I must confess that I haven't eaten any shchi (traditional cabbage soup) thus far, or much borsch, for that matter. Two meals a day are provided by my host mother, who isn't a hardcore бабушка (babushka), lunch is a sketchy affair, and when we got out to a restaurant as a program, it's as likely to be Chinese as anything else. I can't say I'm sorry to not be completely immersed in Russian cuisine. I mean, the cuisine is not one of the selling points of Russia, as it is for, say, France or Italy. If you are curious about what Russians traditionally eat, google it. If you are curious about what I eat, read on.
Завтрак/Zavtrak/Breakfast
Here's where I get my kasha. Every morning, there are two packets of kasha (general term for porridge) of the instant oatmeal variety. Tatiana Ivanovna rotates through four different brands (three? five? I haven't been keeping close enough tabs) of varying quality and quantity. She usually makes sure the flavor of the packets match, but lately I've been getting more and more mismatches. This morning, for instance, I had one packet of oatmeal with banana and one with strawberry. No worries, I think those fruits blend well enough.
Along with my kasha is a piece of fruit. I've had bananas all this week, which is fine with me, I love bananas with my breakfast. There's usually a glass of juice as well, and typically a plate with a couple pieces of bread and/or or a stack of biscuits/cookies/some sort of sweet. Bread is becoming less common with my meals – I think Tatiana Ivanovna noticed that it usually goes uneaten. I'm not a big fan of sweets with breakfast, but they go really well with tea, and I'm a hungry-morning sort of person, so I eat the cookies or the, um, пирожное (pirozhnoe). I don't really know what to call any of it in English. Strudel, maybe?
Lunch (not обед [obed], because it's not a three course, sit-down meal)
Lunch is a haphazard affair. Tuesday and Wednesday, I am at Smolny over the lunch hour. I either pack something to eat or go out or get something from the café on the third floor. If I bring something, it's usually dried fruit and nuts to snack on. For example, I found some REALLY palatable figs the other day, more delicate and softer than anything I've had in the States. I also bought some mediorce dates and some old peanuts. But if I want something more substantial, I can bring some sort of sandwich. Last Tuesday I brought black bread with hummus (Патэерсон [Paterson], a chain supermarket, more upscale, sells the stuff, to my delight) and sliced tomato. I also have peanut butter to make PB&J, but I am hesistant to draw on this finite resource.
The third-floor café sells a variety of hot dishes, from macaroni and sausage (т.е. hot dogs) to греча (grecha – buckwheat) with fish covered in smetana (light sour cream), bread and fried. This dishes are displayed behind glass and reheated in a microwave upon purchase. I try not to think about how long any given dish has been sitting there. I mean, I can't imagine that the case is refrigerated. I usually stick to rice with vegetables or one of the salads. Note: salads in Russia rarely, if ever, include lettuce. Salad means diced vegetables, pickles, peas, shredded carrot, etc. And they are small, about the size of your fist.
The café also sells пирожное, of course, with apricot or cabbage or some other sweet filling. People on our program buy a lot of Ritter's Sport's chocolate. Forty rubles for 100 grams, man! I bought a lovely pear once for fifteen rubles (sixty cents), and a banana for the same price, but then I realized that I could buy a banana at a магазин (magazin – store) for six rubles. I could probably get them even cheaper at a рынок (rynok – market), come to think of it.
There's good eating in the neighborhood, for sure. In fact, on the same street, there are two branches of the vegetarian restuarant called Тройский Мост. I ended up there several times in the first couple of weeks because two of my program buddies are vegetarians. It's cheap good food, with a lovely selection of salads, including салат из баклажан (salat iz baklazhan – eggplant salad), tasty, but heavy -- sold by the weight, my friend, and I like to keep my lunches around a hundred rubles.
Ужин/Uzhin/Supper
I'm always exicted for supper because usually I'm home late. My three night classes end at eight, figure half an hour to 45 minutes for transportation, and I'm usually not home before nine. So I'm def. hungry and looking forward to the HUGE portions that Tatiana Ivanovna serves me. Suppers consist of a starch, a vegetable dish, fruit, and some sort of sweet. Let's get some lists going:
Starches (from least frequent to most): rice, pasta, grecha, but mostly potatoes – boiled, fried, but most often instant, sometimes with mysterious chewy bits.
