Things that are weird in Russia

Well, I myself am not up to much today. I and Olivia were going to go to a cat show (yeah. A cat show.) and then a movie, but we decided to hang out at the mall until the movie instead. I have successfully purchased a couple of books and a jigsaw puzzle for those quiet, braindead evenings at home, and now Olivia has let me use her laptop while she eats something exceedingly strange and meat-based from the food court. We are unable to identify what part of a chicken is holding it all together, but she says it's tasty. All right then.

So, lacking boring personal news, let's talk about something interesting for once!

Russia is a strange, strange place. I love it to death. Especially:

• The weird English shirts. I see a lot of repetitive ones around town on the girls, usually something you could imagine them trying to sell in the US: "I'm the sweetest trouble maker" "I'm a pop music idol." Inane, but you can get them. I am unable to reprint most of the ones I've seen on men, however, because someone under 18 or with a heart condition may read this blog. Seriously, who decides what to write on these shirts? And no matter how universal English is, I doubt that the people buying them know what's written on them. Actually, I should have titled this part 'weird English in general' because from here I can see a food court menu that, in an attempt to look cool and international, has translated its menu into english as well as russian- I can order a "Doner kebab" and "Wight bean soup". The last one is particularly soylent-greenish.



• The rampant copyright theft. I honestly have been in one store where I'd be willing to say that the dvds and cds are actual original copies. And I was stomping around in outrage when I found a ripoff of the Discworld books in a big-name book store; I don't mind ripoffs of Harry Potter and such, for some reason, but the book with three elephants on a turtle on the cover (instead of four) made me MAD. Huh.



• The customer service. It's perfectly acceptable to hate customers here, as far as I can tell. And apparently it's acceptable to hate the staff right back. Makes shopping an interesting pastime. Also, there are often complicated systems of scrip/payment/receipt-getting/receipt-carrying-back/product-getting, thought I've run into that less here in Kazan. However, we just bought our movie tickets, and there are assigned seats, like in live theater, with different prices for different areas. Eesh.



• The filth. Guidebooks to Russia will often warn you that there's a 'superstition' that you shouldn't sit on the ground here, that it's viewed as unhealthy and you should sit on a jacket or a piece of newspaper or something. My friends, that is no superstition. I would not sit on the ground here if you payed me. Aside from the fact that everything is coated in a fine mixture of dust, cigarette ash, and solidified car exhaust, this is a nation of terrible litter bugs, a dearth of public toilets, and rampant hordes of stray animals. And the standards are different, too. It seems to be a remnant from soviet times, but no one cares about the cleanliness of public hallways here. The apartments themselves are tidy and lovely and everyone is very into remodeling, but our hallway and stairs, for instance, has several layers of dust, paper, mud, oil, possibly paint, and cat excrement on it. And possibly human urine as well. Yeah. The house slippers make sense now. And don't even talk to me about what toilets there



• The fashion. Young women basically dress in a skimpy European fashion, with soe eighties US fashion thrown in. (I saw an 80's themed bar, which cracked me up because the eighties in Russia were not like the 80's in the US, which was what the bar obviously meant.) Older women, however, wear horrid floral patterns, fringe, and a lot of their shirts have medallions, sequins, beads, and other strangely flashy things that unflatteringly emphasize their very Russian waistlines. I have no idea what motivates this. Also, murderously high heels are very in right now. That's fine, but I felt so sorry for one girl I watched picking her way down the street- she was in flats, but something was wrong with the way she was walking. I glanced at her feet, and they were all cut up and swollen in the shape of the straps of some obviously very pretty, lacy high heels she must have worn the day before. I see a lot of foot sores here on the fashion elite.



• The tea. Tea, tea, tea. The first time I came to Russia, I wasn't much of a tea drinker. I didn't drink tea at home, and that worried my hostess no end. She decided I must not like their type of tea, so she started to buy varieties of tea, in hopes that she would find one I would drink. I caved, and was shortly hooked. This time, I came prepared to drink as much tea as was required, and be happy about it. This has made my life much easier. While others quail before the eternal cup- even on the hottest days, hot black tea is the drink of choice- I guzzle happily. One of my compatriots said that he doesn't like tea, at all, and it's driving his hostess nuts. She doesn't know what to do with him. The rest of us, in a sort of stockholm syndrome, are even buying tea for ourselves at lunch.

There's more, of course, but I can only go on for so long at a time. Miss you all! Mwah.

Oh my back....

I did get my fax sent off yesterday... I hope. It took a while to track down a working printer anywhere in this building, and then I left the papers with a disconcertingly high mucky muck who said he'd have it dealt with. Fingers crossed!

I realized yesterday as I trooped out of the house on time that I was sick of Russia. Just sick of it. Everything was weird and annoying and I was done with it. I didn't want to go home that badly- I just wanted Russia to quit being such a stupid place and let me go somewhere else while it was at it.

