Hey guys! So, due to a lack of technical prowess on my part, I'm posting links to my photos for your enjoyment rather than the video documentaries I filmed for your (okay, my) viewing pleasure.
Nizhnii Novgorod
More Russia Pics
Friends In Moscow
Moscow
Kazan
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
November 28, 2007
Live from Russia. This morning I went into my kitchen for breakfast. We haven’t had any cok (read: juice) in the fridge for a while now, and I think my mom doesn’t often buy it because she makes her own, and she has tons in glass jars in the entryway closet/pantry/laundry room. So last night I got really excited because I saw her bring one of her big jars into the kitchen. Yes! Juice! So this morning I went into the kitchen and poured some cok into my cup. For some reason the jar and lid were really sticky, and the lid was more fool-proof than others I’ve seen. I realized after I had a good centimeter or more of cok in my cup that actually…it was honey. Oops! This is not the first time I’ve mistaken honey for another breakfast beverage. A while ago it was in an old instant coffee container, and my mom’s boyfriend really wanted me to understand that it was honey, and not coffee, and I couldn’t figure out why he was talking about bees. I just want to know how to make coffee with this new liquid stuff! Eventually I realized that I wasn’t holding coffee, and I felt pretty stupid. But come on- first thing in the morning you spring honey on a girl in the guise of a coffee jar? Not fair. So what did I do with my cup of honey? I poured super hot water on it, and seeped last nights herbal tea bag in it, and am now drinking very sweet tea at 8:30 in the morning. There are worse ways to start your day. Like, for instance, writing the paper that I must write, or studying for my final. For now, I love honey in big jars.
Even though I was more than ready to go home last week and the week before, now that I have four or five days- days- left in Nizhnii, I really don’t want to leave. I don’t want to say good-bye to everyone and everything that I’ve come to love here.
Even though I was more than ready to go home last week and the week before, now that I have four or five days- days- left in Nizhnii, I really don’t want to leave. I don’t want to say good-bye to everyone and everything that I’ve come to love here.
December 11, 2007
I’m ready to not be a tourist. To not be a foreigner. A couple days ago I had a foreigner experience that made me so ready to jump on that plane to Frankfurt (from where I’ll catch another to New York). I had gone to the bazaar with two friends, Jenny and Danny, and spent some time regrouping myself in the hotel after making my final purchases. I declined a lunch invitation to nap. I’m a terrible napper- I ended up just looking at pictures and getting really bored and starving. So I took myself over to the “mall” (it’s a mall, it’s just a really small one so it almost doesn’t count) across the street and headed straight for the food court.
There’s this fast-food place in Russia called Teremoke, and I wish we had them in the states. Well, almost. They make bleeni, which essentially is the Russian crepe, very delicious. My first introduction to bleeni was in St. Petersburg and, rather than risking raw meat or scary fish scales, I decided to go the safe route of mixed berry bleeni. YUM. But ever since then I’ve never wanted to try anything else. So when I went a couple days ago I decided to branch out of my mixed berry bleeni world and try something different- strawberry. I know, really rocking the boat with that one. And I really only picked it because there was a picture of it, so I didn’t really have to do any translation in my head to figure out what to order. So easy!
But when the cashier rung me up the price was three times that of mixed berry- instead of the traditional $2 or $3, it was over $6. Huh. Are strawberries rare in Moscow this time of year? Weird. So I paid, just because I was too tired to say, “Forget it, excuse me, I’d like mixed berry instead.”
I’m not sure what compelled me to do what I did next, but I walked down to look again at the picture of the strawberry bleeni I had ordered. But I’m glad I did. That’s when I realized I had actually ordered caviar.
So now I understand why I paid so much for my lunch, but I desperately wanted them to say, “Wait a minute, we’re all out of fish eggs!” But by the time I looked at the cook, contemplating a desperate yell of, “Stop! No caviar! Please, mixed berry! I didn’t know!” I saw that he had already folded the bleeni over, which an astute observer would know means the caviar is already in there. Too late now. And as I continued my mental effort to find a way out of the fish treat and get a fruit one instead, I saw the cook spoon caviar out of a little tuna-like can and plop it onto the pure bleeni. NO!!! I hadn’t been too late. But now I knew for sure that the caviar was definitely in the food.
