Only in Russia

Well, I was teaching my advanced class on Tuesday, and they asked me how I felt about Russia. Talk about a loaded question, what it they really mean is: Is it better than America, do I like Russian people, do I like Russian food, do I like Russian vodka, and do I like Ekaterinburg. Well I told my class the truth; I love Russia. This being my advanced class, they then proceeded to ask why. Why do I love Russia? I told my class I love Russia because it is so different from the United States. That answer prompts a follow up question; "Well what is different?" The easy answer, is everything.  So I'll share a few stories with you, that would only happen to a foreigner.

This picture was from two weeks ago, I think...It's all a blur.  I was on a quest for Parmesan  cheese, however my grocery store didn't have any. So I was debating if I wanted to go into the center and visit Stockmann's, which is a very expensive import grocery store. While I was standing outside the grocery store, one of the two other Americans at Language Link called me. Chris invited me downtown to meat his best friend for lunch. I had eaten lunch already, but I wanted to go Stockmann's anyway, so off to the metro I went. Chris and I went to Stockmann's to find Parmesan cheese, they had it for 1800 rubles/kilo or $30/pound. Quite a bit out of my price range, especially since all I wanted was enough to make Carbonara. After some searching we fond little mini packets of grated Parmesan for 60p or $2, so I bought those. Cheese in hand we headed to Subway to meet Chris' friend. Well after second lunch, we headed to a restaurant called Pepper for tea. Well another friend came, next thing I know it's 9:00 and I just got invited to go drink cognac in celebration of our new friendship. It was a Sunday, but it's Russia.

And there we drank, next to a memorial devoted to Michael Jackson.

  The first picture; That guy was being pushed from Moscow to Astana Kazakhstan in his shopping cart, or so he said. Frankly I find the story a tad suspect but I went with it.  He just looked so happy though:

Either way, meeting two Americans totally made this guys day. He actually begged me to take his picture, because it would be "F@#*^% AWESOME!" to have an American take his picture. So I did, and shortly after, he and his friend continued their journey to Astana at the speed of one drunk guy pushing a second drunk guy in a shopping cart. I can't imagine this happening anywhere else.

Next we have a lovely story from last week on the metro;

Last week when I was going to the clinic to get my HIV test, I was coming out of the metro, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was meeting Justin, so it took me a second to realize how terrible this person smelled, and as I turned around in horror I realized it was just some random drunk Russian...at 10AM.

Now I don't have any pictures of Russian Militzia, but rest assured, the gentleman on the left could have been a stand in for the Militzia that saved me.

As I turned around to face the drunk Russian, a Militzia officer grabbed him by the neck and threw him to the ground, then kicked him half a dozen times, and proceeded to grab him by the coat, lift him up and demand his passport. I couldn't believe it, I was actually thankful that there was a Militzia nearby.

On the topic of the Clinic, I went yesterday and waited two hours for my results.  After waiting almost two hours, I called Tanya my administrator, and told her how long I had been waiting, and that I'd be late for class if I didn't get my results soon. So in turn Tanya called the clinic and asked why the only American there had been waiting for two hours. The woman that answered the phone promptly apologized, and as Tanya was relaying this to me over the phone, I was called to get my test results. Lesson learned, being an American does have some serious perks.

Story three; The Babushka and the Drunk man

On Monday I was walking to work minding my own business a drunk guy bumps into me, then stumbles forward. He goes on shambling like this for about ten more feet and then his path intersects with that of the fabled Russian Babushka:

That is just some random babushka, the babushka this unlucky drunkard decided to run into was much more squat, and carrying a bag. Just watching this, I knew there was only one way for this collision to go. A Russian babushka isn't just a normal, frail, old lady, these women lived through Russian Revolution,  since they all look old enough to have ridden a Triceratops to the potato field. Well this drunk guy hit this babushka and she didn't miss a beat; she whipped around like Barry Bonds pumped full of enough steroids to kill Jose Canseco, and filled with all of fury of  Red Sox Nation come September, she used her bag like a frying pan, connecting full on with this poor mans face...He flew back a few feet, shook his head then sprinted through a hole in a fence, and dove into a stand of shrubs...Where he immediately fell asleep. I bet that isn't how you expected the story to end.