Luckily, I had the good sense to realize that if I was sick of Russia, I was doing something wrong. Therefore I made sure I had time on the computer, sqeezed as much fun as I could out of our classes, sang loudly in Russian Songs, and then fearlessly plowed through red tape to get my papers sent. That accomplished, I stuck around to go to a classical music concert, instead of creeping home with my tail between my legs.

It was lovely! A famous Korean soprano (who has, by the way, sung at the Oregon Bach Festival, which was weird to see printed in Russian) and a fairly well known Russian pianist performed a selection of classical and opera music from around the world. Lovely, lovely, lovely. And free! Awesome.

Then it turned out that two of my fellow CLSers- Olivia, and a girl named Lydia- were also there. Olivia introduced me to a new acquaintance of hers, a Chinese girl who speaks better Russian than I could dream of, but after a few minutes she took her leave. That left us three Americans with some time on our hands, and so I fought my run-home-and-hide instincts and the disable wave of tired that was enveloping me, and instead of going home to sleep, we all went to a cafe. Socializing win!

Shokoladnitsa is like the Russian starbucks, but it's a little higher-end and specializes in classy desserts and fancy drinks (and, at this location, hookahs and sushi as well.) I decided that I had gone long enough without coffee, and by god I was going to try some Russian espresso. I ordered a latte.

It came with a straw in it and more than an inch of foam on top, but it was quite pretty, and rather tasty!

This means that I have found passable espresso! In Russia! On my way home from school!

I managed to stop weeping from joy after a little while, and we three girls sat around and looked hopelessly at homework assignments and commiserated, since all of us are in hellishly slow processes for various desirable jobs back at home (or abroad, for that matter).

As afternoon wound down into evening, we split up and Olivia and I made our way home. I outlined my plans for convincing my host mother that she should go to dacha without me over the weekend, and we both trembled in excitement at the idea of having an empty apartment to play in again. Personal space! Silence! Lack of Russian commentary! OOO!

Then I went home, did more laundry, and then wrote out an entire hour and a half yoga class, which I obediently followed down to the letter. Ahhhh. My rather rickety hostess came home and scared the daylights out of me by trying what I was doing, in her street clothes and sandals, with her trick knee, hip, and back, but otherwise it was wonderfully peaceful.

I am sore as HELL today.

Needless to say, though,I feel much better.

And that's all, folks! A boring recounting of my day for ya. I promise there'll me more interesting stuff on Monday, or possibly sooner if I get some computer access. Now, off to our week's end meeting, and then into the wild, sleep-infested freedom of the weekend!

Strakhovania!

Gesundheit.

No, actually, that's the Russian word for Insurance. Wooo.

Well, I have lots of time today because I was going to try and send a fax back to PSU, but our person wasn't in the office so I'll have to try again later. I left lunch early to do that, so now I've got about twenty minutes here. Yay!

Yesterday the fates conspired to make me too late to use the computer in the morning (but my kitty was there, so I did get to feed him, so it's not all bad) and then we were informed that we had to stay put at lunch until it was time to leave for the excursion, so we were STUCK.

And you can imagine how thrilled we were to be confined to the cafe while we waited, with bated breath, for a tour of... (drumroll please).... an insurance company!

Yeah. We were all positive it was going to the thrill of our young lives. It was related to our Tuesday lecture on health care, however, so we were pretty much required to attend.

Perhaps I was the only one to feel the cloud pass over the sun when our spry young guide informed us that we were going to walk instead of taking a bus, since it was "very far- I mean close! Very close! And it's pretty, there's a park."

To Russians, Freudian slips aside, 'very close' is anything within about thirty blocks, and they neglected to mention that the park was full of stairs. (Having recently been permanently deprived of my elevator, I have grown to appreciate flat spaces.) I was also almost mown down by a truck that refused to stop for us in the back roads, and instead chose to lurch three or four feet at a time towards us while we scrambled out of the way- I was literally inches from his bumper. Then he passed us and proceeded to tailgate the one other car in sight and honk manically.

We arrived at the insurance company, finally- after passing THREE OTHER insurance companies, just for good measure- and I held out for the elevator while everyone else huffed up four flights of stairs. We were all herded into the company break room to await our guides who were, it turned out, the director and partners of the company, as pleased as punch to have us touring their firm.

After a fairly eye-watering talk on the structure of insurance, the interesting part started- one of the senior partners, bursting with pride, ferried us all over the place and dragged out expert after expert to say hi to us and make chitchat. He showed us EVERYTHING, obviously proud of their accomplishments. It was a very successful Western type of company, and they were right to be proud- after perestroika, there were NO insurance companies in Russia- in the soviet union there were only two. This company was founded 17 years ago, which means that it's been around basically as long as private insurance has existed in Russia. The owner brought back suitcases of materials from the US, which he translated himself, and then set out to creat the modern business model from scratch.

