Духан/I have no idea. (Дух = Spirit (s) but that's all I know)

Духан/I have no idea. (Дух = Spirit (s) but that's all I know)

Тhere is this little restaruant near the university called Духан it says «Central Aisian Cuisine» The guide they give to the Middlebury kids reccomends it as does Ear and every Russian I ask about it. Every day I walk by I'm tempted to stop in and try it but I'm usually so full from breakfast I'm afraid I'd make myself sick. Well today the stars allaigned. Irina had an early meeting this morning so Михайл and I were left to fend for ourselves. I had a banana and a croissant, I didn't have to eat a pound of salami and bread. What a revelation. So about 3 O'clock after I was done with classes I headed over for a taste of Central Aisia and the Caucasus. As usual, I didn't know exactly what I was ordering, being a Central Aisian restaurant I recognized less words than ususal. Aside from the words for, meat, potatos, onions and bread the only other words I reccognized were proper nouns, Tashkent, Tibilisi, Azerbeijan, Uzbekistan (all the stans for that matter). In over my head I asked the waitress, what do you recommend? She points at the menu, I see the words meat and Armenia and we begin. A few minutes later she brings a rout-iron skillet(did I spell that right? Someone please tell me, usually I let my spellng mistakes go but this is driving me crazy) Inside the skillet I find some kind of meat (I'm guessing, or rather hoping it was chicken) with peppers, onions, tomatoes and some interesting spices. A sort of, Caucasian Fajita if you will, it was good only cost me 125 rubles (just shy of $5) and it was a welcome shift away from the Russian diet of fat and carbs.

Happy Birthday Yaro, Tommorow in Яарославль is День Города/City Day. Yaroslavl and its residents will be celebrating their cities 1,000th birthday with a slew of concerts and events across the metropolitan area. Right out side my apartment their holding the annual Volga regatta and down the street will be the «Concert to Celebrate Russia's Ethnic Minority». I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm hoping it's a concert of Tajik, Kyrgyz, Tuvan, Uzbek and so on music. Could be fun, so I'm deffinetly going to check that out among other things. Three of my teachers have given me explecit warnings to be extremely careful, not to speak English in public and especially not to be out after dark. They say it's just an excuse for people from the region to come to the city, get drunk and fight. However, one teacher has given me an assignment write a 1 page report an any city day event. Talk about mixed signals. As usual, I don't know how my internet access will be over the weekend, and Sunday I might be going to Rostov Veliky. (the ancient town about an hour south of the city) But tonight, I'm going to singing club I'll let you know how that goes.

Update:
--Last night at singing club we ended the night(or should I say morning) with the Scorpions' "Winds of Change" That is all I will say for now, full update later. The picture is of the final verse of the Scorpions song.

--As I mentioned earlier today is City Day in Yaro, This morning at 7 A.M. my octagenarian host parents woke me up to drink champagne. I'm meeting some Russians at the Lenin Statue on Red Square at 10:00. We'll see how this go.

Husker Du and Tyler too

Sorry I wasn’t able to post anything yesterday. I’ve been incredibly busy with class and the extreme amount of homework.

It seems every time I meet a Russian and they find out I’m an American their first impulse is to burst out in song. Insert Music being the International Language cliche here:

Tuesday, the drunk at the kvas stand immediately broke into multiple versus of “Yesterday.” Coincidently, I saw him again today near the kvas stand. He seemed sober, thankfully I saw him and he didn’t see me. Last night we had a little get together for Ear that involved myself, Ear, his friend Vladimir and a bottle of Finnish Vodka. (Yes I’m aware of the fact that I am in Russia) Where are you from? I’m from America. Suddenly Vladimir broke out in to song “Flowers on the wall, they don’t bother me at all, smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo.” (The Everly Brothers I believe) Давай Давай, Давай and we're off. After we sang all we could remember it was on to Roy Orbison's «Crying» I tried to explain the popular theory that Roy Orbison is actualy an extra-terrestial but that didn't work so well. No human being can produce those sounds. After «Crying» it was on to «Only the Lonely» I tried explaining the Traveling Wilbury's but I guess Jeff Lynn and Tom Petty don't have quite the same international name recognition as Bob Dylan and Roy Orbison. From Roy Orbison we made the logical jump to Pavement (Shady Lane) and Wilco (Kamera), your guess is as good as mine, I unfortunately couldn't help with the Husker Du. After the songs, Vladimir insisted I meet his Friends, of we went and apparently I agreed to go the soccer match next wednesday with some local hooligans. Interesting

Elsewhere:
--My limited knowledge of European fashion is gathered mainly from soccer highlights, but I thought the euro fashion-mullet was a thing of the past. I mean, Beckham ditched his at least two years ago right? Was it before or after the samurai? Regardless, the Russian's apparently didn't get the memo. On a daily basis I see some of the best mullets on the planet, it makes me kind of homesick.

