This was followed by a tiny-portioned Italian dinner with the sounds of Russian karaoke blaring in our faces. I enjoyed the concert more.

And finally, this Monday, March 8 is International Women's Day (celebrated by Russia and other CIS countries). So, it's a three-day weekend, and I'm heading off on a day trip tomorrow to the New Jerusalem Cathedral with a professor.

So, that explains my lack of blogging lately. I hope I've sated your appetite. Until next time...

...

2010-02-13T15:02:00.003+03:00

I thought I would share a few of the more memorable moments from my last week.

1. A man came into the cafeteria one day and sat down at the table next me for lunch. He was clearly having some trouble walking as he stumbled over his own two feet, and he was audibly grumbling something, although the only word I actually caught was "завтрак" (breakfast). He then pulled a beer out of a plastic bag and proceeded to wash down mouthfuls of his lunch with swigs from the bottle. He continued to intermittently grumble completely unintelligible things, and after watching him for some time out of the corner of my eye, I realized that he was having some trouble keeping his food down. He began swaying back and forth in his chair, shifting his weight occasionally, and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Finally, he vomited. On himself. And on the floor in front of him (he missed the table and his meal). I think I was the only one in the cafeteria who noticed, as everyone else seemed to be engrossed in conversation with their table-mates and I didn't notice any reactions to this man's upchuck. The man then continued to shovel forkfuls of food into his mouth, until I noticed he vomited again inside his mouth (this time swallowing it to avoid making another mess). Finally, he rose from his chair unsteadily and walked out of the cafeteria, leaving everything in its place at the table (and on the floor). I left soon after.

2. I was having a discussion with my professor-students in class about travel and their ideal alternative habitats, or at least vacation destinations. Interestingly, Sweden and Australia were overwhelming favorites, being chosen by about 80% of the participants. As one professor related his fascination with Australia, he struggled to think of the word 'marsupial' (I can't blame him). After considering the word in Russian (сумчатое животное) he came up with the nearly transliterated: "pocket animal". He was very satisfied with his cunning, and I couldn't help but laugh.

3. With the same group of professors, but a few classes later, we were discussing the topic of 'work'. I asked the question: "What jobs have you done in your life and what did you like or dislike about them?" As is usually the case, hardly anyone actually answered the question. The standard response was, "I like my job now. It is good for me." When prompted with an example of my own about a job I did not really enjoy (greasy-hamburger-flipping concessionaire), one woman offered an answer that was more what I was looking for. She described to me her early childhood desire to be a crime-lab technician due to her fascination with chemistry. Then she related the following story:

When she was in the 7th class (akin to 7th grade) her entire class was taken to a factory and assigned non-paying jobs for the summer--Soviet tradition, I suppose, to learn the benefits of labor. She worked as a 'turner' at an train engine factory. Her job, for an entire summer, as a young girl, was to turn a lever at one stage in the production process of train engines. I hope she learned some valuable lessons.

Testing Fate and Faith in Russia

2010-02-04T11:33:00.003+03:00

As the elektrichka slowed to a snail's pace and eeked toward the Vladimir rail station after a 3.5 hour “local” train ride from Moscow, Lonely Planet's warnings of “commotion” and “busy, industrial town” seemed to completely outweigh the promises of “the grandeur of medieval Vladimir” displayed in “Russia's most formative architecture.” I was seriously beginning to question Vladimir's claim as a “jewel” of Moscow's Golden Ring—the historical group of principalities that once composed the heart of medieval Rus' centuries before any mention of Moscow was even made in the ancient Chronicles.

To my eyes, we were about to witness another sad story of Soviet, life-sucking destruction. A once valiant, majestic, faithful Russian town fallen victim to the poverty induced by communism. Our train crawled past shacks built into the hillside that rose above the train tracks. We could practically taste the devastation from inside the chilly train car.

A glimmer of hope came in the form of the gold-leafed onion domes of Vladimir's churches meekly poking their way over the crest of the hill. We emerged from the train into the frigid air (this would be a constant theme of our 4-day trip) and were slowly carried with the crowd through the station and out the other side. The taxi ride to the hotel did little to assuage my doubts. Sure, we caught our first glimpses of the monasteries and cathedrals on our left, and we drove around the famed Golden Gate of Vladimir (an Arc de Triumph-like structure dating back to 1164) which stands in the middle of Vladimir's main street, but the right-hand side of the road exhibited the aforementioned “commotion” and industrious nature of modern Vladimir. Our hotel fit in nicely with this latter bunch. A goliath structure seemingly straight out of the Soviet textbook on architectural aesthetics, the Hotel Zarya offered cheap rooms, and that was all we were really after.

Thankfully, the city and its people proved me wrong. Our first half-day of sightseeing, despite the nearly unbearable -30 cold, gave us a glimpse of the Vladimir of yore. A museum tour of the Golden Gate and a friendly Russian babushka manning the exhibits informed us of Vladimir's role in Ancient Rus' (and a great appreciation that we Americans had come from so far to learn about it). This was followed by a museum of Vladimir's more modern history (through tsarist times) set into the four floors of the city's old brick water tower, the top floor of which revealed to us a 360 degree view of Vladimir's true beauty. Vast expanses of white snow, birch trees, and farm plots brought back all the images of Ancient Rus' that I had from Russian class at W&M. This was the Russia I had set out to find.

Our early-evening stroll took us past Vladimir's Assumption Cathedral, one of Russian Orthodoxy's most revered sites for its original Andrey Rublev frescoes of the Last Judgment, as well as the original coffin of Alexander Nevsky, the hero of Russia who turned away German and Swedish invaders while preserving his principalities with appeasement strategies during the Mongol Yoke. It happened to be a Saturday evening—the time of the Orthodox service. What better time to step inside the Assumption?

We were hit immediately by an aromatic wall of incense as our eyes adjusted to the darkness of the entrance way. As we turned the corner of pillars, we were greeted by the majestic sight of gold-rimmed icons and frescoes covering the walls, and lighted candles that sprouted from golden holders. Our ears were met by the rhythmic, hypnotizing chords of the priest reciting the sermon, occasionally interrupted by spouts of song from the choir hidden in a raised balcony and the recitations of the faithful with whom we were sharing this experience. They stood in no particular order; some close to the front, some far in the back. We snaked our way around the church interior, taking in all the sights, smells, and sounds of this accidental discovery.

How does one follow this experience? Well, we were cold and tired, so we decided to follow it with a bottle of vodka and juice back at the hotel before setting out for a restaurant we had marked for dinner. Yeah, right. After resting our legs, warming our bodies by vodka, and watching some MTV Russia, no one felt the need to venture back out into the cold to find the restaurant; we decided to delay our departure to Suzdal the next day until the afternoon so that we could still make a stop at the restaurant for lunch. This would prove to be a very important decision.

In the meantime, we were hungry, and the hotel had a cafe, so down we went. Little did we know, we were walking into the dying throes of a wedding banquet full of drunk Russians. We sat at our table in the corner while being intermittently grabbed from our chairs and asked to dance and sing along with the boisterous crowd. We were confronted with a terribly catchy European song about Obama (that none of us Americans recognized), and we also suffered through the strained notes of drunk Russian karaoke singers. Conversations with this crowd ran the gamut: from disbelief that we were from America (or that we had someone named Liz in our group; because “Elizabeth” is a Russian name...) to offers to join a few of them in their dacha/banya getaway, which we couldn't help but feel was actually some kind of sexual advance... Anyways, the night ended on a good note, and we carried our exhausted bodies back up to bed for some much needed sleep.

The next day began with a breakfast experiment in a nearby cafe. Russians are not known for their breakfast foods. Каша (oatmeal) and каша (oatmeal) with a side of каша (oatmeal) is a pretty safe bet. Oh, and a cup of tea. But we found a place that offered omelets, so why not give it a try? Here's why: Russians don't do omelets. What we got instead were bowls of microwaved eggs with various toppings (I apoligize, Sammerz, if you are reading this...). But at least my omelet was cooked all the way through (sorry, Kristen).

Thankfully, however, it put something in our stomachs to protect us against the cold, so we then set out to explore the Assumption Cathedral in daylight, followed by a stop at the much smaller but more detailed Cathedral of St. Demetrius, both of which are designated UNESCO World Heritage Sites. This latter building's exterior was adorned with beautiful stone carvings dating back to the 12th century, and its interior still featured a few frescoes of the apostles also from this age. After stopping in a monastery and viewing the interior of another church, we decided to make the hike back to the restaurant we had skipped out on the night before.

It was on our way there that one of the most strange experiences of my life occurred. Walking down a small side-street off the main road toward the restaurant, I noticed a young woman heading in our direction. Her scarf was pulled up to the bridge of her nose and her hat pulled down to her brow (this is normal dress for such bitter weather). As she passed us, I had a strange feeling that I recognized her eyes. My own eyes followed her as she walked by, halted, and then asked in a disbelieving tone, “Liz?” She had recognized one of our travel companions, a fellow ETA working in Tolyatti. Liz and I studied together at W&M, and it was right then that I realized the identity of this mysterious passerby. I called out, “Suzanne?!?!” She turned toward me and we suddenly realized we had stumbled upon one of those bizarre meetings that you will remember for the rest of your life.

Suzanne also studies at W&M and is currently doing a year abroad in Vladimir. While I knew she was in Russia, I had no idea where (besides not in Moscow), and I NEVER thought I would run into her like this. I mean, Russia is kind of large. And not only did Suzanne, Liz, and I study together in school (and perform together in a wonderful version of Красная Шапочка), but Suzanne also knew Thaddeus from last summer's Middlebury Russian Program. We were like one big happy family (along with our other Fulbright friends Nicky, Kristen, and Emily).

It had just so happened that Suzanne had decided to leave early that day from the Jewish Center where she volunteers, and it just so happened that she was taking this little road home. And it had just so happened the evening before that we decided to postpone our departure to Suzdal so we could come to this one restaurant for lunch, which just so happened to be located on this same little side road. It just so happens, that it's quite a small world, after all. (Мир тесен!)

Suzanne joined us for a delicious, traditional Russian lunch with friendly service (a real shock coming from the Moscow restaurant scene). Upon hearing of our plans to move on to Suzdal for the next two days, she decided to tag along and introduce us to some young, local friends of hers that could show us the town. After lunch, we hopped onto a little bus and set off on the 45 minute trip to Suzdal, a picturesque village that has been billed as the “Mecca of Russia” and a place with “more churches than people”. I think these are both accurate descriptions.

The bus ride itself gave us a good enough idea of this. We rode through the pristine Russian countryside covered in pure white snow and spotted with birch groves, and even passed a kolkhoz on the way. We pulled into the fairy-tale village and were greeted by Ira, Suzanne's good friend in Suzdal. Ira proved to be the best host and guide we could have hoped for. Boisterous in the best of ways and a near-native English speaker, Ira was very keen on showing us her hometown. She accompanied us to the hostel where we were staying, located on the banks of a frozen river amid a row of traditional, Russian, wood houses with finely-carved, decorative trim straight out of old Russia.

At the hostel we befriended the man-in-charge, Vasiliy, a wonderfully friendly Ukrainian man who was eager for conversation as he ran the hostel completely by himself. He was patient with our Russian and we even exchanged phone numbers so we can chat when he gets lonely at his work. He graciously invited us to return whenever we wanted, promising us space in the still-unfinished hostel. There we also met two young French girls, Clementine and Melanie, who are studying abroad in a business program in Moscow, as well as two Scots who had embarked on their “romantic idea” of traveling the Trans-Siberian Railway in the middle of the Russian winter without knowing a word of Russian or being able to read Cyrillic. When we asked them how it was going so far, their immediate response was, “It's F**KING cold.” No, really?!??! All in good fun, though.

Ira in turn introduced us to Grisha, Olya, Olya (yes, two Olyas), and many other Russian friends with whom we shared our experience of Suzdal. We were taken on a tour of the old Suzdal kremlin, strolled through the open-air museum of wooden architecture, and popped into a few monasteries and convents during our two days there. While the history and the picturesque nature of this village—made even more majestic in the traditional Russian winter cold and layers of shining snow—are certainly what draws most visitors to Suzdal, perhaps our greatest impressions of this sleepy village came from the friendships we made with the locals. After going on these makeshift tours, we were invited to two dinners (read: a little evening meal with our bottles of vodka), two lunches (read: experiencing Suzdal's famed медовуха, an alcoholic mead-like drink made of honey in the kremlin restaurant which features a 300 year old menu), and even to one of the Olyas' houses for an evening of conversation, caviar, and a screening of a documentary she had made about a Russian biker festival.

Our final morning in Suzdal was spent in a local ceramics factory where we were taken on a tour and then given our own private master-class during which we hopelessly struggled to make something even mildly resembling a pot-like structure. This was the Suzdal that not every tourist is lucky enough to see. This was the experience we had all been yearning for; an experience that does not involve burying one's nose in a guide book and looking up every now and then for a street sign that probably doesn't exist to make sure one is going in the right direction. This was Russia. And the ceramics factory gives us an excellent excuse to go back—perhaps in the spring when the village will look entirely different without the snow—to pick up our finalized works of 'art.' And anyways, Vasiliy is waiting for us at the hostel...

We left Suzdal with heavy hearts, reluctantly saying goodbye to Ira, Grisha, the Olyas, and Vasiliy as we hopped into taxis that would take us to the bus station. The trip back to Vladimir was quiet as we all reflected on our recent whirlwind experience, but we were met by Suzanne at the Vladimir train station as she saw us off on our way back to Moscow. We also ran into the two Scots at the station as they prepared to board a train to Irkutsk, a 3-day, 4200-km (2610-mile) trip eastward. Wishing them luck on their journey, we hopped onto the train for our ride back to Moscow. We did our best to catch up on some rest, because we were about to enter another non-stop environment as all of the Russia-based Fulbrighters descended on Moscow for our 3-day mid-year seminar.

The seminar was also a wonderful time. It was great hearing about the experiences of other people stationed throughout the vast expanse that is Russia, learning about their respective research projects, and sharing some great laughs during meals (and even discovering that one of the ETAs got engaged over the winter holiday! Way to go, Travis!). The weekend inevitably came to an end, however, and now it's back to work.

But this trip could not have been better. It restored my faith that Russia can be an exciting, inviting, and spectacular place—a faith which had been severely tested and subsequently drained after the first four months of life in Moscow. This was a perfect jumping-off point for the remaining five months of my time, and I just hope I can squeeze in several more trips like this during that time. After all, there are a lot more things to see, and a lot more people to meet in this country, whether on purpose or by chance.

Postscript:

You can find more of my photos from our time in Vladimir here and Suzdal here!

How to properly 'встречать' the New Year

2010-01-13T19:39:00.006+03:00

The fireworks are still going off throughout Moscow, for today marks the end of the New Years holiday in Russia: Старый Новый Год. Due to the Orthodox Church's continued use of the Gregorian calendar, the Old New Year celebration is held on January 13, although the state still recognizeы January 1st as the New Year.

So, what does this mean? Russians have been celebrating for 13 days straight.

And what does this mean? Russians have been drinking for 13 days straight.

Well, at least for 10 days. The Russian government declared the official holiday from January 1-10. And the Russian people milked those 10 days for all that they're worth. I tried my best to keep up. I decided to stay in Moscow to experience part of this grand New Year celebration and to try on my fledgling 'Russian-ness' for size. I succeeded for only a day and a half.

My plan had always been to go to Red Square and 'do it right'. Everyone I told of this plan, however, warned me against it, saying it would be too crowded, too cold, and too dangerous. After drinking with some professors in celebration of yet another birthday, I finally got to the bottom of their concern: Caucasians. They were warning me that only people from Chechnya, Abkhazia, Ossetia, Georgia, etc. go to Red Square for New Years. Russians, to put it politely, are wary of these types after decades of wars and recent terrorist attacks (Nord Ost in 2002, Beslan in 2004, and most recently the Nevski Express explosion in late November 2009).

But I was doing it for the memory, and I was going to do it. So I planned my night out:

First, drinks and dinner with my friends Kristyna and Alex in my room. We didn't have much food, but we did have a lot of vodka.

Second, concerts and fireworks on Red Square with Kristyna, Alex, Nadia and Polina. More drinking; this time champagne and cognac.

Third, return to the university and meet up with Lyoha and go to his apartment for a big party with his friends (after a snowball fight on the main square of the campus). There were several bottles of champagne, seven bottles of vodka (read: more drinking) and a large новый-годный стол packed with mayonnaise-filled meat-salads, bread, salami, cheese, and Russia's famous холодец--boiled pigs feet chilled in its own juices until gelatinous--to be eaten strictly with horseradish (and I would recommend some vodka to help forget what you're eating).

I'll sum up my New Years 2010 night with the following statements:

- I enjoyed myself immensely.

- Red Square was cold and crowded, and perhaps dangerous too, but I didn't notice. I had had enough to drink to make sure of that.

- I met some great people at Lyoha's party and got some good Russian practice in. I also ate холодец. (no comment)

- I drank a lot, but retained perfect consciousness. The Russians are artists at drinking and not getting a hangover, and they have generously taken me on as their protege. 17 shots of vodka, 2 glasses of champagne, and 1 shot of cognac. Still alive.

- Before I knew it, I was dancing on Lyoha's couch, and it was 7 A.M.

7 A.M.! "I need to go home."

I put on my boots and jacket and trudged home through the snow as the sun was rising, and passed out until noon, when my phone rang.

Lyoha: "Bryan! Where are you?"

Me: "Uh...home? In bed?"

Lyoha: "No no no no! This is New Years...in Russia! It is a 10-day party! Come back, everyone is waiting for you!"

Me: "Okay." (I'm very stubborn.)

I put my boots and jacket back on as the room spun slightly around me, and made my way back through the fresh snow to Lyoha's apartment. I was conscious enough to notice that no one was outside. I had been warned of this. January 1st in Russia is the most quiet place on earth. The entire population is at home, either passed out in all their glory from the night before, or still throwing back shots of vodka with friends. The latter was my fate. I arrived back at Lyoha's to the clinking sound of shot glasses and vodka bottles being slammed onto the table. 2 more down the hatch within 5 minutes of arriving.

Thankfully, I had an excuse for leaving before midnight on this second day of partying. Two fellow Fulbright ETAs were coming through Moscow on their way back to Russia from their respective vacations, and I promised to spend a few days with them. So I slipped out of Lyoha's at around 11:30 P.M., just as a dubbed "Tropic Thunder" was coming on TV (it's a good thing I left then, or I would have been sucked in.)

The next two and a half days were spent with Fulbrighters Kristen, Nicky, and Andrew, as well as with Thomas--one of my classmates from Middlebury who was in Russia for a few weeks doing senior thesis research--and Thomas' sister, Lee. We hit up several great museums, a killer bakery for breakfast, ate at the same vegetarian restaurant for dinner two nights in a row, and I fortunately managed to limit my alcohol intake to a couple of beers over those days.

The evening of January 4 saw me off on a 4-day adventure to Istanbul to meet Jed, my good friend from W&M, as we had been planning on doing for several months. I can't possibly go into great detail about everything I saw and did in Istanbul, but I will give some bullet highlights:

-most important for my morale, I saw grass (well, greenery in general) for the first time in 3 months; and the temperature got as high as 14 degrees (compared to -15 average in Moscow)

- got a native tour of Taksim, the young, hip, modern part of Istanbul (unbelievably fun, and also a 24/7/365 kind of place; "Istanbul never sleeps," we were told---and we believe it)

- saw the entirety of Istanbul from the Galata Tower

- went to a nightclub and saw two great Turkish bands play live

- bought a 50-year old carpet handmade in central Turkey from a 4th generation carpet merchant in the 5 century-old Grand Bazaar (I love saying that)

- visited the Basilica Cistern--an underground wonder--with its two mysterious Medusa-head column bases

- visited several mosques, including the world-famous Blue Mosque (unreal)

- visited the Hagia Sophia (the most incredible part of the whole trip in my mind)

- took in one of the most breath-taking and history-filled views of my life: looking out of the second-floor balcony of the Hagia Sophia across to the Blue Mosque

- visited the Topkapi and Dolmabahce Palaces (and their respective harems), which were home to the Sultanate of the Ottoman Empire for centuries

- saw a Marc Chagall exhibit at a modern art museum

- ate a ton of baklava, drank a ton of apple tea, and smoked a water pipe in an open air joint completely covered in carpets and pillows...classic

- spent a night eating stellar seafood and drinking raki while overlooking the Bosphorus

- took a ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side for some more exploring

- heard a great deal of Russian (and spoke some) with the HUNDREDS of Russian tourists visiting Turkey---sometimes I felt like I never left...