Vegetables (not all inclusive): boiled caulifower, bean sprout salad from a can, peas and carrots from a can, frozen vegetable mix, squash cooked with onion and tomato -- now that was a dish that lasted two glorious days, oh it was so good. At first I thought Tatiana Ivanovna was cutting up melon into the frying pan, and I expressed my surprise. Then she informed me that it was кабачок (kabachok – my dictionary defines it as «vegetable marrow,» but at the time I understood it to be squash). And then I felt like an idiot.
Fruits: orange, слива (sliva – plums, which are smaller and oval; tonight I had seriously tiny ones grown locally), apple – I've had but one decent apple while here. Usually I get small, flavorless apples with the texture of an overused pillow.
Sweets: I only want to mention хавла (khavla), a sort of pressed sesame seed paste cake. Ok, that sounds terrible, but seriously wonderful. It's one of my favorites, up there with the dense, round cookies that dip so nicely in chai and the small pies discovered just today during a break in Stalinist Culture Before WWII. Grandma, it's like they took one of your pies and shrunk it down to size of half a tennis ball, the crust and filling are so good.
Overall, my sweets consumption has increasd alarmingly and my pizza consumption has dropped from its dizzying heights over the summer to approximately nil. Spices are a rarity, the major players being salt and pepper, and not much of the latter. I'm not getting nearly as much dill as I expected, not nearly as much eggplant as I want and as Carly receives (who doesn't even like it!), and шашличный кетчуп (shashlichny ketchup) is my condiment of choice. Regular ketchup tastes weird.
Well, there it is. I'm getting enough to eat, the food agrees with me, and I'm figuring out Russian grocery stores, slowly but surely. Before I end this feast of a post, I would like to apologize for the copious amounts of parentheses. The reasons for this are the following: first, I had a request to transliterate the Russian words I use, and second, I really enjoy using parenthesis. If it bugs you, let me know and I'll try to reduce. If you have any other requests, write them on the bottom of a jar of peanut butter and send 'em my way.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Top Ten
The handbook I got from our program managers, Bryan, covered a lot of useful information about what we could expect from our time in Russia. Nevertheless, more than once I have been caught off guard by some Russian... thing.
10. The widespread use of the Latin alphabet. I thought that once I got to Russia, everything would be in Russian, but English is everywhere. Many stores, usually more upscale, have their name spelled out in English. Products advertised on TV, besides food and cleaning products, generally have English/America/French names. Almost every тетрадь (tetrad') or copy book has English on the cover.
Sidetrack!
I have three such тетради (tetradi): one says «Lovely Fruits» and has a variety of fruits arranged in a grid pattern, the other says «Purple Power» and has an eggplant on it, and my школьный дневник (shkol'ny dnevnik) (grade book that I'm using as a day planner) has «aranciamania» superimposed on a large orange and lined up next to it are three grapefruit halves. Other classmates have these red copy books with black felt lettering on them – on says «YES», the other says «NO». It's pretty much hilarious to the American students. Or maybe just me.
9. Light switches on the outside of rooms. From the hunt for the light switch of the bathroom at the hotel to the hunt for the light switch of the kitchen in my apartment, I am still baffled as to why rooms are wired this way. It makes early morning pranks so easy. “Sasha, turn the light back on, I’m trying to take a shower in here!!”
8. Washing machine in the bathroom. I was initially surprised when I saw the washing machine standing across from the bathroom sink in my apartment, but it makes sense when you think about it: a) the dirty water goes straigh into the tub and B) where else would the thing be? The kitchen?
7. Cars driving and parking on the sidewalks. 'Nuff side.
6. Spitting on the street. I knew about the dog poop on the street, I had been warned that Russians don’t clean up after their dogs – they think it’s dirty to do so, and we think it’s dirty not to – but what bugs me more than dodging Sharik’s business is spotting Ivan’s expectorations. In any case and unfortunately, I need to spend more time watching my step than gazing at…
5. The amazing sky. I don’t know why the clouds look closer here than in the States, but I do know that I live a stones throw from the Gulf of Finland, and the sky is often filled with these enormous puffy clouds that take on the most gorgeous hues come sunset. I can’t do justice to the skies of St. Petersburg with words.
4. The plethora of small grocery stores. I call them “produktis” because they all say Продукты (prah-DU-ktee, foodstuffs) on the outside, but that’s like calling a grocery stores “foods” because that’s what they sell. Plus, I’m inflecting an inflection by adding an ‘s’ to the already plural ending, ы. The point is, there are SO MANY places around town, around the metro stations, around the bus stops to buy food, or flowers, or stockings. Even coming from a consumerist society, it's a little much. But, as Amy pointed out to me, there's five million people in this city, and they all have to eat. And give flowers. And 2.5 million of them have to wear stockings.
