Christmastime in Voronezh

Well, in this post, I could bore you with details of how Larry met Larisa and how I met their children Gary, Barry, and Harry on my pillow (if you have no idea what I am talking about please read this post). Or how I, overtired and on cockroach alert, found a candy wrapper in a poorly lit corner of my room and convinced myself it was a dead mouse for about thirty minutes. Instead, let me tell you about the wonderful people and the festivities that have made December my best month yet in Voronezh. First, I got into the holiday spirit by helping Ira and her son Sasha put up their New Year’s tree. At first, I was nervous to help decorate their tree since I am chided every year by a certain family member for putting ornaments in the wrong place (love you, mama!), but it was a lot of fun. We watched the tradition Russian New Year film (Ирония судьби) and ate the tradition Russian New Year salad (салат оливье). I was even sent home with a tiny tree Ira’s father-in-law so kindly cut down for me in the woods in their village! But true to form,  my RA ladies wouldn’t let me take it up to in my room because it was a fire hazard (although they then told me I could take all the branches off the tree and that would be ok..). But I wasn’t too upset because Anastasia, one of my coworkers, made this tree for me out of garlands, ribbons, and Russian candies. I repeat she made this. How cool?

One of my favorite Christmastime traditions is seeing the Nutcracker. So naturally, I dragged Ira to the ballet with me. Ira, a Russian woman,had never been to the ballet. Yes, I was in shock, too. Ira told the eight year old sitting next to us that it was her first ballet experience. I wish I had taken a picture of the girl’s mouth drop and eyes widen in shock. We somehow got tickets in the first row, so during intermission we gave each other musical instrument vocabulary lessons and watched the drummers sneak fast food in under their seats for a snack in-between their numbers. 

We asked one of the babushki to take our picture with the whole Christmas tree. Here is the result.

The rest of my week was filled with many Christmas/ New Year celebrations with my students and colleagues. I watched Elf with my students (best decision: they loved it) and was showered with presents, including cakes, chocolates, books, mugs, and Golden Ring guidebooks. It was really difficult to have my last classes with the students because we don’t know my schedule for next semester yet or which students I will be placed with. I also had New Year parties with my faculty. This is the table with our first course. 

The four hour celebration included presents, speeches, karaoke, sparklers, poem recitations, and many laughs.

A few hours later I began my leisurely walk to the train, which I was boarding for Moscow for the start of my Christmas holiday. Thinking that I had 75 minutes until my train departed, it suddenly dawned on me that 22:00 (the train's departure time) is 10pm not 11pm. I thought I had mastered the 24 hour time thing, but I clearly chose a terrible situation to confuse it all.  With 15 minutes to make my train, I took to desperate measures and stuck my hand out to hail my first gypsy cab. A few minutes later, a man finally stopped, and I jumped in. Very flustered I explained I needed to catch a train in ten minutes, and he zoomed off in the direction of the train station. I asked how much he would charge me (is that gypsy cab etiquette?), and he laughed and said ,“As much as you want”. He then asked where I was from. After I told him he quickly exclaimed “From America? Then you do not pay!” I insisted that I had to pay something, so we agreed that I would meet him for tea and give him an English lesson sometime when I returned (note: don’t worry: he was very sweet, not at all creepy). Alyosha got me to the train station in 6 minutes which I didn’t think was even possible, and I leapt out of the car giving him my thanks, with plans to meet later when I returned to Voronezh.  Once I was inside the train station, I got a concerned call from Alyosha to see if I had made it alright. I said yes and hung up. Then, as I walked up to the tracks I saw Alyosha. When I saw him, he exclaimed “I wanted to make sure you made it. You told me you did but you’re still here!”. He grabbed my bags and my ticket, asked the lady where to go, and then proceeded to run with them down to the correct wagon. As always, I then thought that was the end of our meeting, but Alyosha then convinced the lady to let him on the train so he could show me my place on the train and get me settled. Another beautiful example of Russian hospitality I have received but this time from a very unexpected source.

I wish you all a wonderful Christmas/ New Years/Hanukkah  and will update at the end of January when I return to Voronezh, after my whirlwind travels through Europe and Russia.

