how to survive a russian winter

Boots.

No seriously, just boots.

Okay, let me explain.  It's kind of cold here.  I say "kind of" not to be ironic, but rather as a sign of respect for my colleagues in the comparably-more-frozen swathes of this largest of countries.  We've been in more or less what I'd call "winter temperatures" for about five to six weeks.  It hasn't  been too bad, around 15-20 °F most days.  Then last week it dropped to an average high of around 0 °F.  That still isn't too bad, believe it or not, until you factor in the hurricane-strength gusts of wind that come constantly roaring in across the second largest lake in Europe.

And so I found myself wondering how I could possibly make myself warmer as I trudged home last night (really it was mid-afternoon, but the sun set at 3:19pm yesterday, so bear with me), haunted by the knowledge that I would have to leave the warm refuge of my apartment after painfully few hours to meet up with some friends.  I had already donned my silk base layer, my fleece sweatshirt, my thick woolly socks.  But I was still cold.  And then I remembered: my boots!

Let's back up.  Before coming to Russia, I wanted to get the best, warmest, waterproofest boots on the market.  The way it's always worked for me is, if my feet are cold, I'm cold.  If my feet are warm, I'm warm.  So I scoured the depths of the Internet and ordered what seemed like the perfect shoe: the Baffin Punisher.  Seven-layer insulation.  Ultra-modern metal lacing system.  Rated to -76 °F.  In a word: immaculate.  The only problem, as I figured out upon opening the box on arrival, was that the pictures of the shoe in all-white vacuum space online created a lack of proper perspective.  These boots are huge.  Like, practical joke big.  To give you that proper perspective which I originally lacked,  consider the following photographs, which show the boots next to my everyday walking shoes and a regulation size Pringles can:

Enter the Punisher.

I will admit to delaying using these bad boys longer than I should have because I was worried about the ridicule that was sure to come my way for strapping to Sherman tanks to my ankles.  And then I put them on.  It was as if my world had changed.  The sidewalk cleaners have really basic tools here, so for the past month all the walks have been covered with a packed down two inches of snow and ice.  Usually it makes walking a chore and adds a good 20-30% to my walk time.  But as soon as I stepped out in my behemoths, I could tell the difference.  I felt my pace quicken, even faster than on dry road.  These things on loosely-packed snow are like a Ferrari on pristine pavement; they eat it up.  

They make an ungodly sound too, like an angry rubber tire attacking a piece of Styrofoam.  As I walked out of my neighborhood toward the main drag, an old woman walking a good 20 yards in front of me actually turned around to survey what manner of fell beast was overtaking her.  At one point, a gust of wind blew a loose piece of plastic in my path, only to resoundingly crushed by the fall of my crashing steps.  It was like I was filming a commercial for these things.

But best of all, my feet.  They felt, to quote Tim Curry as Nigel St. Nigel, like they'd been "swaddled in a cocoon of cloud candy."  I actually had to downgrade to my regular strength athletic socks or else they get too warm.  Having seen the error of my ways, I shan't be caught gallivanting about in hiking shoes again!  At this point, I feel like I can finally understand the psychological appeal of owning a Hummer.  So do yourself a favor.  If you come to Russia in the winter, purchase some ridiculously ridiculous boots.  They might just save your life.  

Or cause an international incident.

trainspotting

Another day trip to Petersburg meant another pair of train rides.  I thought I would write a bit about the experience of traveling by train in Russia, as it's an essential part of the country's everyday culture that's virtually unheard of in the U.S.  While plane and automobile use are increasing all the time, the train is still far and away the dominant form of travel in Russia.  It's something that nearly every single Russian will experience at some point in his or her life, and a common occurrence for many.

The train (and especially the Russian train) is almost an inherently social activity, lacking the privacy of automobile travel and the relative brevity of air travel.  This effect is magnified when one rides "na platzkartye," the term for third-class accommodations.  The platzkart is arguably a cultural concept unto itself, though not necessarily for good reasons--a quick Google search for "platzkart" returns a considerable list of sites that include the word "infamous" in their description of the term.  So why is it so infamous?  Observe:

The third-class wagon is a completely open sleeper car that seats around 65 people.  While it's hard to tell in the picture above, the "cabins" on the left each contain four bunks, two high, two low.  The right side features one high and one low bunk that stretch longways down the spine of the car (the little tables fold down).  One can start to imagine how such an arrangement would afford the reputation it's earned at the prospect of taking a 15-, 30-, or 60-hour train ride with 64 of your soon-to-be closest friends.  This is especially true when compared to second-class, which features locking compartments with just four travelers each.

Despite most Russians' preference for second-class, however--most who ride platzkart don't do so by choice--I actually prefer it to second-class.  For one, it affords more flexibility in what kind of train experience you want.  If you want to talk and drink all night with your fellow travelers, there will certainly always be something to share a drink (or seven) with.  If you want to read quietly and get some sleep, however, you can do that too, as the large number of riders allows for much more anonymity.  The latter is usually my chosen travel strategy.  I say this not because I'm anti-social, but because I've learned that even a simple "Hello" can lead to a seven-hour conversation that can potentially last until the wee hours of the morning.  And I'm usually taking a night train and want my sleep.  And I'm anti-social.