3. Ремонт (reh-MONT: renovation), everywhere. I considered counting all the construction sites that I pass on my way to and from school, but it would require such sustained concentration and counting that I'd rather spend my time reviewing vocabulary. Not only are sidewalks being torn up all over the city, but scaffolding draped in green mesh surrounds every other building. Internal ремонт is just as wide spread. I went to the fourth floor bathroom at Smolny – a large desk blocked the door, on which was an explanatory sign: РЕМОНТ. I walked into the second floor bathroom – two sinks lay in the corner, and two new ones stood in their place on the wall, the manufacturers' stickers still in place. Furthermore, doing ремонт in one's apartment is THE thing to do. The apartment above Amy's treats her to the sound of drilling and hammering on a regular basis. I myself was privey to a Power Drill Recital just last afternoon.
2. Classes meeting only once a week. No one told me that Russian college classes meet only once a week! I was shocked when Bryan (program manager) revealed this fact during orientation. Later, I asked him why he didn’t put that in the handbook. “Because no one would come to Smolny,” he said, “if they knew classes only met once a week.” Apparently, people from the States would consider once-a-week, three hour classes not challenging enough. As for myself, I’ve had plenty of homework to chew on throughout the week. I’m really just bummed that all of my classes, besides Russian Language ones, go until 20:00. And of course, class doesn’t get out right on time, you stay to chat with whomever, you wait a while to catch the bus, and BAM you can’t get home to dinner before nine. Moreover, if I do end up taking piano lessons (which seems more unlikely with each passing day), and I have to rely on the pianos at Smolny, then I can only start practicing at eight. Or whenever the professor teaching in room 402 returns the key to the room.
1. счас/шас. (shash) I don't think anyone told me that Russians say this all the time. As near as I can figure out, it means подожди or or «hang on» or «wait a second.» Maybe I wasn't paying attention in class when we went over this or something, because everyone says it and I had never heard it.
That's all for now, folks. Tune in next time for an update about what Hannah eats, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel
10. The widespread use of the Latin alphabet. I thought that once I got to Russia, everything would be in Russian, but English is everywhere. Many stores, usually more upscale, have their name spelled out in English. Products advertised on TV, besides food and cleaning products, generally have English/America/French names. Almost every тетрадь (tetrad') or copy book has English on the cover.
Sidetrack!
I have three such тетради (tetradi): one says «Lovely Fruits» and has a variety of fruits arranged in a grid pattern, the other says «Purple Power» and has an eggplant on it, and my школьный дневник (shkol'ny dnevnik) (grade book that I'm using as a day planner) has «aranciamania» superimposed on a large orange and lined up next to it are three grapefruit halves. Other classmates have these red copy books with black felt lettering on them – on says «YES», the other says «NO». It's pretty much hilarious to the American students. Or maybe just me.
9. Light switches on the outside of rooms. From the hunt for the light switch of the bathroom at the hotel to the hunt for the light switch of the kitchen in my apartment, I am still baffled as to why rooms are wired this way. It makes early morning pranks so easy. “Sasha, turn the light back on, I’m trying to take a shower in here!!”
8. Washing machine in the bathroom. I was initially surprised when I saw the washing machine standing across from the bathroom sink in my apartment, but it makes sense when you think about it: a) the dirty water goes straigh into the tub and B) where else would the thing be? The kitchen?
7. Cars driving and parking on the sidewalks. 'Nuff side.
6. Spitting on the street. I knew about the dog poop on the street, I had been warned that Russians don’t clean up after their dogs – they think it’s dirty to do so, and we think it’s dirty not to – but what bugs me more than dodging Sharik’s business is spotting Ivan’s expectorations. In any case and unfortunately, I need to spend more time watching my step than gazing at…
5. The amazing sky. I don’t know why the clouds look closer here than in the States, but I do know that I live a stones throw from the Gulf of Finland, and the sky is often filled with these enormous puffy clouds that take on the most gorgeous hues come sunset. I can’t do justice to the skies of St. Petersburg with words.
4. The plethora of small grocery stores. I call them “produktis” because they all say Продукты (prah-DU-ktee, foodstuffs) on the outside, but that’s like calling a grocery stores “foods” because that’s what they sell. Plus, I’m inflecting an inflection by adding an ‘s’ to the already plural ending, ы. The point is, there are SO MANY places around town, around the metro stations, around the bus stops to buy food, or flowers, or stockings. Even coming from a consumerist society, it's a little much. But, as Amy pointed out to me, there's five million people in this city, and they all have to eat. And give flowers. And 2.5 million of them have to wear stockings.