When they gave me what I had mistakenly paid for, I took it out with me as I returned to my hotel, dejected and alone. I thought I’d heard before that someone in my group liked caviar, so I figured I’d find them and offer them my food. But I saw a big dog on the way back. I held out my food to him; he didn’t budge. What?! Not even a homeless dog will eat this? He had a change of heart as I walked away, but returned to his previous good sense when I set it on the ground for him; he sniffed and walked away. Okay, well, I definitely can’t offer this to any people now that a street dog has touched it. In the end I left it on the ground next to a trash can in the hope that some truly desperate soul, whether person or animal, would be able to, if not enjoy it, then at least scarf it down, maybe following it swiftly with a shot or two of vodka.
I’m afraid I don’t like caviar.
There’s this fast-food place in Russia called Teremoke, and I wish we had them in the states. Well, almost. They make bleeni, which essentially is the Russian crepe, very delicious. My first introduction to bleeni was in St. Petersburg and, rather than risking raw meat or scary fish scales, I decided to go the safe route of mixed berry bleeni. YUM. But ever since then I’ve never wanted to try anything else. So when I went a couple days ago I decided to branch out of my mixed berry bleeni world and try something different- strawberry. I know, really rocking the boat with that one. And I really only picked it because there was a picture of it, so I didn’t really have to do any translation in my head to figure out what to order. So easy!
But when the cashier rung me up the price was three times that of mixed berry- instead of the traditional $2 or $3, it was over $6. Huh. Are strawberries rare in Moscow this time of year? Weird. So I paid, just because I was too tired to say, “Forget it, excuse me, I’d like mixed berry instead.”
I’m not sure what compelled me to do what I did next, but I walked down to look again at the picture of the strawberry bleeni I had ordered. But I’m glad I did. That’s when I realized I had actually ordered caviar.
So now I understand why I paid so much for my lunch, but I desperately wanted them to say, “Wait a minute, we’re all out of fish eggs!” But by the time I looked at the cook, contemplating a desperate yell of, “Stop! No caviar! Please, mixed berry! I didn’t know!” I saw that he had already folded the bleeni over, which an astute observer would know means the caviar is already in there. Too late now. And as I continued my mental effort to find a way out of the fish treat and get a fruit one instead, I saw the cook spoon caviar out of a little tuna-like can and plop it onto the pure bleeni. NO!!! I hadn’t been too late. But now I knew for sure that the caviar was definitely in the food.
When they gave me what I had mistakenly paid for, I took it out with me as I returned to my hotel, dejected and alone. I thought I’d heard before that someone in my group liked caviar, so I figured I’d find them and offer them my food. But I saw a big dog on the way back. I held out my food to him; he didn’t budge. What?! Not even a homeless dog will eat this? He had a change of heart as I walked away, but returned to his previous good sense when I set it on the ground for him; he sniffed and walked away. Okay, well, I definitely can’t offer this to any people now that a street dog has touched it. In the end I left it on the ground next to a trash can in the hope that some truly desperate soul, whether person or animal, would be able to, if not enjoy it, then at least scarf it down, maybe following it swiftly with a shot or two of vodka.
I’m afraid I don’t like caviar.
December 1st, 2007
I’m disappointed that I’m leaving Nizhnii Novgorod without ever visiting the women’s monastery. Which I don’t think is actually called a monastery. It must be a convent. Anyway, its domes look like candy, and I’m sure it’s beautiful, because maybe it wasn’t closed down during the Soviet period, and if it wasn’t then that means that it still has beautiful mosaics everywhere inside, and I really want to see if this is the case. I also want to explore the men’s monastery more, because I still haven’t been through the gates. But I don’t think I have time for that today.
All the time that I’ve been here in Nizhnii I’ve wanted to take a day and visit all the churches. But I think that even if I had another day in this place it would be impossible. There are so many churches here! Literally from anywhere you are in the city you can see church domes. And it’s unusual that you can only see the domes of one church. The only place I can think of where I remember not being able to see a church is in this one district that is unusual anyway. Let me give you an interesting tid-bit of history.
When the depression hit the U.S. back in the 1920’s, Henry Ford had to look for new markets for his automobile industry. And guess where he took 600 American workers to build and run a new car factory? Nizhni Novgorod. Yep. How random is that? Henry Ford went to Russia and started a car industry here. I don’t think I ever learned that when I learned that he is responsible for the development of the assembly line. Anyway, there’s this huge building, miles long, called the Gorky Automobile Factory (but really it’s the Gorkovo Avtomachine Plant) and it’s Russian initials are GAZ, so my classmates and I refer to is as ‘the gas district’ or something similar. When you’re there, the only thing you can see is this monstrosity of a building; hence, no church domes. Somewhere over there stands The American House, where all of Fords imported workers lived back in the day. I think Russians live there now. Maybe that’s why we didn’t visit it.