Larry comes to Thanksgiving

Happy [Belated] Thanksgiving, dear blog readers! I know you are probably on the edge of your seat wondering how our Thanksgiving festivities turned out. It was absolutely wonderful! We had our huge turkey, homemade stuffing, homemade pumpkin pie (yes, I successfully made a pie), mashed potatoes (another new specialty of mine), and cranberry sauce (thanks to one fantastic package from Natalia). Per Doubleday tradition, we lit candles and took turns giving thanks for our close ones and other blessings in our lives.  To top it off we ended the night with A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. 

I spent the entire day priding myself on my baking/cooking skills. Do not fear though, my ego has not inflated too far out of reach, since the very next day I somehow got second degree burns while boiling water for pasta. Speaking of my new domestic talents, I am also learning to cope with the few cockroaches who decide to pay me visits. I have tried many tactics (screaming bloody murder, yelling at the cockroach, hiding from the cockroach, etc etc), but since none of these methods seem to work, shocking I know, I came up with a new approach. I have named my cockroach Larry. Now, when I see Larry I have to be polite and say hi, giving me enough time to remember that the cockroach cannot kill me and that attempting to call my brother on Viber for help is useless. Sometimes Larry comes in different colors and sizes, but I like to think I only have one creepy crawly friend. Yes, this sounds slightly insane. Ok, extremely insane. But it has worked so far. Russia has made me very creative.

I am finishing up my last two weeks of classes with my students before we finish for New Years/ Christmas break. It has also begun snowing here and the temperature has reached -18C/-1F. I absolutely love it. I have started leaving for class earlier so I can walk through the snow instead of taking the bus. I have spent a lot of time with my students outside of the classroom especially one on one as they want extra practice to improve their English. These English dates have been delightful. However, individually, they have all decided that they want to take me ice skating. As much as I love watching ice skating and a great chunk of my childhood was spent watching and re-watching a VHS of Oksana Baiul, I probably rank in the top 100 worst skaters of all time even though I have attempted skating little by little since childhood. Every time I go skating, the person I am with reassures me that I am “not that bad for your first time skating”. If they only knew… One time recently when my friends attempted to take me skating, I was not allowed to rent skates because I could not show the skating personnel my passport since it was at the visa office and, in typical Russian fashion, they would not accept my official paper covered with lots of stamps confirming my identity. Oh well, I sighed. (It would have been the third embarrassing skating outing that week! )

In other respects, I have taken on a few other Russian-isms more successfully. For example, I now clean my boots every day. I’m not sure if this is a habit all Americans except me were following, but I am constantly asked why my boots are so dirty (leaving me to search for the speck of dirt on them). Russian women’s boots look perfect at all times. Now that there is a lot of snow and slush they do get dirty very easily. I’m not sure how the Russian women manage to keep them so clean, though I regularly spy pocket brushes peeking out of their purses....

The next adjustment to my wardrobe has to do with my socks. Yes, my socks. I am not sure why but ever since high school I have rarely worn matching socks. It has become such a habit that when packing for Russia I grabbed 12 different patterned socks, stuffed them in my suitcase, and didn’t give another thought to it. This boggles the minds of the Russians I have encountered. Their first comment is that they are surprised they are not white socks (apparently there is a stereotype that Americans have only white socks?). Then they shake their heads in confusion at the fact that one sock has pink owls and the other green and red stripes. I actually even received a pair of black socks as a present. So, now I wear matching socks. I know it will be difficult to recognize me when I come home with all of these major changes, so I am giving you all a heads up now. 

This week I also went to visit a Belgian friend in a hospital on the outskirts of the city. She had a small ear infection but was sent to the hospital anyways. In Russia, even if you have a minor injury you usually have to stay in a clinic building for a minimum of five days. (One of the girls in my dormitory broke her little finger and still had to go to the hospital for five days!) Here is a picture of our path to the clinic through a very Russian birch forest.

 Off to plan a Christmas-themed lesson and hope that Larry doesn’t come to visit!