--I've been invited to join the singing club at the Unicorn Language Center Friday night. All I know is to show up at 7 and be prepared to sing. Also Interesting.

I finally got those pictures of me in Kostroma. I’ve posted them so you don’t forget how pretty I am, as if you could. The one by the tree is sort of embarrassing, I tried to decline but it was impossible.

Yesterday

As I mentioned, it is hot. When the warm weather arrives in Russia, so does the Квас/Kvass (A delicous sort of fermented soda). The Квас/Kvass vendors come out of the woodwork like the seven-year locusts. On nearly every street corner someone has set up a stand, including the corner between the Ovcharov’s Apartment and the University, or my corner, as I like to call it. For the last five days I’ve walked past that Kvass wagon at least 10 times a day. As hot as it’s been the thought of enjoying a refreshing, cool glass of Kvass has consumed me. Every time I walk by I try to gather as much information as possible, in anticipation of the perfect chance. How much is it? In what quantities can you order it? What do most people usually order? Today after class I rounded the corner and the stand was deserted, only the vendor. Perfect, this is my chance. As I approach the stand someone came out from behind a bus and walked up to the tank, ok fine just a minor hitch in the plan, I stand behind him. As I’m standing in line I hear someone else come up behind me. He’s speaking very loudly and in a language I don’t understand. It’s certainly not English and I can’t pick out any Russian words, maybe it’s Bulgarian or Ukranian. Whatever it is it keeps getting louder and louder when suddenly I realize, uh, he’s talking to me. Great, this is should be interesting.

I deliver my standard line. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak very much Russian, again please, slowly.” “AH Иностранец/Foreigner» Great, uh foreigner yes. A little louder please, I don't think they heard you in Rostov. The next thing I know he's pushing me away from the Kvass lady muttering something.(the only thing I can make out is подарок/gift) 30 seconds later and in my hand is one free cup of Kvass. In my company is one drunk Russian. Uh oh, this could be dangerous.

«Медленно пожалуйста/slower please»
«I'm sorry» he says, «I've had a little to drink, I drank a liter of wine after work»
I immediately think about the size of that liter bottle of water in my bag, that's a lot of wine.
«Do you speak english?» he says.
«Yes,» I say.
And before I know what's happening he starts singing «Yesterday» by the Beatles. A few lines in and he's urging me on.
«Давай, Давай» For the sake of my personal safety, I comply. After a few versus, we stop.
«Where are you from? England?»
«No», I reply.
«Switzerland?» what? Switzerland?
«No, America»
«AH! America»
«Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble mumble, Condoleeza Rice, mumble, mumble Putin» Uh oh, now what?
«I'm sorry, I have to go, I'm a student. I have class in 10 minutes. It was nice to meet you, thank's for the kvass.»
As I walk away he says, «The university is over there. Why are you going that way?»
«I need to get a pencil from home»
«A Pencil? I have a pencil, here take it»
Great, now what do I do?
«I need to get my notebook, I left it at at home too. Thank's again, for the Kvass»
Uh oh, he's following me. At this point I weigh my options. The only thing I know about this guy is: one, he's drunk, two, he knows I'm a foreigner and potentially even more danguerous an American, and three he likes the beatles and Kvass. If I head for home and he keeps following me, on one hand he knows where I live but on the other hand, people know me there. People who work for my host mother are always outside. I've been introduced, we exchange passing pleasantries on a daily basis, there is a small chance they'd interevene on my behalf, it's better than nothing. I make my way towards the apartment. I see Ivan, the building handy man. He's outside smoking, he lifts his hand to wave. «Дравствуйте» he says. Good, he saw me. Most importantly he saw my drunk tail. I approach the door, pull out my watch and my key to the stairs. This is it, this is the moment.
«I'm sorry, I say I reall need to go» pointing at my watch. My heart starts racing this is it. Is he going to follow me in the building? Can I unlock the stairs and slam the door in his face? Am I going to be another statistic in the state department travel warnings?
«Of course» he says as he reaches out to hug me.
Hug? Yes, it was the first hug I've gotten since I left Indianapolis and I don't even know his name.