Have you ever read a fantasy or scifi book in which a bunch of magical creatures/cavemen/aliens decide to join the corporate world and do everything by the book? This was that. They were incredibly proud of their break room kitchenette (unheard of in Russia) and their motivational posters, especially one involving two lists- the qualities required in employees, and those undesirable. I was intrigued to see that one of the desirable qualities was 'democracy,' but it was the last one on the list. Hmm.

So we ran up and down stairs- pausing only briefly for the senior partner to throw his chewing gum out the window- and disrupted the workings of the poor pale grunts in IT and made the head economist, who talked like Kermit the Frog, come out and talk to us, and looked at photos of the kids' sports teams they'd bought uniforms for, and the ancient veterans they had given big sacks of vodka and jam to, and other good works, as well as the head of the company winning at darts at a company picnic.

Finally we all crammed into the head of the company's office, and all admired his tchochkes and hardwood floor, then all squeezed into a big, sheepishly smiling group so he could have his picture taken with all of us. I have a feeling that the next tour, if there ever is another tour, will get to look at us on the wall, next to the befuddled veterans and kids playing soccer.

I didn't take them up on their mutliple offers to photograph the riveting hallways of their building, but it was a very nice place, and had lots of windows and fairly cheerful looking employees, so over all it was very fun just to meet all of the people.

Then I went home and slept, slept, slept. We're all out of our mind with fatigue. Now I shall bid thee adeu, and race away because this week we get to sing Russian songs again, and I wouldn't miss it for the world!

Back with a sleepy vengeance!

Well, I'm in a better mood today. Yesterday I signed off of the computer and KICKED BUTT.

I correctly guessed my way through the city to a road that both took me straight to the sports store AND got me home in a very efficient straight line. I braved the confusion of the sporting goods store and bought their one yoga mat (in a very, very girly light violet. Eesh.) then I went home, washed the mat, went to the store, bought laundry detergent and cat food for my cat, returned to the apartment, cleaned the kitchen, did the dishes, handwashed my clothes in the sink, tidied my room, did my homework, cajoled myself into doing some yoga, and passed out. Then I overslept this morning. Eheh.

But bad mood defeated! Just now very, very tired. Going home to sleep directly after our lecture, though lord only knows how long that's going to be.

And did I say cat? Yeah. There's an adorable, friendly, heartbreakingly skinny kitty in our courtyard, and I figure I can at least fatten him up a little before I go home in August. What can I say? I don't have anything to take care of here, and if you know anything about my life at home, you know that that's a big fat change.

The sports store was very interesting. It was a huge building, and called its self a sports superstore, but only two of the floor had actual goods for sale. The bottom floor had boxing gloves, wetsuits (???), tennis rackets, etc, but in surprisingly small numbers and limited selection. Thus the one yoga mat. It was very small compared to most american stores. The second floor, where the big sale was going on, was a little better stocked, with very very expensive american clothes. Do I want to pay $60 (marked down) for a nike t-shirt? No, I do not! I got my mat and left, but not before getting my reciept signed by one of the two security guards. Russia is weird.

Off to lecture! Hugs and love to all!

PS Happy birthday Sophia! YARRR, Annabelle! Hi, Cass and Nurmi and Noni and mom and dad and Susan and everyone else who has left me comments! The first thing I do when I get to the computer lab is sign on and read all of the comments I've gotten, usually twice. It makes me all warm and fuzzy.

My hump my hump...

Sorry for the atrocious Black Eyed Peas reference, if I even got their name right, but I have officially hit The Hump.

Some of you may remember last time, in Petersburg, my reporting that I was in a terrible mood and sick to boot. As I glowered at the kitchen table, dabbing at my flowing nose and feeling like something that had been scraped off the bottom of a boot, my host mother told me that the end of the second week and beginning of the third is always the hardest for foreign students; things aren't shiny and new, but you're resoundingly not at home, and you're tired, and that's when you start hating the food, or you get sick, or everything just seems to SUCK.

Well, that's where I am right now, yet again. Almost everyone else is too. I've been in a gloweringly horrible mood for the last two days, and no amount of cookies and English language books has quite cured me of it. I've finally decided that I don't need any more babying, since that's just getting me behind in my homework. So I'm taking the long way home today to try and buy a yoga mat, and I'm going to buy some handwashing detergent so I don't use all my shampoo on clothes (our washer is now busted) and I'm going to go home and do all the dishes that I left out this morning, as I fled late to class. So there.

Saturday we went to the biggest Sabantui in Tatarstan. Sabantui is a 1000 ish year old festival held at the end of the planting season. In a lot of ways, it's like the Bizarro version of a county fair- same weird tchochkes for sale, same smarmy singers in bad suits, same beating-each-other-with-sacks-while-sitting-on-a-log.... wait. no.

Anyway, you can look at a bunch of photos here. They're out of order and one may be upside down, but they're there.

Then that evening we went to see Carmen at the Kazan opera. YAY! I love the opera, and I don't think I've been since I was last in Russia. Carmen was amazing, despite slightly horrible costuming, choreography and set design- the musicians and dancers were all fantastic, so as long as you only looked at what was important, it was awesome. I almost cried. Twice.

