Пушкин. Pushkin

Ok, I get, I finally get it. When you study Russian Pushkin gets shoved down your throat at every opportunity, and untill today I never really understood why. Sure it's lovely, archaeic and what not, but I just couldn't get my finger around the Russian's obsession with this 18th and 19th century poet with mutton chops. But now, Мой Пушки, как я вас люблю! (My Pushkin, how I love you.)

Без бас мне скучно, я зеваю;
При вас мне грустно, я терплю;
И, мочи нет, сказать желаю,
Мой ангел, как я вас люблю!

Roughly translated

Without you I'm borded, I yawn.
When you make me sad, I endure
A when it can't be, I wish you luck.
My angel, how I love you.

Of course there really isn't any point in translating, the beauty and subtlety of the stanza lies in the structure of the language. In fact is it even poetry if I translate it? Poetry is made for the Russian Language and vice-versa, this is what attracted me to Russian (that and the pretty letters, I like the words with 7 consonants in a row too).

Other than my Pushkin epiphany, today was a pretty uneventful day. I went to poetry class, as you can probably guess. I also had grammar with Svetlana Urinivina, nothing new there, still a barrel of fun. I guess the biggest news is the fact that I'm settled in to the point that there is no news, just an average day in Yaroslavl. I think a gypsy woman asked me for money. I politely said, I don't have any, but the teenage girl on the next park bench started screaming at her. They don't teach you the words she used.

I have to find some way to keep Irina Mikhailovna from feeding me so much without insulting her or making her worry. This morning after I woke up she called me in to breakfast. There before me was, a bannana, an apple, 4 pieces of baguette with salami, and 3 pieces of some sort of sweet date bread. If I don't eat it she becomes offended. Here she is offerming me everything she has, I'm obligated to eat it right? Maybe I will try feigning sickness again.

PS. The 2nd picture is for Jonathon. This is where you'd play soccer if you were Russian.

Мой друг ухо. My friend ear

Today I had a blind date with a Finnish man. Let me explain, my host mother's friend on the 2nd floor also hosts students. Her student happens to be a fin named ukho, in Russian it is spelled ухо, just like the word for ear. He claims even though it is spelled the same way it is pronounced differently, what sense that makes is beyond me, and I couldn't hear any difference. Regardless of the name, our «mothers» decided we must meet and arranged a dinner at their apartment. Ear somehow skirted the akward situation and arranged for us to meet and walk around the city minus the dinner.

I met ear, we walked around the city, drank a beer, he showed me the only store in town where you can actually pick up items and bring them to the counter, all went well. Ear is very tall and has long blonde hair, let's just say he stands out a bit. Maybe it was our accents, our maybe it was the enourmous fin, but some Russian kids approached us in the park and asked us where we were from. When I said I was from Indiana the only words I could make out were basketball, basketball, Pacers, basketball. The world is a very small place. Ear is nice, I'm a foreigner studying Russian in Russia, he's a foreigner studying Russian in Russia, Russian is our only way to communicate, it works, we're friends.

Elsewhere,
I had my first grammar class this morning, nothing much to say, I learned a lot, it was nice, end of story. It was nice to finally have something to do during the day other than wander the streets hoping not to be fed. Tommorow I have poetry class. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I can only assume Pushkin will be involved.

Incidents/Инциденты
I met a Russian college student. His name is Sergei, he studies chemistry. We met on Red Square when he asked me for the time. We exchanged phone numbers, I hope he doesn't want to hurt me.

The Ovcharov's have 3 pets. 1 evil cat named Sima, who refuses to leave my side but sracthes and hisses if I try to touch him, and 2 dogs. One of the dogs is 14 years old and deaf. He barks at everything and anything that moves, mainly me and the shadows. Today when I went in to the apartment, he was sleeping with his back to the door as he often does. I opened the door and he didn't move or bark, he went with the door. I thought he was dead and I would have to break the news. Nope, turns out he's just old and didn't want to move. The pictures are of the cat Tsima, and Irina with Chucha, the young dog.


They set me up with wi-fi on the laptop at school. All is well and free.

Документы

Sunday, May 13th.

Today, I once again awoke to the wonderful smells of Irina’s kitchen. Apparently it is tradition in the Ovcharov household to eat блени (a sort of russian pancake) every Sunday morning. As is nealy everything Irina cooks, they were delicous but no doubt fattening. I decided I needed to walk of the bleni. I headed for the central market. I learned from yesterdays mistakes, I made it there with out using my map or asking for directions, I'm starting to get the feel of this city.

After looking around the market, I headed back home hoping to avoid another heavy meal. I haven't been home for 10 minutes when Irina called me in to the kitchen to eat. The whole time I was at the market Irina was at home preparing пельмени/pelmeni, essentially they're meat filled dumplings usually served in broth. They were absolutely delicous, but for some reason my bowl was full to the brim, while Irina only had 4 on her plate. I asked her, «why I'm eating so many more than you». She replied, I'm an old women, you're a young man, EAT. So what is one to do, but force every dumpling down their throat with a smile after every bite.