Maybe Even Cabbage

“Are you Myeerediit from New York?” This is how I have been addressed for the past two months (yes, two months already!). By new colleagues, by new students, by people in the hallway whom I don’t know. On the first day, as I stumbled through the halls of my department, this recognition was relieving. I didn’t have to stammer and stutter through my rusty Russian to explain who I was or where I needed to be. But by the end of week one, the almost “celebrity” status was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. Everyone looked at me with big eyes and a sense of wonder and curiosity. Not because of who I was but because I was the American. From New York [city]. Yet over the past two months my relationships with my students have thankfully deepened. We’ve gone through all the stereotype lessons, I’ve answered all of their questions (yes, I have an iPhone. No, I don’t eat at McDonalds. Yes, Russian drivers scare me. No, I promise I don’t eat McDonalds). I even startled one class with the fact that I grew up without television or internet (although to be fair this still surprises many of my American friends). So now, two months in, I am Meri from Cooperstown, and it is so much better. Not because my students are starting to learn who I am, but because now we have begun to peel through the superficial layers and have the ability to focus on our similarities rather than our differences. I didn’t realize how gratifying this would be. Of course this is one of the major goals of the Fulbright program but boy is it satisfying when this goal is at least partially achieved.

In other news, I just got back from the Russian village. Ira, her 6 year old son Sasha, and I went to visit her parents and in-laws who conveniently live two streets away from each other. Sasha spends most of his weekends split between his two sets of grandparents like many Russian children. Together we wandered through the birches behind their home and played with the many dogs, cats, and horses living in their small wilderness. 

Ira’s mother fed us delicious blini and sent me home with a huge jar of pickles, jar of wild strawberry jam, a pumpkin, frozen raspberries and blackberries, and a head of cabbage. All homemade/homegrown. It sounds silly, but I still have no idea what to do with my head of cabbage. I have never, ever enjoyed cabbage and am a terrible cook. So it remains to mock me every time I open the refrigerator to find something to eat.

I have also been interviewed this week by the Voronezh local news about Thanksgiving. I have never been on television before (unless you count me in the background of the local Amish barnraising festival on my 13^th birthday, or square-dancing with my dad in Cape Cod when I was 7). I was prepared to explain in Russian who I was, why I was in Voronezh, and the history and traditions associated with Thanksgiving. I was not prepared to answer questions such as:

“What funny traditions do you have on Thanksgiving?”

My immediate thought: Funny traditions? Does the presidential pardon count? How do you even say that? My answer: Nope, I don’t think so.

“How do you cook a turkey?”

  My immediate thought: Can I use a lifeline? Mother? My answer: Probably like a chicken.

Is Russia just like you imagined?

My immediate thought: No. You smile a lot less. And your bureaucratic system gives me nightmares.

My answer because I couldn’t think of how to say anything I really thought in Russian on the spot: No. I thought you had bears on the streets! Ha-ha- ha.

Overall, I think the interview went alright. My consolation is that no one across the pond will ever, ever see this exceptional interview. I can also hope that none of my colleagues or students decide to watch the news on Thanksgiving morning.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I have purchased a turkey. Yes, a real turkey. After much searching, my American friend Eric and I found a whole turkey in a market. The first woman tried to sell us half a turkey. I was so excited to finally find turkey meat somewhere that it took me five minutes to get her to stop talking long enough to explain that I needed a whole one. “devushka (girl) why do you need a whole turkey? You are too little to eat the whole thing?”. I explained that I needed a turkey to celebrate Thanksgiving, and the woman’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She called all the other women over, and they all helped us pick one out, giggling the whole time. I still don’t quite know how to cook a turkey. Or stuffing. Or cranberry sauce. Or pumpkin pie. But I am determined to make a Thanksgiving dinner for the other Americans in Voronezh and figure it out somehow. That is what the internet is for, right? Hopefully soon Meri’s list of things she can cook will be: fried eggs, macaroni and tomato sauce, salad, turkey. And maybe cabbage. Maybe.

Kazan Adventures

November is here! But the cold is not. Apparently this is the warmest November Voronezh has ever had. I like to think it is in celebration of my arrival.

Anyways, last weekend I traveled to Kazan, the capital of Tatarstan, with a group of international students living in Voronezh. If you look at a map of Russia, Voronezh and Kazan do not look very far apart, but in actuality Kazan is almost 24 hours away! So we got to experience real Russian roads (read: bumpy) and real Russian rest-stops (read: random fields). I mention the rest-stops because after our trip Ira and I explained to her husband, Andrei, that in America there are small fences on the sides of highways for safety purposes. With a confused look on his face, Andrei exclaimed, “But then how do they go to the bathroom?” The trip was actually not that bad- we watched Russian cartoons and sang Russian folk songs before trying to sleep in all sorts of weird positions in our cramped seats. Before I knew it, we had arrived in Kazan and began our tour of that wonderful city with the National Library of Tatarstan. How did they know that was first on the “Meri’s nerdy must-see list”?