- learned some Turkish! [merhaba = hello; gule-gule = goodbye; teshekur = thank you; tashakur = my balls (be careful between those last two); sau = thanks (a much safer bet); lutfen = please; bir = one; iki = two; bira = beer ("bir bira, lutfen"); yagshemash = goodnight! (you may recognize that from Borat)]

It was an unbelievable time, and I was so glad to be able to share it with such a good friend. Some may call it a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but I have a feeling I'll be going back. Here are just a few of the 800+ photos I managed to take:

Jed admiring his rug purchase with Mustafa Kemal Ataturk watching over his shoulder, as he does everywhere in Turkey (and I thought Russians were big on personality cults).

A look back at ancient Istanbul from the ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side.

The incredible Hagia Sophia as seen from from the main entrance of the Blue Mosque.

The Blue Mosque--an incredibly intricate structure.

For now, though, it's back to the frigidness of Moscow and the teaching regimen. What a downer after such an exhilarating vacation.

ABBA is alive and well in Moscow, unfortunately.

2009-12-29T10:04:00.004+03:00

Last night was the Christmas/New Years celebration with the English students of Lingva, so a few other Americans doing missionary work in the city joined me to talk about our traditions, sing a few carols, and screen 'A Charlie Brown Christmas'. The students had even set up a fake 6-foot Christmas tree (or елка) in the middle of the room.

Then one Russian student had a few songs she wanted to sing. I had been told of her wonderful voice well in advance, so I thought it would be lovely to hear. I just didn't anticipate the genre of songs she enjoyed: very bad classic electro-pop. Her performance was capped-off by a memorable finale of ABBA's "Happy New Year". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcLMH8pwusw

She addressed everyone, "I think you all know this next song, so lets gather around the tree and sing together." I glanced suspiciously at the other Americans in the room, but we nonetheless stood, joined hands around the tree, and began walking in a circle while the young woman conveyed to us her passion for all things ABBA. None of us Americans knew the song, but the Russians were certainly into it, raising their hands high up in the air each time the phrase 'Happy New Year' was sung.

I learned one important lesson that evening: ABBA's song is four and a half minutes too long.

There is a shaman among us.

2009-12-28T11:26:00.003+03:00

For the last two days I have noticed something very strange. There have been two chairs in my hallway, always occupied by people, although the people seem to change every few hours. They carry on conversations from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., and the sounds travel up and down the hall, penetrating the wooden doors and paper-thin walls that make up our rooms.

Last night, I returned home from a day of exploring the Novodevichy monastery and cemetery, and passed two women, one old and one young, seated in these chairs with a young man hovering over them, carrying on some sort of animated conversation. An hour or so passed in my room, and then I emerged to go boil some water in preparation for my pasta dinner. I stepped out of my room to find the hallway absolutely frigid. The people were still there, just a few doors down from me, now wearing their winter coats but still engaged in their talk.

I turned two corners and arrived at the kitchen to find the window wide open and the curtains blowing inward toward the stove tops. It was below freezing outside, so whoever decided to open the window was clearly not thinking straight. I closed the window and turned around to find the kind дежурная (woman-on-duty) standing in the doorway. She exclaimed my name and rushed in to start a conversation, as she always does when she sees me, although I only understand every 4th word that comes out of her mouth.

She asked me if the people in the hallway were bothering me. I said no. Just as I was about to ask what they were doing there, however, she preempted my question and launched into an explanation:

There was a man in the room who had a very poor back; something about severe spinal pain. The family had called in the help of a local shaman to cure him, and they were using the room as a hospital bed. She rolled her eyes, telling me that she was a 'believer', but that even this stretched her own spiritual-mental limits. She then composed herself and said, "But, what's most important, is that you believe."

So, I am now living in the midst of shaman-believers (and a shaman)...in the dormitory of the Moscow Agricultural Academy. This is such a strange place.

A shot from the monastery.

Happy Holidays From Moscow!

2009-12-25T00:43:00.003+03:00

Brought to you by Volkswagen.

A Lesson in Celebrating a Life Well-lived

2009-12-23T10:23:00.003+03:00

My class yesterday evening was abruptly stopped at 6:25 by an elderly professor who said, "We must stop class. We have something to celebrate. The dean is coming."

All of the other professors proceeded to clear the table of their papers and dictionaries and lay out paper-placemats, napkins, and plastic plates, cups, and utensils. Then out came dishes of sliced salami, cheese, bread, mandarins, and a huge cake. The dean entered the room, gave me a big smile and a handshake, and then out came a big bottle of cognac.

As it turned out, it was the elderly professor's 74th birthday. Seventy-four! (The current male life expectancy in Russia is 61.) I have a great deal of respect for this professor. He has already served his term as the dean of the Economics department (giving way to the current dean), is one of two faculty members at the university who is a member of the Russian Academy of Sciences, is the chairman of an organization he created relating to Russia and CIS agro-economic issues, and speaks fluent Tartar, Russian, Kazakh, and Uzbek, along with a healthy knowledge of German and English. A life to be jealous of, for sure.

It quickly became evident how much the other professors in the room respect him, as well. In typical Russian fashion, each person stood and gave a toast in honor of the celebrated septuagenarian. They waxed poetic about the man's numerous accomplishments, his intangible contributions to their own personal success, and showered him with wishes of good health and even more success in the years to come. Of course, this meant that in typical Russian fashion, you had to throw back your drink after each one of these toasts. After about 8 cognac-toasts, I had my fill.

The dean then taught me a few key phrases in Tartar (his native language): "Zhakhnim!" means "Let's drink!" and "baseballdravos" means "We can!". Following this, he invited me to the faculty party on Friday. Then, he decided that I will join him for a trip to the sauna on Saturday. Finally, he promised to find me a wife here in Russia so that I would never leave and could continue teaching his professors. I'll go along with the party, perhaps even the sauna. But the wife? How do I politely say 'no' when they won't stop stressing to me the beauty and homemaking capabilities of their women?

The best part: this is the third time I've had a party with this group of Economics professors in the last month. And another one has a birthday next week... They're a jolly bunch.

Just In Case You Were Wondering...

2009-12-20T14:54:00.000+03:00

No.

You cannot lower your anchor in a frozen river.

A Lighter Point of Teaching Grammar

2009-12-16T19:30:00.003+03:00

My role as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant ('assistant' should read 'professor' in most cases), should be to help people with conversational English and American cultural studies. As I explained long ago, however, my sudden re-posting to Moscow changed my teaching responsibilities to fit my new university's needs, and now I am teaching English grammar to agricultural professors. In other words, I am spending hours teaching myself my own grammar and then passing it on to these professors.

This tends to be a difficult and often quite boring task, especially since these individuals are not by and large excited about being forced by the university to learn English, especially at this stage in their careers. And grammar is...well, grammar. It's difficult to teach. It's often very boring. And it involves a lot of monotonous exercises to ensure that word order and verb conjugations are followed according to the numerous rules and their even more numerous exceptions.

But today I had a good laugh while working on a 'Present Tense Verb Practice' worksheet I designed for my students. After asking them to formulate a question in the present continuous tense using a word prompt and provide an answer to this question, I found myself nearly on the floor laughing while most of the professors stared at me awkwardly. Here's what happened.

The prompt: Why / they / to sit / on the floor

Question: Why are they sitting on the floor?

Answer: They are sitting on the floor because they are Japanese.

Maybe you had to be there? But if you could have heard how the young woman struggled to pronounce her answer and the very serious look on her face, it would have tickled you, too.

My Ice Age

2009-12-15T10:17:00.002+03:00

It's time for a change of face; hence, the new template. Why? Because the Moscow winter has finally arrived and completely transformed life in the city. Beginning yesterday, temperatures plummeted to -20 Celsius.

I have a few things for which I can be thankful in this weather, however.

1. It gives me personal 'bragging' rights for having survived the coldest days of my life.

2. It gave me a great reason to buy a real Russian fur hat (raccoon) and wool-lined boots.

3. The icy coldness has chased away the omnipresent cloud cover, leaving Moscow shining under a bright blue sky. The sun is finally visible, although it does not rise above a 45-degree angle with the ground, and only shines for about 7-8 hours a day.

4. This weather also helps me understand why Russian food is so fattening, and why they love to eat sweets. It provides a high-calorie diet to help their bodies survive the cold. Thus, I no longer feel guilty eating as many fattening foods as possible, especially because the cold weather makes you very hungry. And most of them are really tasty.

Of course, it's not all peachy. There's reason behind the phrase: "bitter cold".

1. Temperatures in the -20s bring windchills hovering around -35 C. See, the problem with Moscow winter is not the actual raw temperature--it's the wind due to the city's humid climate. I've read that even in the -40/-50 C weather in Siberia, the climate is dry, which makes going outside bearable, if not even pleasant (depending on your definition of 'pleasant'). It can be a very different story here in Moscow.

2. The winds have snuck in through the side of my window, dropping the temperature of my room to the mid-60s F. Luckily, I have three wool blankets on my bed, but it sure makes it difficult to get out of bed in the morning and leave my cocoon.

3. Any extended walk outdoors quickly turns into a nightmare, especially when in wide-open spaces, which unfortunately happen to be the most picturesque and charming locales of the city. The wind seeps in through any crack in your clothing, and soon you can't feel your ears, hands, or toes. The solution: don't stand still. Run around every few minutes. And you can't be self-conscious about it; even the Russians do it. Also, if you don't have a wind-proof jacket...fughetaboutit.

4. I've been suffering from an eye infection for the past 5 weeks or so, which has inhibited my ability to wear my contact lenses. Wearing glasses in this weather, however, is NOT recommended. The moment you step out of the cold into the metro, a store, or a restaurant, you immediately go blind. Glasses fog up instantaneously and you are left stumbling ahead, holding your arms out in front of you, and wondering where the person addressing you is standing.

5. The snow that fell last week has not disappeared completely, but has rather become compacted into a couple inches of ice on walkways. My 'winter wipeout' count is currently only at 1, but it was a rough one...and there were a lot of people there to see it.

6. Ice has also formed on the inside of all tram, trolley, and bus windows. This is not a case of simple fogging that can be wiped away with your hand. This is ice, meaning it can only be tackled by scraping with your nails if you want to be able to look outside and make sure you don't miss your stop.

All in all, however, I like this weather. A lot. The cold really refreshes you. And the crisp blue skies and bright sunshine aren't too bad, either.

Lesson Learned?

2009-12-11T16:00:00.003+03:00

No doubt everyone has now heard about the devastating fire in the 'Lame Horse' nightclub in Perm last weekend that has left 141 people dead and another 89 still hospitalized suffering from smoke inhalation and injuries related to the stampede of people attempting to escape the flames. The source of the disaster: fireworks. Fireworks set off inside the nightclub to celebrate it's 8 year anniversary. Subsequent investigations have found that the nightclub's fire escapes were not up to code, and this has led to a wave of resignations among the local fire department and even the local government in Perm.

But it has also sparked a nationwide interest in fire code regulations. Hence, my university has taken its own steps to prevent similar mishaps. Well, really just one step: they have labeled the fire escapes.

This still leaves one major problem. All of the fire escapes are locked.

There is one such stairwell right next to my door at the end of the hallway, and it features a nice-sized padlock. Now, however, there is a sign telling me where I can find the key to this lock! It is located in a room all the way on the other side of the building (although still on the 5th floor). This door to this room, however, is only open 8 hours each day. Otherwise, the key to this room (in order to reach the key to the fire escape door) is located in the main office on the floor below.

The only other way out of my dormitory is by way of the main staircase, which is also located all the way at the other end of the hallway from my room. The elevators in my dormitory--in a superb example of intelligent Soviet design--do not go down, and they only go up from the lobby. Therefore, from any floor in the dormitory, from the fourth all the way to the sixteenth, the only way to reach the exit is down one set of stairs, which dead-ends on the second floor. To reach the lobby from this point, you must walk all the way across the second floor to another set of stairs. (I should point out that the third floor is completely boarded up and impassible. Don't ask me why.)

Where the main staircase dead-ends on the second floor is another gate that is padlocked shut (the second fire escape). As of two days ago, however, this fire escape has been freshly labeled in red paint, "Emergency Exit," and a sign generously explains the location of the key to this padlock--again to be found in an office down the hall whose door is unlocked only during working hours.

Do people really value human life here?

Note to Self

2009-12-09T16:05:00.001+03:00

Don't ever forget your scarf when venturing outside into the Moscow winter.

This is the joke.

2009-12-08T14:19:00.003+03:00

Yesterday I gave a short photo-presentation to my group of Advanced English professors about my study-abroad experience in India in 2007. I told them the story of the elephant charge while on a safari in Karnataka. They loved it. Then, this morning, I received an email from one of the professors:

"Thank you very much for your story about India. I was very impressed by the story about elephants. May be you will meet the bear in snowy Russian wood? This is the joke. It is more pleasant to meet the bear in the Moscow zoo.
I wish you interesting and productive week."

Classic.

The Point of No Return

2009-12-08T01:26:00.002+03:00

The Moscow winter has finally arrived. And this time it’s here to stay…I hope.

The last snowfall was over two weeks ago, and since then the city has been experiencing a serious December heat wave of 5-6 degrees Celsius. Yesterday, however, just as the East Coast back home got hit with a serious snowstorm, the temperature thousands of miles away in Moscow dipped to 5 below. Snow has been falling steadily all day today, and who knows when it will stop?

Yesterday also just happened to be the day that I took a trip to Kolomna---a small, old village a few hours south of Moscow---to explore the city’s old Kremlin. After a two-hour outdoor walking tour in the subzero weather with whipping winds (no snow, though), I was left wondering if I would ever feel my toes again. I could not hold my camera viewfinder up to my eye without shaking---hence the below-average pictures I ended up with. The day was nonetheless fascinating, as I got my first real taste of not only the Russian winter, but also another glimpse of an old Russian medieval town.

Not only have we reached the P.O.N.R. in terms of the weather, but I may have crossed the same barrier in my mentality toward Moscow. The city captured my heart late last week when I took a stroll downtown to Patriarch Ponds (this should sound familiar to anyone who has read Bulgakov’s classic, “Master and Margarita”). It is a small park with a walkway, benches, a playground, a huge statue of Mikhail Bulgakov and even an upscale restaurant surrounding the pond. The streets leading to Patriarch Ponds seem to be pulled right out of Paris. Narrow lanes with tall, neo-classical buildings towering over them, in the basements of which stand bakeries, restaurants, wine bars, boutiques, and the like (all extremely expensive, in the true Paris fashion). I walked through the 3 square-block area for two hours---and made a detour to the Bulgakov house museum where he wrote his classic---taking in the sights that warmed my heart. Finally--the romance of Moscow. If only I could wrap the overhead tram lines with Christmas lights.

This secluded Wonderland is located just two streets over from Thaddeus’ apartment.

Damn him.

Also, however 'harsh' the winters are here, Moscow is beautiful with snow. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

"I don't believe what I just saw!"

2009-12-05T17:47:00.003+03:00

Any self-respecting baseball fan out there is familiar with the above quote. Jack Buck’s call of Kirk Gibson’s improbable, pitch-hit, game-winning home run in the opener of the 1988 World Series is timeless. So is the tradition of the Russian theater. Is it any wonder, therefore, that Buck’s quote immediately popped into my mind after I saw a modern Russian rendition of Shakespeare’s timeless “Romeo & Juliet” on Thursday night?

Well, yes. It is a wonder. Why? Because the show was terrible.

Granted, Shakespeare is difficult. Even when read and performed in the original English, the antiquity of his work presents challenges to the modern actor that only the most skilled can overcome without looking and sounding like an ass. I suppose that’s why it’s quite chic to modernize and reinterpret these classics. But I left the Moscow Dramatic Theater named after Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin not quite able to fathom just how badly this troupe missed the point.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not an absolute stickler. While I adore the classicism of Big Will’s pieces, there is some merit and intrigue in a modern interpretation. There have even been some good ones---West Side Story, for example. Hell, even ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ was bearable. But this…this was in a whole ’nother ballpark. This was in the realm of the performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” that I took part in during my freshman year at W&M. After 8 years of doing theater, this would prove to be my last show. Why? One reason was that the modern interpretation pursued by our director was, in a word, bullshit. It killed the art for me.

Let me break down what didn’t work in last night’s play:

1. The set. The set was two PVC-pipe jungle gyms on either side of the stage with plexi-glass panels on hinges (whose swinging motions resembled those of the far-too-heavy swinging doors leading into and out of Moscow metro stations--a real hazard to one’s safety). These two constructions represented the homes of the Capulets and the Montagues, respectively. What they mostly served as, however, were gymnastics bars for all the actors to perform stunts on. Stunts in Romeo & Juliet?

2. Hoola-hoops. There was a big party at the Capulet household in the first act where everyone was dancing with pink hoola-hoops. These objects made repeat appearances throughout the show, including at the point of Mercutio’s death, when he grabbed the stack of hoops and tossed them through the air before collapsing offstage. Dramatic.

3. Peeing on stage: At one point Mercutio comes on stage with Romeo and begins joking around with him. One of the jokes ends in him on all-fours, lifting his leg and mimicking a male dog peeing. He holds has a hand-held water bladder, which he then squeezes for full effect, “peeing” all over Romeo. He later does the same thing to Juliet’s nanny.

4. Music. I could go and on for this one. First, there is beat-boxing and fake rapping at one point. There is a blast of a gong between each scene. Indian drum-music was used extensively in the first act. French café music featuring accordions and violins is the music of choice in the second act. There is a completely unnecessary ballet scene with Romeo and Juliet dancing in all-black sport underwear (i.e. Juliet in nothing but a sport bra and underwear) around an art-deco grandfather clock, and the accompanying music is a duet of two men’s voices saying “You could go, You could go, You could go Around, Around, Around” in accented English.

But the real winner in the music category was the use of Weird Al Yankovic’s “Lasagna”--an atrocious parody of the already-atrocious “La Bamba”. The director made the unfortunate decision to use this song not once, but TWICE, including in the fight scene that ends in the fatal wounding of Mercutio. If you’re curious as to what a song about Lasagna sounds like, check it out at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ps1oYsvlEzI

Now imagine this song being played twice during Romeo & Juliet. WTF.

You may think that perhaps I missed the point. Perhaps I was lost in the translation? Maybe I missed the humor?

No.

Bad is bad is bad is bad, in Russian and in Old English.

"Вперед, Спартак!", Thanksgiving in Moscow, and other recent adventures

2009-11-28T16:54:00.019+03:00

I got a taste of Russian hooliganism last night at my first professional Russian hockey game. Спартак (Spartak) played host to ЦСКА (the Red Army Team) in a match of cross-town rivals. These are two of the Moscow hockey triumvirate, the third being the esteemed (and so far in the season better) Динамо squad (Dynamo). After two lead changes, a penalty shot goal (see image below), and some really intense cheering, the game ended in 3-2 victory for the home team--my new favorite team (I bought a hat!)

While the КХЛ (Continental Hockey League of Russia and various former Soviet Republics) is the second-best in the world, there are obvious differences between the level of play here and that of the NHL. Surprisingly, it seems as though penalties are much more wont to be given over here, and therefore there is little checking. The extent of the physicality on the ice comes in the form of light shoves and swatting at each other's sticks. The real physicality, however, can be found in the bleachers.