At the same time though, I can’t wait to leave Nizhnii. Living with another family is stressful, no matter how kind they are. And when you don’t speak the same language, you can’t just say things like, “Hey, I’d like to do this, what’s the best way for that to happen? I don’t want to get in your way.” Or, like what happened (or didn’t happen, really) a few weeks ago, “I brought two friends home with me. But because I didn’t ask you in advance if they could come over, we bought our own lunch at the store. Can they come in and eat before we have to go to the museum this afternoon?” Because I didn’t know how to say all this to my host mom, my friends ended up eating their lunch in our super super dirty stairway, because all I said was, “Can my friends eat with us?” and my mom said no because she only cooked for three- herself, my sister and me. As a side-note to this story, you should know that Russians don’t let people come over to their house if they don’t know them already. Makes sense, I guess. So host families have to be really flexible when they let American students have American friends over. But American students can’t have Russian friends come over, because their host parents don’t know them. This just seems weird to me, but I guess I see where they’re coming from. Also, you should know that when, after lunch, my host mom discovered that my friends were in the stairway and were eating food, she was incredulous. “Tereza! You should have said, ‘(things I don’t know how to say, even now)’.” But to her credit she would have let them eat with us had she known the situation.
All the time that I’ve been here in Nizhnii I’ve wanted to take a day and visit all the churches. But I think that even if I had another day in this place it would be impossible. There are so many churches here! Literally from anywhere you are in the city you can see church domes. And it’s unusual that you can only see the domes of one church. The only place I can think of where I remember not being able to see a church is in this one district that is unusual anyway. Let me give you an interesting tid-bit of history.
When the depression hit the U.S. back in the 1920’s, Henry Ford had to look for new markets for his automobile industry. And guess where he took 600 American workers to build and run a new car factory? Nizhni Novgorod. Yep. How random is that? Henry Ford went to Russia and started a car industry here. I don’t think I ever learned that when I learned that he is responsible for the development of the assembly line. Anyway, there’s this huge building, miles long, called the Gorky Automobile Factory (but really it’s the Gorkovo Avtomachine Plant) and it’s Russian initials are GAZ, so my classmates and I refer to is as ‘the gas district’ or something similar. When you’re there, the only thing you can see is this monstrosity of a building; hence, no church domes. Somewhere over there stands The American House, where all of Fords imported workers lived back in the day. I think Russians live there now. Maybe that’s why we didn’t visit it.
At the same time though, I can’t wait to leave Nizhnii. Living with another family is stressful, no matter how kind they are. And when you don’t speak the same language, you can’t just say things like, “Hey, I’d like to do this, what’s the best way for that to happen? I don’t want to get in your way.” Or, like what happened (or didn’t happen, really) a few weeks ago, “I brought two friends home with me. But because I didn’t ask you in advance if they could come over, we bought our own lunch at the store. Can they come in and eat before we have to go to the museum this afternoon?” Because I didn’t know how to say all this to my host mom, my friends ended up eating their lunch in our super super dirty stairway, because all I said was, “Can my friends eat with us?” and my mom said no because she only cooked for three- herself, my sister and me. As a side-note to this story, you should know that Russians don’t let people come over to their house if they don’t know them already. Makes sense, I guess. So host families have to be really flexible when they let American students have American friends over. But American students can’t have Russian friends come over, because their host parents don’t know them. This just seems weird to me, but I guess I see where they’re coming from. Also, you should know that when, after lunch, my host mom discovered that my friends were in the stairway and were eating food, she was incredulous. “Tereza! You should have said, ‘(things I don’t know how to say, even now)’.” But to her credit she would have let them eat with us had she known the situation.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
leaving on a jet plane
Hey everyone!
Sorry I haven't updated in a while; internet access has been scare. I'll be back in the states soon- from there I'm going to post all the updates I've written but not gotten online, so you'll have lots of stories to read in the next week or so, I should think. I'll also post tons of pictures for you to look at.
