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!