3. Ремонт (reh-MONT: renovation), everywhere. I considered counting all the construction sites that I pass on my way to and from school, but it would require such sustained concentration and counting that I'd rather spend my time reviewing vocabulary. Not only are sidewalks being torn up all over the city, but scaffolding draped in green mesh surrounds every other building. Internal ремонт is just as wide spread. I went to the fourth floor bathroom at Smolny – a large desk blocked the door, on which was an explanatory sign: РЕМОНТ. I walked into the second floor bathroom – two sinks lay in the corner, and two new ones stood in their place on the wall, the manufacturers' stickers still in place. Furthermore, doing ремонт in one's apartment is THE thing to do. The apartment above Amy's treats her to the sound of drilling and hammering on a regular basis. I myself was privey to a Power Drill Recital just last afternoon.
2. Classes meeting only once a week. No one told me that Russian college classes meet only once a week! I was shocked when Bryan (program manager) revealed this fact during orientation. Later, I asked him why he didn’t put that in the handbook. “Because no one would come to Smolny,” he said, “if they knew classes only met once a week.” Apparently, people from the States would consider once-a-week, three hour classes not challenging enough. As for myself, I’ve had plenty of homework to chew on throughout the week. I’m really just bummed that all of my classes, besides Russian Language ones, go until 20:00. And of course, class doesn’t get out right on time, you stay to chat with whomever, you wait a while to catch the bus, and BAM you can’t get home to dinner before nine. Moreover, if I do end up taking piano lessons (which seems more unlikely with each passing day), and I have to rely on the pianos at Smolny, then I can only start practicing at eight. Or whenever the professor teaching in room 402 returns the key to the room.
1. счас/шас. (shash) I don't think anyone told me that Russians say this all the time. As near as I can figure out, it means подожди or or «hang on» or «wait a second.» Maybe I wasn't paying attention in class when we went over this or something, because everyone says it and I had never heard it.
That's all for now, folks. Tune in next time for an update about what Hannah eats, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Life is an exam
... and I'm studying every night. They don't call it a Two Week Language Intensive for nothing. I've been writing short essays every night, puzzling over the details of prepositions, practicing my vowels, and looking up words words words all the time.
This week is also the first week of classes at Smolny. Monday, I visited a class taught by a professor I could understand pretty well, but the workload was too heavy for my causal interest in the History of the Russian Empire. Next, I went to a class which I thought was "Language of the City," but turned out to be a comparitave art course. Thanks to reading the posted schedule wrong, I had gone to the wrong room. Tuesday, I was a little over ambitious and visited three classes. This means that I had Russian from 9:30 to 13:00 (with modest breaks), then 13:00 to 16:20 with a ten minute break, then 16:40 to 18:10 and again from 18:30 to 20:00. And the last class was in the computer lab — it was hot. The professor went over time about two minutes and I was ready to push him over, I was so ready to leave. I got home late and had to wash my clothes, eat dinner, and hang up clothes before starting on my homework. UGH.
Yesterday was much less intense — I got to eat a real lunch and arrived home before rush hour. Today is also more laid back. I'm going to a class I signed up for — Russian Classics on the World Screen, but that doesn't start until 4:40, so I have another good hour and a half for homework and studying grammar -- tomorrow we have some sort of evaluative test. I'm not clear on what exactly is happening.
In other news, the weather here is great. Really breezy and wonderful. Huge clouds and all. Also, I got a bus card, so I can ride the bus any time, any where as much as I want until the end of the month, all for 385 rubles. Yesssssss.
If you want to bring a smile to my face, leave a comment or send me an email (jastramhi[AT]gmail[DOT]com). I would love to hear from you, dear reader. It's true.
This week is also the first week of classes at Smolny. Monday, I visited a class taught by a professor I could understand pretty well, but the workload was too heavy for my causal interest in the History of the Russian Empire. Next, I went to a class which I thought was "Language of the City," but turned out to be a comparitave art course. Thanks to reading the posted schedule wrong, I had gone to the wrong room. Tuesday, I was a little over ambitious and visited three classes. This means that I had Russian from 9:30 to 13:00 (with modest breaks), then 13:00 to 16:20 with a ten minute break, then 16:40 to 18:10 and again from 18:30 to 20:00. And the last class was in the computer lab — it was hot. The professor went over time about two minutes and I was ready to push him over, I was so ready to leave. I got home late and had to wash my clothes, eat dinner, and hang up clothes before starting on my homework. UGH.
