David digs potatoes

So I returned to the dacha, to dig the potatoes. This task gradually took on more and more urgency as the rainy weather of the past week continued, and I arrived ready to help, all weekend if necessary.

Except the first day, when I revealed that I had never officially dug potatoes I was relegated to pulling weeds along the field. This was not what I was expecting, and as the other
relatives talked about how to buy siding for the add-on garage cheaper, I was off in the corner, wondering what was a weed and what was just a plant, because they used the russian word "trava," which I thought meant grass, but clearly applies to most things smaller than a bush.

Later on I was taken with cousin Pasha and his girlfriend Anya to look at some horses near by, and we talked about the movie "Robin Hood: Men and Tights" a little bit. This goes along with my biology professor Pavel Aleksandrovich's frequent references to bad American movies, like "Police Academy."

Later that evening my host mom's son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter came, and I had a good time playing with my "niece." At dinner I talked with my host-grandma Ninel (what is Ninel backwards?) about some opera about a half-japanese boy who gets killed by her japanese mom so the american sailor father can't take him away with his new american wife.

I also on Monday was supposed to attend my first mainstream class, I chose History of Russian Literature, and after some awkward waiting around the door, I found out that the professor couldn't make it and instead was treated to a lecture on the details of Russian language, but the professor that day was young and lively and it actually turned out more interesting than the next class I sat in on, about the history of the Orthodox church, because it was taught by a man very similiar to Brezhnev with a class full of 20 year olds acting exactly like 13 year olds, i.e. punching each other, talking, sending text messages, etc.

I guess this didn't turn out to be as an exciting week, especially because I didn't make any embarassing mistakes, so here I will list some random observations:
1. Russians love ice cream, they sell it on the street for cheap and the toughest youths can be seen eating fancy strawberry cream bars. This is a plus for me, because I love icecream.
2. Russia is still awfully Soviet, i know that may seem obvious, but they just never bothered to change all sorts of stuff, and people just treat it as irrelevant, at least young people.
3. Russian cities are dirty but Russians are very clean. My host mom asked me if it was really true that Americans rest their feet on things and when I said sometimes, I couldn't really explain how that wasn't dirty.
4. One little thing: Russian notebooks for school are all like grid paper, it is impossible to find them ruled like in America. And they are all really small, and called tetradi. I guess this isn't interesting.
5. I still sort of like Soviet architechture, I don't care what people think. I like Kirov Square with its gaudy fountain, huge monolithic buildings, and terribly confusing traffic pattern.
6. I still don't know anything about Russia and it is probably not worth it to even write this out.

So next time I will have something exciting to write. We are going to Severobaikalsk for a week on Oct. 3rd.

Baikal, sacred sea, pearl of siberia

So we finally saw Baikal. In case you didn't know, its the deepest lake in the world, the purest, the deepest visability, and the coolest. There are even fatty little seals called nerpa that hang out and eat fatty fish called Omul. But I already knew this because Baikal is about 20x more famous than Irkutsk. The people at the study abroad program treat it like an equalizer. I mean, why study in Siberia when you could be in Western Russia?

So I thought that Baikal would be pretty touristy. Every Russian knows all about it, even if they live 6 time zones away, but it turned out to be above all, peaceful. At least where we were. We took a motor boat called a "raketa" (lit. rocket) to a village called Bol'shiye Koti, which probably doesn't mean "Big Cats" but I'd like it to. Besides a somewhat gaudy sign explaining the nature of the Pribaikal'sky park, it was a cute, normal village, without any Hawaii-style tourist junk. We then walked along the coast to a little complex of log cabins run by a young guy named Sergei. He was a buddhist, looked kind of like a skinny guy that you might see hanging out at a local coffee shop, and was very peaceful as well. In the kitchen there was a little red box that constantly played quietly some buddhist chants. It was pretty rad.

Raddest of all was the banya, which is like a Russian sauna except its dry, not wet, and they beat you with birch branches and you wear little felt hats. And then when you get to hot you get to jump into a little brook beside the hut. It reminded me a little bit of heroin, because afterwards I felt weak, sleepy, and euphoric.

So that was our trip to Baikal. Oh, wait, this is Russia, and things never go according to plan, so the next day there was only enough room on the boat back to the next town, not Irkutsk, and there we got off and had to wait in a parking lot. Our advisor Liza said that we need to catch a little private bus that would come "in an hour." I worried about this, because a) there are usually about 12 seats on a little bus, if it is empty, b) there were 7 of us in all, and c) there were another 14 people waiting to get on that little bus, who were Russian and would push us out of the way like it was their job. So I felt better when we decided instead to take a bus to the airport and take another bus home from there. But we still had to wait about 40 minutes for no reason. But it could have been worse. Americans are just unpatient, I guess.

One last thing: I know that Siberia is in Asia, like, almost half of it, but I didn't really think that much about it. Even if all the local Buryat (think Mongolian) people and the Koreans and the Chinese left Irkutsk, it would still be a little Asian, because literally every car is Japanese and every bus is Korean. The other day I grabbed onto those little straps that are on buses to keep people from falling over and "Incheon: Asian Games Canidate City 2014" was written on it. And yesterday I ate seaweed as part of my dinner.

So there's that. I haven't made a huge mistake lately, but this morning I somehow broke a lightbulb by pressing the on switch.