I leave my Moscow hotel tomorrow morning at 4 a.m. and board a flight to Frankfurt, Germany. From there I'll fly to New York, and after that to Sasn Francisco. I'll finally be in The Golden State around 7 p.m. Pacific Time (I think). I'm going to chase the sun all day long. Whoo-hoo!
I'd love to hear from you once I get back to my home soil! So long for now!
Sorry I haven't updated in a while; internet access has been scare. I'll be back in the states soon- from there I'm going to post all the updates I've written but not gotten online, so you'll have lots of stories to read in the next week or so, I should think. I'll also post tons of pictures for you to look at.
I leave my Moscow hotel tomorrow morning at 4 a.m. and board a flight to Frankfurt, Germany. From there I'll fly to New York, and after that to Sasn Francisco. I'll finally be in The Golden State around 7 p.m. Pacific Time (I think). I'm going to chase the sun all day long. Whoo-hoo!
I'd love to hear from you once I get back to my home soil! So long for now!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
It's called "Noticeably Crowding the Men"
And it's an essay I don't want to write.
Well. It's the last day of classes here in Nizhini. I just turned in a final with half the questions left blank. I wrote an essay on sufferring that even I think has no place in anyone's reading material. And now...I'm blogging instead of finishing the 15 page paper that was due two hours ago. Because I just don't really care about it. I think I'm done. The only thing is...papers are 50% of our grade, and this is the most significant paper of the semester, and I should probably at least give it an hour more of my time, if not as much time as it takes to make it the minimum of 12 papges. Right? I don't want to.
Well. It's the last day of classes here in Nizhini. I just turned in a final with half the questions left blank. I wrote an essay on sufferring that even I think has no place in anyone's reading material. And now...I'm blogging instead of finishing the 15 page paper that was due two hours ago. Because I just don't really care about it. I think I'm done. The only thing is...papers are 50% of our grade, and this is the most significant paper of the semester, and I should probably at least give it an hour more of my time, if not as much time as it takes to make it the minimum of 12 papges. Right? I don't want to.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
i'm leaving my heart in nizhnii- sorry, san francisco
It's snowing outside. Again! Big bolshoui flakes. Today I made my first real snowman! It's so beautiful outside! Unfortunately, I have to write a paper tonight- 12 to 15 pages- and then study for a final tomorrow. I don't really know what this paper is going to be about, but I guess we'll see! We only have five more days in Nizhnii Nov. with our families, and then we're taking the night train to Moscow. Then, 10 days of museums, outdoor bazaars and boom! we're off to the states. So what can I tell you?
Well, the Oka and Volga Rivers are FREEZING OVER, something I never expected to see. Absolute craziness, let me tell you. And there are little mini-icebergs, these baby islands made of ice floating along the river, with birds catching a free ride south. Today I saw four puppies hanging out in the snow at one of the bus stops, and I tell you what, it's a good thing I don't live here, because in no time I know I'd be a 'dog lady' from adopting all the homeless puppies. I don't know what this means for when I go back to the states. I've always felt really sad for dogs who don't have families to love them, but it's so common here for dogs to be animals, and not pets, that it's kind of changing my view of them. And I'm starting to love cats. Weird. I think I'm actually going to miss my cat most out of the three people (counting my cat) in my Russian family. How silly is that? But last night he slept on my bed without trying to attack my hands and feet, like he did the night before! He can be a little devil at times, but I love him. He was so peaceful last night!
Today I finally bought some mittens to replace the ones I lost on the autobus. It's a good thing, because by the time I got home from the market my hands were blue, purple and pink! Not normal skin color.
Did I tell you that I'm going to drink tea constantly when I get home? Because I am. And I'm so thrilled about the teapot/chainik I painted at Color Me Mine with my girls just before the end of the summer, because it's going to be perfect for black tea leaves! Yay!
When I tried to go running this morning I thought I was going to die, because it rained yesterday and then the snow and everything froze into super scary ice, and I was running on it! I only ran for two seconds, and then played in the snow. It was way funner.
I think I'm going to miss this place.
Well, the Oka and Volga Rivers are FREEZING OVER, something I never expected to see. Absolute craziness, let me tell you. And there are little mini-icebergs, these baby islands made of ice floating along the river, with birds catching a free ride south. Today I saw four puppies hanging out in the snow at one of the bus stops, and I tell you what, it's a good thing I don't live here, because in no time I know I'd be a 'dog lady' from adopting all the homeless puppies. I don't know what this means for when I go back to the states. I've always felt really sad for dogs who don't have families to love them, but it's so common here for dogs to be animals, and not pets, that it's kind of changing my view of them. And I'm starting to love cats. Weird. I think I'm actually going to miss my cat most out of the three people (counting my cat) in my Russian family. How silly is that? But last night he slept on my bed without trying to attack my hands and feet, like he did the night before! He can be a little devil at times, but I love him. He was so peaceful last night!