Then Sunday I spent at the dacha. It was beautiful and peaceful there, and I took a few pictures- which you can see here- but I was descending into the funk, and my hostess was not helping. In the end, she stayed at the dacha overnight, and I narrowly escaped having to make my way home alone for the first time at ten at night by the fact that our neighbors were just leaving, heading back to the big city. They kindly agreed to drop me off, and so I spent forty minutes making vaguely grammatical small talk with a very nice older Russian couple. They drove like sane people, too. It was rather pleasant, if a bit stressful, and I arrived home feeling triumphant at having made my way through the trial.

And now computers are in great demand, so I'll be getting going. I also added several photos to the Kazan in general set, which is here. Enjoy!

Quick! Someone send Satan a sweater!

'Cause if it's chilly here, then it's gotta be freezing down there.

It started POURING rain by the bucket last night, and today the city was drowning, and almost cold. It went from 23C, which was livable after temperatures in the high twenties and low thirties, to 12C today. TWELVE. I stood there and stared at the thermometer on the way to school, huddled under my umbrella.

There are drains here, but there aren't enough of them. Road crossing requires some serious acrobatics, and I did managed to step in one puddle deeper than my shoe. Yeah. But I was grinning like a maniac all the way to school- I didn't realize how much I missed rain! I feel like my whole body has rehydrated, all of the sudden. I felt like a raisin yesterday, but now I feel awesome.

Of course, the rain couldn't last forever. Now it seems that the weather has just gone completely off its meds, flashing between blinding sun and ominous clouds in seconds.

Alright, enough about the weather. I have like two more minutes here.

Yesterday my hostess was at the dacha, so I had the apartment to myself. Olivia, who lives next door to me, and I had planned to go to the market, but we didn't have time after the lecture- but we decided to get together in my empty apartment, and have a little no-hostesses evening.

We met up after dinner and went to the pharmacy (where I bought a $15 bottle of sunscreen, which apparently is really rare here) and the grocery store, and then went back to my place to study. HAH! All we did was drink tea and eat cookies and gab, gab, gab. It was marvelous. And we stuck to the language pledge! We really did! Then I washed a bunch of clothes in the sink, since there have been no further moves on the laundry front, and then went to bed.

Today, I washed in the sink because our bathtub is out of commission, made breakfast for myself (WOO! Portions I can actually consume!) and fled to school, late. Thus my only having ten minutes to talk to you guys in. I must flee now! Already late to our Friday recap meeting!

Iiiiiiceee creeeeaaammmm

Well, things are going well here. I got a bunch of sleep yesterday, so today I feel much better. Classes were quite interesting this morning- we had our class on Russian mass media, which is taught by a charming and animated sexist. He's pretty sweet, actually.

At the moment, I'm sitting in the computer lab, where some South African students are fairly opposed to politely waiting their turn- they're wandering around rattling people's chairs and demanding to know when they'll be done. I nabbed the last empty computer about five minutes ago. Ba ha ha.

My hostess is at the dacha again today; she's working hard to de-winterize it and get it liveable, since the Russian ideal is to spend, if not the entire summer, then the entire weekend at the dacha. I've been out there once, but I didn't take my camera- next time, I'll take a bunch of pictures for you.

I don't mind having the apartment to myself for a couple of days- there's plenty of food, and we live half a block from a grocery store, there are two tvs, tons of windows, and comfy (if small) furniture to sprawl on. I look forward to a peaceful evening of playing music, watching crap american movies dubbed in Russian, and doing homework.

If everything pans out, Olivia and I are making a foray to the open market to buy shoes, hats, sunglasses, and whatever else it is that we've needed.

The sun! The sun here is crazy! We're all turning into freckle factories. I have freckles on my HANDS. Since when do my hands freckle? Since I came the sun capital of the entire solar system, I guess. Olivia says she found a store where they sell sunscreen. I plan on buying a gallon.

Our water came back on on schedule on wednesday, but at about nine last night it conked out of its own accord. This morning, my hostess filled the bathtub with water, so we have something to flush the toilet with, but that means no shower. I want a shower. I want a shower soooo baaad.

Have I mentioned that russians love ice cream? You can't walk half a block without passing an ice cream stand, if not an entire colony of them. I caved in today and bought one and- as always- it was amazing. Even the Nestle brand ice cream here is better than in America. So delicious. This love of ice cream appears to have some sort of calorie-burning magic to it, too, since I pass hordes of model-thin women eating ice cream by the coneful every time I step out on the street.

Another weird thing, that seems to have something in common with the gold teeth that almost everyone has, is that a lot of people from the older generation- in their forties and fifties, say- is that they're missing what I would call their wolf teeth. Wolf teeth are small molars in horse's mouths that they take out so that the bit can fit, but around here people smile or talk, and from the side you can see a big gap about two teeth behind their eyeteeth. Why? No other teeth are commonly missing. Huh.