Yesterday was much less intense — I got to eat a real lunch and arrived home before rush hour. Today is also more laid back. I'm going to a class I signed up for — Russian Classics on the World Screen, but that doesn't start until 4:40, so I have another good hour and a half for homework and studying grammar -- tomorrow we have some sort of evaluative test. I'm not clear on what exactly is happening.
In other news, the weather here is great. Really breezy and wonderful. Huge clouds and all. Also, I got a bus card, so I can ride the bus any time, any where as much as I want until the end of the month, all for 385 rubles. Yesssssss.
If you want to bring a smile to my face, leave a comment or send me an email (jastramhi[AT]gmail[DOT]com). I would love to hear from you, dear reader. It's true.
Friday, August 31, 2007
A week in
I'm sitting in the Smolny Institute computer lab, which is on the fourth floor of... this building. I should know what is is in reality, but I don't. The point is, I can see the Neva out the window, as well as big puffy clouds that seem closer to me than big puffy clouds usually do. It's the most convenient place I know of right now to get wireless. And it's not very convenient to bring my laptop here. I mean, I have a 35 minutes bus ride here and then I have to carry my computer along with me throughout the day.
I don't mean to sound crabby, but the fact of the matter is, I am very tired. This session of intensive Russian Language is taking the life out of me. From 10 to 1:20 or so we have four classes: Грамматика, Разговорная практика, Письменная речь, and an 'elective' (Grammar, Conversational practice, written speech). Today we had Фонетика (phonetics), at the beginning of which the professor, Светлана Борисовна Степанова, had us talk about ourselves. I thought she just wanted to get to know us, but NO, she was listening to our accents and called some people out on their mistakes. Sneaky. Later, we recited some tongue-twisters and that made up for it.
The point is (yes, I'm making another point), we've had lots of homework, a fact Алеша can attest to, seeing as he's called me more than once before I left for school and I still hadn't finished all my домашнее задание.
Yes, home. My host mother is an understanding woman who lets me alone for the most part. I have not been harangued about my going outside with wet hair, made to put on socks, or scolded for not eating enough, as some of my groupmates have. Her son has a work schedule I haven't quite figured out yet, though I found out yesterday when I came home earlier than usual and he was there, that it involves two days off during the week because he works on Saturday and Sunday. He also told me to fill up the water pitcher. Ok, I can do that.
Just a taste right here of St. Petersburg: driving. I don't know how much of this insanity is large city stuff in general or what, but when I was being dropped off at my host family's, the driver would have made me fear for my life if he had not so clearly seemed to know what he was doing. The dashed lines were mere suggestions to him. Also, walking home from Primordskaya (metro station) one Sunday, we saw a car accident on the street next to us. Not even a week into my stay here, not even at an intersection, but BAM black smoke and staring spectators.
Tonight is an introductory dinner at a restaurant on Malaya Sadova, a street about two blocks long. I think I'll be walking there, but how long that will take, I do not know. It's a nice day, though, and word on the street is that we won't have many of those in a month or two. Let's hope I have enough energy to spit out information about myself to real Russians. Пока.
I don't mean to sound crabby, but the fact of the matter is, I am very tired. This session of intensive Russian Language is taking the life out of me. From 10 to 1:20 or so we have four classes: Грамматика, Разговорная практика, Письменная речь, and an 'elective' (Grammar, Conversational practice, written speech). Today we had Фонетика (phonetics), at the beginning of which the professor, Светлана Борисовна Степанова, had us talk about ourselves. I thought she just wanted to get to know us, but NO, she was listening to our accents and called some people out on their mistakes. Sneaky. Later, we recited some tongue-twisters and that made up for it.
The point is (yes, I'm making another point), we've had lots of homework, a fact Алеша can attest to, seeing as he's called me more than once before I left for school and I still hadn't finished all my домашнее задание.
Yes, home. My host mother is an understanding woman who lets me alone for the most part. I have not been harangued about my going outside with wet hair, made to put on socks, or scolded for not eating enough, as some of my groupmates have. Her son has a work schedule I haven't quite figured out yet, though I found out yesterday when I came home earlier than usual and he was there, that it involves two days off during the week because he works on Saturday and Sunday. He also told me to fill up the water pitcher. Ok, I can do that.