Today I finally bought some mittens to replace the ones I lost on the autobus. It's a good thing, because by the time I got home from the market my hands were blue, purple and pink! Not normal skin color.
Did I tell you that I'm going to drink tea constantly when I get home? Because I am. And I'm so thrilled about the teapot/chainik I painted at Color Me Mine with my girls just before the end of the summer, because it's going to be perfect for black tea leaves! Yay!
When I tried to go running this morning I thought I was going to die, because it rained yesterday and then the snow and everything froze into super scary ice, and I was running on it! I only ran for two seconds, and then played in the snow. It was way funner.
I think I'm going to miss this place.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
She Will Rise Again!
That's what the name Anastasia means. And I'm using it to talk about my re-entrance to the online world. I have internet again!
Things in Russia have started to become very white- the snow has been falling for maybe a week now, and I think it snowed all night last night because when I woke up, the world was a winter wonderland outside my window. I go tromping through deep snow- halfway up to my knees! It makes everything prettier because it covers all the garbage and dead things that no one bothers to put somewhere else.
I'm getting much better at riding these crazy buses. I'm used to people being pressed against me, and being told to give up my seat to a babushka or dyedushka, and I know that sometimes people address me as debushka.
Sometimes I know that I'm the worst forgein exchange student ever. One morning my mom made me a soft-boiled egg, and when she saw that I wasn't wolfing it down, she decided to spoon feed it to me. It was at that point that I said in my broken Russia: "My mom in America said no" because I really didn't want to eat raw egg. I found out later that it would have been okay, but...
So right now I'm going to go for a run in the snow. It's my second time, and I only fell once on my first try! I just registered for classes for my last quarter at SPU. So weird.
Things in Russia have started to become very white- the snow has been falling for maybe a week now, and I think it snowed all night last night because when I woke up, the world was a winter wonderland outside my window. I go tromping through deep snow- halfway up to my knees! It makes everything prettier because it covers all the garbage and dead things that no one bothers to put somewhere else.
I'm getting much better at riding these crazy buses. I'm used to people being pressed against me, and being told to give up my seat to a babushka or dyedushka, and I know that sometimes people address me as debushka.
Sometimes I know that I'm the worst forgein exchange student ever. One morning my mom made me a soft-boiled egg, and when she saw that I wasn't wolfing it down, she decided to spoon feed it to me. It was at that point that I said in my broken Russia: "My mom in America said no" because I really didn't want to eat raw egg. I found out later that it would have been okay, but...
So right now I'm going to go for a run in the snow. It's my second time, and I only fell once on my first try! I just registered for classes for my last quarter at SPU. So weird.
Monday, October 22, 2007
lately
Wringing out jeans to dry 
The Sunset over the Oka River
Andrew- need I say more?
Kate, or Katya. She's super fun, and I love her.
A window at the abandoned water place.
A window at the abandoned water place.just call me anastasia
My life has taken on a dramatic change in the last few days. I moved in with a Russian family.I live in a building 30 minutes (with no traffic) from the university, which makes me wonder just how big this city really is and how much I’m going to miss. My family’s apartment has two bedrooms, one the size of a normal child’s room in the U.S. and the other the size of a comfortable office (which is shared by my mom, Tzveta, and my sister, Yula), a living room, a kitchen, and the typical ‘bathroom’, which is actually a sink/shower room (with it’s own door on the hall) and a toilet room (again with it’s own door to the hall).
I have three keys to get inside- one circle that looks like a magnet, one 5-inch long gold ‘clootch’ with a square inch of teeth at the end, and a third, identical in shape to the second but much shorter, only about three or so inches. Shoes are never worn into the apartment (btw, most Russians live in apartments if they live in a city, not in houses). You take them off in the entryway.My mom, Tzveta, is going to help me gain a ‘winter layer’, otherwise known as 20 lbs.