We went on a tour of the Kremlin yesterday, and also a bus tour of the city. I've got some pictures to upload later, but for now I'm going to sign off and try and figure out where we're having our presentation on Russian cinema, since I'm pretty sure they aren't going to haul a tv up three flights of stairs to our usual auditorium.

Love you all! All comments read and re-read, and well appreciated.

Photos!

No real post here today, but I threw together two sets out of those photos and did a little commentary on most of them. So here, enjoy!

Kazan Photos

This, that, and the other

Well, I had hoped to have time to put together a little photo slideshow for you guys, but that plan was, sadly, rather dependent on our lecturer not talking for an extra FORTY minutes.

Ahem.

Let's talk details.

I live in a nice little three room apartment, which is about a twenty minute brisk walk from the main university building, which is in turn about a fifteen minute brisk walk from the building where our classes are. I go past fountains and parks (where I've been warned not to walk for fear of gays... not sure I follow the logic there) and lots of weird buildings on the way, and only have to cross the street four or five times.

And believe me, the less one crosses the street here, the better it is for your health. The crosswalk signal is heeded, to a point, but it tends to be more of a 'now you have to avoid pedestrians, not the other way around' signal. It's not unusual to have three or four buses actually sitting in and completely filling the crosswalk on the main street during the walk signal- you just check the signal on your side, and if it's green you run for it, dodging the still crawling buses and any opportunistic cars on the way.

Anyway, everyone tries to cross with company, for better visibility and legal clout. Watching people cross the street in Russia, I have always said, is like watching penguins in a documentary jump into the water. They don't all go at once- they jostle and crowd and shuffle and push closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, then one jumps in and swims away. Everyone watches. Then if he makes it without getting eaten by a killer whale, the rest go for it in a big group. Replace curb with cliff and killer whale with forty year old Yugo sedan, and you've got the picture.

I haven't been shopping in a store here, besides a quick trip for groceries, but the open market was a wondeful melee of buying and selling- produce, clothing, shoes, hats, fans, you name it and there was a chunk of market devoted to stand after stand of it. And I don't even think were were in the main open market- it was one of the sattelite markets, I think.

The food is good, and as I said, mainly quite healthy, but occasionally it is a little unsettling too. I actually like buckwheat kasha, and I can do any strange soup you throw at me (so far) but the freaky fish last night threw me a little. It was just... a fish. A long, skinny, floppy fish that had been cooked somehow, and was enthusiastically gutted by the lovely, dainty girlfriend of the son of the household. I just about lost it, not while chewing on salty pieces of fish skin, but when she eagerly and generously gave me one of its ovaries. Mmmmm, fish ovary. "Little fishes!" She cheerily explained in her broken English, which she pulls out from time to time for me. It was very salty, but pretty tasty as long as I didn't look at it too long. Blerrrr. She had absolutely no problem eating the other one herself when I turned it down.

(In an aside about the Russian metabolism, which I noted before, she complained that her favorite clothing line does not go down to a size zero, and after weighing herself, sighed and said that she can't gain weight no matter what she does. Goodness.)

I'm in the midst of a strategically planned tactical move, designed to get me the privilege of cooking my own breakfast. It's not that the food Ilkam makes me is bad- quite the contrary, it's very good- but it's how MUCH she gives me! I don't need a big bowl of kasha with seconds if I don't fend her off, along with three pieces of toast with cheese and some halva to go with it. They feed me lunch. I do not need to fend off starvation. And not eating it is just one step closer to the madness that is convincing her that I really do like her food. (Similar to the madness of convincing her that I really don't mind her not waking up at seven AM to make all that food for me, which I am about to attempt.)

Oh, and the tea. Never forget the tea. By my estimate I will drink roughly 40 cups of tea a week. It's tasty.

And what was that I mentioned a moment ago? Halva? What is that?

That, my friend, is deliciousness.

You can imagine my concern when, following a conversation the day before about sunflower seeds, Ilkam brought home and happily presented to me what looked like a cinder block.

"It's sunflower seeds!" she said, "Only this way. They mix them up with things."

Then, as she is cutting it apart- revealing it to have a color and texture similar to what I would imagine a compressed wasps' nest's to be, she says she loves it more than chocolate... only, you have to eat it with tea, because it's very sweet. Sweet?!??

So it was with some consternation that I stared down a heaping bowl of cut up sunflower-seed-wasp-nest-cinder-block-dessert. However, upon tasting it, I fell in love. It's got a little of the nutty richness of peanut butter, but it has that distinct sunflower seed flavor. The texture is flaky and crunchy, and it's sweet and slightly salty. Over the last week I've demolished most of the cinder block myself, much to Ilkam's approbation.

It's pretty sweet for breakfast, though.

The freak heat wave is lightening up a little, I believe, although the classmate of mine who came in with melted asphalt on the bottom of her shoe may be inclined to disagree.

