Just Another Carpenter Story

Happy Spring, everyone! The weather has fluctuated between freezing and high sixties (surprisingly more of the latter than of the former).  Every month in Russia seems to have its high, low, and comically strange points. To be honest, March had some low points. It took me a few days to identify the fact that I may have been experiencing culture shock again. Which indeed is hard to admit to myself since I have been living here for six months and thought I left culture shock behind back in October, when I first arrived. I always rolled my eyes when being warned that culture shock may “strike at any point”, but indeed it did. An extreme example of this culture shock is the woman who came up to me this morning and started rubbing my leg to make sure I was wearing stockings with my dress (sometimes it is a cultural taboo to not be wearing tights..which I often forget as I always wear ones that match my skin tone).

Enough of that, though. Here are a few of the people and things that have kept life interesting in Voronezh.

A few weeks ago the lights in my bathroom went out. I decided it would be easier to shower in almost total darkness for a few days than to figure out how to change the light bulbs or explain the situation to my komendant (lady in charge of my dormitory). Two days later, I was awakened by an elderly toothless man standing at the entrance of my door rambling Russian words to me that I couldn’t understand since I was…half asleep…still snuggled under my blankets. I eventually put together that he was the carpenter sent to fix my lights and showed him which ones were broken. (Note: this is not the carpenter from my first week. He is still around and threatens to beat up anyone who bothers me and reminds me that he has four eligible bachelor sons).

It took me a few minutes to wake up and realize I hadn’t even told anyone about this issue so how did he know to come? The new carpenter responded to my inquiries by shrugging his shoulders and saying a cleaning lady told him to come. Soon, I heard a loud knock on my door. Two Russian guys were standing at my door and asked if Aleksei was in my room and to tell him he was needed downstairs. I realized I had no idea what the carpenter’s name was and asked if it was Aleksei. He answered by telling me he didn’t believe in names or in patronymics and launched into a rant about religious names and the Bible and “youth today”. While feigning great interest in his ramblings, I gathered my things for Russian class and after about fifteen minutes I interrupted to announce I was late to class and thanked him for his help. He told me to check everything in my room to make sure he didn’t take anything of mine and then went back to staring at my broken light bulb. I never found out his name. And he never figured out how to change the bulb-now there are just a few wires hanging from my ceiling.

In other dorm news, my building now has…drumroll…A real washing machine! It was installed last week in the room with tubs where students handwash their clothes. However, there is a catch to this machine. It costs 100 roubles (~$3.00) to wash your clothes but only accepts 5 rouble coins. Let me be more specific: 5 rouble coins produced after 2009. I have yet to collect enough, but maybe by next week I will have enough to test out this new machine and actually launder my clothes here!

Lent in Russia has also been a different experience. I found an Orthodox youth group at the church I have been attending. They are really wonderful people who have done a lot to make me feel comfortable in Voronezh and are taking me on an excursion this weekend. The best part is that none of them know English, so I am able to immerse myself completely in Russian. (Often my attempts to speak only Russian all day fail when I meet with friends who also want practice speaking English with a native speaker).

Anyways, more to come next week. My mirror broke yesterday, so I am sure I will have an unexpected carpenter visit to share soon.

Sochi 2014 (or how Meri willingly went to a hockey game)

Hello, internet world! I am finally back after an almost two month hiatus. January was a busy month of travel and a Fulbright conference, but I would like to dedicate this post to my trip to Sochi a few weeks ago. I should say extremely spontaneous trip to Sochi, as my decision to go was made very spur of the moment in a very smoky (read: typical Russian) café in Voronezh with my American friend Eric.

After a week of in-service teaching to my colleagues, my host informed me that I had an additional week off before my regular classes resumed. It took me a few hours to put together the fact that I was 600 kilometers from Sochi with a week off. But then one of my students (Vika) from Sochi with whom I have become good friends invited me to come stay with her family during the games, and the rest simply fell into place. Eric wasn’t very keen on figure skating and I wanted to spend as little money as possible, so we agreed on the USA-Slovakia preliminary hockey game and then rushed to the train station to buy tickets for the next morning. I then spent the remainder of the day trying to hunt down an American flag to no avail. Instead I brought a nice paper purse-sized paper flag given to us by the embassy in Moscow. Whatever works, right? I then purchased enough food to last our 27 hour train ride. Yes, you read that correctly. For some reason the train ride is 14 hours longer than the drive. I will never forget the following reaction upon telling my mom I was going to Sochi.

Mom: Sochi? How far is that from you?

Me: Well, twenty seven hours. But considering how big Russia is…

Mom: SEVEN hours? Are you crazy?

The city of Sochi itself was more of an experience than the hockey match. Things like palm trees, recycle bins, and bus schedules made me immediately question if I had somehow left Russia. I even got bold and asked a policeman for help, and he told me to have a good day after giving me directions. I just sort of stared at him until Eric dragged me away (A taste of reverse culture shock?). I have never been through more intense security in my life and even the local express trains kept blaring out the numerous security measures taken on the train “for your peace of mind”. I was rather annoyed with the Western media’s reporting of the Olympics as everyone I interacted with was helpful, kind, and friendly.

By the time we arrived in Sochi, Vika was back in Voronezh, so her mother and sister (Julia and Tanya) met us. I expected that we would be crashing on couches in their family’s apartment. However, they are almost finished building a house where they generously put us up for the night. So after showering us with welcome gifts, Julia and Tanya brought us to their new home to settle us in. The house was so thoughtfully and carefully set up for us complete with a stocked fridge (probably enough food for at least a month), comfortable beds, and more presents. This, my dear readers, is a prime example of Russian hospitality! After gaping about us with awe at such generosity, we left our bags and made our way to the Olympic Park.

Note the palm trees

The Olympic Park had a really festive atmosphere and was absolutely enormous. We ran into many Americans (even families of some of the athletes!) and answered questions/translated for many of them.
 

Although we purchased the cheapest tickets we could get, and at the last minute, we somehow scored seats in the second row right behind the American team. I am not sure how this happened, and Eric and I spent the first few minutes wondering if we were in the wrong seats. We sat next to a bunch of NBC employees and interns and chatted with a few of them during the game. I left the stadium almost without a voice and definitely without a better understanding of hockey and in utter disbelief that I had witnessed an Olympic event.

Goal!

The next morning, Tanya was at our door and ready with an itinerary to help us see as much as we could before our return train. She met us at 7am, and a little after dawn we were already at the Black Sea. I was dying to go swimming but didn't have my suit with me, so I rolled my pants up and waded in as far as I could.

We spent the rest of the day walking around Krasnaya Polyanka where the major ski events were taking place. Tanya explained that the ski resort village, the shops and even the river were all created for the Olympics. 

After being given more presents, sustenance for the train, and open invitations for future visits, we rushed off to the train. I think we spent more time on the train than in Sochi, but it was definitely worth it for the experience of (probably) my only Olympics.

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!