Just a taste right here of St. Petersburg: driving. I don't know how much of this insanity is large city stuff in general or what, but when I was being dropped off at my host family's, the driver would have made me fear for my life if he had not so clearly seemed to know what he was doing. The dashed lines were mere suggestions to him. Also, walking home from Primordskaya (metro station) one Sunday, we saw a car accident on the street next to us. Not even a week into my stay here, not even at an intersection, but BAM black smoke and staring spectators.
Tonight is an introductory dinner at a restaurant on Malaya Sadova, a street about two blocks long. I think I'll be walking there, but how long that will take, I do not know. It's a nice day, though, and word on the street is that we won't have many of those in a month or two. Let's hope I have enough energy to spit out information about myself to real Russians. Пока.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
First Adventure
So here I am, in St. Petersburg. Our group is staying in the Hotel Regina, which (as I learned last night) is at the Petrogradskaya metro station on the blue line. The room I share with Demetria is smaller than any hotel or motel room I've been in, but it is nice, especially the bathroom. The floor in there is heated! And the toilet paper is pink.
Two days ago was my birthday, a fact which was announced to our group while we rode around tne city on an old red bus with blue curtains. They sang to me, and that was about the extent of my birthday celebrations, but being in Russia was excitement enough. Right? Of course.
By now, we've had two tours of the city of St. Petersburg -- bus and boat -- a tour of the Church of the Spilled Blood, eated at four different restaurants around the city, received cell phones and phone cards, and ridden the Metro. After our last dinner together, we had to get ourselves home. Anna insisted that I go out for my birthday, so we and two ther guys headed to the American Consulate. Yes, the Marines were having a party.
As we walked towars the bus stop, we saw our bus passing us. We gave chase and caught up with it at the остановка автобуса. Anna bought tickets from the conductor for us because we all had big bills, then we sat down and I anxiously/carefully traced the route of the автобус in my small city atlas. We managed to get off at the right stop, found the consulate, and experienced the Waiting which is so common in Russia. A guard collected our spravki (replacement documentation while we get our multipass visa) and Russian student IDs, went into a small, gray shack with tinted windows, came out, lit a cigarette, went back in.... We stood at a distance, as intstructed, and waited in the median along with three Russians. He eventually returned our документы to us, which was a relief. It's nervewracking to be without one's passport, справка, and ID!
We were let in two at a time, with plenty of waiting time in between entries. I suppose it felt longer than it actually was. When it was finally Anna and my time to go, we went up to the door and showed our справка и русские студенты биллеты again. The gaurds tried chatting with me in Russian about studying here, but I was distracted by the security process and we all switched to English. I got signed in, surrendered my camera, assured them that my cell phone couldn't take pictures, and plowed forward. Anna, who had gone before me, was waiting at the top of a short flight of stairs. We passed through a short hallway, which led us into a small courtyard. Um, where to now?
Well, we spotted another guard in the far right corner and approached him (подошли к ему). As we did so, I formulated a question to ask -- I decided on Где находится вечеринка? Before I could bust that out, he motioned us towards a staircase across from him.
The party was not very exciting. Already there were the three Russians, who had started a game of pool. That's it. More people came, in time. We stayed an hour, leaving before eleven because the Metro stops running at midnight and I'm skittish like that. Thanks to our navigation of the Metro earlier in the day, and Anna's public transportation smarts, we made it expediently to our stop (Петроградская). The boys were a different story. First, they didn't follow us up the escalator at our transfer. We went back down to get them and of course passed them as they ascended. Then, they got on the wrong train. We tried calling them, but I think they were more worried about us than we were abut them. I believe they got on yet another wrong train before making it home, but we all made it back in one piece to the hotel by midnight. You know, I don't think I even saw any Marines! None in uniform, at least.
And now I'm waiting to move in with my family. Nervous much?
Two days ago was my birthday, a fact which was announced to our group while we rode around tne city on an old red bus with blue curtains. They sang to me, and that was about the extent of my birthday celebrations, but being in Russia was excitement enough. Right? Of course.
By now, we've had two tours of the city of St. Petersburg -- bus and boat -- a tour of the Church of the Spilled Blood, eated at four different restaurants around the city, received cell phones and phone cards, and ridden the Metro. After our last dinner together, we had to get ourselves home. Anna insisted that I go out for my birthday, so we and two ther guys headed to the American Consulate. Yes, the Marines were having a party.