Aaaand... that's it for today, I think. There's more to talk about, because there's always more to talk about, but that'll have to wait for tomorrow or the day after. I'm going to drool my way home to my toiletless house, and probably sleep until evening, because I only got four hours' sleep last night. The bone deep weariness that has been my companion today and yesterday is beginning to pall a little... a nap is in order.

Leave me comments! Send me emails! I'm homesick and it's with a sense of anticipation that I flee the house half an hour early every day just so I can scramble down here and see if anyone has sent me anything. Love!

Send ice!

Alright, the first thing I have to talk about is the HEAT.

When I did my little bit of research, I found that Kazan was in the seventies-eighties for pretty much the entire summer, and fairly dry.

When they sent us the information about our cities and what to pack, etc, they said that no one here wears shorts, especially not girls.

So, when I packed, I brought exactly one skirt, with no shoes to go with it, and a bunch of jeans and t shirts.

Then, when I arrived, I learned that we are in the midst of a crazy heat wave, with temperatures up to and over a hundred degrees fahrenheit. Everyone is running around in daisy dukes, and I'm drooling along in full length jeans and a pool of my own sweat.

Must run (almost literally) to class now, but since there's no running water at home until eight tonight, I'll probably be back to elaborate further, organize photos, and otherwise rationalize staying close to toilets that flush.

Photos at last!

Alright, I'm finally uploading photos. The downside is, I have to hand select each one on and can only upload six at a time. So it's taking a while. I'm about a quarter of the way through, and I don't know when the lab closes.

You can see the photos on my flickr account and I hope to have them tagged and sorted... uh... tomorrow?

Alright, there's a big pile of nearly a hundred photos on my flickr now, make of them what you will for the moment. At least this time they're all right side up... I think.

I think the lab is technically closed now, but I think I can use it for a moment or two more.

All is well with me. I'm already homesick, in a way I wasn't last time. I'm having a blast here, but at the same time as I'm doing all sorts of crazy and fun things, my mind wanders off to people and places and things at home pretty often. I just got out from under the cloud of jet lag, though, so let's see how I feel in a week. :-)

Classes are great- our group has the best teachers, and I like all of my classmates. We even have a decent classroom, which is a godsend. Lots of homework. Boring homework. Very useful homework.

The food I'm being stuffed to brimming with is pretty healthy, homecooked and tasty. Still not enough veggies, let alone raw veggies, but lots of yummy whole grains.

I went to the open market last Friday, and I think it deserves a post all to itself. But for now let's say that if you want anything, it'll be laid out on a grimy table somewhere in the middle of Kazan.

(I was informed today that Kazan was voted the 'dirtiest city in Russia' a few years back, and I can believe it. Filth! Suddenly house slippers and lots of clothes changing makes sense.)

And to further reassure you that I am well taken care of, our fearless leaders flew out from St Petersburg for three days to talk to us and make sure that everything was working well and that we were all right. We even got to speak English for about five minutes.

Speaking of which, everyone is sticking to the language pledge really well. It's a lot of fun to just sit around gabbing in Russian.

I may have located another source of wifi to try, and I may get access to this lab more and more as the regular students leave and we have it all to ourselves.


Alright, I'm hungry and the computer lab is deserted. I should probably start the walk home. I love you all!

In which I hurry.

Oh, there's so much I want to tell you guys about! The crazy food, the crazy buildings, the crazy cars, the crazy people, the crazy plumbing... so much!

I'm a little short on time today, since I've got to finish an essay that's due back in the US, so I'll have to be pithy.

You see great shirts in English around here.

• With cartoon characters:"Stylish confusion"


• "You may think you are free, but you already hooked on me" (seen twice)


• "US Army: statistics for battlefields" (this arranged in artful spirals.)


• Apparently a trend: "Sweet Bunny" and "Sweet Kitty"


• Just now in the internet cafe: "GLUP GLUP GLUP" in lividly striped block letters

And I'd forgotten how much fun the games were. There are the general travel games, the classics- "How many times can I wear this?" is a favorite, along with "What did I just eat?" and "Is everyone in this country nuts?" Russian favorites include "The Game of Change" in which all players attempt to keep as many small bills to themselves as possible, and the person with the most hundred and fifty ruble notes wins, and "Go to the bathroom but don't touch anyone else's filth". For those wanting a challenge, there's the perennial stumper "Convince your hostess that you're full," but beginners should be warned that it is an unwinnable game.

And now I go to try and pound out the last few paragraphs of a paper on Russian immigrants' perspectives, and then trot on home to play another hand of "Convince your hostess".

Poka!
(That's how you say 'bye' in Russian, fyi)

PS photos soon but the lab was closed for a quasinational holiday and the cafe computer doesn't allow outside devices.

I am here! I'm not near! Get used to it!

Sorry, my brain is on a little funny.

Oooooh, goodness. Where to start? I've been trying to get to you guys, but we won't have internet access at the college until tomorrow. We were supposed to have it today, but this being Russia, I should have known better than to believe the guy in charge of getting us logins. (The komputerchik.)