The library itself began as the collection of Ivan Vtorov, a Kazan bibliophile and was opened to the public in the 1860s. Each room in the library was unique and housed works of art from different cultures and time periods. Many of the windows contained beautiful French stained glass from Paris. 

There were Oriental style dragons in the hallways, and there was even a room made to look like a cave with fish and unusual plants and statues scattered around the hall.

 Each room became a trip to a different culture. Spectacular library!

Our next stop was the Kremlin. Since Kazan is the capital of Tatarstan, the Kremlin (now a World Heritage Site) had both a cathedral and a mosque. The Annunciation Cathedral is the oldest building in the Kremlin and dates back to the middle of the 16^th century. Here is the inside of the church.

Here is one very tired Meri with the Kremlin in the background.

The theme of Russians and Tatars peacefully co-existing together carried over to the rest of the city where many signs were written in Russian and Tatar-sometimes just in Tatar.

We also visited many convents and monasteries including the Convent of the finding of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God as well as other monasteries located across the Volga River. The monasteries were not small but very quiet and peaceful nonetheless.  I asked at one of the churches and was told that there are only five monks total! Overall the long forty hour bus ride was well worth enduring just to have the opportunity of visiting such a beautiful city, rich with history and an example of the many various cultures of Russia- without even crossing the Urals!

Back in Voronezh, life is really great. I am busy with teaching my many students and taking Russian courses, but, as many of you know, I like my life busy.  I guess it just happens. This week I have engaged in many other typical Russian extracurriculars- attended a drama performance with all of my English teaching colleagues in the Sciences Department, went to the movies (and understood a lot of it since most of the humor was “oh he’s drunk and doing something stupid"—time to laugh), went to a birthday party at a medieval themed restaurant and serendipitously bumped into a friend getting married there (!), went to the circus (very popular in Russia. I felt underdressed in my jeans and cardigan), and even baked cupcakes (although can you really call them cupcakes if they mostly consist of cottage cheese and farina?). I even managed to convince the scary Russian RA ladies to let me have access to the one key for the one washing machine in the building next to me. Ура! I have also become such a regular at the bookstore/coffee shop across the street that I have become friends with my favorite waitress, and she even saved my "frequent guest" card after I accidentally left it one day (I guess it wasn't too difficult to figure out whose it was as I am probably the only "Dabldei" in Voronezh).

Finally, a big shout out to Natalia for sending me the biggest care package I have ever seen with enough luna bars and Annies to make me see no reason to ever learn how to cook.

One Month In

I am back to being a student. And it is such a good feeling! I have begun Russian classes that are conveniently held in the international dorm right next to me. Little did I know there would be so many different nationalities among my fellow students (from America, Britain, France, Estonia, Belgium, China, Germany, etc) studying in Voronezh. I have been placed with a group of Brits and have ten hours of Russian a week including conversation, grammar, “Russian verbs”, and translation. A lot of it should be review for me, but I am appreciative of the chance to relearn the material as my Russian unfortunately got pretty rusty over the summer. (Laura Givens, I know you’re reading this- I am relieved you are not here to witness my struggles conjugating obscure verbs of motion like herding cattle in many directions!).

I went on an excursion with the other international students to Divnogore, a town about 3 hours from Voronezh. Divnogore (Дивногорье) is a combination of two Russian words – “divno” meaning marvelously or wonderfully and “gora” meaning mountain. As the name suggests there is an abundance of mountains and caves there.  What makes them “divno” is the fact that they are created from natural limestone/chalk.This is the main limestone “mountain” - it is actually a 17^th century chalk cave church. 

Although the church itself was very bare (I don’t think it is open very often), we walked through the tunnels surrounding the church with candles to view the rest of the cave. There were even two levels- on the second floor was a small chapel room and a room for eating meals. 

Here I am enjoying the view with the other Americans in our international group. 