I attended the game with my suitemate from Middlebury and fellow Fulbrighter, Thaddeus--an avid hockey player and fan from Wisconsin--and his friend Jenny (who studied with him at Midd's Russian School this past summer) and Jenny's friend Lily (studying abroad in Moscow from Tufts). We got what we thought were going to be GREAT seats--front row, rink-side just to the right of one of the goals. The presence of the opponents' bench and the low height of the glass, however, provided a little bit of an obstruction...no wonder the seats were left when we bought our tickets. We also happened to be one seating-section over from the 'Spartak fan' section---a riotous group with non-stop cheers, ranging from the benign "RED, WHITE!" (Spartak's colors) to more pointed chants involving insults to ЦСКА's pride (and perhaps mothers, too). We were even graced with a splendid rendition of "WE WILL, WE WILL, F*** YOU!" sung in poor English accents to the tune of Queen while flipping the bird to the opposite side of the rink where the ЦСКА fans were positioned. I was all for doing The Wave, but I don't think it would have gotten very far.

Here are a couple more shots from the game.

Even the young ones get into it.

On a completely unrelated note, I neglected to write of an earlier excursion I took to the small village of Aleksandrovskaya located about 2 hours outside of Moscow. Here is situated Aleksandrovskaya Sloboda--a small walled-in complex, that, as far as I can understand, was the capital of Ivan the Terrible's oprichnaya--his private security forces. In Russian history, the oprichnaya are feared and infamous for wearing black robes from head to toe, traveling by black horses, and sporting the symbols of a broom and a dog--one for 'cleaning' and one for 'aggression' (thanks to Prof. Corney for his unforgettable lectures). Inside the walls stand several whitewashed churches, tall spires, a nunnery that is still in use, and even a building featuring the rooms where Ivan the Terrible would sleep, eat, and torture his subjects during his stays in the Sloboda. Although I had a really hard time understanding our guide, I was nonetheless impressed by the village. It provided a great small-scale example of an old Russian medieval village--something I am sure to see much more of as I make my way around the Golden Ring in the near future.

Here are some photos from that trip:

I should note that this trip to Aleksandrovskaya Sloboda also brought good fortune. It was the first day I had seen the sun in three weeks.

And finally, I'm sure some of you may be wondering how I spent my Thanksgiving in Moscow? Well, the answer is simple: in style. I received an invitation to attend a feast at the Ambassador's House with other Americans who are currently here on study-programs, and some Russians who either studied abroad in the US or who are employed by the Fulbright office in Moscow. I think it goes without saying: the house is gorgeous. The food was spectacular. The company was lovely. The ambassador is a great guy. But I still missed home. Again, some photos:

P.S. At last, I got around to uploading almost all of the photos I have taken so far during my stay in Russia to my Picassa site. The URL is http://picasaweb.google.com/bryan.terrill

Here you can see more from all of these events I described.

Enjoy!

The URL says it all.

2009-11-25T23:16:00.000+03:00

http://www.rferl.org/content/Putin_In_Da_House/1885715.html

A must-see.

The Resurrection of Steve Prefontaine

2009-11-24T22:55:00.005+03:00

Tonight I managed to do something for the first time since my arrival in Russia.

I exercised.

I have not had any success figuring out how to use the gym at the university. No one here seems to be of any help, whatsoever. I am beginning to wonder if anyone here uses it. Or if inside the building labeled 'спортскомплекс' is any sort of 'sports complex' at all...

Well, tonight I finished teaching at about 7pm and walked outside into the balmy 6 degree weather with just a spritz of rain. "This is it," I decided. "Now is my chance."

I speed-walked home, threw down my bag and changed into my sweats. I didn't even need to put on my beloved spandex. Six degrees is a HEATWAVE. I plugged into my iPod and ran down the five flights of stairs and out the door into the great unknown that was my path for the evening.

I began down Лиственничная Аллея, which is a pedestrian-only street that spans nearly the entirety of the university's campus. It is lined with trees, academic buildings, a couple of ponds, and fields where students get hands-on training for their agricultural studies. This sounds like a very picturesque scene, but trust me, it is only so in a very Soviet sense. Nonetheless, it's about as picturesque as things get around here, especially in the 'burbs.

Anyways, the 'alley' goes for about a mile, but by the time I reached the far end of the street, reality hit me like a brick to the chest. The lack of exercise since coming to Russia has really taken its toll. I haven't been on a serious run in over two months. And I could feel it in every part of my body.

Thankfully, I managed to make the return jog without collapsing, and even stopped to have a nice chat (albeit between heaving breaths) with the vice-rector of International Relations as he was on his way home.

I have since spent the last few hours making a spaghetti dinner, wasting time on YouTube finding clips of The Office to make me feel more at home, and doing my dishes in the bathtub.

Speaking of home, some strange things have been happening lately.

First, listening to my iPod on shuffle has resulted in an abnormally high proportion of Christmas songs. Hearing these songs tends to make me really sad, as I begin to realize that this will be the first Christmas that I have not been at home with my family. I usually skip the songs because I don't like the feeling they give me, but tonight I listened to a jammin' Transiberian Orchestra rendition of 'O Come All Ye Faithful.' It was nice.

Second, I gave a presentation (three times) to students studying English in the Lingva department here last week about New York City. The idea was to introduce them to an exciting part of the US, and it also gave me an excuse to play Sinatra's "Theme from New York, New York" and the new "Empire State of Mind" by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys (both of which they loved, except for the one super-long-haired boy in the 1st year who prefers heavy metal). I covered the distinct nature of each of the buroughs, the subway system, shopping in NYC, and interesting facts about the city (many thanks to my sister for all the info and photos she sent me). Of course, I could not get around talking about 9/11, the Twin Towers, Ground Zero, and the impact this had on NYC and America. In the middle of explaining what I saw when I visited Ground Zero several years after the attacks, I began to get choked up. Seriously choked up...enough to force me to pause for a few seconds. It was strange. Even on the day it happened, which I remember so well (sitting in Ms Truesdell's 9th grade World History class when we got the news and the TV was turned on...never to be turned off for the next three days), I never once cried. I don't even remember my eyes getting teary. Nor when I saw Ground Zero in person. But there was something strangely revealing and sobering about describing this event to foreigners who have no idea what it was like to watch this footage as it happened and to be an American on that day. As I attempted to describe just how horrible a day it was in our history, I nearly lost it. I suppose the strongest connections to your homeland are forged when you are thousands of miles away.

I've got a few more stories and some photos to share, but I think those can wait for another post, hopefully not too far off in the future. But I've got an early morning tomorrow.

Signing off,

'Pre'

Baptism by Vodka

2009-11-15T18:37:00.002+03:00

Well, I have at long last been officially 'Russified.' Initiated. Christened. Re-born, even.

I spent Friday night in the company of two new Russian friends, Julia and Alyosha, and a new PhD student from Slovakia, Kinga.

The plan: hand-make pelmeni (Russian meat dumplings) at Alyosha's house and watch a classic Russian comedy, "Служебный роман."

The outcome: five-and-a-half hours of making dough, pulverizing meat and vegetables, wrapping this meat/veggie concoction in little circles of dough, boiling the pelmeni, eating the pelmeni along with smoked fish from the Far East, taking 4 (or was it 5?) vodka shots, only getting through 15 minutes of the film, watching Russian comedy skits online, looking at Alyosha's photos of an expedition he took to the Russian Far East, and sprinting home through the rain to make the 1 am dormitory curfew just as security was locking the door.

Julia is a third-year Lingva student to whom I give presentations, and through her I met her friend Aleksei (Alyosha) who is quite a character. His sense of humor is right out of my own backyard, and so far we have a really great budding friendship. He also happened to take a trip to Kamchatka and the Commander Islands last summer to research the Arctic fox population, and he knows of my new-found obsession with getting to the Far East after the debacle with my university in P-K. He enthusiastically showed me photos of wildlife from his trip: pictures of brown bears taken from a distance of 20 meters, four different whale species (orca, sperm, humpback, and southern--of which there are believed to only be about 30 living in the world) that swam up to their boat and even performed jumping spectacles for them, puffins, arctic foxes, sea lions, fur seals, and more. He even showed me a video he took at the summit of a mountain on the Commander Islands where the wind was so strong that he could lean into it at a 45 degree angle and remain 'afloat'. Needless to say, I got really jealous, but spent the whole time awestruck.

Alyosha and Julia have proven invaluable friends so far---always willing to take me out somewhere and keep me company. So far we have plans to go to museums, go bowling, to the theater, and more.

Saturday night I met up with my other new friend, Miriam, whom I met at Thaddeus' Halloween party, and who is also an English teacher at a school in another Moscow suburb. She was heading out with some other teachers on her program for drinks downtown and invited me to go along. They were all Brits (except Miriam, who has a mixed-heritage background of India, Canada, England, and Scotland and her friend Lisa from North Dakota), and I felt like I was in a proper pub for most of the night. It was great fun, and interesting to speak with people who have a similar job and who can offer me plenty of advice.

Finally, I'm feeling at home.

"Chai chairny, brother" (or Exploring Belgorod)

2009-11-12T13:48:00.006+03:00

"Город спитe!" ("City, sleep!")

This was the cry I heard from 11pm to 2am last Friday night, emitted from the 12-year old girl sitting on the lower bunk of the train cabin across the aisle from me.

I was on my way to Belgorod for my first out-of-Moscow experience since arriving in Russia, and I just happened to be in a train wagon FULL of young children, probably returning home from an excursion to the capital. The four-bunk enclave next to me was occupied by four young girls--obviously the ringleaders of the class--who decided to have a night-long game of Mafia with the rest of their classmates. Their teachers, of course, thought nothing of telling them to keep the noise level down after the lights were turned out just before 11pm, and I did not really have the courage to ask them to keep it down when my level of Russian would make me appear to be only half their age. So, I endured until about 2, when my bunkmate--a young man on his way between work and family--finally decided to give them an earful. The little boys of the class, who had earlier made a big show bragging about how they had just gulped down energy drinks at 11:30pm, sulked back to their camps. Finally, I could sleep.

At least, I could sleep until the train pulled into the Belgorod station at 7:32am, exactly the time advertised on the ticket. (I still can't get over the efficiency of mass-rail transit in Russia.) Belgorod, located a few dozen miles from the Ukrainian border, is a small city which contrasts sharply with Moscow. Unlike the capital, old Belgorod was demolished in WWII as a consequence of heavy armored battles between the Germans and Russians. It's current architecture is mostly that of modernity (albeit oftentimes a Soviet idea of modernity), but the numerous and humorous brass statues that make their appearances around the city and the young trees that line the sidewalks make for an entirely different atmosphere than Moscow.

I was traveling to Belgorod to visit my friend and fellow Fulbright ETA, Nicky, who is teaching at BelGU, or Belgorod State University. After meeting me at the train station (and perking my sleepy-self up with a chocolate bar and orange), we strolled along the main streets of the city toward her university. After asking me about my first impressions of her much-smaller-than-mine city, I immediately responded, "It's clean. It's really clean." And I wasn't kidding. Compared to Moscow, the Belgorod streets looked like they were hosed down and power-brushed by zamboni street-cleaners on the hour, every hour. Nicky laughed and remarked that cleanliness is what all outsiders say upon arriving in Belgorod, and it is exactly this trait of which Belgorod-ians are most proud.

Upon arriving at her super-modern university (at least when compared to mine), we began walking across a bridge located outside the front doors of her dormitory. The bridge is covered in padlocks, and on each one the names of a newly-married couple and their date of marriage is engraved. According to modern Belgorod tradition, there are 7 (I think) places in the city that each newlywed couple must visit, and on this bridge, it is good luck to leave a lock. Some say that the bridge will collapse one day soon because of all the extra weight...I wouldn't be surprised.

It was on the bridge that we ran into Igor, an IT employee at BelGU and a private English student of Nicky's. He invited us to his office for tea and snacks, and after about 3 hours of broken conversation in English and dramatic storytelling in Russian, he guided us to the 'Winter Garden,' or greenhouse on the sixth floor of the building. Not only did this garden feature plants from around the world, but also fish, birds, and reptiles (including a boa constrictor). It was pretty impressive. We also visited Nicky's departmental office and met a few of her colleagues. Naturally, I was asked my impressions of their city and university. I unashamedly pronounced: "Clean and modern." They were pleased to hear that.

Then we met Nicky's German friend Suzanne outside the university. Suzanne is also in Belgorod on a very similar program as the Fulbright ETA, although she teaches German and is in the midst of organizing a massive conference for all of her colleagues from around Russia to showcase the program and help build upon it for the future. Suzanne also speaks flawless English, and it was in her apartment that I spent Saturday night, as Nicky's dormitory was under a 'no-guest quarantine' policy thanks to the swine flu scare (as is my dorm and most others around Russia, Eastern Europe, and Central Asia from what I gather).

The rest of my more or less day-and-a-half in Belgorod was spent exploring the city sights. We strolled through the main market to pick up fruits and vegetables for dinner. We walked along and across a quaint river that runs through the city. We saw the exhibits in the Belgorod Regional Museum, which ranged from soil and stuffed-wildlife samples (my kinda thing!) to Jurassic period flint samples, all the way through to Soviet-era sport memorabilia. We took a 'night hike' up the 383 (or somewhere thereabouts) stairs that lead to the top of a hill which overlooks the city to see it lit up at night. The hill itself has fallen victim to many a construction project, so new apartment buildings and businesses line the top of it, but there is also an impressive statue of Prince Vladimir. Old Vlad's contribution to Russian history was the wholesale adoption and enforcement of Orthodox Christianity from Constantinople to Kievan Rus' in 988 A.D.---some may even consider him the man behind the Russian Empire, as his choice of Orthodoxy to reign in paganism led to the first comprehensive territory across the land.

Perhaps the querkiest thing happened within the last three hours of my departure back to Moscow on Sunday night. Nicky and I were sitting in her favorite coffee shop (the chic "Coffee Bean" attached to the Art Museum) playing a makeshift game of dominoes while Suzanne worked on her conference planning, and in walked one of Nicky's English students. She came right up to say hello and then told us that she met another American in the city, and he was on his way to the coffee shop as we spoke. Sure enough, a few minutes later a tall brown-haired (definitely non-Russian) looking man walked into the shop and introduced himself as Joe.

Joe is a hockey player, and has been traveling around the world playing in different leagues since his adolescence. Having made his way through the US (he is originally from Long Island but lived in Seattle for a time), Canada, Italy, and China (where he played in Shanghai), he had finally come to Russia. Joe had just finished a stint with a team in Samara before his agent gave him the news that he would be transfered to the Belgorod team on a possible two-year contract. He said he loved Russia so far, but he didn't speak a word of the language. Well, almost no words. He went up to the bar to order a black tea (чай черный, or 'chai chorniy'), but his variant was a nonchalant 'chai chairny.' After ordering, he came back to our table to tell us of his success at being understood by the barrista, and then remarked that those are the only two words of Russian he would ever need to speak: "Chai chairny, brother. That's all you need to know." I gave Joe my phone number in case his team ever travels up to Moscow. I hope to treat him to some more tea, just to see the reaction of a not-so-friendly Muscovite.

My time in Belgorod was super. It was great to see how another Fulbright ETA lives and the differences between cities, universities, students and friends. But I was hit hard by reality once I arrived back in Moscow early Monday morning. Cold, misty, and most visible of all after Belgorod--dirty. Classes went relatively well on Monday and Tuesday, but I struggled through class on Wednesday with my non-responsive group of professors. But, the evening picked-up, as I led an 'excursion' of Lingva students to the movies to see '500 Days of Summer,' which I found playing in English with Russian subtitles at a theater downtown. I saw this movie in September before leaving for Russia, and jumped at the chance to see it again. Thankfully, the students also really enjoyed it. We finished the evening with a midnight walk through a park before returning home just before the dormitories closed at 1am.

Needless to say, I'm a little sleepy today. Guess I need some of that chai chairny, brother.

The self-consciousness of my self-conscious self-conscience

2009-11-03T14:18:00.003+03:00

Everyone here looks at me funny.

Is it my clothes? I don’t have a black pleather or down jacket, so maybe that’s it.

Is it my face? I’m trying my best to adopt the oft-expressionless glare, but my nodding-and-tight-lipped-smiling-upon-making-eye-contact tendency is a dead giveaway.

Is it my hair? I am devoid of a mullet or shaved head, so that may have to change. On second thought, no it doesn't.

Is it that my eyes always seem to be bloodshot? I blame my new contact lens solution, or maybe its just the dirt.

Or am I imagining all of this? Probably not. I do give off the ‘sore thumb’ vibe here.

As far as I'm concerned, however, the real sore thumbs are those wearing surgical masks against swine flu. Check this out. http://www.rferl.org/content/Swine_Flu_Fear_Leads_To_Designer_Masks_In_Kazakhstan/1802846.html

Also, I butchered a fried chicken yesterday. It became part of my 11 pm dinner.

Snowing on Halloween

2009-11-02T12:05:00.001+03:00

Halloween morning in Moscow brought the second day of snow in a row. I woke up to see specks falling from the sky, and I bundled up against the cold (futilely) and did my best not to slip on the sheets and puddles of ice as I walked outside. It’s -1 degrees Celsius outside constantly now. And everyone keeps telling me that this is ‘summer’ weather.

I gave five presentations about Halloween to students and professors alike this last week--they seem fascinated by the whole idea of dressing up and eating candy. And the more I talked about it, the more excited I got to celebrate it. My friend and fellow Fulbrighter/Middlebury suitemate, Thaddeus, hosted a Halloween party at his apartment in downtown Moscow which he shares with two other Fulbrighters, Emily and Sasha, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. On Halloween morning, one of my second-year Linva students, Sveta, took me to a costume shop where I bought a Sherlock Holmes-type hat to go along with my sports coat and tie (all on top of my long underwear, of course). I even made a pipe out of paper to top the costume off. Although it was kind of sad that the only thing I had to buy to look like Sherlock Holmes was a hat...do I really dress that old-fashioned?

The party was a blast. I got to spend it with fellow English-speakers and met a few very interesting people, including another English teacher from Scotland/Canada/India/England and an American from North Dakota working for a pair of companies in Moscow. I hope to run into them again sometime and someplace in the future…it was great being able to joke around and have people laugh because they actually understand you.

Tonight, Monday night, I will be screening the classic ‘Hocus Pocus’ for all the Lingva students, and then we will have a Halloween party of our own featuring American songs (once again, the singing!) and hopefully some food. One guy, Alex, even offered to bring in a pumpkin for me to carve. It’s been a while since I’ve done that, but I’ll give it a go!

Sokolniki Park

2009-11-02T00:01:00.002+03:00

On Friday morning I was taken on an excursion by Irina Petrovna and another professor in the Russian as a Foreign Language department, along with several other foreign students and a professor (5 ethnic Uighur Chinese and an Iranian family of 3). We rode the trolleybus and metro to Sokolniki Park (Falcon Park), which is situated on the old hunting grounds of the tsar. Of course, rather than leave the park in its most natural form, the Soviets laid down cement paths throughout the area in addition to big exhibition pavilions and funhouses/carnival attractions for children, which are of course closed down in this weather and instead give the appearance of a horror film set. As for the paths, no cement can withstand the cold conditions of Moscow unscathed, and so most of them are cracked and potholed.

But, we were not there to critique the park’s construction. We were going to see the exhibits in the pavilions. Right now, there is a special exhibit on world calligraphy, which I found fascinating. And talk about a contrast between the appearance of the park outside and the interior of this pavilion/museum. It is super modern inside. A white, minimalist design set-off by blue lights and wide open spaces between exhibit-cubes. White roses and sculptures tastefully placed throughout the pavilion, in addition to telescopes--the reasoning was as such: there was a motif that the art of calligraphy comes from the heart and travels through the soul, thus becoming a ’higher’ or ’universal’ art. In one room in the center of the first floor of the pavilion was a fireplace, above which was a work of art that consisted of a golden 3-D heart emerging from a red background. If you stood in front of this piece and looked straight ahead, you would be led to a free-standing staircase. At the top of this staircase was one small room in which was placed an example of ancient Hebrew calligraphy found near Mt. Sinai. This was supposed to represent the soul. Then, if you went up to the second floor of the pavilion you could see a few posters on the ceiling above this free-standing ’soul room’. Looking through a telescope, you could see that the posters showed Earth and the planets--a representation of the universe and our small role within it. Strange? Yes. But nonetheless done tastefully? Yes.