The Posts Will Be Less Frequent When I Start Making Less Mistakes

So here is a nice story from when I was at the dacha: I told my host grandma that I study Russian because it is "the most beautiful language in the world." Pretty standard icebreaker. She replied, "Yes, what did they use to say? I would study Russian, if only because Lenin himself spoke it." What am I supposed to say to that?

Another funny story: We have a security code in order to get into the house. Two days ago I entered the code and pressed the button 2 times. Oops! I was supposed to press it one time! So I did it all over again and was fine. Twenty minutes later I was eating a snack and drinking some tea when my host mom started unlocking the door. "I'm coming!" I said. No answer. I said it again, and again no answer. I called out her name: "Natalya Viniaminovna? Is that you? Who's there?!" No answer. I called her on her cell, and she answered. "Natalya Viniaminovna, there's someone at the door, trying to get in!" "It's my neighbor. Open the door."

But I was an idiot and left the keys in the inner door, so I scurried around frantically searching for the keys while the door rattled and shook. Finally it opened and there was my little old lady neighbor with a tall blond guard from the security company. He had to fill out a report but just about the only words I could understand from his handwriting was "no violation," so I signed it. It was a lot more stressfull than it sounds.

So that's about it. I hope everybody is having a good time in Alaska/Middlebury/the US, I miss you guys, but everyday here is a little better. I didn't make any mistakes so far today. If I don't write back it's because the internet here sucks and you have to pay by the megabyte.

Sophie asked me if I was still a vegetarian and how the food was. No, I dropped that about 2 months ago namely to live in Russia, but evidently I didn't prepare well enough, because the past three days I was fatally ill with unpleasant gastronomical disasters, but now I am almost recovered. The food is for the most part good but always too rich and in too bountiful a quantitiy. I think my host mom feeds me a lot less than the others, which is good.

So tomorrow we are going to Lake Baikal and I guess I'll write about that later. Skaters.

David

Irkutsk n' Stuff

Orientation went great, they just warned us mostly never ever ever ever to go out on the street at night. Ever. So, I wasn't planning on doing that anyway, so it will be fine. Unfortunately, after getting sort-of used to Moscow time (+13 hrs!), we boarded a plane to Irkutsk that left at 2:00 in the morning and arrived at 2:00pm Irkutsk time (+18 {i think} hrs!). There my new mom Natalya Viniaminovna and her son Konstantin Pavlovich were waiting. They took me immediately to their dacha outside of Irkutsk, in a pleasant little village where they grow lots of vegetables. Things are still a little odd, just because I've only known them two days, but nothing serious. They are both very Russian, I think. Not really like the Russians at Middlebury.

I know its a cliche, but I realized that I am really, really, American. Its hard not to ever make eye contact or smile at anyone, but I have to get used to it, and I will. Also, just little things, like when the dog at the dacha jumped up on me and got mud on my pants, it is a much bigger deal. People dress a lot better here. Well, better, in the sense that they dress nicer. I'm not sure if I agree with some of their outfits. But I am the foreigner here, and it is up to me to fit in to a degree that at least I don't stand out until I open my mouth. I am writing on the fatally slow University computer. We haven't had classes yet, but I just took a test for placement, and I totally f****ed up a retelling of the legend of Lake Baikal. I had to listen to it, and then retell it, and I completely missed the fact that the young lover was the Yenesei river, and the rock was Listvyanka. At the end of the year, I'll know that damn story by heart, though. It's pretty good, once you sit back and think about it.

Well, a class is coming and I have to go. Bye.

Охуеть! Я в Москве!

So the flight(s) that lasted about 27 hours were a gray blur, I watched some episodes of the Office and I learned how to say safety belt in Russian. When I got through customs, which was fine, and emerged into the main hall of Domodedyevo airport, I immediately realized so far everything had gone swimmingly, and that this was Russia. Sure enough, my friend Sarah Jones was not among the sea of people, most of whom were surprisingly not Russian, but from Central Asia by the looks of them. After telling 20 people that I didn't want a taxi ride, I calmed down and thought about what I was going to do. I was waiting in line at a cellphone kiosk, rehearsing this line: "I am not a customer of any Russian telephone companies. I need only 20 minutes access internet." But then, thank God, Sarah tapped on my shoulder.

Then we rode a little bus for half an hour to the nearest Metro stop. If you didn't know, the Moscow metro is one of the biggest in the world, and it was built from the thirties by Communist volunteers and in the fifties by German prisoners of war/slaves. All the platforms are a nice mix of Art deco with lots of hammer and sickles/busts of proletarian men/flowers. Its actually very nice, but imposing, and I don't think that they'll get rid of the communist kitsch anytime soon.

We took the Metro to the end of the line, and then took a little train to the suburb where Sarah lived. Her apartment was a little Soviet-style, but cozy enough. There's a lot of little changes: the toilet was in a tiny room next to the bathroom, the stove said "USSR" on it, there were strange books on the wall, I can't really describe it. It really seemed like it was out of the 1980's. Well, there was a poster adverstising Czech sporting life from 1982 in the bathroom.

Now I'm at the hotel with the other kids on the Middlebury program. It is going to be a long nine months. I will survive, though. Pretty sure.

No prizes this week- Moscow is too expensive.

David