I also completed a week full of Voronezh cultural experiences, including three concerts with new Russian friends. Yes, you read that correctly. I have Russian friends now. They are few, but they exist! Forcing myself to be extroverted is paying off. The first concert we attended was a famous Russian singer popular among most middle-aged Russians named Alexander Rosembaum. I went with a Russian who received a Fulbright grant to Texas a few years ago! I wasn’t a huge fan of the music, but the concert was in Voronezh’s opera and ballet theater which was cool to see.
(Edit: I forgot to mention the flower-giving that occurred during this concert. In between every song, and I mean every song, a man or woman would walk up onto the stage with a bouquet of flowers to give to Rosembaum. At first I found this extremely distracting as every time he would bow or begin a new song, someone else was coming up to hand him flowers. His stack of flowers on the stage was huge! But then I decided that I liked the tradition- you are able to meet your favorite artists and give them a token of your affection! I wish this was a tradition at the Zooey Deschanel concert I went to this summer....) 
 The second was a Philharmonic concert I attended with a girl on my hall. It was some sort of Russia tour of contemporary symphonic music, and we somehow got seats next to the composers of the pieces! I have never before seen a balalaika used in symphony concerts, so I can cross that off the list of things to do before I die. The last was an electronic music concert by Moscow/British DJs. I went to this concert with some of the other English teachers and their husbands. Their husbands were very eager to show me that they had whiskey from Tennessee. And Cuban rum (they have all been to Cuba and make sure to tell the American all about it). When drinking, Russians make toasts about every five minutes, and, as the night progressed, they came up with many creative ones incorporating my name : “to Merrri- Merry Christmas!”, “To Merrrri- Merry times!”. One of the Russians also made me an omelet and was really excited to show me that she was using mayonnaise in it (???). Which reminded me that most Russians 1. Think Americans love mayo and use it on everything, and 2. Actually use so much more mayo in one week than I have used in my life.

Besides these events, I have been continuing to adjust to dorm life. Every night there is a 11pm curfew even though the RA ladies sit at the desk all night regardless. I didn’t anticipate it being a huge problem but many events in Voronezh don’t begin until 10pm. As one of the Americans doing his graduate work in Russia stated, “I am 35 and balding but I have a curfew!”. I have also discovered that apparently one can “bribe” the RA ladies in the other dorm with flowers and/ or chocolates in exchange for  the key to the one washing machine in the basement. So then the other international students went to the head of our building and received “official stamps” on “official papers” stating that we are allowed to use the washing machines, but our RAs ,alas, were unmoved. So now I'm left to puzzle out exactly how one washes jeans by hand....   But I digress.

Lastly, I have experienced a wave of homesickness for the first time. I guess it is right on time- I have been here for about a month. Last week was especially hard for me as my dad had a heart scare and was briefly hospitalized. I have never felt so far from home. Yet, thanks to modern technology, I was reminded how easy it for now for me to contact family when needed. I have heard from my parents that they have received an incredible amount of support during these last few weeks. So, thank you everyone at home!

Wait. When did I become a teacher?

My first week of classes has gone well. I have given the same presentation about America and my hometown about nine times at this point and will give it a few more times next week. On Friday, I was awakened in the morning by a phone call from a teacher at the international relations faculty located in a different district of the city and was asked to come in to discuss my schedule and drink tea. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and met the students who were sent from the faculty to guide me to that unfamiliar territory that is the “Northern District” of the city. They were excited to have an official reason to skip class. When I arrived, my contact, Anastasia, exclaimed “Oh good, you’re just in time to teach!”. Before I knew it I was in front of twenty 1^st year English students gazing at me eagerly. Thankfully, since I had practiced my introductory lesson a million times already with my other students I was able to recreate a fun introductory class on the spot, without all of my supplies (lesson learned: always be prepared with materials even when there is no apparent sign of needing them. Rookie first-year teacher mistake). Every forty-five minutes I was whisked away by my contact to another class of shy, big-eyed students. After four such classes, I finally sat down with my contact, and she explained that, just as at the applied sciences faculty, the students have English for a three hour period every couple days. I will be a “guest lecturer” for 45 minutes with as many classes as they can fit into my schedule. Basically, my students are at varying levels of English…and interest in English...or in me. Some classes bombard me with question after question, and some just stare at me as if I were an alien....and an alien they have no desire to communicate with who insists on asking them questions about themselves in an attempt to break the ice and get to know them better . And they are ALL named Sergei or Sasha. One class of 16 has 4 Sergeis. I guess that makes life easier. I have a 25% chance of being right when I guess their names!