As we walked towars the bus stop, we saw our bus passing us. We gave chase and caught up with it at the остановка автобуса. Anna bought tickets from the conductor for us because we all had big bills, then we sat down and I anxiously/carefully traced the route of the автобус in my small city atlas. We managed to get off at the right stop, found the consulate, and experienced the Waiting which is so common in Russia. A guard collected our spravki (replacement documentation while we get our multipass visa) and Russian student IDs, went into a small, gray shack with tinted windows, came out, lit a cigarette, went back in.... We stood at a distance, as intstructed, and waited in the median along with three Russians. He eventually returned our документы to us, which was a relief. It's nervewracking to be without one's passport, справка, and ID!
We were let in two at a time, with plenty of waiting time in between entries. I suppose it felt longer than it actually was. When it was finally Anna and my time to go, we went up to the door and showed our справка и русские студенты биллеты again. The gaurds tried chatting with me in Russian about studying here, but I was distracted by the security process and we all switched to English. I got signed in, surrendered my camera, assured them that my cell phone couldn't take pictures, and plowed forward. Anna, who had gone before me, was waiting at the top of a short flight of stairs. We passed through a short hallway, which led us into a small courtyard. Um, where to now?
Well, we spotted another guard in the far right corner and approached him (подошли к ему). As we did so, I formulated a question to ask -- I decided on Где находится вечеринка? Before I could bust that out, he motioned us towards a staircase across from him.
The party was not very exciting. Already there were the three Russians, who had started a game of pool. That's it. More people came, in time. We stayed an hour, leaving before eleven because the Metro stops running at midnight and I'm skittish like that. Thanks to our navigation of the Metro earlier in the day, and Anna's public transportation smarts, we made it expediently to our stop (Петроградская). The boys were a different story. First, they didn't follow us up the escalator at our transfer. We went back down to get them and of course passed them as they ascended. Then, they got on the wrong train. We tried calling them, but I think they were more worried about us than we were abut them. I believe they got on yet another wrong train before making it home, but we all made it back in one piece to the hotel by midnight. You know, I don't think I even saw any Marines! None in uniform, at least.
And now I'm waiting to move in with my family. Nervous much?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Ananndale On Hudson
I'm sitting in a dorm room at Bard College, trying to make out the mountain that I know is outside my window, but this morning is shrouded in clouds. This is the second day of orientation, and I would be looking forward to it less if the staff weren't as great as they are.
How did I get here? Well, I boarded a six am flight on Sunday and waited and waited. We found out that a huge nut on the landing gear had a torque problem. The flight attendants started pulling people off the plane and onto different flights, and then we ALL got off and lined up at the counter. Luckily, I was close to the front of the line. Even more luckily, a woman called my name after a bit. She told me that the next flight to Albany was at 1:05pm. Nooooo problem, I thought, and set off to Concouse A.
During my seven hours of leisure time, I struck up a conversation with a man on his way to Coloumbus, OH. He sells lab equipment for Johnson&Johnson, hadn't checked his email, and was chagrined when I told him about the counterfeit diabetes test strips Johnson & Johnson got from China. I found a discarded newspaper. I listened to This American Life. I read the book Gabby gave me. And I worried about my luggage.
Finally the 1:05 flight came. Luckily, I sat next to a wonderful, chatty woman (chatty until I fell asleep) who stuck with me after disembarking, giving me advice on how to figure out where my luggage was, lending me her cell phone, and sticking with me until Sooz (from Bard) arrived. I was so grateful. She had all these tips, like, "Once you see that your luggage is not coming, quick go to the luggage claims office, because a line'll form" and "They're required to send you your luggage, but usually they ask when you can pick it up. Be firm, give them a sob story, and they'll ship it through UPS." As it turned out, my luggage arrived about twenty minutes after I did, a bit smudged, but intact and present.
We made it to the college, I got some dinner, which included lots of tasty corn on the cob -- er, ears of corn -- and crashed around ten.
Yesterday was a lot of info, a lot of sitting, a lot of walking (this campus is loooong), and my neck started to hurt. And now it's time for breakfast. Cheers!
Edit:
I forgot to mention that I have my host family information. I'm living with Tatiana Ivanovna and her son Andrew (don't know his age) at 42 Korablestroiteley. I move in Saturday.
How did I get here? Well, I boarded a six am flight on Sunday and waited and waited. We found out that a huge nut on the landing gear had a torque problem. The flight attendants started pulling people off the plane and onto different flights, and then we ALL got off and lined up at the counter. Luckily, I was close to the front of the line. Even more luckily, a woman called my name after a bit. She told me that the next flight to Albany was at 1:05pm. Nooooo problem, I thought, and set off to Concouse A.