You can say that again.

You can say that again.

Today it reached 80 degrees in Yaroslavl. Maybe it’s just because I’m in Russia, a country stereotypically associated with cold, snowy weather or maybe it’s just because I’m weak, but 80 degrees is hot, heat wave hot. (yes, a tropical heat wave. Thermometers climbing, the temperatures rising. Or something like that.) When I packed my bags, in an attempt to travel as lightly as possible I rolled the dice and decided not to take any short sleeve shirts. I looked at the average temperatures and thought, “highs in the upper 60’s and low 70’s, I can handle that in long sleeves. Days in the 70’s will be the minority anyway, right? Better to be prepared for the average days” Well, today makes the 6th day out of the last 7 with 75 degrees plus highs and sun shine. That means 86% of last week didn’t meet my expectations, or if you will, I’m batting .140, well below the Mendoza line. The only thing I packed with short sleeves is a black t-shirt. If I don’t open my mouth I can blend in and pass for a Russian. Dark jeans or slacks, tucked in button up shirt, black leather shoes and a small black man purse, I feel like I can pull it off. Nearly every day someone stops me on the street and asks me for directions. If I wear that t-shirt I might as well paint иностранец/foreigner on my forehead. I'll deal with the occasional, «why are you wearing long sleeves» glance.

Interestingly, or maybe not so the history of the russian word иностранец/foreigner steems from the old word for a German. In the 17th and 18th century there was a large German settlement outside Moscow (now only a suburban metro stop). Over time the word meant to describe a German became the word to describe all foreigners. Ok, sorry. I find this stuff fascinating.

Elsewhere,

Saturday when I went to Kostroma with Natasha and Svetlana we had some coffee. (as you already know). While we were drinking the coffee I mentioned that, other than animate objects the one thing I really miss is coffee, and not that instant stuff. What do you think I had for breakfast this morning? Yes, you got it, coffee. I can't believe Natasha and Svetlana would betray me like that. Not only did they tell Irina about my coffee coments, when I went to grammar class today, my teacher asked me if I like Kostroma. What? How did you know? Maybe the world does revolve around me.
Anyway, back to the breakfast on top of my daily fruit along with sausage or patte on bread, tea and some type of pastry, I now get coffee as well. I'm not complaining, it's just that it's getting ridiculous. Irina's hospitality so extreme that I'm ashamed to say I've taken to lying and saying that I've already eaten.

-Notice this mornings breakfast. Pastry, Kolbasa on bread, apple, tea and coffe. I just can't do it anymore.

Sunday, May 20th

Today I spent the day wandering around the city searching for a Словарь Синонимов Руссского Языка/ Russian Dictionary of Synonyms. When I finally found one on (at Дом Книги/House of Books, incase you were wondering) it reminded me of my first day in Yaroslavl. On my first day in Yaroslavl, the very first thing I did was exchange money. I'll never forget the great feeling I got after accomplishing such a simple task. Not only did I experience an overwhelming sense of relief, but it was a much needed boost to my confidence. I can do this, I can accomplish every task necessary to function in Russia. After exchanging the money, any time I accomplished something for the first time, it felt great. I’ll never forget the first time I bought something in a soviet style store. Maneuvering the six necessary steps can be a daunting task, but the first time you do it, you’re on top of the world, anything is possible.

Today was a reminder of just how far I’ve come in the last 10 days. The first few days were rough. I got lost everyday. I often didn’t know exactly what I was buying, how much it costs or even why I was buying it, but today was different. I left the apartment without even so much as glancing at a map. I knew what I needed and where I could find it. When I got to the store, instead of looking around trying to see what others were doing, I knew who to ask and most importantly what to ask. I guess the point is, I’ve been in Yaroslavl for 10 days and I’ve now reached the point where every day ceases to be an anxiety-laden affair and is simply, normal.