Well, the last flight from Moscow to Kazan was bumpy. Pretty much everyone had passed out at the gate while we waited- I don't think I'll ever know how long we were actually there. We filed on, sat down, and mostly passed out again. I couldn't sleep, so I was up for the cake and tea they passed out- each little cup of black tea had a thin, round slice of lemon floating neatly on the top.

So we thump-a-bumped over a few hundred miles of Russia, and landed at the Kazan airport, which was a tiny little thing. We walked down a staircase from the plan onto the tarmac, then into a little building where they loaded the baggage claim by backing a truck into the room, extending a little conveyor belt out the back and throwing each bag onto that, and then carrying the suitcases from that conveyor belt to the big luggage carousel. We all arrived with luggage and some sanity, despite the confusion over our canceled flight in Moscow.

Then they loaded us up on a tour bus, and started the long business of dropping us off. First we had to drive for half an hour or forty five minutes through the rural areas and suburbs, then they started the big circuit that got us all foisted off on various Russians. Some were met by big smily Russian youths who carried their bags off with a shrug, others were embraced by tiny babushkas, and others just sort of trailed off after a family.

I saw a pack of street dogs that were big and hirsuit and fairly intimidating, but safely on the other side of the bus window. That's the only way I've seen stray dogs so far, and from what I've seen that's a good thing. There was one out in the suburbs that I swear was a wolf.

I got off the bus with Olivia and Martin, who is our site coordinator. (Think den mother.) They live in a building not far from me, on the ninth and twelfth floors respectively, which sucks majorly for them because there was a fire there not long ago and both the elevators are wrecked. Yay for cardio? (I walk the stairs, just for healthiness, but I'm on the fifth floor so that's not so bad.)

Some of you might remember me mentioning that living arrangements are an interesting thing in Russia- if you ask an exchange student who they live with, the answer is often a shrug and a puzzled expression. Someone owns/rents the apartment, of course, but often there's a wide array of relations and relations' relations that move in and out, often on a daily basis. One person, I forget who, lives with 'A grandmother and her granddaughter and occasionally the father of the granddaughter.' There may also have been a boyfriend involved.

My own apartment has a fairly fixed number of occupants. My host family consists of and older married couple, in their late sixties-seventies, and their grown son. They're all super nice and very well educated. Ilkam is a piano teacher, Gl'us was a physicist, and Idgei is a mechanic but was trained as an engineer. Ilkam is a great cook, and Gl'us is very thoughtful and funny. He speaks slowly and clearly, because he has a Tatar accent- he didn't learn russian until high school or college, I didn't catch which. Ilkam spoke Russian as her first language, but I think she's equally fluent and accentless in Tatar.

Dad asked me on the phone what Tatar sounds like, and all I could answer was, "Confusion." It doesn't sound that different from Russian, so it can take a couple of sentences of listening really hard and not understanding a word before I realize that people are speaking Tatar. It certainly doesn't help that they'll switch back and forth from sentence to sentence. The same goes for written Tatar- aside from a sort of schwa letter they sometimes use, it's almost impossible to tell which language you're reading if it's in cyrillic. If I sound things out, though, sometimes there's an arabic word that I recognize. If Russian wasn't so damned hard, I'd try to learn a little Tatar whileI was here, too.

The city is one big screaming traffic jam filled with people and dirt. And puddles, when it rains, WHICH IT DOES. Curse you, wikipedia! You lied to me! I ended up buying an umbrella from Martin the other day when it started dumping rain and I still had a big fat walk home. It's so warm, even hot, that you don't need a coat most of the time- just an umbrella. So there are all these tall, skinny Russian girls running around in tiny clothes and tall shoes and carrying little purses, and full sized umbrellas, even in the sunshine.

Which brings me on to the people. There are three age groups, as far as adults are concerned. There are the young and skinny, who are really really freaking skinny- both male and female. It's like living in a city full of supermodels. All the girls are really fashion conscious, but the guys just sort of slouch around in windbreakers. Then there are the middle aged, who are instantly pudgy and weathered and have thinning hair, and gold teeth. I have never seen so many gold teeth in my live. Everyone has gold teeth! And then there are the old men and women who stump around with big bags of things and walking sticks and look dour.

It's so weird here. It really is different- everywhere you look, something is strange. Like the gold teeth. Or the way that the girl who lets you through the turnstile to get into the library looks at you like she wants to kill you and eat your heart. Or the way the library is run, even- you have to fill out request cards, and a librarian fetches your books from the forbidden world of the stacks. Today I was walking up the street to the university, and there was a woman sweeping the sidewalk with a twig broom. And I haven't even ventured into the street markets yet!

Classes just started today, and so far they're good. It seems that I'm in a more advanced group, and the grammar class today went over some of the things I really need to work on, so that seems good. (There was testing yesterday, which was torturous. Four hours of insanely hard, badly conducted tests in a hot, muggy room, and none of us had slept the night before. Eesh.)