The Most Bonkers Week(end) Ever...and a Valuable Lesson Learned

2009-11-01T21:36:00.001+03:00

(Written Wednesday, October 28)

This entry’s alternate title: “The Five F-sounding Things---Family, Fun, Food, Philosophy and Phillies”

On Saturday, October 17 I received a gift. The gift of a respite from Moscow. It had only been three weeks, but life in Moscow to this point had been quite oppressive. The ‘big city attitude’ is pervasive here--many people act with little regard for others, rudeness seems to be the characteristic of choice, and the weather…oh, the weather. Despite the acts of kindness I had witnessed and been a recipient of, I needed a break.

Ironically enough, my thanks for this sanity-saving trip actually go out to the one thing that has angered me the most so far about my time here--the Russian bureaucracy. The bureaucracy’s way of disrupting the simplest things and making everything half as efficient as it should be actually paved the way for my return. I had been in Russia on a tourist visa after the big bureaucratic mix-up with my university in Kamchatka and the rushed decision to place me in my current Moscow university. Tourist visas only last 30 days and cannot be extended, thus forcing me to return to the US to apply for a long-term student visa (but even this can only have a maximum 90-day length, so I have to extend it for a fee once back in Moscow).

So, after three weeks of breaking-in and finally finding something resembling a rhythm in Moscow, my rhythm was disrupted by a ten-and-a-half hour flight home next to a screaming infant from Ulan-Ude (just north of the Mongolian border relatively close to Lake Baikal in Siberia) who had just been adopted by an American couple. On top of this, the terrible head-cold I picked up in Moscow was still plaguing me. I thought I would be escaping the miserable weather of Moscow, but the day I returned to the US was a day of only 45 F and rain…what happened to this world? Thankfully, this would soon change into a stretch of 75 F and sunny, a world and a half away from what I had been living with in Russia.

I spent the first few days with family (my sister Lauren even came down from NYC to visit) and sleeping off my jetlag and my cold. And of course, I took advantage of every opportunity to watch American football and baseball---as long as I could stay awake, that is. I could not have asked for a better time to come home, as I was able to watch the Phillies top the Dodgers for the second straight year to win the NL pennant. It’s just too bad that I’m not around to watch them defend their World Series title, but I receive updates every morning from my Dad! I also feasted on some great food that I had really been craving: namely, meat. It’s near impossible to cook meat in my dormitory kitchen, and any meat products I have tried in my cafeteria have been supremely disappointing and often leave me either picking bone chunks out of my teeth or questioning the actual nature of ‘said meat’. (BTW, thanks Genny for showing me Elevation Burger. That place rocks my socks.)

It also just so happened that a week after I arrived back in the US was Homecoming at W&M. Talk about good luck. Even though I received my visa just five days after returning to the US, I decided to stick around for another five so I could go down to Williamsburg and see friends and professors. The best part of it all: I only told a handful of people about my return and my intention to head down to the College. For the rest, it was a big surprise. And I got some people really good: Paige and Tim--you‘ll probably never pick up a phone call from me again. Lamonster--I wish I could have done something a little more dramatic, but your tears were enough for me. Welle--if only Clay hadn’t blown it (but I still love you, Clay). Hunt 2nd girls & Colleen--what a treat to see you at the football game. Paulie--try not to tackle me next time I see you, okay? (just kidding, it was the best tackle ever) And to everyone--it was just really darn good to see you all.

Of course, I also have to mention how lucky I was to return to the States at just the right time to see ‘Where The Wild Things Are’ with Genny and Kelley. What a treat. I had been so distraught when I first learned that I would miss its release in theaters by going to Russia, but once again, I have reason to send the omnipresent Russian bureaucracy a ‘thank you’ card and box of chocolates. Maybe with the following phrase written inside: “Aw, that was my favorite arm!” Genius.

I had an unreal time back in the US. Despite my mind still being half in Moscow thinking about (and sort of dreading) having to return, I truly enjoyed myself through and through. It was, as Paige so aptly put, a ‘bonkers’ week(end). But, while speaking with everyone about my time in Russia so far, my mind kept forming the phrase, “So far so sh*tty”. It was honestly how I felt. Being in the company of people that you love so much, realizing what you left behind, and wishing you could bring everyone back with you left me with a feeling of desperation, loneliness, and deep pessimism about the remainder of my time in Moscow. Compared to Williamsburg, my area of Moscow is a super depressing place. But I also received some great words of encouragement from everyone.

I have since returned to Moscow, once again suffering from jetlag, and have come to live by the following:

THIS IS AN ADVENTURE, SILLY. TAKE ADVANTAGE OF EVERYTHING.

From now on, I will have more fun in my classes. From now on, I won’t put so much pressure on myself when working with the professors; after all, I’m not a professional teacher, nor is it my job to be one. From now on, I will do my best to accept every invitation from people to travel throughout Moscow and beyond. From now on, I will explore everything. And perhaps most exciting to me right now: from now on, I will try to learn as much as I can about agriculture while posted at this university. It may just lead me somewhere in the future.

I like kind people. They are kind.

2009-10-16T10:17:00.003+04:00

1. Kind ol' Vladimir Ilyich.

I have no idea what this guy's actual job is. He works (I think) as some sort of administrator in the Lingva (international language) department, which is the department through which I give all of my presentations to the English-learning students on Wed-Fri nights. His desk is in the main office, where there is a second desk for other professors stopping in to use the computer, a large table on which sit many books of language instruction, a REALLY nice flat-screen TV (no idea why it's there seeing as the department doesn't even have projectors or computers that were made after 1995), and several electric tea kettles and a cupboard full of dozens of teacups, tea, coffee, and cookies.

I go to this office to rest between lectures, and he always welcomes me with open arms. He does not speak a word of English, but speaks very slow Russian for me. He sits me down, makes me a cup of tea, and sometimes gives me an entire unopened box of moon-pies to take home for snacking on. When I asked him where the bathroom was (after my fourth cup of tea the other night), he insisted on taking me by the arm and walking me through the maze of hallways about 200 yards away to point it out to me.

There are also always students in the office chatting with him, drinking tea, eating cookies, or watching tv. The students generally know who I am and they also stop and speak with me--some in Russian, some in English. I really like the atmosphere in the office, and I really like kind ol' Vladimir Ilyich.

2. Anna Voronina.

Anna is one of the professors that I teach in the intermediate group. She is in the economics department and works specifically on agricultural economic forecasting. She is probably about 35 years old and actually knows a good deal of English (maybe she should be in the advanced group). In class, she sometimes give me looks like: "I already know all of this..." and "This seems dumb." She is almost always the first one to answer my questions (even if they are not posed to her), although when she does answer them, her grammar is often far from correct...so I'm keeping her in the intermediate class.

Last night's class got to be visibly challenging for me at one point because one of the professors was being very difficult and others did not seem to understand what I spent the previous hour talking about even though they did not ask any questions when I asked if everything was clear.

After class, Anna came up to me completely on her own volition and asked if she could speak to me for a minute. She looked very serious, as she normally does, and I was expecting her to ask to be moved to the advanced class or to tell me to do things differently (and to be honest, I would not have been surprised if either of these was the case, and I would have even welcomed suggestions).

However, Anna wanted to sympathize with me. She wanted to give me words of encouragement. She said that I was doing a great job, and that she and everyone else in the class understand how difficult it is to teach for the first time. She even said that she could only imagine how hard it was working with people so much older than I. She told me not to pay attention to the fact that many of them talk amongst themselves in Russian during the class---that it is simply them trying to explain to one another the concepts I am covering. She assured me that I was making things interesting and they were not bored. She even said it was a relief for all of them to be able to 'switch places' for 6 hours a week and sit and listen to lectures rather than deliver them.

THEN, she invited me to join her and her family whenever I wanted to be shown around Moscow and beyond. She said that she knows it must be hard in a new country, and that if I ever needed anything or wanted to go on an excursion with her family, I could simply ask. So ask I shall.

3. Dmitry and Timur.

Dmitry and Timur re two second-year Lingva students that I give presentations to on Thursday nights. Last night, after what I felt was a disastrous class with the economics professors and after a cup of tea and two moon-pies with Vladimir Ilyich, I went to give a presentation on the American South to this group of students. It was a KILLER presentation. They loved it. I loved giving it. STELLAR. I didn't even get home to eat dinner until 10pm.

Afterwards, several students came up to me to thank me for my energy and my presentation. Dmitry, gave me his 'business card' and invited me to visit his home village and his family outside of Moscow. His father is an army translator and his mother is an English teacher. He said we could take a weekend trip to his village to meet his family and we could speak both in English and Russian. He was very excited to have me over. I just don't know when I can manage it. I get so many invitations for weekend trips that all my weekends from now until July will be filled within a couple more weeks...

Then Timur came up to speak with me. I had met Timur the week before, and was immediately struck by his appearance and demeanor. He wears very very very baggy clothing. Jeans that hang well below his backside and massive sweatshirts with 'Air Jordan' logos. I asked him if he plays basketball, and he said "No, but it gives me pleasure to watch it" (I should note here that Russians don't have a colloquial equivalent to 'enjoy'...so their anglicized versions of this phrase sound quite strange). Well, last night Timur had a giant smile on his face after the presentation and wanted to talk to me about music. I had covered rock & roll and its evolution from Elvis to Jimi Hendrix to Aerosmith, etc. and I made a big deal about Woodstock. Timur thought it was awesome. Then, he commented that I sounded sick, and asked me what I was doing to feel better. I said drinking lots of tea with honey, and was really impressed. He explained to me that honey is a part of Russia's tradition, and I had to explain to him that in America it was not taken quite as seriously...it was a real shame to him. Then we talked a bit about the American education system, which he also found fascinating.

Dmitry and Timur and two cool guys.

I got a lot of other invitations from other kind people, including one to a reggae festival (what three girls believed to be the equivalent of Woodstock in Russia). The funny thing was that one of the girls was the same who asked me about 'war reinactors' in the US...she then gave me a 15-minute explanation that she just got into this reinactment gig and has already done 'shows' depicting the 1812 Russian victory over Napoleon at Borodino and then a WWII show where she was the nurse for a mortar team. Interesting, but kind.

Remedies

2009-10-14T11:33:00.002+04:00

I'm quickly learning how unaccustomed I am to Russian weather. I have come down with a real head cold, but luckily Russians have a particular trait that turns each and every one of them into worried mothers at the first sign of sickness. I can't count on my fingers the number of people who have given me advice or brought me some kind of remedy to help me feel better.

Here are the highlights of what I have so far received:

-Boxes and bags of chocolates and sweets. Apparently chocolate is good for a healthy mind. When Elvira surprisingly remarked that I had not devoured the entire box of 30+ chocolates that she had given me only 3 days before, I told her that I did not have a real sweet-tooth. She encouraged me to eat them all (what, right now?!), but then said that my abstinence from the whole box was probably the reason I had such nice teeth. I'm not convinced that I do in fact have such a nice set of pearly-whites, but by Russian standards, I'm a dental phenomenon.

-A very strong liquor from the Chuvash republic (not sure how that's spelled), which is Elvira's homeland. She mixed me a drink of this liquor, which tastes like Jaegermeister or some other aperitif of thick consistency, put in about 3 spoonfuls of homemade honey (also from Elvira), and hot water. It was awful.

-Some type of clear-liquid cough medicine, which Elvira insists needs to be taken four or five times a day and administered as such: one teaspoon of the medicine and about two or three teaspoons of hot water. Mixed with the water, the whole concoction becomes a milky-white color. Again, awful.

-Herbs and other greenery which Elvira insists need to be boiled and then left in water for about a day before the water is drunk. I'm not sure about this. It looks like a bunch of branches and leaves she picked up off the ground...I've decided to leave it alone, because if it gives off any kind of scent or tastes anything like the previous two remedies, I want no part of it.

-Elvira insists that I wrap my head and throat with a scarf while I sleep. I find this unnecessary, since they finally turned on the central heating in the dormitory and now I feel like a pig on a roasting stick every night as I try to fall asleep.

-The aforementioned jar of homemade honey from Elvira. She says that her father is a beekeeper in the Chuvash republic, and she herself donned the beekeeper suit not too long ago to extract this particular batch of honey. Now this one I can deal with. It's delicious. She and Leila recommended that I eat a spoonful every morning when I wake up, and I do...I also put it in my tea and my oatmeal every morning. But just the other day Leila tells me in Russian: "You shouldn't go outside for two hours after eating honey since it weakens your immune system." Great, now she tells me. No wonder I got sick!!!!

-Leila also presented me with a special expensive bottle of mineral water from Germany found in only the most upscale grocery stores in Moscow. She says this is the only water she drinks and that is very good for your health. It tastes like water.

Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the fact that I have people who are concerned and looking out for me, but when I'm sick I prefer to be left alone so I can rest. So when Elvira came knocking at 9:30pm last night to administer these various remedies and to show me an entire photo album of her family, it was not exactly what I had in mind for a 'healing process'. But, such is the Russian psyche, and I'm learning to live with it.

Some Choice Photos

2009-10-13T13:58:00.011+04:00

I realize I've been entirely negligent about putting up some photos of my new surroundings. To be honest, I haven't taken many so far, but here is a sampling of some of my favorites:

Here is my Soviet style dormitory. I live on the fifth-floor on the opposite side of the building.

Here a photo of my bedroom. At the foot

of my bed is my closet, which doesn't open all the way thanks to the bed. The mattress is just skinny enough to fit one person, and thin enough to ensure that you wake up with bedspring marks in your back. My desk (a table) is next to the bed.

This is the State Historical Museum which lies at one end of Red

Square directly across from St. Basil's Cathedral. It is a super impressive building, and the museum's collection is really impressive.

St. Basil's Cathedral. Likely the most recognizable symbol not only in Moscow, but in all of Russia. It is actually nine small churches inside of one cathedral, the grandest of which was built to commemorate Ivan the Terrible's capture of Kazan in 1552 from the Mongol Khanate.

On the left is one of the grand

pavilions in VDNKh, the park built to host all exhibitions and celebrations of Soviet agriculture and economics. The park is still used for such exhibitions, and when I visited there was a lot of tractor equipment there...

Here is one view from Ismailova Park, a gigantic bizarre of kitschy Russian and Soviet goods, mostly made just for souvenirs and therefore outrageously overpriced for their quality. It stands amongst these facades of medieval castles and such...not sure if these are replications of actual structures that stood here way back when or just for show. But nonetheless fun.

And finally...my favorite piece. This painting stood in one of the aisles of Ismailova Park. I only wish it had been for sale. I would have traded all the matroshka dolls in the world for this baby.

Weekend Update with Bryan Terrill

2009-10-12T10:55:00.002+04:00

Phew, it’s been a while since I updated the ol’ blog. So much has happened this last week that I’ve found myself without any time to get down to what’s really important…that is, helping Tim Bacon procrastinate (I do love you, Tim, believe me). So, without any further ado, I bring you a series of anecdotes to summarize my previous week--week 2 if you’re keeping track--in Moscow. I know it’s long, but I promise this entry is worth reading, at least in my mind (I‘ve put an asterisk next to the anecdotes that are most amusing or interesting if you don't have time for all).

*The Russian Law Ain’t Nothing to Mess With

The overwhelming story of this week has been my illegal residence in Moscow. After a mix-up (lost in translation, you might say) with the authorities at my dormitory, I did not receive my official registration that proves that I am allowed to be in Moscow. If one is stopped without proper documentation in Russia, you could really be in some deep sh*t. Like getting detained. Fined. Deported. Not fun stuff. So, there I was for almost two whole weeks without proper documents. I was really stressed out, to say the least. After being bounced from office to office and only understanding a handful of what was said to me in very rapid official-sounding Russian, the International Office at the university stepped in and got everything sorted out. Thank goodness. I’m finally here legally, at least for the next week before I go home to get a new visa and have to repeat the entire registration process over again…

*Uncle Sam in Moscow

This past Monday and Tuesday was our Fulbright in-country orientation. Fulbright paid for all ETAs and research grantees living outside of Moscow (and there are a lot) to fly to the capital for a brief respite and some presentations on the Russian economy, political climate, security issues, and also to learn about the services provided by the English Language Office at the US Embassy and the American Center in Moscow.

The U.S. Embassy is a very impressive complex. You enter, after many security checks, through a courtyard in which stands a statue of John Adams---the first American ambassador to Russia. The interior of the embassy is spotless, and we were even shown to the massive recreation area where there is a fully-stocked gym, swimming pool, and basketball/volleyball court. This is, of course, after passing by the food court, barber shop, movie rental shop, souvenir shop…like a small village inside the embassy.

The ETAs were also shown the ELO (English Language Office) where we absolutely RAIDED the bookshelves for materials to use in class. The people who worked there were extremely kind and said we could help ourselves to anything (and we did) while providing us plastic bags in which to carry back our treasures. One of them even broke out some red caviar for us to try which one of the language officers had just brought back from…KAMCHATKA! It was so good that it made me a little sad.

Evenings were spent in the company of the other ETAs, and they were good evenings, to say the least. We bought foodstuffs from local grocery stores and returned to the Holiday Inn where we were being put up (very nice Holiday Inn in Moscow, I recommend it) for feasts in our rooms. Of course, there was also vodka involved and lots of great laughs. We even bought a melon from a street vendor who was beside himself when he found out we were Americans. He threw up his hands and shouted: “Barack Obama!” and made some reference to how George W. Bush should be hung. We felt a little uneasy after that last comment, but then he made it up to us by offering us free plums from his home region in the Caucasus. Delicious plums.

*Touristy Things with Americans

Of course, the presentations were of the least importance to most of us Fulbrighters. With the ETAs all back together again for the first time since our D.C. Orientation in July, it was bound to be a weekend of romping around Moscow. And it was. Most people arrived on Saturday, and we spent the weekend doing all the touristy things:

1) We woke up early on Sunday to visit THE mausoleum and see the mummified body of Vladimir Lenin. CREEPIEST EXPERIENCE EVER. Hands-down. After waiting in line and depositing all of our bags, mobile phones, cameras, etc in a booth (for a price, of course) we walked through a metal detector and then along the red walls of the Kremlin and the graves of many Soviet leaders and heroes. Of course, it is said that you had to kill at least 1000 people to have the honor of being buried there. Next, you entered the mausoleum itself. It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s made of all-black marble with minimum lighting. It’s like a maze. You try your best to keep your eyes on the person in front of you while simultaneously watching the ground so you don’t trip. There are guards posted at every corner who “SSHH!” you as loud as possible if you make even the tiniest squeak. They yip and yap at you if you put your hands in your pockets for fear that you have a camera or some sort of device that will cause damage to the Father of the USSR. After several twists and turns, you arrive at the display area. Lenin’s body is preserved in a glass case in the center of the room. Spotlights shine on him. His skin is waxen and he wears a black suit and tie. His lower body is covered in a blanket. Flowers surround him inside the case. It is said that it may not be his real body anymore. You walk up a small set of stairs to a platform where you can look down on him, then down another set of stairs on your way out. The whole experience takes about 1 minute. It’s freakin’ weird.

2) We entered St. Basil’s Cathedral. Really amazing. It’s actually nine small churches (hence the nine onion-domes) inside one building, constructed to commemorate Ivan IV (The Terrible) and his success in recapturing Kazan back in the 1500s, I think. The walls of every room are adorned with paintings, even in the hallways. The first room that you enter is the grave of St. Basil himself, and it the most impressive of all the rooms, with murals, icons, and a golden chandelier. The main church (the one that specifically commemorates the Battle for Kazan is very high and also impressive. It was kind of one of those surreal moments when you can’t believe that after having seen photos of this building for so long and studied the history behind it and surrounding it, you are finally and actually inside of it. But perhaps even more breath-taking than the interior is the view that it allows over Red Square. Truly a sight to behold.