This wouldn’t be possible without the help everyone has given me along the way, and I want to take this opportunity to thank them. (Sorry) First of all, I want to thank Brandi for understanding and for pushing me to do this. Life without me must be difficult, I know how great I am, I don’t know how you do it. I want to thank my parents for their financial and moral support and for understanding why I’m doing what I’m doing. I especially want to thank Dr. Herr for the countless hours he spent making sure this was physically (and probably mentally) possible. I want to thank everyone at the Slavic Languages and Literature department. George and Masha, thank you for inspiring me and making sure that even thought I can’t communicate without embarrassing my, I can at least communicate. I want to thank Jeff for the great advice and all of the help you’ve given me along the way. And to Nathan, Aileen, Loue, Jake, Bart, Aunt Susie, Chris, Daniel, The Herr’s and all of my other friends and family for your support thank you.

Инциденты/Incidents

--Today as I was crossing the street someone grabbed me by the arm. I turned to look and it was a babushka. «The light is red» she said. What do I do? Do I A, ignore her and keep walking, or B, open my mouth (which immediately identifies me as a foreigner)? I chose b, and the next thing I know, I'm escorting a babushka arm in arm cross the cross walk.

--Travel Blog Cliché Alert. It really is the little things you notice. Forget the completely different culture and lifestyle, why are all of the toilet handles (or buttons I should say) on the top of the tank? You either pull or push, I just can't get used to that.

--Last night the Ovcharov's had a guest for dinner. We ate pirozhki and drank Bulgarian Wine. After a few toasts she went into a twenty minute monologue about why she loves Franklin D. Roosevelt. (I think)

--The Pictures are of Yaroslavl State University.

Кострома/Kostroma

Well the day turned out better than I imagined. I woke up feeling nauseaus and generally ill (I blame the Russian diet). The last thing I wanted to do was get in a compact Russian car with two of my host mother's employees and travel 80 kilometers on the wonderful Russian roads to an unfamiliar city. In hindsight, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

A little bit about Kostroma. Kostroma is an ancient town that lies on the confluence of the Volga and Kostroma rivers about 80 km's north east east of Yaroslavl. (Kostroma river, get it?) The town was originally founded in 1152 A.D. by Yury Dolgoruky, the same guy who founded Moscow (Thanks Lonely Planet). Kostroma is known for for it's textiles and the 14th century Monastery of St. Ipaty, which is considered the birthplace of the Romanov dynasty. At one point, Kostroma was the third largest city in Russia. And just in case you haven't had enough, Kostroma is home to the Russian folk hero Ivan Susanin. Legend has it that during a period of Polish invasion during the winter of 1612, Ivan led a deatchment of polish troops into an unpassable swamp. After they found out, they of course killed him but subsequently died themselves, i.e. unpassible. He's the guy in the picture of the statue, not Lenin.

At 10 in the morning I was picked up by the accountants of the evil head of the house committee, Natasha and Svetlana. About half way there, I started to feel much better, this day may not be a disaster after all. We arrived in Kostroma about 11:30, we went to St. Ipaty, took lots of photos, the girls got yelled at by the бабушки/babushkas for not wearing head scarves, a great time was had by all but probably most of all by the babushkas.

A bit about the babushka's, being a grandmother or the age of, in Russia technically qualifies someone for the title of babushka. But to be a Babushka is something entirely different, it's not exactly something you can explain. You know one when you see one. Как тебе не стыдно? How can you not be ashamed? Yes, you're right. I don't know what I did, but it was most certainly horrible. I'm sorry, now please take your platic bags and cane out of my face.

After the monestary we visited the museum of wooden architecture (see the pictures below). Then we went into the city spent several hours walking around the market, along the volga (yes, once again I can not escape the Volga) I also drank coffee, real coffe, not instant, it was great. After that we met up with Natasha's boyfriend Pavel for sushi. Yes, sushi in Russia. I don't think he cared for me too much, maybe it's him, maybe it's me, maybe it's Bush, who knows. Later we went to a really strange museum of fire history. It consisted mostly of items burned in house fires, televisions, phones, couches, you get the idea. One wing consisted entirely of drawings school children hade made throughout the years about house fires. Don't play with matches, my dad dies in a house fire etc.. Interesting.

We came back to Yaroslavl and now I'm writing. I don't have much to say so here are some photographs. Monday, I am going to get some pictures of me that the girls took in Kostroma. I'll post them so you don't forget how beautiful I am, as if it is possible.

Kostroma

Internet access is extremely limited on the weekends. What's worse than being sick in Russia? Being sick and going to Kostroma with strangers.

I"ll update tommorow.