My last train ride, however, was an evening train that left in the afternoon and got in around midnight, so I decided to strike up a conversation with one of my bunk mates.  True to form, we ended talking for a few hours, but I did also get in a more than healthy nap, so I got the best of both worlds.  My new friend, Alexei, was a very interesting sort.  He's quite the intimidating chap, a good few inches taller than me and built like an ox.  He has a rather insistent quality, which would be alarming if he weren't so friendly, and he proudly showed me his military identification card from when he was in the service.  In short, he seemed the kind of guy you wouldn't want to mess with about ten years ago.

Like so many Russians I meet, he has a much softer side behind his stern appearance.  He quoted a few stanzas of poetry to me from memory when he saw I was reading Lermontov.  He insisted on sharing his tea and bread rolls with me, and showed me some pictures of his four year-old son even more proudly than he did his military papers.  When we got off the train, he suggested (read: gently insisted) that we share a taxi.  And even though my apartment was on the way to his, he told the driver to drop us both off at his building, after which we got in his car so he could drive me home.  While the experience was a bit strange, it was emblematic of one of the best qualities of the Russian people: they are fiercely generous and highly endearing.  Naturally, before parting we exchanged phone numbers.    He called me today with an invitation I wouldn't necessarily have expected from my new barrel-chested ex-military friend.

Next week we're going ice skating.

trip to petersburg and tragedy

I'm more than a bit behind in terms of updating my blog.  I have no real excuse, other than to say that the first two weeks after my last post were too boring to write about and last two weeks since have been too busy.  Anyway, I'm going to do my best to update this thing over the next week, as I've got a bit of a backlog of material to write about.

My girlfriend has come to visit these past two weeks, so the Saturday before last I met her at the airport in St. Petersburg.  It was my first time in Petersburg, so I was pleased that all the logistical aspects of coordinating trains, plains, and automobile taxis went smoothly.  I only hope the return trip will be as easy.  We had quite a bit of time between when the plane arrived and the plane left, so we were able to see some of the main sights.  This was somewhat dampened, however, by two facts: 1) it was very cold; and 2) around this time the sun is up from around 10am to 3pm, most of which time was spent at the airport/traveling to the train station to store luggage.  That said, I still got some great pictures.

Church of the Savior on Blood--built on the site where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated

The Winter Palace--because 1500 rooms just isn't enough in summer

Kazan Cathedral

I didn't spend a lot of time in the city, but my impressions of it were that I like it better than Moscow.  Anyone familiar with my feelings on Moscow, however, knows this is not itself a particularly impressive distinction.  But I'd like to go back and see more in the future.

Now to the titular tragedy.  I apologize if you took it seriously and have been on pins and needles this entire post, but it's less of the "dozens killed in 50 car pile-up" kind of tragedy and more of the "I can't believe they replaced David Hasselhoff with Howie Mandel on America's Got Talent" kind of tragedy.  More specifically, after three glorious months in the (near) sun, my long flowing locks have been shorn.  Observe the grisly aftermath:

No, that is not a large rodent.  It is my hair.

Just look at that pile!  That's enough hair to make a toupee.  For an indication of how long it was before I cut it, my hair is still a healthy 2.5 inches or so.  While it saddens me to think of what I've lost, I take solace in the thought of the coming winter months, which you may know constitute the prime season for hair-growing.  I'm also considering a beard.  In fact, I had one of my artistically-inclined students do a mock-up of what I might look like with the long hair/beard combo, and I'm quite pleased with the results:

Oh yeah, this is definitely happening.

karelian folk overdrive

My apologies for having gone two weeks without writing.  Not that I think you don't have other things going on and thus have to wait for me to update my blog, I'm just trying to be polite.  Anyways, to make up for it, I've got a post planned for tomorrow as well.  This post, however, is another episode in my cultural excursions in and around Petrozavodsk.

I owe it to my friend Olga, who's quickly become my link to weekend culture events.  She  had clued me in to the reenactment, and that was extremely interesting, so naturally I was excited a few weeks ago when she informed me she would be participating in a Karelian folk recital that coming Sunday.  

I should probably take a step back and explain that Petrozavodsk is the capital of the Republic of Karelia.  In Russia, unlike the United States, there are a number of different administrative subjects below the national level.  We have states, while they have krais (territories), oblasts (provinces), autonomous okrugs (districts), federal cities (Moscow and St. Petersburg), and republics (nations, more or less), with a few others mixed in for good measure.  Oblasts are the most common, but there are 21 republics in Russia which are officially autonomous and have their own parliaments, elected governors, and constitutions (I know I've basically just described states in the U.S., but other administrative subjects in Russia don't have these per se).  In some cases the executive title is actually president.

These 21 republics represent non-Russian ethnic groups, of which the Karelians are included.  Since this is getting overly boring as I'm getting bogged down in the minutiae, I'll cut to the chase and say that the Karelians have lived in East Karelia (i.e. the modern-day Republic of Karelia) since the 13th century and have developed a unique ethnic identity that combines Finnish and Slavic traditions.