3) We went into the State Historical Museum which lies directly across Red Square from St. Basil’s. Unfortunately, we didn’t know how large the museum was and didn’t give ourselves enough time to see the whole thing, especially since we paid to also see the current special exhibit on the golden treasures of the imperial Kremlin, and it was remarkable. We spent so much time in those couple of rooms marveling at how beautiful their treasures were that we had to race through the rest of the museum in order to meet up with some other people at another location. After seeing the treasures, it’s no wonder that the people revolted against the Romanovs…much like the treasures at Versailles seem to validate the French Revolution. But, we also saw a great exhibit on Bulgarian iconic art and what we did see of the imperial wardrobes and armory were very impressive.

4) The Tretyakovskaya Gallery. The largest collection of Russian art in the world. One word: WOW. Again, we didn’t have enough time to see the whole thing (we kept coming across new rooms and exhibits), but I will surely be going back to this one. The art was beautiful. And I saw so many paintings that I recognized from textbooks or had read about during my time in the Russian Studies Program at W&M…it was unreal.

Hard Knock Life.

I think I’ve already made it clear that I’m teaching professors. Not students, but rather people in the age range of 35-55. This is not easy. In fact, it kind of sucks. I was looking forward to interacting with students at the university---people within 10 years of my own age. But alas, I’m stuck with people who are rather set in their ways. In other words, they are, on the whole, not very interested in learning English (they are being forced into this program by the vice-rector), and they are DEFINITELY not interested in learning English from someone less than half their own age. The number of eye-rolls and smirks I’ve received during class is getting out of control. I’m trying to make things interesting for them by discussing issues of concern in their fields, but I’m having a hard time finding articles we can discuss on soil science that I even remotely understand.

A Sigh of Relief.

There has, however, been some good news on the class front. I administered a test to all 50 or so professors who would be included in my ‘program’ (even though I’m totally not qualified to issue any sort of such test or judge the results) and then split up the professors into five groups. At first, I had two Beginner groups---about 7 members of these groups had absolutely NO experience in English whatsoever, and they displayed this fact in a variety of ways. They either 1) stood up and walked out about 10 minutes into the hour-long test period without saying a word, 2) came up to me and explained in very rapid Russian that they did not know any English but rather spoke fluent German or Kazakh as a second language, or 3) sat through the entire hour (I suppose to be polite?) and then handed me a blank grammar test and a written explanation about their insufficient English skills. I also had 2 groups of Intermediate speakers and one group of advanced.

I sent in the test results and my groupings to the vice-rectors office along with a note of concern---I am not in any way qualified to teach English from the ground-up. I am not a professionally-trained grammar instructor, and quite frankly, it’s impossible to get anyone in those two beginner groups to fluent lecture-level English in just 8 months. Thankfully, the vice-rector agreed, and decided to scrap those two groups. So now I’m only teaching three groups of professors: the advanced group meets once-a-week on Monday night for three hours, and the two intermediate groups meet twice a week (Tues/Thurs and Wed/Fri) for three hours each. It takes a lot of pressure off my shoulders.

Young People DO Exist in Russia!

I have also been lucky enough to get to meet a bunch of the students studying in the Lingva faculty here at the university. That is, they are taking specialized courses in English in the foreign language department. They take these classes for three years, so there are three groups of them: 1st year, 2nd year, and…you guessed it, 3rd year. I met most of them by way of ‘shuttle’. In other words, Irina Petrovna, a very dear woman who is an English professor and who runs the Russian Language for Foreigners department, literally shuttled me around from classroom to classroom interrupting the students’ studies so I could speak for 10-20 minutes about why I am at the university and what I would like to do with them. So, I have now scheduled English ‘conversation hours’ three nights a week at 8PM with the three levels of students (Wed for 3rd year, Thurs for 2nd year, and Fri for 1st year). I have held two of these meetings so far, and they have been wildly successful, drawing about 25 students per meeting (on a Friday night, no less) so they could hear a presentation and see photos of myself, my home, W&M, etc and then sing an American song together.

Russians Love to Sing Songs.

There is a custom and a tradition in Russia to sing together. On any occasion, or perhaps on no occasion at all. There is simply a love of song and dance. Children are taught songs of the people (folk songs, if you will), and they stick with them for life. So, naturally, I am expected to present an American song at each of my conversation hours for all the students to sing together. I like this custom. A lot.

*The Interests of Said “Young People” in Russia Having to do with the US of A

All W&M-ers will rejoice to know that I decided to teach the students a country song as a stereotypical introduction of American music styles, and I chose none other than our beloved ‘Wagon Wheel’ by OCMS. The Russkies LOVED it.

When I asked the students what things they are interested in concerning America so I could prepare for future presentations, I got a wide range of responses. Things as general and yet complex as American music styles (Eminem and Beyonce seem pretty popular among the youth here---and Beyonce is coming to Moscow on November 2 so GET YOUT TICKETS NOW!), literature (a few of them even cited Hemingway’s ‘A Farewell to Arms’ and I think I fell in love with them from that moment on), and American stereotypes seem to be the favorites. I did, however, get a couple really weird requests:

*At one point I asked what sort of sports people were interested in. Most laughed and groaned when I said I played baseball, exclaiming that the rules were too complicated and that I would have to explain it to them. But one young woman said: DARTS. Not kidding. “I am interesting in darts” were her exact words. My eyebrows went up as I said “Darts?! You mean, like, throwing darts?” (as I mimicked the action). “Yes,” she replied, “I am interesting in darts.” Whoa. A whole presentation on darts? Well, I’ll see what I can do.

*The one that takes the cake, however, has to be “Please tell us about reinactors in America.” I thought I misunderstood her. “Reinactors? You mean, people who wear costumes of war uniforms and reinact battles?” “Yes.” What planet is this young woman from? I chuckled and said, that I could easily do such a presentation, because my university is very old and located on and near old battlefields of the Revolutionary War, and there were lots of reinactors around my campus. Stupid, stupid me. Why did I say that? She got really excited (as did a lot of other people), so now I have to do that. But what in the world do I talk about for a whole hour?

*A Lack of Culture.

During my ‘shuttle’ session between classes, one of the professors (an extremely nice young man with very good English skills named Andrei Victorovich) asked me what I found most shocking about Russia so far. I pretended not to know what to say, but he saw right through me and blurted out: “The unhappy faces. The rude appearance of people.” “Well, yes, I suppose that is a bit of a shock,” I replied. I explained to him and the class that in America people often smile and ask one another how they are doing (even if it is simply superficial and out of courtesy). No such custom exists in Russia. If you are not well-acquainted with someone, then you avoid eye contact with them altogether. If you do make eye contact with someone unknown to you, then there seems to be an immediate suspicion of your intentions and you get what I call the ‘death-frown’ or the ‘death-stare’. The students all laughed and smiled at me (I guess we’re on good terms now), and Andrei said something about the very hostile nature of Russians. I wanted to be polite and said that I didn’t necessarily think it was hostility (at least not all the time), but rather simply a part of their ingrained culture. His reply: “Or lack of culture.”

Never thought I would hear that from a Russian.

An Invitation to Walk.

After meeting and befriending a Russian, whether it is a student or the odd professor, they often invite you to do something so that you can chat and get to know one another better. This usually consists of sitting around and drinking tea and eating sweets, cookies, and fruit. But I have also noticed that Russians love to walk. Anywhere. For any length of time. In any weather. Simply to walk. I have been invited on several such walks (and have unfortunately had to reschedule some do to illness and/or over-booking for the sheer number of walking invitations), and they have all been enjoyable. Students have offered to take me to galleries in Moscow, others through Red Square, others to parks, more to museums. I commented on this tradition to one of my walking companions and was told that Russians simply love to be outdoors. I dig that. I just have to get used to taking a leisurely stroll while straining not only my Russian skills but my senses in the face of the near-freezing winds that are already frequenting the Moscow area.

Door-to-Door Visits and Hospitality

In the same vein as walking invitations, some Russians are legitimately and eagerly curious to get to know you as a foreigner, perhaps especially as an American--a people of whom many have been brought up to be suspicious. Last Thursday night, at about 10pm (my night was definitely winding down and I was about to go to sleep), I got a knock on my door. Standing outside were two women, one of whom I recognized from the English testing a couple days before. She introduced herself as Elvira and then introduced her friend, Leila, who was here visiting her but was to be returning soon to her home out by the Urals. They asked if they could stop by my room again in about 20 minutes to chat and get to know one another. I said “Yes, of course,” but kind of regretted my decision since I was so tired.

But, about half-an-hour later they came back all dressed-up and commented that they were a bit surprised to see me still wearing my sweatshirt…I guess I was supposed to don my Sunday-bests for this get-together. I asked them if they wanted tea, and Elvira said to me that in Russia, you don’t ask if people want tea---it’s simply customary, and that I should have already had it brewed and ready for their arrival. I apologized, but they laughed and took about three boxes of chocolates out of their bags and began arranging everything on my desk, regardless of where my papers and computer were laying. They said that they just wanted to get to know me better and learn about my culture and so forth, which was very endearing. We spent about an hour and a half chatting in Russian. I didn’t realize how the time had flown by. They are both very kind and in the days since have proven to be very genuine people, bringing me home-made honey, more chocolates, grapes, meats, maps of the city, and even two editions of a Russian magazine that Leila works on that is all about wine. She even autographed it for me!

Friday evening, Leila even prepared soup for me and Elvira brought some baked potatoes for a feast in my room. Then they came with me to my conversation hour and offered to show me around the Agricultural Exhibition at VDNKh (the park of Soviet Economic Achievements) on Sunday.

*Personal Space, a Non-Concept in Russia.

I was warned about this before I arrived: Russians don’t have the same ideas about personal space as we do in America. Let me put it this way, if you and one Russian were to board a completely empty metro car, there is about a 1/3 chance that this other person will stand or sit RIGHT NEXT TO YOU. Like it’s no big deal that there is still 500 cubic feet of fresh air surrounding us.

Here’s another anecdote about personal space in the Moscow metro, and I’m not making this one up---it’s also the thing I have found to be the most funny in Russia so far. The seats in the metro cars are like those in the NY Subway---benches with their backs to the wall so as to face one-another. This provides for standing room in the aisles between the benches, but also lots of space by the doors. Well, in Russia, if all the seats are taken, and there is plenty of standing room by the door, people will nonetheless decide to stand directly in front of someone seated on the bench. So picture this (an experience I have endured many times thus far): a man enters the metro car, looks around for a good spot to plant his feet---and there is plenty of space, let me tell you---but he decides to make himself at home right in front of you, so that his crotch is literally a foot away from your eyeballs, directly in your line of sight. There is nowhere else for you to look. So, I simply close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. But you can’t get it out of your mind.

Leila, the 33-year old woman who is friends with Elvira, loves to talk. I appreciate it, because it helps practice my Russian and she keeps me company at a time when I don’t know too many other people. She is legitimately interested in learning about me and my home while also very excited to help me improve my Russian and learn about her country. But again, the personal space thing. When she talks to you, she wants to be right in your face. And I mean all up in it. Oh well, at least I get to speak with someone.

*VDNKh and the Space Museum

Two of the young women who are in one of my intermediate classes (Baya and Tanya---they are both graduate students in the Ecology department) asked me the other day if I had any Russian friends. I said that I didn’t really have any yet and that it has been difficult to meet the students since I’m teaching mostly professors. Following in the Russian vein of inviting someone to walk, they asked if they could take me to the space museum on Saturday. THE SPACE MUSEUM!!!!!!!!! UM, YES!!!!!!!!!!!!! So, we met up and took a variety of transportation (tram, metro, and monorail) to go about three miles to VDNKh, a expo-center built in Soviet times as an homage to the USSR’s economic achievements. Located just outside the grounds of VDNKh is the Russian Museum of Cosmonauts, the equivalent of the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum--one of my favorites. Despite there being some ‘scavenger hunt’ special and having about 20,000 kids running around with clipboards, the museum was really fascinating. Displays and statues about Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, and even the bodies of the two dogs that the Soviets first sent into space (the first living things every in orbit), in stuffed-form. The displays of rockets is quite overwhelming, but still very interesting.

Tanya and Baya then took me to an Italian restaurant where Tanya used to work for pizza and tea. I was supposed to meet my friend Thaddeus at his apartment at 7pm to watch the Russia v. Germany soccer match, but couldn’t turn down a meal with my two student/graduate/friends. They had been so nice all day and I really enjoyed their company. I didn’t take into consideration, however, that Russian meals entail an entire evening of conversation. We shared only one tiny pizza, but we spent about three hours talking about Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize (what?), the Vietnam War, and movies. The whole day/evening was conducted in Russian---despite them being my English students and them really needing to practice their English, I decided that since we were not in class it would be a relief for them to be able to use their own language, not to mention an opportunity for me to practice Russian. It proved to be quite successful. Needless to say, however, I never made it over to Thaddeus’ place.

The next morning (Sunday) I was again taken to VDNKh by Leila to be shown the agricultural expo that is happening right now. It was a lot of tractor equipment. Hey, whatever floats your boat. But, the park area itself is magnificent. Two gigantic fountains. Some very impressively-constructed archways and expo buildings with recognizably Soviet statues, including the ubiquitous Lenin statue in front of the main hall. A makeshift amusement park is also there (at least for this weekend), and lots of food vendors (shashliks--or kebabs, blinis--or pancakes, freshly grilled corn on the cob, popcorn, and sweet and salty almonds). I went into one particular building that featured crafts from Karelia in the north of Russia. These included tapestry-like weaves and woodwork that were very beautiful. Definitely a place I’ll return for some keepsakes.

*IKEA: Celebrating 10 Years in Russia

So one of the real benefits of being in Moscow is that there are some Western conveniences. Despite my dormitory being an old Soviet-style concrete beast with little redeeming qualities (although they did finally turn the central heating on so I no longer wake up like a popsicle), I do have the advantage of being able to shop for some things to make life a bit easier. Enter, IKEA. What a godsend. Kristyna, the Czech PhD student had already been there once and promised to take me so I could buy some pots/pans, etc for my room. We decided to leave around 10am so I could be back around 2pm for a meeting with the vice-rector’s office and to prepare for class later that evening. She said it would only take about 40 minutes via trolleybus and autobus to get there and another 40 to get back.

5 HOURS LATER I finally returned to campus. And I only spent about 30 minutes in the store. Moscow traffic struck again. But, I did come back with the following goodies: a 3-piece set of pots, one pan, one bowl, two plates, three specialty kitchen knives, a set of plastic kitchen utensils (spatula, tongs, etc.), three magazine-rack-paper-holder-things, a cutting board, a cork plate for hot dishes, a desk-lamp with light bulb, 8 clothes hangers, and a power strip----all for about 60 bucks. Good day? Yes.

*Random Friends I Have Made

Besides the numerous students I have exchanged contact information with, I have also befriended a few people who I see on a regular basis:

1) The soup lady. She works at the school cafeteria where I eat lunch every weekday. At first I thought she was more like the soup Nazi of ‘Seinfeld’ fame. She didn’t like how long it took me to figure out what I wanted, but after three days realized it was because I didn’t know what anything was. Now she smiles really widely when she sees me, asks what I’ll be having today, and gives me an extra generous portion. She knows I like the borscht.

2) Akhmed from Syria. He works at a local food stand close to the metro serving lavash with meat--a Middle Eastern burrito-like concoction with veggies, meat, and sour cream wrapped in a thick bread. He smiles at me when I walk by now.

3) Ali the meat guy. This man works behind the meat counter at the local grocery store that I go to most often. I ordered some salami the other day and I mispronounced one word and he immediately asked me where I was from. I timidly said America, and he looked shocked. He asked me what I was doing in that part of Moscow…was I studying? I said I was the new English teacher and the agriculture university. He looked surprised and asked me my name. I told him, and then asked his. He gave me a big smile and said “Ali Ali, like Muhammad Ali” while boxing the air in front of him. I laughed and he kept on smiling. I told him I would be back later and he told me to enjoy the salami.

This morning.

It's Monday morning now, and I have dragged myself out of bed with a terrible head-cold only to find the weather outside absolutely miserable. What feels like freezing rain and wind strong enough to nearly knock over a young woman carrying groceries who I passed on my way to the office. It's 11am and the sky is a dark enough gray to make it seem like 7pm.

When I got to the office, one of the women turned on the light which hangs above my desk and one of the lightbulbs exploded right out of it's socket and came crashing and smashing down onto the desk right next to me in a hundred pieces. I think it's high time I get out of here. Just five more days and I'm on a plane.

So that’s my last week in a nutshell. It was a pretty big nut.

Learning the Ropes

2009-09-30T11:26:00.000+04:00

I showed up at the office today at nine and got to work. Well, really I just took advantage of the quick internet connection to send some emails, publish my blog post, check Facebook, the news, and ESPN. Then I began skimming a book I’ve got on English Grammar as a Second Language--what will likely be an invaluable resource in teaching the professors.

Then I received a phone call from Valeria, one of the assistants in the International Relations office, asking me to come to their office at 1:30 that afternoon to be taken to the office of Information Technology. There I would learn how to edit the English-language version of the university’s website. The meeting was conducted in Russian with Marianna, the head of the office, but I think I understood everything she was telling me despite my lack of technical vocabulary for this sort of thing. But I followed her actions on the screen and should be able to handle it. I’m not sure when they want this project finished, but I suppose I’ll begin working on it tomorrow.

Then into the office came a wonderfully polite and near-fluent English speaking woman named Irina Petrovna. She, it turns out, is the Chair of the ‘Russian Language for Foreigners’ Department, and her office is just around the corner. She was so generous all day, taking me through the whole department to meet the professors, eating lunch with me, and telling me about the university and its operations and history--pretty interesting stuff. For instance, the land on which the university and its many gardens and labs stand (comprising about 60 hectares in the northern part of Moscow) used to belong to the mother of Peter I, aka Peter the Great, the tsar who founded St. Petersburg and turned Russia’s ideology and production westward at the turn of the 18th century. She even explained to me that the ‘Dendrological’ Gardens, or arboretum area, is still actually a natural forest, with most of the original species still roaming wild, such as foxes and hares. She boasted Moscow is the only metropolis in the world with a naturally-standing forest. I’ll certainly take a stroll through there when I have the chance.

Later, Irina Petrovna took myself and Kristyna through the Foreign Languages department to meet professors and even step into a few of the English classes in session. Students are required to take language classes for at least 2 years (at least that’s how I understood it) in order to receive a document or degree of sorts that certifies them to be official translators in their language for their specific agricultural field. Therefore, the students in the agronomy department will study both basic conversational English as well as English for agronomists. Or they may do this in French. Or German. Anyways, Irina Petrovna was very proud to show us off as fluent English speakers, and did not hesitate to simply barge into classrooms, make all the students stand at attention, and introduce us to them. Then she forced the students to ask us each a few questions, and then asked us to say a few words to them in English and in Russian. Today’s classes were all first-year English students (that is, first year at the university level, although they have been taking English in their equivalent of high school for a varied number of years), so they were understandably nervous when asked to talk in front of us. But Irina Petrovna considered it motivational learning for them to know that there are fluent speakers with whom they can converse. I told all the students that once I receive my class schedule, I plan on making some timeslots for conversation hours each week where students can come and chat with me in English. We can also likely watch movies, listen to music, so on and so forth. I’m actually really excited to do this since I will be able to interact with students. I hope they are excited to come!

One funny part of all this was that Irina Petrovna kept introducing me to everyone as a “bachelor from Virginia State University who is a linguist and will be with us for one whole year. Yes? You know where Virginia is?” A few students would nod their heads, and then Irina Petrovna would ask them how many states there are in the US. Of the people that answered, about 60 or 70 percent thought there were 51. The rest said 50. I guess the first bunch were thinking of Washington, D.C.? Or Puerto Rico? I have no idea. Anyways, it was enjoyable, although Kristyna told me later she felt like we were torturing them since their English was not as advanced as the others and Irina Petrovna was forcing them to ask questions as a way to impress us. I told her that it’s just the pecking order here in Russia, and there’s not a whole lot anyone can do about it.

