Well, quite a lot has happened in the past few weeks. It's strange, I didn't even realize how quickly time is going. Every day seems to crawl by, but suddenly here I am at the end of February.
You might want to go get a cup of tea to sip on while you read this post. I have a feeling it could be long. Go ahead, I'll wait.
So, this is my life at the moment:
I'm entering the third week of classes. They are a million times better this semester for three reasons:
1) I only have two language classes (as compared to four last semester) -- Grammar and a class called Praktika which is basically a practice speaking, learn about Russian culture, and watch movies type class.
2) My earliest class doesn't start until 12:15.
3) We have no classes Fridays.
I'm also taking a Russian class. With Russian students. All in Russian. Russian Russian Russian. We could choose any class we wanted and instead of taking the final exams we do a research project about a topic connected to the class.
After a somewhat frantic last minute search for a class to take, I decided to take "Modern Internal Politics of the Russian Federation." Kelly is also taking this class, so I'm not all alone and it's a little less scary. The minute we walked into the classroom I felt like I was in Mean Girls, except instead of having only four Plastics, they were all Plastics. Even the boys. (Maybe especially the boys).
The lecture was very interesting, though. At one point the professor was talking about IKEA and how they don't want to "live under corruption" and pay bribes in Russia. The class just laughed. How else would they get things done?
The Dickinson group is also taking a class called Visual and Performing Arts in Russia; part of the class will be going to museums and galleries and the theatre. Awesome. But, um, so far we're talking about architecture...and I've discovered it's not really my cup of tea. Luckily, we usually get to drink tea during class. This helps.
As our final class, we each have an internship. After arguing with myself about whether I wanted to intern at an NGO or something to do with politics, I decided to forget about what looks good on paper and do something I actually want: Photography. Yep, I'm interning at a
Photography gallery. It's. So. Cool. I have never studied photography, I just like it a lot and like to pretend that I sometimes take cool pictures. I met with the director of the Gallery, Larisa, and her second in command, Tatyana, last Wednesday. Tatyana asked me what I saw myself doing at the gallery and how I could help them; I responded "Well...I haven't studied photography so I can do whatever you want!" Apparently they liked me, because they told me to come back Friday to start my work.
I love this place; it's a small gallery located in a complex of other galleries, called the Vinzavod Center of Modern Arts. I even just love the walk to get there -- I go under a bridge adorned with graffiti and follow small, picturesque side streets to the gallery. Too artsy.
So far they have me creating spreadsheets and cataloging bunches of photographs. I don't care if that's all I do. I love it; I'm speaking Russian, I'm with artsy people, they're all really nice, we listen to cool funky music, and I get to drink tea. (By the way, in case you ever thought about putting salt in your tea instead of sugar, don't do it; salty Earl Grey is absolutely terrible.)
That's all about classes for now. Go get another cup of tea. I will now tell you about last weekend's trip outside of Moscow:
Last week Russia celebrated
Maslenitsa, aka Butterweek. As in many other countries, this is the week before Lent and therefore filled with festivities and lots of soon to be verboten food.
Blini are eaten every day and represent the sun, since after all it's almost spring. ...I don't really believe it's almost spring, but that's what they're saying. On the last day of Maslenitsa, the people gather and have a big outdoor festival in the freezing cold, complete with "adult games" such as men taking most of their clothes off and climbing tall wooden poles, or men again taking most of their clothes off and having a big ol' fist fight until the last man standing. No one dies. I think.
So, for Maslenitsa we traveled three hours outside Moscow to Vladimir and Suzdal, two cities on the Golden Ring, aka two pretty, important, and pretty important cities for Russian history. We walked around Vladimir just long enough to soak in the Vladimir-style architecture and since you know how much I love architecture that's all I'll say about that.
We then caught a bus to Suzdal, checked into our hotel located in one of the gagillion monasteries, and rested a bit before going to........THE BANYA.
In case you haven't heard of the Russian banya, this is what happens: you're in a super hot steamy sauna room for as long as you can take it, then you go outside and jump/roll around in the snow, then you go back into the steam room and are beaten with birch branches, then you soap up, rinse, and repeat.
I was totally expecting the banya to be this huge room with a bunch of naked Russians beating each other, but we had our own little private banya all to ourselves. The few hours leading up to our banya adventure were mostly spent questioning how many clothes we were going to be allowed to wear. I had brought a swimsuit but I was still convinced our group was about to have quite a bonding experience and be all naked. Once we got to the banya, the owner showed us to the little banya house and promptly said "Razdivyaites!" which means "Undress!" We all said "Wait...what?!" and then remembered that this also means "Take your coats off." After a sufficient amount of nervous laughter, we razdivyaitesed and prepared to be steam cooked.
Now, I despise being sweaty. It was so hot in that room, and sweat was pouring from places I didn't even know sweat could pour from. Needless to say, I was quite excited for the whole jumping in snow bit, and ran outside to play in the snow until I couldn't feel my feet anymore, at which point I returned to be beaten. The getting beat with birch branches also felt very good. I only have a few wounds that are still healing. Just kidding.
After our triumphant return from the banya, we decided to sample the local specialty medovukha, a delicious honey alcohol drink which has actually been in Russia longer than vodka.
The next day was the big end of Maslenitsa celebration in the center of town, complete with pole climbing, people running around in traditional costumes, dancing, lots of blini, and of course medovukha. We attempted to get a picture with the giant dolls, but they ran away from us and instead we asked to take a picture with some cute little dressed up girls. They first demanded candy before taking a picture with us; after handing over two pieces of chocolate, we danced and took pictures and it was all quite lovely.
It was very very very cold and we were thus forced to dance and drink medovukha to keep warm:
It was overall a nice, freezing, relaxing trip outside the big city.
So, that is basically what has been going on.
Oh, January and February featured the birthdays of Kelly, Irina, Phil, and me, which clearly meant we had to celebrate. Jonathan had the most brilliantest of brilliant ideas and suggested we go to an Indian restaurant. I think it was the first time I have had slightly spicy restaurant food in Russia. Oh how I miss spicy food!
I also must add that my English is definitely getting worse; first of all, I can't think of words. Second, we all mix in Russian words when we're talking, and to make matters worse we usually mix the Russian with English, creating such masterpieces as "I govorilad with so-and-so" (I talked with so-and-so) or "I think I'm all priklyucheniyad out" (I think I'm all adventured out). Alright so maybe that last sentence isn't good English, either, but the point is: Russian is taking over. I have decided that I'm not protiv (against) this.
One last thing: It started snowing about four days ago and hasn't stopped. As Jonathan pointed out, it's like you're constantly getting bombarded with little icy missiles.
And everyone thought the cold war was over. False.
Until next time, dorogi (dears).