In other news, dorm life has significantly improved. I have purchased matches so I can now use the stove. One of the other students helped me make pasta (I did not exaggerate when I wrote I do not know how to cook anything). Ira stops by every day or so with her five year old son, Sasha, to give me random things she knows I need. An iron. Prettier curtains. Shoe polish (Russians compulsively clean their boots. They always look so nice). A tub to hand-wash my clothes in. Fresh fruit from her dacha. A space heater. She’s a saint. Sasha knows a little English and constantly whispers questions in Ira’s ear asking how to say things in English and then proudly states his newly learned English words to me with a wide grin. He calls me Mary Poppins. I foresee a great friendship in the future.

I tried using the space heater one especially cold night and accidentally blew a fuse and my whole section of the dorm lost power. Oops. I braced myself for what I knew would be a failed attempt at explaining/apologizing for what happened. The lady RAs at the front desk listened to my broken Russian with listlessness and proceeded to ever so slowly and apathetically state that there was nothing they could do. All of a sudden three guys came down to report that they also lost power even though they had nothing plugged in. The women then proceeded to roll their eyes, call the electrician, and give the boys a loud, stern lecture about their “selfish use of television…electric tea kettles…refrigerators…” as I surreptitiously shrunk away from the scene. The ladies knew perfectly well it was my fault. I swear one of them winked at me. I forgot that even if they seem disinterested/ utterly annoyed at my ever-failing attempts at communication and apology, they really do appreciate it in their own way- even though they will never admit it. Thankfully, the heat has since turned on, but I now keep my windows open because it’s way too warm in my room. Russia is a land of extremes. We have since lost power a couple more times, but I shrug it off now, knowing at least it's not my fault.

At one highlight of my week, I was in contact with some fellow Americans! O. Nikolai Olhovksy wrote me an email saying that the Kursk Root Icon would be arriving at the Voronezh airport for a quick moleben on Wednesday.  The world keeps getting smaller and smaller. I took a taxi to the airport and waited for the delegation to arrive. At first, there were only about fifty people waiting, but all of a sudden flocks of Russian babushki came out of the woodwork. There must have been literally hundreds of them. I argued with some of the Russian police as I attempted to shove my way to the front to look for O. Nikolai.  After straining to find him, I finally did and he brought me into a special room in the airport and introduced me to some of the clergy of Voronezh. I was able to venerate the icon when it was returned to the room. It was difficult for me to wrap my head around the fact that I had just seen and venerated this icon a few weeks ago in Jordanville and here hundreds (thousands? I’m bad at crowd estimates…) of people stood outside for hours to simply catch a glimpse of it. It was comforting to see familiar faces and converse in English with native speakers for a bit. My original taxi driver, Sergei, made me take his number and offered to pick me up when I was done. In between, he had apparently told all of his close ones about his interaction with an American and had a list of follow -up questions to ask on our drive home.

 

On Saturday, some of my second year students organized a sort of excursion for me to see the city and an excuse to practice their English with me. They took me on an eight hour (!) walking tour, showing me some of their favorite sites while teaching me useful slang and asking questions about stereotypes and American psychology...and McDonalds. They took me by the riverbank and were eager for me to test out my BB gun skills.

We then explored the main part of the city. Here we find the obligatory “Lenin square” of the city. 

Some of them were eager to debut their home-recorded music, recite poems to me, or explain the complicated mathematical concept they learned that day. Russian college students have classes on Saturdays- the concept of a “weekend off” is foreign to them. Reason #230423 I appreciate my college education more since arriving here. I left with a better grasp of the geography of the city, an appreciation for the curiosity and intellect of Russian teenagers, and a strong desire to go home and collapse. I sometimes feel as though I have to think through everything I say before I answer any of their questions. They analyze my answers and ask multiple follow -up questions. I also have been fighting the urge to use articles incorrectly and say “some peoples”. I’m forgetting English (The English? Just kidding. I swear I remember articles).  Saturday is Russian wedding photoshoot day, and we saw probably eleven or twelve weddings. How many brides can you spot?