So far dinner is soup, salad, meat and potatoes. Which might sound like it’s not much, but it is. Dinner is served as a three course meal (this is typical of Russian meals), and there is always chai and/or coffee with crackers, cookies, chocolate and bread with cheese and meat. It’s typical to eat dessert with breakfast. This might be a useful practice to adopt in the U.S.My bedroom is twice the size of the room that my family sleeps in. However, I suspect that my bed is twice as hard. It is a couch.
Which is great, it’s just really, really hard. So I kind of feel like I’m sleeping on a park bench, complete with morning dew (because no matter what I always sweat at night in Russian beds). But considering that my family (which is really made up of three people, not just two, because Yula’s best friend Leila is practically part of the family) is so kind and welcoming, and waits on me hand and foot, I can’t really complain. I found a way to feel less awkward about my mom and sister making me meals and washing my dishes- I can wash all the breakfast dishes! 
Yula leaves for school right after breakfast, and Tzveta uses that time to get ready herself, and I still have 30 minutes before I need to meet my bus. Perfect! When Tzveta discovered me washing dishes this morning, she kissed me, so I know it’s okay.On my first day of moving in, and waking up, I feared that I’d be really lonely since I need to head home when it gets dark, because a) I’m female and it’s not safe for me to be out on my own at night and b) the buses are really unreliable after 9 PM.
And, being winter and Russia, it’s dark early, and the sun gets up late (it doesn’t have to be at school on time), so I’m going to spend tons of time at home. I thought this might translate into getting a lot of homework done (which might be true), but one of my friends, Leah, lives in my building and Andrew lives in the next building, so I’m not stranded on the east side of the city, hours away from everyone, like I thought I was! Hurray! Not only that, but I get to ride the bus with Andrew to school every morning, and you can’t beat that, can you? Nope.
It’s really nice having a readily accessible toilet seat, a private shower and a mom and a sister. I miss my family! The food at home is delicious, the cat is fun, so I can’t complain. My family and their friends are helping me with my Russian (and are a huge motivation to learn the language).Other recent stories include discovering a litter of puppies behind the university and going to visit them in the afternoons with Andrew, climbing all over an abandoned water-tunnel place with Russian friends, hiking up the Kremlin hill with my Russian sisters and Andrew because we took the wring bus and couldn't figure out how to get to the top of the hill the right way, and visiting Maxim Gorky's preserved (-ish) house. Life is interesting and busy!
For whatever reason I’ve been exhausted all the time lately, and even now don’t want to muster the energy to get out of my blogging inertia. Until later, poka (bye)!
Monday, October 15, 2007
small wooden houses
I find myself reluctant to take the mental effort to write up another blog. I’d rather wander through everyone else’s, enjoying their stories and leaving, if only for a moment, this world that feels so small sometimes.It feels small because, honestly, it’s only as big as the 20 Americans I came with and the Russian students we’ve met here. The way our schedule is, with the studying we have to do, keeps us on-campus pretty much all week long. I guess I could take the initiative and go exploring (I procured a map for this very purpose) but so far, it hasn’t happened.
One of my favorite things about Nizhni is the presence of 300 year old buildings that residents used to live in. Actually, some of them still function as homes, but many of them appear abandoned. They usually are brown, though sometimes it appears that they were at one time painted red or perhaps green, and are made of wood. The windows are framed by elaborate wooden boards, as are the doors and the eaves of the roofs. Many of them are leaning, or appear to be sinking. The city wants to tear them down because they are a fire hazard. This saddens me, because these buildings are so lovely and give the city a distinct feeling of age which the newer and older-but-kept-up buildings lack.
These little woode
n homes force you to admit that this place is old, that it was around before Moscow was the capital, that battles were fought and barges floated down the river with humbly clothed peasants pulling them along with ropes around their worm shoulders, that Maxim Gorky was born here or at least lived here as a child. I’ve seen, just today in fact, the charred remains of the buildings that were not just a fire hazard but a blazing
reality, so I know that the city probably is acting wisely in taking them down. They’ll preserve some, like the one Gorky lived in, but the city will lose neighborhoods of history that explain a bit of who Russians are without even trying.America is so young. Russia and her people go so much further back than the three hundred years I’m mourning the loss of.
In a recent lecture a guest professor spoiled the endings of both War and Peace and Anna Kare
nina, the two novels I’m in the middle of. Super. Another guest speaker works in the language department and, though fully Russian, speaks American English fluently, with a touch of a Louisiana accent. Weird. This is our last week staying in the profilectorium, because this
Saturday we’re moving in with our host families. Bitter sweet. I will miss the closeness of my American counterparts and, especially, my roommate Meredith. The first information packet that I received about this program said, in all caps, “FALL IN LOVE”, and I think I may be doing just that. Maybe.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Caryn: "Another day, another ruble."