During my seven hours of leisure time, I struck up a conversation with a man on his way to Coloumbus, OH. He sells lab equipment for Johnson&Johnson, hadn't checked his email, and was chagrined when I told him about the counterfeit diabetes test strips Johnson & Johnson got from China. I found a discarded newspaper. I listened to This American Life. I read the book Gabby gave me. And I worried about my luggage.
Finally the 1:05 flight came. Luckily, I sat next to a wonderful, chatty woman (chatty until I fell asleep) who stuck with me after disembarking, giving me advice on how to figure out where my luggage was, lending me her cell phone, and sticking with me until Sooz (from Bard) arrived. I was so grateful. She had all these tips, like, "Once you see that your luggage is not coming, quick go to the luggage claims office, because a line'll form" and "They're required to send you your luggage, but usually they ask when you can pick it up. Be firm, give them a sob story, and they'll ship it through UPS." As it turned out, my luggage arrived about twenty minutes after I did, a bit smudged, but intact and present.
We made it to the college, I got some dinner, which included lots of tasty corn on the cob -- er, ears of corn -- and crashed around ten.
Yesterday was a lot of info, a lot of sitting, a lot of walking (this campus is loooong), and my neck started to hurt. And now it's time for breakfast. Cheers!
Edit:
I forgot to mention that I have my host family information. I'm living with Tatiana Ivanovna and her son Andrew (don't know his age) at 42 Korablestroiteley. I move in Saturday.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
The Final Countdown
All right, friends, this is it.
I leave tomorrow morning for Bard College, the institution through with I am studying in St. Petersburg. The plan is to get to the MSP airport at five a.m. and arrive at the Albany airport at eleven. I'm all packed, besides this computer, my retainer, and a Nalgene. And a PBJ sandwich for the road.
I've said my good-byes to Greta and Charlie, to the Struss family, who called me while on vacation to pass the phone around the car, and my extended family, and to Punch. My sister and I played Scrabble with our former manager, and not only was it good to see Kate, and good because I won (this time), but it was good for occupying two full hours of this day, this dreary, boring, what-am-I-to-do-with-myself day.
Mom whipped out Google Earth late this evening -- too late. I wanted to look up all sorts of places, but I needed to reorganize my packing. If you have the time and inclination, you can follow along on my journey. I will be at Annandale on Hudson, NY for the first half of the week (look for the sweet Performing Arts Center), and Hotel Rus' (1 Arilleryiskaya Street) for the second half. The middle of the week will be spent mostly in the air.
The question on every one's mind -- I know what it is because people keep asking -- is WHERE and WHO is my host family. I don't know the answer and I don't know when I'll know the answer. But you will know once I know, dear readers, fear not.
Vocab for the day:
Чемодан: "suitcase," a noun near and dear to the hearts of Prof. Thomas' first-year Russian students. У меня два чемодана.
уходить, убезжать, улетать, уплывать: "to be in the process of leaving by foot, by accelerated motion on foot, by air, or by motion through water." Я улетаю зватра.
Let's be honest, it's late, considering that I plan to be up at four. So farewell!
I leave tomorrow morning for Bard College, the institution through with I am studying in St. Petersburg. The plan is to get to the MSP airport at five a.m. and arrive at the Albany airport at eleven. I'm all packed, besides this computer, my retainer, and a Nalgene. And a PBJ sandwich for the road.
I've said my good-byes to Greta and Charlie, to the Struss family, who called me while on vacation to pass the phone around the car, and my extended family, and to Punch. My sister and I played Scrabble with our former manager, and not only was it good to see Kate, and good because I won (this time), but it was good for occupying two full hours of this day, this dreary, boring, what-am-I-to-do-with-myself day.
Mom whipped out Google Earth late this evening -- too late. I wanted to look up all sorts of places, but I needed to reorganize my packing. If you have the time and inclination, you can follow along on my journey. I will be at Annandale on Hudson, NY for the first half of the week (look for the sweet Performing Arts Center), and Hotel Rus' (1 Arilleryiskaya Street) for the second half. The middle of the week will be spent mostly in the air.
The question on every one's mind -- I know what it is because people keep asking -- is WHERE and WHO is my host family. I don't know the answer and I don't know when I'll know the answer. But you will know once I know, dear readers, fear not.
Vocab for the day:
Чемодан: "suitcase," a noun near and dear to the hearts of Prof. Thomas' first-year Russian students. У меня два чемодана.
уходить, убезжать, улетать, уплывать: "to be in the process of leaving by foot, by accelerated motion on foot, by air, or by motion through water." Я улетаю зватра.
Let's be honest, it's late, considering that I plan to be up at four. So farewell!
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