Today is my day to hide in a cozy café, plan a lesson for the week, and decompress. I am eating this delicious salad called “salat olivye”. 

It was also featured recently in this list I came across of typical Russian foods. It is one of the few things I was fed by my host mom in St. Petersburg besides hotdogs and therefore I now have an instinctual desire to constantly order it for fear that the alternative will be stale Russian hotdogs.

Settling In

Well, I have made it to Voronezh in one piece. After a couple of hours of confusion and arguing about my ticket payment I finally made it onto the right train. I had all eyes staring at me as I lugged my 50-plus pound suitcase through the platskarta car (one of the lower economy classes on the train which has 6 "bunks" in each car, and everyone is able to walk through them, making the car technically safer though considerably less private).  Eight hours later, we arrived in Voronezh, and my bunkmate helped me maneuver my suitcase off the train and then gave me his contact information if I ever needed anything. Until this point, I had felt confident in everything but as I exited the train I realized how much unknown lay ahead. Fortunately, one of the younger teachers was waiting to meet me. She brought me to the dorm in which I will be living and made me wait while she and the elderly woman "RA" attempted to reach various strong men in various dorm rooms in order to find someone to carry up my suitcase (I swear it was not that heavy! I forgot that in Russia it is such a no-no for a woman to lift more than a grain of rice). Then she kindly brought me to her friend's house for a much appreciated homecooked meal of borscht and plov. The next morning, the young teacher, Ira, and I went to the main mall in the city and bought a number of things for my new room. The English department bought me a microwave and an electric kettle yesterday (I didn't think I should tell them that my history with microwaves is fraught with mishaps). It has already snowed twice in Voronezh, but today is a little warmer and feels a little bit like an autumn day. They haven't turned the heat on yet, so Ira brought me some tape to put on the windows. 

 I have a room with two small beds, a dresser, an ancient fridge, and a small bathroom. Here are a few photos. 

This broom was also left by the last person for me. 

Not sure how much use I will get out of it, but I am keeping an open mind.

I'm very thankful to have somewhere cheap to live that is also safe (everyone must present ID and the dorm closes at 11pm sharp). It is also in the center of the city right next door to the largest cathedral in the city - a beautiful church. I have a feeling I will get along well with all the women who take turns sitting at the desk (I have been sent back upstairs a few times to dress more warmly and have received multiple lectures on safety). At first, I didn't think I had hot water but then was informed that the hot water is only available from 10am-6pm. Oh, and also, the cold nob means hot on my shower and vice versa. Because, why make sense? Every time that I have showered a giant pool of water forms in my bathroom, so yesterday I spent a few hours putting together a makeshift shower curtain/curtain rod. I feel very accomplished; It has only fallen down once. Not only am I learning how to live in Russia- I am learning how to really live on my own for the first time.

 There is one washing machine in the dorm next to me, but I am apparently not allowed to use it because I don't live there. The people in my dorm all handwash their clothing in the basement. I guess I can either suck it up and buy a tub to wash in or...just keep buying underwear.

Somebody, not sure who, called a carpenter for me. My closet doesn't have shelves or a pole and is kept closed by bent nails, so I am hopeful that he will fix it all for me. The carpenter's eyes grew wide when he learned I was an American. He immediately asked the two questions I have been peppered with the most: "You have husband? You like Obama?". That experience and other similar ones this week reminded me that being an American in Voronezh is not nearly as common as being one in St. Petersburg or Moscow. I have already been the first American that many of these people have met. Their wonder and curiosity about where I am from and their eagerness to tell me either that it is their dream (they often use that word specifically) to see New York or California or how adamantly they despise America is something I will never get used to. The questions I receive vary immensely, but each time the experience reminds me how fortunate I am to be able to see other parts of the world up close. 

I met my main contact who explained that I will be teaching 16 hours a week at two "faculties" or departments. Each class consists of about 15 students and meets for two hours. Unfortunately, I only see each class every other week, so learning all of their names will be a challenge (Ira told me they are all named Sasha anyways). 

Yesterday, I went to church at the large cathedral next door and then explored the city a little bit. I haven't seen too much, but I like Voronezh a lot so far. There is a beautiful river in the middle of it, and I am quite close to everything that is in the center of the city. The mall I went to on Saturday is a giant-6 stories structure with a movie theater, restaurants, grocery store, high end stores like Boss and Zara, and about a million shoe stores (of course I had to buy Russian boots right away). The country girl in me was overwhelmed from the hustle and bustle of the city and was happy to find this park.