Things my Russians say that make me smile:
Ira: "Your hometasks" (homework)
"I imagine Tereza in a nightclub. She is beautiful, active and energetic."
Me (in Russian): "On Saturdays I study the Russian language."
Ira: "Tereza. You expect me to believe?"
Me (in Russian): "I want coffee, but the coffee machine is not working."
Yelena (in Russian): "This is Russia." A popular and hilarious phrase.
Kyrill: "You are hot woman."
To one of the guys: "Your man power is going to the left." He meant 'is leaving'.
Roma: "undescribable", "cat's pajamas"
Andrew's host brother, upon meeting me: "What is wrong with you?"
Ira: "Your hometasks" (homework)
"I imagine Tereza in a nightclub. She is beautiful, active and energetic."
Me (in Russian): "On Saturdays I study the Russian language."
Ira: "Tereza. You expect me to believe?"
Me (in Russian): "I want coffee, but the coffee machine is not working."
Yelena (in Russian): "This is Russia." A popular and hilarious phrase.
Kyrill: "You are hot woman."
To one of the guys: "Your man power is going to the left." He meant 'is leaving'.
Roma: "undescribable", "cat's pajamas"
Andrew's host brother, upon meeting me: "What is wrong with you?"
Friday, October 5, 2007
meals
Breakfast
Lunch
Dinner(there's rhubarb inside the bread roll- yum!)
One of the babushka's who works in the kitchen. She's always trying to teach me the names of the food.
I never learn.
runny noses
Okay, so I don't have tons of time at the moment (lunch is in 5 minutes), but I thought I should pop by and say hello, let you know what's new and exciting.
This morning was the best yet in Nizhni. I went to a baby house. We have these 'service days' on Fridays, and today was our first one. I get to go to a house with babies- which is sad, because they are babies that no one wants. Most of them have some kind of mental development issue, like down syndrome or autism. THEY ARE THE MOST PRECIOUS CHILDREN I HAVE EVER SEEN. They just ran at us (okay, toddled, because for one thing they're pretty little and don't really know how to run without falling down and for another they are bundled up so that they are basically like snowmen with boogers running down and all over their faces)- anyway, they ran at us with arms flung wide open, faces split open with smiles, all laughter. Wanting to be picked up, thrown round, bounced, just touched. I can't remember all their names, or the names of the women in charge, but I think two of them are Nastya and one is Vanya, but they ALL have boogers EVERYWHERE. Which makes it kind of hard to play with them without geting yourself covered in boogs, but whatever. This is Russia.
The woman in charge of the three of us (me, Leah, and Ashleigh, the two other girls who went) decided immediately that I was the best Russian speaker of us and kept talking to me whenever she wanted us to do something or go somewhere. That was fun for me (not so much for hte other two girls) but next week Ruth will be with Ashleigh and I instead of Leah, and she's one ofthe strongest Russian speakers in our group, so it's pretty much hopeless that anyone at the baby house will try to talk to me again. Oh well. I had one good day! We'd been told that the babushka's don't really like it when you pick up the babies (they don't, but I think it's mainly for their safety) and so, thinking that we'd just be holding infants, I was worried that it'd be extremely awkward, showing up at a place you're not wanted. But the women at the house smiled and seemed to enjoy that the children were enjoying us. So. It was good. And it made my heart extremely happy, just to touch the children and make them laugh, because people need that kind of thing.
I must dash to lunch! Oh! I've started taking my camera to meals so I can show you what we eat. I'll post soon! Paka!
This morning was the best yet in Nizhni. I went to a baby house. We have these 'service days' on Fridays, and today was our first one. I get to go to a house with babies- which is sad, because they are babies that no one wants. Most of them have some kind of mental development issue, like down syndrome or autism. THEY ARE THE MOST PRECIOUS CHILDREN I HAVE EVER SEEN. They just ran at us (okay, toddled, because for one thing they're pretty little and don't really know how to run without falling down and for another they are bundled up so that they are basically like snowmen with boogers running down and all over their faces)- anyway, they ran at us with arms flung wide open, faces split open with smiles, all laughter. Wanting to be picked up, thrown round, bounced, just touched. I can't remember all their names, or the names of the women in charge, but I think two of them are Nastya and one is Vanya, but they ALL have boogers EVERYWHERE. Which makes it kind of hard to play with them without geting yourself covered in boogs, but whatever. This is Russia.