After this we had tea and cookies while watching ‘Bruce Almighy’ dubbed in Russian on a television in one of the offices. We had a long conversation in Russian about the weather and what to expect, but I only followed about 30-35% of the conversation. This one guy was speaking very fast and using words I had never heard before, he would speak for so long at a time that there was never an opportunity for me to interrupt and ask him to clarify something. By the time he finished talking I had forgotten all of my questions.

I also met a very interesting man in the office named Francois. He is from Cameroon, but has been here for 7 years teaching and finishing his PhD dissertation. He is married to a Russian woman and has at least one daughter. On top of all of this, he is a pastor at a local Baptist Church (to which he invited Kristyna and myself), his is a diplomat and works in the visa department of the Cameroon embassy, and he also leads conversation groups in English and French at the university, while speaking fluent Russian. He offered to have Kristyna and myself over to dinner, saying he would love for us to meet his family and meet other families through his Church, and he even offered to get us expedited visas to Cameroon if we ever wanted to go! I don’t know how he has time in his days to do everything, especially since he will be defending his dissertation in March. Anyways, he seems like a really great guy and was very excited to meet us.

In the evening, Kristyna and I ventured back into central Moscow. We went to Охотний Ряд, the underground shopping center near Red Square where Kristyna needed to exchange a belt and a t-shirt she bought that were not big enough. Piece of advice if you are ever in Russia: if you buy anything and try to return it, be sure to plan on it taking about 15-20 minutes. The bureaucracy and form-filling-out culture of Russia extends even to merchandise. The cashiers needed to see Kristyna’s passport, visa, immigration card, and registration. Then they filled out about 4 forms by hand, had Kristyna sign them all, and then finally put the money back on her credit card. I will say, however, that I was surprised that the stores accepted credit.

After Охотний Ряд, we went just past the State Historical Museum in at one end of Red Square and entered ГУМ, the state department store, from its end. Don’t let the title ‘department store’ fool you. It’s like department stores in the US, but is rather like a shopping mall with boutique shops. Most everything there is very expensive, but I will say this: ГУМ on the inside is gorgeous. It is three floors high, three levels across, and runs the length of Red Square. There are a ton of shops, most of them very high-end. In the center of ГУМ we even came across a red-roped VIP benefit party filled with people dressed to the nines and several photographers as well as waiters carrying trays of champagne and hors d‘ouevres. Upon closer examination, I realized that everyone was wearing the signal pink ribbon, so it must have been a charity event for breast cancer. Kristyna and I hopped into the food court area where we ate at a Russian cafeteria type place. I had boiled white fish, chicken soup, a pickle, and cranberry juice.

Then, we exited on the other side of ГУМ right beside St. Basil’s Cathedral. I know I already raved about the expansiveness and beauty of Red Square, but humor me please, and allow me to do it once more, this time with a twist. Red Square at night is something entirely different to behold. Spotlights shine from below on the domes of St. Basils as well as up the towers of the State Historical Museum and the walls of the Kremlin, simply adding to the majesty of it all. ГУМ, on the other hand, is outlined completely in what appear to be giant white Christmas lights. And I mean, outlined completely. Every door and every window for about 600 yards across and 50 yards high. It is mystical to behold. I did not have my camera on me tonight, but I will try to get plenty of shots of the square at night---it’s truly enchanting. Plus, there are not many people walking around, and we were lucky with the weather. It was about 10 degrees Celsius, but there was no wind or rain to speak of. So, despite being able to see our breath, it was definitely bearable. I will probably return to praising the beauty of Red Square sometime in the next few months once the snows begin to fall. That’s what I’m really looking forward to seeing.

And with those images of a lit-up Red Square firmly imprinted in our minds, our evening , and day 4 as a whole came to an end.

A Complete 180

2009-09-29T11:54:00.001+04:00

I’m guilty---I judged the book by its cover, so to speak. Turns out I shouldn’t have spoken so soon. I spent Day 2 exploring part of downtown Moscow on my own. Day 3 was my first day of business, and the university seems like a whole new world now. Here’s how it all went down:

I began Day 2 writing another diary-type entry. Take a look:

It’s 5 AM, and I’ve been up for about 2 hours now after a nice 4-4.5 hour sleep. I definitely thought I would get more sleep seeing as I was wide awake for almost the whole flight over, but that’s jetlag for you. I’ve turned on the television to a music channel so that I feel like I have some company. They keep playing Lady Gaga’s ‘Paparazzi’ which is a very disturbing song…Then there are some crazy Russian dance songs or remixes of American songs with some mad beats. I can dig that. Although I wasn’t about to tell Ilya that I liked dance/house music yesterday, because I’m fairly certain that would have ended our nascent friendship (if I can call it that) on the spot. Anyways, dance music has this power over me that I can’t explain. It helps me to forget things and makes me feel more comfortable.

I’ve spent the last couple hours thinking of what I am going to do today and in what order. It was really stressing me out until I decided to look through my guidebook. Thank goodness I bought that right before I left. I’ve found listings for several internet cafes (one of which supposedly provides free wi-fi), an American Express bank, and a map store. I plan on making these my three big visits today. Best of all, they are all located within walking-distance of each other and Red Square! So, today I will experiment with the metro.

I will probably go to МИР this morning and buy that cell phone first. I think that will make me feel much more comfortable, as long as I can figure out the sim card/calling plan, because then I can at least call Becca from the Fulbright office if I am in trouble or need help around town. Once I get to the internet café, I’ll be sure to check and write down the cell phone numbers of my friends in Moscow and give them a call today, too. Plus, I’d love to write to my parents and try to set up a Skype call soon. I need to hear their voices, and tomorrow (Monday) is Dad’s birthday so if I don’t get a chance to call them tomorrow then it needs to be done today.

Since I’ll be around Red Square today, I’ll probably also stop in ГУМ, the state department store, and take a stroll to see some of the high-priced wonders that have made Moscow the most expensive city in Europe. Also, I’m bound to find a place that sells internet dungles, right?

Now for a recap of how my day went from 7 AM onward:

After a breakfast of bread sliced coarsely with my Swiss Army knife and peanut butter from a spoon with a banana and tea, I set off toward the market area by the metro stop. This area is known as Петровско-Разумовское (Petrovsko-Razumovskoyo), which is also the name of the metro stop. I stopped in МИР and bought the cheapest phone they had--a mall black Samsung--for 942 rubles (about $32 at the current exchange rate). Cell phones don’t work on ‘plans’ here as they do in the US, so you have to buy a sim card from a provider company, and you must charge up your sim card by buying minutes, and this can be done in two ways. First, you may pay at a store that sells the sim cards from your provider, or you can use these little kiosk/terminals that are all around the city and type in your phone number and then insert cash (Russia is nearly entirely a cash economy still, except at very high end restaurants and hotels that except credit cards). Anyways, the little kiosk at МИР where I had the ‘pleasant’ encounter the day before with the young man and woman was closed, so the man who helped me at МИР directed me to another store closer to the metro called Евросеть (Evroset‘). He was very kind and was sure to speak slowly to me and even helped me change the language settings on my phone to English. Anyways, I popped into the store selling sim cards and after a really long wait I finally purchased one by Билайн (Beeline), a provider that was recommended to me for its good coverage and service. The sim card and my initial deposit was 150 rubles, or about $5. I don’t know how long this will last, but we shall see.

Before I continue, I want to explain two things about Russia, illustrated perfectly by my long wait at Евросеть. First, Russian are obsessed with cellular phones. They are a real status symbol. People are always vying to buy the most high-end, fancy-dancy phone on the market. This isn’t like America where everyone seems to be buying the iPhone (although I have seen a few of those around so far). This is a quest to get the most unique and most recently produced models from across the globe. People essentially judge one another and compete with each other based on cell phones. And, they seem to always be on the phone. In this respect, I suppose it resembles America. But without calling plans and everyone operating on a pay-as-you-go system, people charge up their sim cards en masse. So, the stores that sell cards and/or have terminal kiosks located in them are frequently packed with people waiting to use them. This brings me to my next point: queues. The idea of standing in line is anathema to Russians. One must possess a strong will and a strong pair of elbows if you ever want to be served at a store. No matter if you are two feet away from the desk or terminal, someone will likely find a way to get in front of you. Of course, their reasoning is that they are much busier than you and don’t have the time to wait around, but this just leads to one giant problem: a nation where everyone is professedly busier than everyone else, thus lines tend to collapse on themselves. (I will note, however, that I have noticed exceptions to this in grocery stores. Also, if you want to be served by an attendant or salesclerk, the best way is to simply shout at the top of your lungs exactly what you want. It seems that the highest bidder wins---that is, however shouts the loudest.

Now, back to the day. After purchasing the sim card my cell phone was ready to go. That was easy enough. I headed across the street to the metro station and bought a card for 10 rides costing 200 rubles (about $6.67). Like the New York subway system, rides here are a set price no matter where you travel, including transfers to other lines, which is quite a deal because the Moscow metro system is expansive. It is also one of the most efficient in the world, with trains never more than 3 minutes apart--how the Soviets managed to run such an efficient public transportation system while failing miserably in market and production efficiency baffles me. The metro is, however, very crowded usually. I read in one tour book that in any given day it serves more people than the New York subway system and the London Underground COMBINED. WHOA. And, well, I believe it. But the crowds are made bearable by the state of the subway stations and tunnels. From what I have seen so far, they are extremely clean, and the trains, while not new or necessarily as cozy as the Washington system, for example, are clean as well. I have also read and seen photos of certain stations that are renown for their artistic beauty, although I have yet to visit them. The metro system was built in the early decades of the USSR as a sign of technological prowess, but also as a canvas for cultural expression. A handful of systems are decorated with extensive murals and tilework, and some even have huge chandeliers hanging inside the station. I will definitely explore these stations soon. One last note about the metro: it is WAY FAR underground. The escalators that I rode, at least, put any escalators in the DC system (even the longest ones) to shame. I had a few moments of serious vertigo as soon as I got on one of the escalators…

So, I’ll try to be brief about the next two hours of my day. I got off at Чеховская станция (Chekhov station), named after the famous Russian playwright, Anton Chekhov. The Fulbright office is located nearby, so I went to find its location. Across the street from the office is Пушинская площадь (Pushkin Square), where a few fountains and a statue of Russia’s most famous poet and national hero, Alexander Sergeyivich Pushkin stand. This was also my first glimpse of metropolitan Moscow. And it’s amazing. Very wide boulevards, about 6 lanes across, that often run only one way. There are no above-ground cross-walks on these boulevards, so you must travel to certain intersections until you find an underground walkway in order to cross the street. Shops line most of the ground floors of these buildings, which are almost all built in a very classical style but each adjoining building has a different color stone--lots of light and dark grays, pinks, and beiges.

From Pushkin Square I walked toward the map shop to find a better walking map of Moscow, as well as a map of the metro system. Along the way, I came across a massive dark-red stone building with ornate gold-plated decorations of two-headed eagles (Russia’s imperial and modern-state symbol). The building was huge, and it was just…there…right in between other non-descript looking buildings. I wasn’t sure what the building was, but then my eyes wandered across the street. There I saw a another square, in the middle of which was a HUGE statue that I recognized as Юрий Долгоруки (Yurii Dolgoruki, or Yuri ‘Longarms’), a medieval prince and the official founder of Moscow in 1147, when he declared it more of a city rather than a trading post. The statue is of him riding a horse and pointing forward, and was commissioned by the Joseph Stalin in 1947 to commemorate the 800th anniversary of Moscow. I wanted to take photos both of the building and the statue, but I had second thoughts when my eyes drifted to the, oh I don’t know, FIFTY or so policemen patrolling the area. They were both regular охрана (okhrana, or security--in Russia you see them everywhere) as well as lots of ОМОН, or the special forces police, armed to the teeth with automatic rifles and dogs. It was then that I realized that this giant red building must be something important, so I looked in my guidebook and found that it is the Moscow mayor’s office. I’m not sure who the mayor of Moscow is, but he or she has got some pretty sweet digs, and one hell of a security entourage. And in Russia, you never take pictures of official buildings. I mean NEVER. It can be considered a serious offense, akin to espionage, and you can be jailed for it. So, my camera stayed right where it was.

I continued down an alley and passed a small Orthodox church whose service just ended. I had forgotten that it was Sunday and all the services were going on. It was a small glimpse into a religious Russia that has been seriously revived since the end of the Soviet Union. Further down the alley and a few turns later I found the map store and got a great little pocket map. Then I made my way toward the Kremlin. First, though, I wanted to stop at a shopping center just outside the Kremlin walls for a bite to eat and to find that internet café with free wi-fi. The shopping center is called Охотний Ряд and is actually three stories underground. It’s got a ton of shops and boutiques and was very crowded. I headed to the food court area where I got a blini (Russian crepe or pancake) with salmon and a glass of kvas, a Russian staple drink that is like beer in that it goes through a process of fermentation, but it is non-alcoholic. It has a very distinct taste, but one that I cannot describe. Most foreigners hate it. It was my first glass ever, and it wasn’t fantastic, but I won’t say just now that I will never have it again. I then searched for the internet café for about another 45 minutes but sadly never found it. That frustrated me, because I wanted to look up the phone numbers of my friends in downtown Moscow so I could have someone to hang out with.

But, with no success, I decided to leave the shopping center and venture into Red Square. This, my friends, is a place that everyone should visit. I turned one corner, saw the colored onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral at the far end of the square, and lost my breath. Not kidding. I had seen pictures of the square and these iconic spires before, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. Red Square is GARGANTUAN. MONOLITHIC. JUST PLAIN BIG. I didn’t expect it to be so. I felt dwarfed. I strolled from one end to the other, passing by Lenin’s Tomb, the mausoleum where the body of Vladimir Lenin is preserved and kept on display, usually accompanied by a long line of people waiting to see it and ‘pay their respects’ to the founder of the USSR. And from what I understand, Lenin’s Tomb is another exception to the ‘Russians-don’t-make-lines-for-nobody’ rule, as this location is sacred to these people, not to mention crawling with police. On this day, however, there was no line, because the Tomb was closed on Sunday (maybe it’s closed Saturdays too---not sure yet). Behind the Tomb are the incredibly high, red stone walls of the Kremlin, within which all the major governmental buildings of the Russian Federation are enclosed. These buildings are all constructed out of a yellow-colored stone with white columns and trimming. Across from the Kremlin is ГУМ, the state department store--also a massively imposing yet classically constructed building. I did not venture in today, although I plan on exploring it soon. At the far end was St. Basil’s Cathedral, perhaps the most iconic building in all of Russia. And it’s truly lovely to view. Today being Sunday, however, it was crawling with people. The entire square was, in fact. I barely took a step without ducking to get out of the way of someone’s photo opportunity. So, I did not go inside the Cathedral today. I would like to make a day out of Red Square sometime in the future when I can visit the sites without the weekend crowds. Just to the right of St. Basil’s is the giant clock tower and entrance inside the Kremlin’s walls, marked by a massive wooden door, much such as one would have seen in the walls of a medieval castle. Seeing a door that large again reinforces the feeling that you have suddenly been turned into a dwarf upon entering the square. As I turned around to head back in the direction from which I entered the square, I was able to fully take in the other massive structure that completes the enclosure of Red Square. It is the State Historical Museum, another medieval-like structure whose red-brick construction mimics that of the Kremlin walls. With towers and spires, the museum makes me feel like I’ve entered a fantasy world. Perhaps a Hogwarts-esque type place, but more sinister. In my amazement, I failed to take any photos on this day, but have no fear. I’ll be making this trip and walk many more times I am certain, and my own photos will follow, although photos of Red Square are ubiquitous enough online.

Upon leaving Red Square, I went in search of another internet café, but this journey was halted when I found another Евросеть where I could buy an internet dungle to receive wireless internet on my laptop. This was a real adventure, because I barely understood what they were telling me with regard to payment plans and such. After about 25 minutes, I ended up buying a USB-modem by the same provider as my cell phone sim card and putting some money on it. I then sat in a café and tried desperately to get it to work, but it froze my computer about 4 times before I decided to drop it until I got back to my dorm room, and then I set off to find an internet café. Luckily, this time I had some success in an upscale shopping center, and I was able to get the phone numbers of my friends in Moscow. After a couple unsuccessful attempts at calling them, I hopped back on the metro and went home exhausted.

I spent the evening in my room, accompanied only by MTV Russia and a dinner of bread, tomato, tea, and peanut butter. I realized I still did not know the time or place of my meeting Monday morning with the International Relations office, so I knocked on a few doors in search of Ilya, but found only one young woman who looked death-stricken to find some young man knocking on her door. I realized that I had only one way to get in touch with him. On the day of my arrival, I had used Ilya’s cell phone to call Becca, the ETA coordinator in the Moscow Fulbright office, to let her know that I had safely arrived. I used my phone this time to give her a call and ask if she still had his number in her call log. Thankfully, she did, and I was able to reach Ilya to find out that my meeting was scheduled for a little before 10 in the International Relations office, situated in the Ректорат, the main building on campus where most administrators have their offices. It is akin to W&M’s Wren building in importance, but does not host classrooms.

The next day, Day 3:

I showed up at the appointed time and was floored by the majesty of the building’s interior (it’s got a pretty impressive looking exterior, too, although it is made out of an odd pink stone). I checked my coat, a custom in many Russian buildings, and proceeded to the office of International Relations. I should note that the name of this office is misleading for those who attended W&M, and particularly for those who were IR majors like myself. This is not an academic department, but rather a department that deals helps coordinate international cooperation projects dealing with agriculture and such between the university and other institutions of higher learning around the world. It was here that I was introduced to Nina Mikhailovna Demidenko--the woman with whom I had been in contact before my arrival. Now, I thought I had met Nina Mikhailovna on my first day when I registered my passport and visa. Turns out, it was the wrong Nina Mikhailovna. So, this Nina (the real Nina, in my mind), was actually very glad to see me. She also introduced me to Elena, her assistant, who would soon show me around the campus. I was impressed with their hospitality and generosity---this is what I had expected from day one.

After also being briefly introduced to the vice-rector of International Relations--an extremely strict and imposing looking man named Evgeniy Ivanovich Koshkin--and told that I would have a meeting with him shortly about my responsibilities and their expectations for me at the university, Elena showed me around some of the grounds of campus. Elena is a recent graduate from the university, and is very amiable. She was eager to show me the places where I would be spending most of my time, and although she does speak relatively good English, she wanted to speak to me in Russian because she didn’t want to leave anything out. I think she took care to use a fairly basic vocabulary, however, because I had almost no trouble understanding what she was telling me--at least I got the gist of it all.

First, she took me to Шестой корпус (or the ‘6th Academic Building’), where on the third floor of the left wing the Department of Russian Language for Foreigners is located. This is where I will be spending most of my time, even though I am not studying Russian officially. Here is also the Office for International Students, where all foreigners must register their visas and all foreign students attending the university for their PhD are sent to coordinate their studies and topics. Now get this: I get a desk in this office! I totally didn’t anticipate having a desk! I figured I would be working from my dormitory the whole time, but no! I have a desk with an internet connection for my laptop and good working space. I share the office with two women (only one of whom is here at the moment, the other being away on her holiday to her dacha). Through another door which remains open is the office of the dean of this department. The women are very nice and hospitable--offering me apples grown at their dachas--but in typical Russian fashion they shout really loudly when they speak to one another. No matter, though, I have a desk in an office!

Elena then showed me around the Foreign Languages Department where I met a few professors and even a class of young women taking English class. They all giggled when they found out I was a native English speaker and then one of them said in Russian, “Come sit with us!” while giggling and turning her head away. It was cute. Elena and I marched on through the library, where there is a museum of husbandry that I suppose showcases developments in animal-raising techniques. It was closed at the time, though, so I’ll check that out later. Then Elena showed me the cafeteria that I should eat in, which is actually located right behind my dormitory. We then walked back to her office so I could meet with the vice-rector.