When I told my advanced class these stories, they were shocked, nothing like this had ever happened to them...These thing happen only to foreigners.

Until then Пока!

Finally I've figured it out!

Well it's about time Blogger finally decided to work for me, almost a month since my last post

I also figured people would want to see what my apartment looks like. Well here it is, my living/bedroom has been rearranged, I moved the bed to where the futon/entertainment center are, and put the futon and entertainment center on the other side of the room. The first picture of course is my bathroom, when you picture an old soviet apartment, I'd imagine you'd expect that bathroom. Then goes the kitchen, with a stove that is 60 years old, and an oven that won't light. Then the living/bedroom, I live in a relatively typical soviet flat. The first two weeks in it were hard, but I've finally come to accept it as my "home"

School is going great, I teach from 2:45-8:45 on Mondays then 4-9 every other day. It's a pretty awesome schedule. I'm loving all my classes so far, ESL isn't Social Studies which is something to cope with. Other than that, I love it. I'll put up pictures of my classroom, the other teachers, and the office on Monday hopefully.

I just emailed my mom a letter applying to become a product tester for LL Bean, hopefully the take pity on me and say yes. It snowed yesterday morning, I mean it was only flurries and nothing stuck...but it's September! I have about a 40 minute commute to work everyday, that consists of a lot of walking. Wednesday and Thursday, it was so cold I NEEDED a scarf. I'm not used to weather like this in September especially when it's still in the 60's at home.  Apparently when it comes to winter, Russia doesn't disappoint

On Wednesday I had to go to a special foreigner clinic to get tested for HIV. As some of you might know, I got tested for HIV in July before I applied for my visa, well apparently 2 months later it is no good. So I needed a new HIV test. Well Justin one of the other Language Link teachers came with me. The best part about the clinic is there is a sheep pen right outside of it. Well we got there at about 11:20, and walked into a waiting room with 20 people from Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan,   and Uzbekistan. Well little known secret, these people are all over Russia, and in huge numbers. Comparable to "Illegal" Mexican immigrants in America. The major difference, is the racism. Sure there's alienation towards Mexican immigrants in the US, but I'd say that's mostly class discrimination, not race.  Anyway though, Justin and I walked into the clinic gave the receptionist my documentation, which she promptly put into a pile of other passports without looking at it. Justin and I went back to the waiting room to sit down. About ten minutes later the women both leave the reception area. Then 15 minutes after that, an old security guard comes out to say that the registration women are on lunch break and to come back at one. So Justin and I headed off to grab some lunch. When we got back at 1:10, the old security guard shot into the waiting room and bee-lined right for us. Yelling "Americanski!" Well I'm not sure what he said, because it was all in Russian, but the gist of it was that they had been calling my name for 10 minutes, and it was my turn. Well there were still several familiar faces in the waiting room when I had left for lunch, that obviously had got in line before me. As soon as the registration desk noticed my passport though, I got put on the top of the list.  So I was led in to to get my blood drawn, and Justin talked to the security guard named Sergei, whom Justin knows from all of the times he's had to go the clinic. (You need an HIV test whenever you get a new visa, and Justin has been here for 4 years) Moral of the story is Sergei loves Americans and hates the "Stani's". So after my blood was drawn by two nurses that were totally thrilled to be taking the blood of an American, I went into a room to get asked all sorts of questions. Well the questions are asked in Russian, so Justin came in with me to translate. Our friendly doctor was having no part of this and told Justin that it was my problem that I don't speak Russian, then had Justin to leave. Well I was slightly worried about this interaction I would be having with the friendly doctor, but he stamped my paper had me sign it then shooed me out. Then Sergei spent 10 minutes explaining to me when to come get my test results, and how I should go about it. Oh and one more thing, Westerners only need an HIV test, those coming from the "Stans" need to get 4. I know racism is bad and all, and everyone is created equal, but I won't lie; it felt good to be put in front of everyone else just because I'm American. The guilt was there of course, but in Russia, that is just the way it goes.

Until I post again, which will be probably tomorrow. Thanks for reading.