The woman in charge of the three of us (me, Leah, and Ashleigh, the two other girls who went) decided immediately that I was the best Russian speaker of us and kept talking to me whenever she wanted us to do something or go somewhere. That was fun for me (not so much for hte other two girls) but next week Ruth will be with Ashleigh and I instead of Leah, and she's one ofthe strongest Russian speakers in our group, so it's pretty much hopeless that anyone at the baby house will try to talk to me again. Oh well. I had one good day! We'd been told that the babushka's don't really like it when you pick up the babies (they don't, but I think it's mainly for their safety) and so, thinking that we'd just be holding infants, I was worried that it'd be extremely awkward, showing up at a place you're not wanted. But the women at the house smiled and seemed to enjoy that the children were enjoying us. So. It was good. And it made my heart extremely happy, just to touch the children and make them laugh, because people need that kind of thing.
I must dash to lunch! Oh! I've started taking my camera to meals so I can show you what we eat. I'll post soon! Paka!
Monday, September 24, 2007
people
Caryn. Love her.
Andrew, Ruth (her husband Daniel is the only person who I don't have a picture of), Ashleigh and Molly
My roommate Meredith. She keeps me sane.
Stephanie. The best voice and best laugh ever.
Danny. Love him.
Meredith, Caryn, Jenni, Leah and Randi
Leah and Danny, pulling one of his pranks
Dustin. He is the PNW's best kept secret.
Roma and Nikita, dancing at our welcome party.
Danny and Caryn
Stephanie!
Dustin, Joel and Stephanie
Me and Dannyboy
Leah, Adam, Andrew and Randi
Adam and I at Swan Lake.
Lica, our group leader. Love her to death.
Caryn and Randi
Joel, Ashleigh, Caryn, Leah, Randi and Stephanie
Mark. He's studying philosophy and theology.
Clayton and Jessica. They are engaged. And they are Okies.
My roommate Meredith. She keeps me sane.
Stephanie. The best voice and best laugh ever.
Danny. Love him.
Meredith, Caryn, Jenni, Leah and Randi
Leah and Danny, pulling one of his pranks
Dustin. He is the PNW's best kept secret.
Roma and Nikita, dancing at our welcome party.
Danny and Caryn
Stephanie!
Dustin, Joel and Stephanie
Me and Dannyboy
Leah, Adam, Andrew and Randi
Adam and I at Swan Lake.
Lica, our group leader. Love her to death.
Caryn and Randi
Joel, Ashleigh, Caryn, Leah, Randi and Stephanie
Mark. He's studying philosophy and theology.
Clayton and Jessica. They are engaged. And they are Okies.places
The garbage at the end of our building.
The summer palace of the tzars.
An apartment building, part of the complex where the prostitue in...a famous Russian novel was supposed to have lived.
The summer palace of the tzars.
An apartment building, part of the complex where the prostitue in...a famous Russian novel was supposed to have lived.
A signpost inside the St. Petersburg kremlin.
The Russian military in form before the Winter Palace.
Our Lady Kazan Cathedral in St. Petersburg.
The Bronze Horseman. It's The Great Pete, and Pushkin (Russia's Shakespeare) wrote an epic poem involving a young man cursing this statue. Good stuff.
St. Isaac's Cathedral, also in St. Pete.
Um... another cathedral.
It's a tradition in Russia for newlyweds to take pics at any significant place, so we see big white dresses EVERYWHERE, because we're in all those significant places, because we're tourists.
And this is the Church of the Spilt Blood. And it has a cool story which I will not tell you.
The Russian military in form before the Winter Palace.
Our Lady Kazan Cathedral in St. Petersburg.
The Bronze Horseman. It's The Great Pete, and Pushkin (Russia's Shakespeare) wrote an epic poem involving a young man cursing this statue. Good stuff.
St. Isaac's Cathedral, also in St. Pete.
Um... another cathedral.
It's a tradition in Russia for newlyweds to take pics at any significant place, so we see big white dresses EVERYWHERE, because we're in all those significant places, because we're tourists.
And this is the Church of the Spilt Blood. And it has a cool story which I will not tell you.
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