After lunch, I translated another article for school and studied for a few hours. After I’d had enough I decided to walk down to the Volga, grab a beer and pick up some flowers for my host mother (after all it is Mother’s day in the states). I got a beer at a kiosk as well as a lesson on the proper stress (the e is accented, how was I supposed to know). As I was making my way down to the Volga I see a policemen leaning against a tree. Suddenly he pointed at me and 3 or 4 others and said “идти сюда» (Come here), I immediately began thinking about all the things I wish I could have done before I died. Great what have I done, is it the beer? I've seen 12 year olds buying beer and drinking it on the street, it can't be that. Is it me, do I have American written on my forehead? People ask me for directions every day, it can't be that can it? Is he trying to prevent me from buying flowers? «Ваш Пасспорт»/You're passport. Oh, of course Police=Passport how could I forget? Apparently levieng fines (bribes) for not carrying a passport is a policemen's major source of income, he was using the crime of jay walking (give me a break) to demand our documents. I pulled out my passport showed it to him, he didn't even open it, he just said «идти» go. What? I've got my visa and my visa registration, don't you want to inspect that? What about my entry form? Nope, I was of no use to him. Unfotunately the 3 Russians he stopped weren't so lucky. None of them had their passports with them. 30 minutes later, after finishing my beer and buying my flowers they were all still there arguing.

Мне нравиться борщ

Saturday May the 12th.

My first Saturday in Russia and I don’t know what to do. I need to buy a notebook for school so aimlessly wandering around the streets hoping to stumble on a book or paper store sounds like a great idea. During my breakfast of some sort of oatmeal, (I think) and bananas, my host mother asked me if I wanted to eat borscht this afternoon. Of course, I said. She told me to be back by 1 and we would eat borscht. Borscht, finally the moment has arrived but until then, aimless wondering.

I knew that my best chance for a notebook would be on one of two streets, улица Кирова или улица Свободы. I glanced at a map in the phone book and off I went. Needless to say I didn’t find the streets I needed, I was lost. When being lost is solved by following the bank of the Volga River home, life could be much worse. Along the way I stumbled upon several ancient churches and even the Kremlin. At a kiosk inside the Kremlin I swallowed my pride and bought a map. I found my mistake, of course, a right at Красная Пл. (Red Square) what was I thinking. I knew I shouldn't have taken that left turn at Советская. A quick look at the watch, 12:30, there's no time for notebooks now.


Double time down the the Volga, I can't be late. I made it back home at 12:50 and the apartment smelled delicous and the bortsch was fantastic.

Speaking of smells, last night at about 10:30 as I sat in my room trying to translate the newspaper, I heard a series of explosions. I looked outside and saw fireworks. I opened my door to ask my host father about the fireworks when I saw some fireworks of my own, the kitchen, on fire. Apparently Mikhail left the stove and had Irina not walked in as the fire started who knows what would have happened.








Инциденты/Incidents

~~I had a lovely encounter with a pay toilet today(really, no sarcasm). 6 Rubles for the cleanest bathroom and some of the friendliest smiles I've encountered all week.

~~I made the mistake of asking my host father to clarify the directions on the phone card I bought. 90 minutes and 3 angry phone calls to telephone companies later, we gave up.

~~My host mother forced me to watch Минут Слабы (Minute of Fame), a sort of Russian American Idol. The three guys that play crystal were good, the guy that snaped his fingers, not so much.

Days 1 and 2.

Now that I’m settled in and have time to breathe, an update.

My ill-conceived plain to sleep on the 11-hour flight from Atlanta to Moscow was thwarted from the very beginning. While still on the runway, I became acquainted with Irina Mikhailovna. Irina Mikhailovna was on her way to visit her son in Тверь after finishing up the semester teaching Russian at the University of Texas in Arlington. A few words later and my 11 hour Russian lesson had begun. Speaking with Irina was certainly reassuring and perhaps the relief my nerves needed, but during hour 9 after repeating ла ля лъя for the 300th time I was waining. The closer we got to Moscow the more anxious I became, after I saw the Baltic Sea, I wanted off that plane.

The only thing I knew about what was to occur at the airport was that someone would be there to pick me up. What do you mean someone? Who? When? Where? How? I feared the worst, I imagined my self in small office being interrogated by the police, or roaming the streets of Moscow embarassing myself and the language. What occurred was the simplest experience I have ever had at an airport. I Walked out of the plane, stood in line for 5 minutes, gave a very unhappy woman my passport, and 15 seconds later I was gone. That's it, no interregations, forms, regulations, simple. I picked up my luggage, turned to go and I saw a man with sign ЯГУ (Y.S.U.) Mеня зовут Aдам. Адам? Валера. Давай.