He was busy when we arrived, so I sat down with Elena and Nina Mikhailovna for tea and cookies and we discussed a few things. Apparently, I am currently living in what they refer to as the гостиница, or hotel, and I will not be living there full-time. After I go home to extend my visa, I will return to a new room in another very tall, gray concrete, Soviet skyscraper next door which is one of the official dormitories. Okay…

Then, vice-rector Koshkin was prepared to see me. His office was…you guessed it, majestic. Huge. Massive. Artwork hanging on walls, giant windows that opened out onto a beautiful garden with statues, flower beds (called клумба, or kloomba), a fountain, and white-pebble paths. Apparently it is adjoined to the university’s ‘Dendrological’ Gardens, essentially an arboretum. I think it’s pretty expansive, so I’ll check it out later when the weather is not so crummy (by the way, its in the 50s and overcast and drizzling---worse than below freezing and snowing, in my mind). But back to the meeting. We sat on couches and armchairs that squared-in a coffee table and were joined by two other faculty members. It was explained to me (in near perfect English by vice-rector Koshkin) that my responsibilities are as follows: to help train groups of professors from various departments in conversational English to improve their qualifications for international conferences and also help them be qualified to begin teaching Master’s Programs in English, which they hope to begin next year. I will also be working to improve the university’s English-language website and their catalog for international students. The vice-rector told me that I may also be able to interact with students if I choose to hold some extra conversation hours/classes in the evenings, perhaps, but I will have to see what my schedule and workload is like first. Vice-rector Koshkin made it very clear that he expects great results from my work, because he plans on putting the professors through evaluations at the end of the academic year to test their qualifications. Given his imposing and solemn look, I agreed to everything immediately. They are still trying to put together a schedule for my classes, which is difficult seeing as the professors all teach during the day. It looks like my classes will be held at around 3pm onward.

I am a little intimidated by the fact that I will be teaching professors and not students. I don’t know how they will react to being lectured by a young, recently graduated American, but we shall see. Supposedly I may begin as soon as this Friday. Before I can really start making lesson plans, though, I will need to have a couple introductory classes with the professors so I can gauge their current levels of English.

I left the meeting and went back to my office space to start looking through some ESL resources that we were given by Fulbright and also some ESL websites. It was a whole lot of information to look at without knowing what in the world I was going to start with. A daunting task, but one that will hopefully become much easier once my classes begin.

Then I had a huge surprise. Into the office comes a very tall young woman with glasses and short brown hair. She greets us all in Russian and then asks in nearly non-accented and perfect English, “Is Bryan here?” Why yes, yes I am. She introduced herself to me as Kristyna Jungova, a Czech who is studying here for 6 months as part of her PhD. She was told that I would be coming and that she should meet me, since I am the only native English speaker here and she also speaks near-native English. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet up for dinner that night after I finished some of my work and took a brief nap (I was falling asleep at my desk).

So, at about 7pm Kristyna and I met up outside my dormitory. She told me about her situation here. She had been very lonely since her Russian is about as good as mine (from what I can tell), but she had no one to speak with. Her program is almost entirely independent. She is not taking any formal classes to speak of, so her days have been essentially free. She also encountered some bureaucratic delays in coming here. First, she applied and was accepted for a year-long program, but was notified before her departure date that her stay had been shortened to 6 months. Then, her arrival was delayed, so she didn’t get here until two weeks into the school year. She has been at the university now for two weeks, so she knows her way around the area much better than I do, and offered to take a walk with me and show me around.

We talked about a number of things on the way: the dichotomy of the generous hospitality and the rudeness of the Russians we had met so far, the condition of our respective dormitories and how the kitchens were terrible and did not allow for much in the way of cooking, our language backgrounds, music and movies, our travel, so on and so forth. She took me down one of the main roads running beside the metro station all the way down to the next metro stop, Тимирязевская. It took about 30 minutes to get there, but we stopped along the way at a few stores so she could show me the nearest ATM, a great grocery store where we both bought some goods, another market, and a few other places. We then walked back to her dorm where we were able to throw together a scrappy dinner of couscous and vegetables with bacon added---the bacon made the meal. I think her dormitory is the one I will be moving to when I return from the US. It’s not much different than mine is now, although her room was slightly bigger and had much more closet space. She also went to IKEA (and told me that it takes two buses and a taxi to get there and back) and bought a lot of things to decorate her room to make it feel more like home. Her room did not have any cookware when she arrived or a television, so that makes me think that what I found in my room may have been left here by previous occupants.

Kristyna is also going to start taking some private Russian language and culture classes with a couple professors here, and she offered that I could join her and split the cost. I will likely take her up on it as long as it doesn’t interfere with my work schedule. Oh, and we also finished our dinner in traditional Czech fashion. She broke out a bottle of a famous Czech liquor digestif called Bech-something-or-other. It tastes a lot like Jaegermeister, and apparently is also referred to as ‘toothpaste’ in the Czech Republic for its herby flavors and the tendency for some Czechs to drink it upon waking to ‘freshen their breath’. I’m not too sure about that part.

Anyways, the evening was great and it was wonderful to meet someone with whom I can comfortably speak English and also with whom I can share my gripes. We did a bit of that today. We also talked about taking some trips throughout Russia together. We would both love to see Irkutsk, and although it is a LONG ride train-ride away via the Trans-Siberian, it will hopefully be worth it as long as my schedule permits.

Oh and one more funny story. While Kristyna and I were cooking dinner there was another young man in the kitchen. We introduced ourselves, and it turns out he is from Pakistan and is here currently studying nothing but Russian for a year before he enters the economics department at the university. His Russian was very basic (he only recently arrived) and his English was very difficult to understand. His name is Talal (I think, or maybe Talan). When I said I was from America, he gave me a very strange look. I realized right away we might not hit it off just because of our nationalities, which made me really upset but also wary. Then, our conversation picked up as we discussed a range of thing from prices in Russia to food to this cool phone that he had purchased in Pakistan for a great price because it was made in China. He made some comment about how there are too many Chinese studying here, because they are always where the money is, and that the development and progress rates in China are too high for their own good. Then he asked me if I knew of a certain town in Texas where a few of his friends are studying. I didn’t recognize the name. He then told me that his father worked in the US for four years, but illegally. Our conversation ended when he left the kitchen with his pot of beans and remarked, “He was deported from that country.” I’m not sure how our friendship will be.

So, in short, the last two days were great. I feel much more at home, and hopefully things will only get better from here. And the campus is actually quite beautiful. I will take some photos of it soon and post them when I can. I probably won’t keep writing such long and detailed entries, but I’ve got time on my hands now, so why not? That’s all for now, folks!

Day 1 Recap

2009-09-27T23:29:00.002+04:00

I was not planning on sharing this at all, but then I thought: why am I keeping a blog if I don't document what I do and how I feel while I'm abroad? And who would give Tim Bacon any good reading materials if I didn't post everything I do second to second, minute to minute, hour to hour, so on and so forth? So, here it is. I'm about to copy and paste a very long (and I mean VERY long) 'diary' type entry that I wrote on my computer last night about my first 10 hours in Moscow. I have finally managed to get internet on my laptop, albeit extremely slow and unreliable and prone to freezing my computer, but this means I can share with you my thoughts and emotions from yesterday. Please note, however, that my mood has improved CONSIDERABLY on this, day two, of my stay in Russia's capital. When you read the following entry you may think I went borderline suicidal after just 1o hours. While it was possibly the biggest 'oh shit' moment of my life, I did not harbor any such thoughts. And, as I said, today was much better, but I haven't written a story of today yet, so that will have to wait--possibly for a few days since I have my first official meeting with the university tomorrow and I may find myself busy soon. But, without further ado, enjoy my recap of Day 1 in Moscow (for those of you who can get through it all...)

Day 1 -- 26.09.2009

Well, I certainly didn’t expect this. To feel this way, I mean--uncomfortable, lonely, lost, sick. How could I possibly feel like this in a city of over 10 million people and when I was so excited to leave I could not even put it into words? Well, I’ll tell you how. So far, the mythic standoffishness of Russians has drastically outweighed the professed hospitality of these people. Granted, I just met them and it has been less than a day, but here’s a recap of how the day went so far.

I was met at the airport by Ilya, a student/employee at the university. I could not make out whether he was still doing some studying or if he was all done with classes and only working with the department of international relations, which is technically in charge of my stay. After a quick introduction in Russian, he asked me in English how I was---it would be the last English I would hear all day. It would also be the last time I would hear him talk for almost an hour and a half. After exchanging some money at the airport, we went to the parking lot and climbed into a REALLY nice Lexus sedan driven by another young man (unsure if he is also a student, an employee at the university, or simply a friend of Ilya’s). I said hello as I climbed into the back of the car, and all I got in return was a grunt. Then, the music was blasted. Then, my nerves were blasted as he pulled out of the parking and proceeded to drive (although calling it ‘driving’ is generous) over an hour to the university dorm where I am staying. I’ve heard about Russian traffic, and I’ve heard that people often disregard traffic rules in Russia, but I got the distinct impression that our driver was the ONLY one on the road that actually disregarded the laws. He drove at an average speed of 150 km/hr while swerving between cars and trucks that were (surprisingly) following all the rules of the road. Either this guy thought we were privileged, or he does not value his own (nor our) lives. Ilya sat quietly in the shotgun position with my cramped behind him, trying to take in some of the sights along Moscow’s Third Ring Road while also struggling to keep my airline breakfast down. I’ve been in life-threatening, off-the-wall, no-holds-barred traffic before in India, but this honestly felt worse since our driver was the only one living on the edge, thus forcing everyone else to get out of his way or else perish in a great ball of fire. Maybe he was testing the American kid in his backseat? I don’t think so. More likely, he was going to meet up with a few friends after dropping me off and wanted to get there as soon as daredevil-ly possible seeing as he made and answered a total of seven phone calls from friends while pulling his little traffic stunts. When we finally arrived at the dormitory, he actually got my bags out of his trunk for me and shook my hand (‘ok, not so bad,’ I thought). I thanked him for the ride and politely asked his name, expecting that I may be seeing him around more often if he is Ilya’s friend. As soon as I posed the question, though, he turned away, lowered his head, and grunted ‘Alexander’ before jumping into his car and putting the pedal to the metal. So…I don’t think I’ll see him anytime soon. And if I do, he’ll be sure not to acknowledge me. I will say this, though: THANK GOD HE WAS DRIVING A REALLY NICE LEXUS, because without the impressive acceleration that plasters you back against your seat, we never would have been able to fit in all those tiny spaces in between cars that Alexander so nonchalantly swerved in and out of.

But enough griping about the ride. I turned away from the speeding car and was met with another traditional Russian gesture. I was offered a cigarette by Ilya, which I politely declined, which received a smirk and raised eyebrows instead. Ilya proceeded to smoke about 6 cigarettes in the 2.5 hours that we were together. This first one he puffed through fast enough to finish before we walked 30 yards to the entrance of the dormitory. The dorm guard gave us a weird look as we lugged suitcases into the lobby and to the elevator, but who wouldn’t have given us the eye? We were quite the odd couple. Ilya is about my height and build, but with a shaved head and dressed head-to-toe in black, including black leather boots (with neon-yellow shoelaces) and a killer leather biker jacket. He has the image of the stereotypical Russian thug, minus the bulging muscles and about 150 pounds lighter. I, on the other hand, probably looked like a mess. I couldn’t sleep the whole plane ride, leaving me near exhaustion by the time we made it to the dormitory (especially after the white-knuckle car-ride). My eyes were probably still bulging and my face blanched from the fear of said ride. Anyways, we got through the lobby and went up the elevator to the fourth floor. The dormitory, by the way, is an old Soviet-style concrete tower with somewhere around 15 floors. So not only is it charming, but the elevators only work one-way: UP. There are five elevator banks but not one of them is able to go down, so there is one flight of stairs for that task. Once on the fourth floor we met with Nina Mikhailovna--my only contact with the university pre-departure (even that was only 1one email apiece). I guess I expected her to be exuberant, or at least moderately excited about my arrival, seeing as I am coming in here to supposedly do a lot of work on the university’s English department---although even that is not confirmed since I still have no idea of my exact duties. Instead, she walked out of one room, took one look at me and said hello, and then led me into an office where I sat down and she asked my to fill out a form to register my visa. In my exhaustive stupor, I began filling out the form in English until she piped up from across the desk and told me that it had to be in Russian. She said this in Russian, of course, as she said everything else to me, even though I’m pretty much positive she speaks English (and probably very good English to be the coordinator of the International Relations office). So, I apologized and filled out another form in Russian, after which I was given a room key, and a mention was made to a meeting on Monday that I should attend. And then Nina Mikhailovna disappeared. I’m gonna have to get some details on that meeting soon, like, oh I don’t know, WHERE and WHEN and WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT??? But she disappeared before I could even register that we were talking about a meeting. Everything hits me here just a little too late.

Anyways, Ilya and I went up one more floor on the elevator to my room: 529. It’s nothing special, but I wasn’t expecting anything great. Two very very very slender beds (you practically have to sleep on your side--but be very careful not to roll over or you’ll get a face full of floor). One table and chair that serves as a desk, but with no drawers. One closet. A television--not expecting that, although the antenna has been snapped off and is lying on the windowsill, so reception is pretty scratchy. A small refrigerator. An electric tea kettle(!!!!). A teapot. Two bowls, two teacups (but only one saucer), two soup spoons, two forks, and two tiny teaspoons. No knives. A nice big window but with blinds that are practically stuck in the ‘cover-up-the-window’ mode. The bathroom is surprisingly spacious with a sink, bathtub to be used as shower, a cool tropical-aquatic-themed shower curtain, a trashcan, towel hooks, and a toilet. The toilet flushing mechanism, however, does not function properly, and I have to flush it by taking off the water tank cover and lifting up a tube inside the tank. At least it fills itself back up and doesn’t overflow! It’s definitely not worth trying to get a repair done, because I have no idea what that entails and how long it would take, or whether it would cost me anything. So, at least for now, my hand is going in the tank.

After I dropped my bags in my room and took a cursory look around, Ilya and I headed down the street to a cafeteria for lunch. The cafeteria, apparently, belongs to a different university he said--one that specializes in auto-mechanics and economics, I think, but we are allowed to eat there. I had a typically Russian meal: borscht with сметана (the uber-thick sour cream that Russians love), a pea and ham salad with сметана, and buckwheat with a turkey cutlet. I should not have gotten that much, since I wasn’t very hungry and ended up leaving my tray half-full. The quality of the food didn’t help much, though. Along the way to the cafeteria, about a six-minute walk from my dormitory, Ilya passed out a few other campus buildings to me and explained what they were, although I’m not sure I understood all of it: a few more dorms, at least two academic buildings, and a gym with outdoor tennis courts. When I asked him what goes on at the gym, whether people play football (soccer) there, and whether or not it would be possible for me to show up and join in on a game one day, his look back at me was the only response I needed. It was somewhat in the vicinity of disbelieve and incredulity, but I’m still not sure whether that was because he couldn’t believe I would want to exercise (because he made a not-so subliminal point that he certainly did not partake in physical activities), or that he had never heard of someone just walking up to a group of people and asking to join in on a pick-up game. He told me that some guys often play on a field nearby, but it’s just a lousy pick-up game between a bunch of friends. I didn’t tell him that that actually sounded pretty perfect to me…I just let that slide. Instead, I asked him what he did during the weekends, and he replied with a question: “What do I do on the weekends?” as if I was trying to pry into his personal life. I pretended to look bashful and changed the question to: “What do students in general do on the weekends?” He then looked more comfortable but answered with what I am sure would have been the same reply had he answered my first version of the question: “Nothing, really. Sit around and drink beer.” Great... Then he admitted that some students go away for the weekends to the surrounding countryside where some have dachas and can spend time with friends/family away from the city amongst nature--an escape the Russians are famous for making. Anyways, Ilya certainly made it seem that he could not be counted among those who ventured far from his dormitory room on the weekends, which I find really depressing. I guess I won’t plan on spending too many weekends in his company…including this one.

After lunch, we walked very briskly further down the street so he could show me the market area. I could tell by his pace that he wanted to finish his duty of showing me around as soon as possible. We breezed past a slew of рынок stands (outdoor market) all selling cheap clothing, shoes, bags, and jewelry, plus a few food and news stands, before Ilya walked me into the metro stop to show me where to buy a metro ticket. The lobby was bursting with people packed like sardines, so we didn’t even get through the door, but Ilya assured me it was only because it was a weekend, and that besides the rush-hour work times of morning and early evening, it was never this bad. The metro is maybe a 15-minute walk from the dorm, which I thought was great, but Ilya gave me some phrase about how I would probably never want to make this walk and would rarely take the metro. Don’t count on that, buddy. I’m trying to get out and see some of this city!

I followed my queries about the metro with questions about getting a cell phone, sim card, and internet card. I really didn’t understand anything Ilya was explaining to me, which is probably the part of the day that made me feel most uncomfortable. My only way to get in touch with my family and my life back home seemed completely out of my reach unless I could get on the same brainwave as Ilya, which was getting less and less likely as the day progressed. So, I told him I understood and we proceeded to walk home, but not without Ilya first showing me a local grocery store.

This was a highlight. It’s about 12 minutes from the dorm, small but has just about everything I would need at this moment, and I also got a good read on Ilya when we were inside. He showed me around the store and then said it was a good store because they sold not just beer (which is sold almost everywhere in stores here), but cold beer. He proceeded to grab two large cans of beer, a large bag of sugar, and a bag of cookies, and checked out. While in the line, he asked me if people in America were allowed to buy alcohol and then drink in the streets. I said no. He said it was forbidden in Russia, too. We then walked out of the store, around the corner and away from the three imposing охрана (security) guards on the sidewalk, and then Ilya cracked open a can of beer and gulped it down on the walk home, making sure to constantly look over his shoulder to make sure no police were within sight.

During this walk, Ilya asked me what kind of music I listen to in America--always such a difficult question to answer. I enjoy songs from a number of genres, and how can I explain to him that my favorite band, the Counting Crows, is a mix of rock and country and even pop without getting a look of uncomfortable disdain from someone who has surely never heard them and is sure not to enjoy them if he ever does hear them? Anyways, I answered with the generic: “rock music”, and tried to explain that plenty of people in America listen to country music and rap. He nodded and then inquired whether or not I listen to heavy metal. Oh god. I knew it was coming. I said no. Not the answer he wanted to hear. He then asked about hard rock. I tried to make conversation and say that I listened to some of it, particularly what we refer to as “classic rock” in the US. He asked about Led Zeppelin, and I said: “Yeah! Like Led Zeppelin! Or Van Halen?” (no response) “Ummmm, AC/DC?” [PS. Thank you Dad for listening to this music because it may have salvaged the one acquaintance I have so far]. Ilya said he had heard of AC/DC but didn’t really like them. He then named some Finnish metal band that he likes and told me about the time last year they came to Moscow but he couldn’t go to the concert. It sounded like he was still bitter about it. Then he lightened up a bit and said that some British metal band was coming in October and he plans on going. Then he commented on the audience that ‘pop’ music enjoyed, although I wasn’t sure if he was referring directly to American pop music or Russian, or both. He finished his thought with the following (in English!): “It sucks.” That was where that conversation ended.

We then stood outside the entrance to the dormitory so that Ilya could finish his beer before heading in. He asked me if universities in the US sold beer. I said that mine did not because there are so many under-age students and cops rolling around, but that if you were of-age you could buy alcohol off-campus and bring it back to the dorms. He said that no alcohol was allowed in the dorms here, period. Unless, of course, you’re Ilya and just throw it in your backpack on the way home from the store so you can spend your weekends drinking in your room. He also seemed to think that drinking-age laws were meaningless, which I was almost going to agree with him on except I realized I didn’t want to start talking about alcoholism in Russia, which is all I had on my mind as I watched him suck the last drips of that sweet nectar out of its gold can.