As far as I'm concerned, all is well. *knock on wood and spit three times* The food is good, the bed is comfy, the jet lag is minimal but unwilling to go away- I was sooo tired all Sunday, until I was in bed and then could not sleep. The next day, yesterday, I was sooooo tired again, so much so that I was having trouble staying awake and upright and almost walked off an embankment, about a foot to the right of the stairs. I got home safely, though, and slept for five hours, studied and talked to mom and dad, and then slept for another seven hours. And now today I'm crazy tired AGAIN, despite having slept so soundly that I didn't move all night and now the joints on my left side are all frozen up from being slept on for twelve hours.

Which reminds me, due to daylight savings time I am actually eleven hours ahead of you guys. So flip AM and PM and subtract an hour. Is that right? I don't know. I just know that it's something resembling four in the morning at home, and I can sure feel it.

Anyway, it's gorgeous and gritty and strange here, all at once. I've taken a bunch of pictures, and will take more, but I didn't bring my camera cord today so that will have to wait. This internet cafe is really cheap- about a dollar an hour- and only a couple of blocks from the university. There's also an internet cafe near my house, but I haven't ventured in there yet. So, updates should continue with some regularity now, whatever the komputerchik might do.

Now, I shall spend my last ten minutes on the internet doing... something. (I paid for it, so I guess I have to use it. Comics ahoy!) Then I shall go home, and try not to sleep until bedtime, and will instead do the big fat pile of homework we were given today. Woo.

Love you all. Take good care of yourselves! Only about eight weeks until I get home. Mwa ha ha.

Haiku from a plane

Possibly over
Ireland. Night. Darkness, at least.
What time is it? Where?

Stewardess sleeping
In tent beside my seat. Shhh!
Tired German lady.

What is this 'leg room'?
I have heard lies from first class.
The rich can fidget.

Economy class
Chicken is not Mexican,
Is not Indian.

Was that dinner or
Possibly lunch? Anyway,
Lights out! Sleep, foul knaves!

Sleepless dozing drowse
In darkness- no wait! Lights on!
Guess what? Good morning!

Landing! We're landing!
Time to stretch before our next
Flight... which is cancelled.

Frankfurt boarding gate
Leather chairs marble tile and
No bathrooms. Joy.

Safe in Moscow now,
One flight between me and bed.
Is the floor moving?

Orientated six ways to Sunday

Well, orientation today was looong, chock full of information, and surprisingly fun. I've made a few friends among the Kazan group and others, and I'm very much looking forward to actually getting to Russia.

It's been nice to get to know everyone in English, just for clarity's sake, but the moment our plane's wheels touch down in Moscow, we're bounden to speak only Russian- English is forbidden! Except with you guys, of course.

I'll be getting up at four our time tomorrow, so I have got to go to sleep. I love you all! Kiss my dog for
me, mom.

Wish me a pleasant flight!

On the wings of a parrot.

I can only take it as a good omen that the mascot of my first flight
today- with Northwest Frontier, each of whose planes bears a brightly
colored anipal for your viewing pleasure- was a parrot. Although not
the same species as my own birdie, it seemed fitting.

I departed from my parents in an airport surprisingly busy for five in
the morning, feeling both elated and a bit leery- it all has a
tendency to feel like a big mixup, like there's been aome mistake. But
there hasn't, it seems, since all of my tickets got me on a real live
plane!

I'm in Denver, Colorado at the moment, awaiting my second and final
flight of the day. I'll spend a day and a half in DC, then it's off to
foreign lands!

.....

On the floght here to Denver, I had the pleasure- and I truly mean
pleasure- of riding directly on front of two small childrem who had
never flown before. Their mother was wonderfully calm and well
equipped with snacks, games, and even gum for popping ears. The kids
were well prepared with awe and wonder.

(Okay, awe, wonder, and a loudly smacking juicyfruit scented miasma
that wafted forward like a sentient being bent on fruitiness. But I
digress.)

Anyway, I heard some of the most charming statements I've ever heard
on a plane:

"Are we gonna go up in the air, mama?"

"We're in the air!"

(In tones of wonder) "I can see the clouds!"

It made me remember my first flights, the amazent and the joy and-

(cue turbulence)

"We're gonna craaaaaaaaaaaaaash!!!!!!!"

-aaand the terror. Oh yes.

PS Colorado looks weird from above.

PPS Susan, no proofreading. I'm thumbtyping on a keyboard the size of
a saltine. :-)

Jeebus

I am on my way... or, nearly so.

I'm sitting on the couch, watching the minutes tick tick tick by to the point when the rest of the household is going to get up and we're all going to go parading off to the airport.

Packing: uneventful
Room: less horrible than usual
Homework: dribs and drabs drifting on over to the teacher
iPod: getting crammed full of more music and books on tape than it knows what to do with
me: tiiiiired.