Perhaps it was delirium or the fact that I nodded my head at everything he said but we seemed to hit it off. I learned more about cars in that 3 hour trip than an my whole life.

Some highlights:

All Volga's are made in Nizhny Novgorod. Niva's have always been bad cars, but when chevrolet started making them they became even worse. Japanese cars are shit (I drive a Nissan) when they break down, throw them away, but a Mercedes keep it, it's valuable, someone will always pay to fix up a Mercedes. The ride itself was frightening to say the least, apparently the concept of a «passing lane» looses something in translation. In Russian it is, if there is any room any where and at any time, pass immediately. 3 terrifying hours driving through town after town and we arrived in Ярославль at about 3 in the afternoon.

Valera took me to the home of Irina and Mikhail where I was immediately rushed in to my room, given extreme amounts of food which was impossible to decline (how do you say, you eat chicken delta and see if you feel like eating,). At this point I had been awake for what seemed like 24 hours, my host parents might have well as been speaking Turkmen, and I was feeling ill. All things considered, I decided to try and beat jet lag in one day, I wasn't going to bed untill at least 10. My host father, Mikhail offered (I think) to take me for a walk around the city. We walked around the ancient part of this beautiful city for a couple of hours, he talked, I nodded. When we got back, I remember asking myself what I've gotten into. Where am I, who are these people, what are they saying and why won't they stop feeding me?

When I woke up (11 hours later) yesterday seemed like a world away (get it?). I woke up motivated, but most importantly rested. First things first, I needed money, and water. Water. In Yaroslavl you have to boilt the tap water before drinking it. Mineral (carbonated) water is plentiful but uncarbonated apparently isn't. Ok, I need money to buy water. I read about a few suggested banks in the city guide given to Middlebury college students, they're nearby, great, I'm off. I make it to my bank, open the door and oh, no, police, what does he want. Quick, think, what do I do? Stop, look and listen. I stand there for a second and pretend to be digging for something in my pockets. A woman enters walks up to him and hands him her (internal passport). Oh, passport of course, Police + Foreigner= Passport. Great, money in hand I'm on the streets searching every kiosk I see for water. 3 hours later and I've decided mineral water it is, when finally I find a kiosk where I see what I believe to be uncarbonated water. I go in, everyone is standing in line, so I stand in line «две вода пожалуйста.» «десят рублей»she replies. I give her the money, she gives me a receipt, I give the receipt to someone else, they tear it up, come out and unluck the refrigrated case and bam, water (in 6 easy steps).

I've got money, I've got water and maybe it was just the hydration doing the talking but my confidence is at an all time high. I make it to the University, meet my teachers, set up a course of study and all is well. They introduced me to a couple Russian students and a German student, one of which was singing in a concert tonight. They invited me, we went and I had a great time.

Long story short, I have Russian friends, haven't spoken or heard engligsh since we landed and things are great. Maybe I'm crazy, maybe it's the lack of sleep deprivation but I'm starting to understand things, and most importantly people understand me (I Think).

Day 1, 2 and maybe 3.

Well, for those of you who were worried I made it. I got in to Moscow about 3 am E.S.T where I was met by the Universities driver Valera. We got into Yaroslavl at about 3 P.M (just how fast is 145 KM anyway?)local time and he dropped me off with my host family.

Things are great( now that I've slept) Internet access is difficult to find and slow. I will try to write some more at home and submit later.

7 days and counting....

I can’t believe I’m writing this. Just one week to go, just one week until I step on a plane bound for Russia. Ten months ago I first got the idea in my head that I should go to Russia. Ten months ago I started planning and scheming. Ten months ago, May 9th seemed like a distant dream. Now countless hours planning and organizing and one neurosurgery later I find myself counting down the days not the weeks.

Planning this trip has been a long and tedious process. The process sounds simple enough. How difficult could it really be? You pick a place to go, get your airline ticket, get your visa, and you pack and go. What you don’t realize is all the little things involved.

Take if you will, the Russian Visa process. I wish I knew what I know now when I was younger, or even 2 months ago for that matter. Countless people advised me, just pay the $40 dollar fee and have someone arrange your visa for you. 40 dollars? what? I'm young, I've got plenty of time, I CAN be patient. I mean, come on, 40 dollars is 40 dollars right?

According to the Consulate of The Russian Embassy to obtain a visa you need: Passport..check Completed Visa Application..check Letter of Invitation..check. Ok, I’ve got everything I need now what? Mail a copy of your passport, completed visa application, cover letter, processing fee and self addressed stamp envelope. Great, simple enough. At this point, I’m dreaming of ways I’ll spend that 40 dollars. Long story short, miscommunication on both ends combined with naivety on this end and I know find myself paying for not only express three day visa processing, but two ends of overnight fedex deliveries, the sum of which I can assure you far surpasses 40 dollars.

As they say, вех живи, вех учись (roughly, live and learn.)

PS. It takes approximately two hours to explain to your insurance company why you need more than a months worth of your prescriptions.