We then went inside and took the elevator to the fifth floor where I’m living. I knew that Ilya did not live on this floor, but he didn’t press any other buttons on the keypad, so I figured he was getting out with me and we would continue spending some time together just chatting. Instead, he said goodbye as I got off on the fifth floor, and I abruptly turned around and asked rather meekly what he was doing tomorrow. Once again, he took this as a very personal question, like I was asking him out on a date or something. I clarified and said (trying to hold back the puppy-face look), that I didn’t know what I was doing tomorrow. He just stared at me, so I said that I would probably go buy my cell phone, sim card, and internet card, once again trying to elicit some information as to how this would be possible. He just said something about how he bought all of his at one all-purpose computer/tech store in another part of town where he spends a lot of time. He was NOT interested in offering to take me there or give me directions, so I let the matter drop and told him that if I needed anything I would knock on his door, which is 723...or was it 923? Either way, I think he regretted giving me the room number. I just hope he wasn’t lying to me, since he’s the only person I know and who I can conceivably reach to give me information about this meeting I’m supposed to have on Monday. I also hinted that I might take the metro and check out some of downtown Moscow, to which he replied something like this: “Moscow is not a very pretty city. St. Petersburg is much nicer.” Good to know.

I walked back to my room very downtrodden. I mean, judging from other Fulbrighters’ blogs, their guides and contacts have done quite a job showing them around, befriending them, and introducing them to friends. They have even invited them to their dachas and to weddings, for Pete’s sake! I, on the other hand, get posted to the largest city in the country but get the most disinterested guide I could have imagined. I have heard that the provincial towns are considerably more hospitable in terms of people-to-people relations. Right about now, I’m wishing I was still going to P-K, where I at least know that my contact, Tatyana, was one of the most kind-hearted people I’d ever interacted with, albeit only through email. But I know, I just know that she would have been thrilled upon my arrival!

In my room, I turned on the TV to some ridiculously propagandized version of the Russian History Channel biography on Lavrenty Beria--one of the most cold-hearted men of Stalin’s reign of terror--and started to unpack my bags. After putting most everything away, I grabbed my empty backpack and decided to head out back to the market area to investigate how to go about getting a phone/internet and also do some grocery shopping, since I had a revelation at about 3:30 that I would probably not eat tonight unless I did something about it quickly. So, I retraced my steps back to the рынок and found a small hole-in-the-wall store that dealt with electronic repairs. I was greeted by a nice man who answered my questions about buying a cell phone. They only had two in the store, one of which was a very nice Samsung going for a few 5,500 rubles (no thanks). The other looked like a used Nokia and cost 800 rubles. They also sold sim cards for 150. I told him I didn’t have the money right now and just wanted to see where I could buy one, and that I would come back tomorrow, to which he said something along these lines: “Please! Please come back tomorrow and if we have any other phones to offer I will show them to you!” I thanked him, but left with the feeling that these were phones that were confiscated, found, or somehow acquired illegally. I probably won’t go back tomorrow, but I learned that I’m decent at lying in Russian! I then went back to the grocery store and bought the following for dinner/breakfast tomorrow: two tomatoes, two oranges, six bananas, a small loaf of bread, fruit juice, two waters, a box of black tea, and one of those ‘just-add-hot-water-for-a-sodium-coated-pasta/soup-instant-dinner-with-mystery-meat’ things. That’s going to go down smooth tonight. I asked a young woman who worked there (and yes, she was fairly attractive if you are wondering) where I could get an internet card, but all she had to say was that I could find them wherever I could find a phone. She then recommended a place and pointed down the road, so I asked if it was close, to which she replied: “No, it’s pretty far.” So, it was back to exploring. Thankfully, I found a store called МИР (World, or Peace) that was a Russian version of Best Buy located just behind the grocery store. I walked in and found a new Samsung phone for about 950 rubles (pretty decent) and asked if I could buy a sim card there too. The attendant gave me a once-over and walked me to a kiosk by the entrance where a young woman and man sat with their heads together over a cell phone chatting. They didn’t notice me when I walked up, but I didn’t want to interrupt since I figured it was simply a characteristic of Russian service to finish the conversation before helping a customer. Finally, the man looked up and then the woman asked me what I wanted. I explained my situation and asked if this is where I could buy a sim card. She pointed to her kiosk (which did not say ‘sim card’ or anything of the sort on it) and gave a look like a sixteen-year old ‘Mean Girl’ would give her parents when they ask her a stupid question. I realized that this conversation got off on a bad start, but I stupidly dug myself deeper when I asked how the sim card worked. What I meant was how do I add money to my phone to keep making calls in a pay-as-you-go format. The man continued to stare at me like I just got off the short bus while the woman scoffed and said: “Well, the sim card goes in the phone.” Touche. She had me there. So I tried unsuccessfully to rephrase the question before it finally made sense to her that I wanted to add minutes, and she said (I think) that there are ‘terminals’ (I think she is referring to kiosks) around the city where you can plug in your phone number and then pay with cash to add minutes. Ilya had pointed one of these out to me earlier, so I pretended like I understood her perfectly, but once again said I didn’t have enough money on me now and that I would return tomorrow. It was all too much to digest on the spot.

I then came home, finished unpacking my belongings, laid out my groceries, and began writing while MTV Russia plays on my television. To quote Ilya: “It sucks.” Well, MTV Russia sucks. I’m feeling better since I decided to write my ENTIRE day down.

First on the list tomorrow: buy a cell phone and sim card, and investigate the internet possibility further. I’ll probably go back to the Russian Best Buy, since it seems like a pretty reputable place, although I’m gonna have to put my smart-hat on so I don’t come across like a dunce again. I think I’ll also give the metro a shot tomorrow if it’s not too crowded and try to see some more of Moscow; really I’m just thinking of Red Square…where I’ll hopefully feel more normal and like the tourist I really am right now. I would love to contact my few Fulbright friends in Moscow to meet up with them, but I’ll need both a cell phone and internet to do that, since they posted their cell phone numbers on-line. We’ll see how it works out.

I’ve been writing this for over 2 hours now, so I’m going to make dinner, read, and then pass out. I really hope tomorrow is better, because right now I’m wishing I was still sitting on my parent’s couch watching a Phillies game---a place I was actually eager to vacate just 20 hours ago.

Afterword (written an hour later): I realize that this entry was a super downer. It makes life sound worse than terrible here. In reality, it could be a lot worse. I think I’m just having a hard time because I know I’m going to be here for a very long time, so a failure to connect with people seems like a HUGE setback. It will get better as time goes on, I’m sure. Once I figure out how to use the metro and contact the outside world. And once I begin my duties and meet some colleagues and have students then hopefully things will go more smoothly. It’s just not all going to come at once. Plus, I would feel A LOT more comfortable if I knew what I was doing here! I mean, sure I’m on a Fulbright (which means nothing to the Russians), but I still have NO IDEA what I’m doing! I don’t know what I’m teaching, or IF I’m even teaching. If I knew something, relating to my duties, I would at least be able to occupy my time with some busy work. Instead, I’ve turned to writing depressing, whining entries.

Plus, I watched ‘The Hurt Locker’ on the plane. A great film. Everyone should see it. But not the movie that you want to see if you’re already stressed about something. It really stresses you out, and I didn’t have time to de-stress before getting thrown into the mix in Moscow. So, watch the movie, but be aware of your next step in life.

I also realized that misery loves company. But not only in the traditional sense. This misery would be much easier to handle if someone were sharing it with me.

Quick Note

2009-09-27T16:07:00.001+04:00

I'm here safe and sound. But my first day left me feeling VERY uneasy. I don't really feel welcome at my university, so I spent today exploring downtown Moscow on my own to lift my spirits. And it helped, big time. Moscow is an incredible place. Uniquely enchanting. But the people so far are decidedly not.

I'm at an internet cafe and that's all I've got time for now, but will write again soon.

T-minus 24 hours

2009-09-25T00:42:00.002+04:00

It came. Finally. The visa came. It took two days of hand-wringing and nervous apprehension, but it finally arrived. Not without one last scare, of course. The FedEx courier dropped the package off at the wrong house, and I had to rely on a kindhearted neighbor from a couple doors down to deliver the package to its rightful destination. Which leaves me thinking: is anything ever going to go smoothly during this trip?

We shall see. I depart tomorrow afternoon at 4:35 from Dulles Airport. I arrive at 10:45 Saturday morning in Moscow. I'll update as soon as I can.

До Москвы!

Less Than A Week (I hope)

2009-09-20T19:54:00.002+04:00

I bought my new plane tickets on Friday morning, and if all goes according to plan (that is, if I receive my visa in time), I will be taking off for Moscow this Friday afternoon, September 25, at 4:35 PM. That will put me in Moscow at 10:45 AM on Saturday morning, and I'll hit the ground running from there--except for the week-long return in mid-October.

The main point is: I CAN'T WAIT TO GO!

Plans Take 3

2009-09-17T18:37:00.002+04:00

Another call from Moscow yesterday, and another change of plans. Fulbright would like to get me to Russia as soon as possible, and that makes two of us!

The new plan: rather than wait for my new institute to process my documents in two weeks-time, Fulbright has decided that I should apply for a tourist visa and hopefully arrive in-country by the end of next week/weekend. The tourist visa will only last for 30 days, so I will be returning to the US in mid-October with my formal institute invitation in hand and re-apply for a long-term business/work visa. So, if all goes according to plan, I'll be taking off for Russia sometime late next week, returning in mid-October for about a week, and then flying back out to Moscow until next July.

In other news, I have gotten some word on my new institute. It is known as the Russian State Agrarian University named after K.A. Timiryazev (Российский Государственный Аграрный Университет имени К.А. Тимирязева, or, because the Russians love acronyms, РГАУ-МСХА). I still don't know about my course responsibilities or my exact living conditions, but here is the website in case you are at all interested: http://www.timacad.ru/en/ (English version) or http://www.timacad.ru/ (Russian version).

Also, want to know the real kicker of this whole delay and change-o'-plans thing??? Recently, six volcanoes...count 'em SIX...erupted simultaneously on the Kamchatka peninsula. What?!?!? I could have been there!!!!! Check out some video http://www.scientificamerican.com/video.cfm?id=40438593001

Fingers crossed that this visa comes soon!

Change of Plans #2

2009-09-12T21:50:00.004+04:00

Dear Sam, (I hope you appreciate that)

Yesterday I received a very ominous email from the Moscow Fulbright office. After reading lines like these, I fell into a state of stressful disrepair:

"The situation has turned in an unexpected direction and we have had to change the plan."

"...sorry for the delay and the frustration you must be feeling--this has been a unique and unfortunate situation."

I spent the day fretting while waiting for a phone call from Moscow. My thoughts were scattered, but the gist was, "What if I've been denied entry and they are taking the grant away from me...what in the world am I going to do?"

The phone finally rang just before 2pm, and I got the following details right off the bat:

-my host university in Kamchatka failed to submit the proper request form to the head institute in Moscow

-the rector in Moscow therefore said that the paperwork cannot be processed

-I am no longer going to Kamchatka

What?!?! (*mini-heart attack*)

Then,

-We (the Moscow Fulbright office) have been searching for an alternate post for you

And...? (*a small breath of hope*)

-This has never happened before...

-This is very unique...

-We have found an institution in Moscow that will take you.

WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?! (*trying not to jump around my dining room*)

And so it is.

I only have the bare-bone details right now, and should be receiving more info in the next week, but here is the current update:

-I am being posted to one of the top-15 universities in Russia

-It is an agrarian institute, and one of great repute attended by Russians and foreigners alike hoping to learn the latest in agricultural production

-It is located in the suburbs of Moscow, giving the campus plenty of room to have its own gardens (I am told it approximates an American university campus, and I can't help thinking of some of the nice little gardens at W&M around Blow Hall, the Sundial, and outside the Reves Center)

-It does not really have an English department, but they hope to build one so that Russian and foreign students can take their classes in English together

-And this is where I come in.

While Fulbright and the institute are still working out the details of my responsibilities, it seems like my main duty will be to help establish their English department and improve the qualifications of their professors and students in the English language.

Phew.

So, how am I feeling about this?

Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed. I mean, I had really geared myself up for a crazy Arctic experience in Kamchatka. And all the work I've done so far preparing for my law classes is for naught.

BUT, I am going to be outside Moscow--a major metropolitan area featuring plenty of amusements not only within the city, but also with easy transportation opportunities to visit dozens of places both inside and outside of Russia. And I have to say, I am interested in seeing if I can't listen in on a few courses on agriculture while I'm there.

So, unfortunately all the jokes about getting mauled by bears and smothered by magma (Clay...) no longer phase me. Now, however, I have to contend with the Moscow Mafia. I guess Russia is like one big game of 'Pick Your Poison".

So, this blog will likely have a very different look soon. 'Volcanic Ice' doesn't make a whole lot of sense anymore.

Also, I'm adopting the Russian tradition of superstition (суеверие, "s00-ye-VER-iye"), and I definitely don't want to count my chickens before they hatch. While I've been told that my paperwork should now be completed in about two-weeks time and I should be able to arrive in-country around October 1, I have been disappointed by the Russian bureaucratic system before. After already being delayed for three weeks, I'm remaining skeptical until I have my visa in-hand. I'll be sure to let you know when that happens.

I'll fill you in with more info about my new institute once I receive it.

And meanwhile, if people want to visit me in Moscow, I would love to have you, so save some money and make some travel plans. Moscow is a helluva lot more accessible than Kamchatka, so don't let me down!

Good News

2009-08-27T02:26:00.003+04:00

This morning I spoke with the Moscow Fulbright office and received some interesting, and all around great news. Turns out the head institution in Moscow (of which my Kamchatka university is an affiliate) responsible for processing my documents simply did not get around to it...nothing like procrastination. They have, however, promised to expedite the process from this point on, and barring any more setbacks I should receive my formal invitation needed to apply for my visa in two-weeks time.

This is a monumnetal relief, as I now have an updated timeline for my departure. But, what's so interesting about this? Well, all Fulbright recipients in Russia must attend a security briefing/orientation in Moscow on October 5. Financially, it does not make a lot of sense to send me all the way across the country back and forth several times within a month. So, Fulbright and the head institution in Moscow have come to an agreement that I will spend the time between my arrival in Moscow (in mid-Sept) and the end of the orientation (Oct. 6) teaching at the head institution! This means I get a few weeks to teach in and explore Moscow, which is really exciting. The university has agreed to put me up in their dormitories which are located in the Moscow suburbs, leaving me with a commute via metro, bus, and foot to the university and to the city center, so I'm really thrilled to witness the craziness that is Moscow traffic and transportation.

Unfortunately, this means that I will not be arriving in Kamchatka until October, over a month into the academic year. My courses will need to be a bit expedited, and I will be missing out on the September camping/hiking trips offered by the university in P-K. But, I should still have plenty of time to explore the volcanoes after the snow begins falling!

That's it for now; will let you all know when I hear more and have more concrete plans.

The 'Risk' of my Life

2009-08-22T18:46:00.004+04:00

First, a stateside introduction to Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky (henceforth 'P-K'...for obvious reasons).

P-K is located on the Kamchatka peninsula in the Far East of Russia. And 'Far' seems a bit of an understatement. For those who are familiar with the boardgame 'Risk,' you may be recall that landmass at the edge of the board leading into the Northwest Territory, or modern-day Alaska. Well, no, Kamchatka does not exist only in Hasbro's imagination--it is a real-life place and, believe it or not, human beings do in fact inhabit this far-off peninsula. This reference to Risk has so far proven to be the most effective introduction in explaining where I will be spending the next year of my life.

Needless to say, I was shocked when I discovered I would be traveling all the way around the world for my Fulbright year. I suppose I was expecting a posting at least within a 20-hour train ride of Moscow or St. Petersburg. Well, for those of you unfamiliar with just how vast Russia really is, P-K is located a whopping 10-hour plane flight and 9 time zones away from Moscow. In fact, it is 17 (seventeen!) time zones away from the East Coast of the US. I have since discovered through my own amateur research that Kamchatka will prove quite an exhilerating experience.

According to that venerable research engine, Wikipedia, P-K is the second-largest city in the world not accessible by roads. That is, roads exist within the city but do not extend far beyond--for one simple reason: it is surrounded by an active volcano range. The peninsula lies within, or on the border of, the Pacific Ring of Fire, the same tectonic phenomenon that causes volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and tsunamis throughout the Pacific. One of the peninsula's volcanoes erupted in January of 2009, but thankfully did not endanger the city enough to warrant an evacuation. Active volcanoes loom over the city of P-K, making for a very striking and forebod

ing backdrop to the city's crumbling Soviet architecture and infrastructure. P-K is the largest, and really only significant city on the peninsula, home to around 275,000 people, most of whom are engaged in the fishing industry or are members of the Russian navy. P-K is situated on the coast of the Bering Sea and the Avacha Bay, across which is situated the Ribachiy Nuclear Submarine Base--Russia's largest such base and the hub of the country's Pacific Nuclear Submarine Fleet. Many of you may be thinking: why would nuclear powered subm

arines be housed in such a tectonically volatile area? Isn't there a serious potential for disaster there? Well, go figure.

On the upside, however, most of the peninsula is protected as national park sites because of its unique and exceptional flora and fauna and geologic wonders. As mentioned, volcanoes dot the entire peninsula, and in between them lie groupings of active geyser fields as well as some lush plains and flowing rivers that provide homes for the largest brown bear population in Eurasia, an abundance of salmon, wolverines, golden eagles, and a host of other wildlife. So, as inaccessible as some of these wonders may be by road, hiking expeditions and helicopter rides allow a rare glimpse at this untouched land. That is, when the land is not covered in heaps of winter snow, as it is for much of the year. This does have its own upside, though, in mountain and cross-country skiing opportunities.

I hope to take full advantage of these opportunties when I am not working, because I was, of course, granted the Fulbright scholarship with the expectation of doing a bit of teaching... I recently received some limited information regarding my work, and this also came as a bit of a shock. I will be teaching 2nd year pre-law university students a course on the American and British legal and judicial systems. My first reaction: WHAT?!?! My second reaction: race down to the public library and check out 'The Idiot's Guide to the US Constitution'. It has so far proven invaluable in refreshing my already limited knowledge on constitutional law, and I think I have a good enough grasp now to cover at least half a semester of lecturing. I will also be teaching English-language courses in three local middle/high schools. One of these will be for 9th graders, and I am still waiting on my assignments in the two remaining schools. The biggest challenge comes in not knowing the English skills of my students before I arrive--I can't very well set up syllabi for classes if I do not know their level of comprehension. On top of these assignments, I will be leading a course for English professors at the university, and I hope to give several public presentations at the local American Corner about holidays, sports, and life in general in the United States. I also plan on doing some research or volunteer work with local environmental organizations working to protect and preserve the wealth of wildlife on the peninsula.

That is about all I know at this point in time about my posting, which leaves me nervous but simultaneously stir-crazy and eager to get out there and explore. I am scheduled to leave from Washington DC this Thursday, August 27 at 4:50pm, and, after a layover in Moscow, arrive in P-K on Saturday, August 29 at 3pm local time (that is 10pm on Friday the 28th in DC). There have unfortunately been some delays in receiving my visa invitation from Russia, however, so I do not yet have all the official documentation necessary to enter the country. I may, therefore, have to delay my departure a few days, but I will know more about this at the beginning of next week...yet another nervewracking part of this whole experience.

For some additional reading on Kamchatka, I am adding a URL from a recent National Geographic article that appeared very serendipitously after I was given my assignment. It is from the August 2009 issue (Yellowstone on the cover) and deals specifically with the salmon-fishing industry on the peninsula (http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2009/08/kamchatka-salmon/quammen-text) There is also a photo gallery and a map that accompany the article which can be opened by links on the left-hand side of the page. Happy reading!

I will keep you updated on my travel plans, as well as any additional information that I receive about my assignment.