I'm looking forward to exploring the city more when I have a better idea of where things are...and when I finally learn my own address and how to get home. The Offspring and Limp Bizkit are coming to Voronezh next month. Almost everyone I talk to has already asked if I am going to see them. 

I was also recently reminded of the trials and tribulations of anyone trying to get through Russian bureaucracy. I went to register (one has to register in a city within 7 days or face large fines and the possibility of not being allowed to return to Russia). Ira went with me and basically spoke on my behalf for a good portion of the time.I spent most of the time confused and thanking my lucky stars that I had her with me. Then we went back and forth between five different offices to try to find out what I need to live in the student dorm. Apparently, I need to get a medical exam in order to live in the dorm. I assumed this meant a physical and possibly an HIV test. ACTUALLY, it means that I have to see 8 doctors including a surgeon, infectious disease specialist, and a therapist (there is talk about a 9th doctor, but I didn't catch what type of specialist they were arguing about). I also need another blood test, urine test, and xrays of my lungs (since TB is such a problem). Everyone we have spoken with, which is probably about 14-15 people, has told me different things about the ORDER in which I need to do these things (apparently this matters a lot?). I'm hoping to get out of as much of this as possible so I can begin focusing on teaching. On that note, I'm off to teach my first class!

Ramblings From Russia: Voronezh Version

I am back in Russia and so is my blog. I will be in Russia for the next nine months as an English teacher. I have been placed to teach at Voronezh State University in the Applied Sciences and International Relations faculties. I have never been to Voronezh before, but here is the little I know about my home for the next year:

1.     Voronezh is a city about 5-9 hours south of Moscow (depending on if your mode of transportation is train, bus, or crazy Russian driver). 

2.     Voronezh has a population of about 890,000 (slightly bigger than San Francisco’s population). 

3.     Voronezh is most famous for alleged UFO sightings in the 1980s

4.     Most importantly, Voronezh boasts a Mango (by far my favorite clothing store in the world).

As of yet, I have received very little info as to what I will be teaching, to whom/what level specifically, or even where I will be living, but I have developed a more “zen” attitude about these things since there’s really nothing I can do about it until I arrive in Voronezhon Friday night.

Right now I am in Moscow for a five day Fulbright orientation and training.  Last Friday, I flew from JFK and met Madeleine on my connection flight out of Zurich, and we arrived together at Domodedovo. At the airport, we found ourselves sufficiently lost while attempting to find our driver after clearing customs, and in our panic we then proceeded to confuse random strangers by speaking incorrect Russian while attempting to ask them if we could borrow their phones in order to locate our driver. (Who knew it was so easy to mess up the word “roditel” (parent) with “voditel” (driver) when frantically looking for the latter?)  We eventually ran into our rather, by that time, impatient driver who took us on one of the most terrifying drives of my life for two hours to our hotel on the outskirts of Moscow. I think our airport experience was still better than the first time Madeline and I attempted it.
 
I have not had much of a chance to explore the city since we have training every day, but I have made it to a few Moscow landmarks. Tomorrow is our last day in Moscow, and we have a whole day to ourselves to wander around and explore the city, which I am looking forward to very much.
 
Here is a picture of me with my fellow Rochester friends on red square. Even though we all majored in Russia and studied abroad, this is the first time the three of us have been together in Russia.

 
Tonight, we found a nice restaurant called “Sixties” on top of one of Moscow’s sky scrapers which has this beautiful view of the city.

Also, if you are familiar with my extreme trepidation when it comes to pigeons, you can only imagine how I feel about the new phenomenon in Moscow called "zombie pigeons". In case you haven’t heard of it, since August people have been frantically reporting cases of birds, pigeons specifically, acting strangely (falling onto people, getting their necks stuck in awkward positions, dying unexpectedly on the streets, etc). It doesn’t sound like a disease that can be transmitted to humans, but I am keeping a very healthy distance from any pigeons (normally my policy anyways, let’s be real).

On a more serious note, I have one more day in Moscow and then I head to Voronezh. Next update will hopefully be from there!