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!