So to get back to it, my friend Olga is in a group that puts on recitals featuring traditional Karelian music, dance, language, and dress.  Obviously, I'm totally in.  What didn't really occur to me before I got there, though it certainly should have, was that not many other 22 year-olds in the city were too interested in marching over to Lenin Square in the rain on a Sunday to watch a folk recital.  Who was interested?  Babushkas.  Dozens of them.  

Lenin Square, site of the festivities.  Lenin is out of frame left, still banging on his podium.

It turned out to be a great time.  Despite the fact that the collective age in the audience easily put us into quadruple digits, it was a lively crowd.  The music was lively, if not exactly what I was expecting.  To be perfectly honest, I always imagined less accordion.  I mean, some accordion, just less.  First one to identify that reference gets a free matryoshka doll, by the way.

 No accordion visible, but trust me, it's there.

It was also quite interactive.  They first played a game wherein all the old ladies got out on the dance floor with the peformers and made two concentric circles of partners.  They then walked in opposite directions until the accordion stopped, and then had to rush to find their original partner.  It's basically musical chairs except nobody gets left hanging.  Also, it was downright hilarious, as every time the accordion stopped, all the old ladies yelled out "ooh!" and scrambled around to find each other.  I captured it in the video at the bottom, so you can check it out for yourself.  I probably left in too much of it to be interesting, but I still laugh every time.  I don't have video of most of the other games and dances, as Olga quickly dragged me into the fray.  My favorite one was a giant conga line that the leader lead in alternating inward and outward spirals, making it look like one of those optical illusions from above.  We also danced the Karelian Waltz, which Olga soon turned into the Viennese Waltz.  But you didn't even know I could waltz, did you?  Don't worry, I can't.

My friend and sometimes dance partner Olga.

All in all it was a great time, and even more fun than the reenactment (although they get docked some points for a complete lack of explosions).   I got some pretty entertaining video, which you can check out below.  Plus, as an added bonus, Karelian Folk Overdrive will be a great name for the funk-folk rock fusion group I'm planning on starting while I'm here.  I'm the only one in the band so far, so if you'd like an audition just shoot me a message.  

We're going to need an accordion.

the defense of petrozavodsk

Regular readers--all five of you--might remember I mentioned that I attended a reenactment in town a few weeks back.  It was my first time actual witnessing a reenactment in person, and I have to say it was quite interesting.  I don't know how they do things stateside, but in Russia they let you stand basically on the battlefield, which is naturally where I planted myself.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it was actually quite intense.  Despite the fact that they're using blank rounds, the rifle fire is still extremely loud up close.  I could certainly appreciate the intimidation one must have felt upon hearing the infamous MG 34 open fire.  You feel the sound in your chest as much you hear it in your ears.  I won't be volunteering to lead a charge on one of those bad boys anytime soon.

 Me with one of the good guys.

The reenactment itself was of the defense of Petrozavodsk during the Continuation War in 1941.  Sadly, Finnish forces, with the aid of Nazi Germany, captured Petrozavodsk on 1 October 1941 and held the city for three years.  This wasn't really reflected in the reenactment, as there was no real choreographed conclusion as far as I could tell.  Everyone just sort of stood up once they'd run out of ammunition.

That said, they had clearly planned a number of set pieces, the most entertaining of which featured an armored vehicle leading a charge on a nest of Finnish/German mortars.  It suffered a direct hit from one of the mortars, and a small band of Soviet soldiers dashed forward in a daring attempt to save the tank driver's life.

I took some video with my digital camera and compiled the best bits into the 2-minute clip embedded below.  Unfortunately, I didn't capture the tank driver rescue, but I did get them blowing up an actual tree.  You can see the explosion at around 1:34.  I panned away, as I thought it was just some kind of effect, but you can see when I pan back after about three seconds the thing's already gone timber.  The let us walk the battlefield afterward, and I can confirm that it was, in fact, a real tree.  Was being the operative term.

wait, you mean there's an american here?

Despite my initial misgivings, the Moscow trip was highly enjoyable.  We got to visit the  massive U.S. Embassy complex,  which is an interesting experience if a bit underwhelming.  The problem is security is so tight there that we got to see basically two things: 1) the room all of our scheduled activities were held in; and 2) the hallways leading to that room.  Anyways, it was just nice to be back on U.S. soil (Note: before I get snarky emails, I know that's not actually true).  Additionally, the two-day ETA training was extremely helpful and, frankly, everything the D.C. training should have been.

By far the highlight of the trip was getting to see all the other ETAs again.  It was very interesting to see the sheer variety of experiences people have had so far.  One thing that became very clear to me was that my arrival had garnered the least interest out of all of us.  This, of course, proving that Russians are nothing if not excellent judges of character.  That said, things are certainly looking up.  Shortly before I left, I had finally been invited to a class other than Tanya's, though, fittingly, the new teacher's name is also Tanya.  Wouldn't want things to change too rapidly, after all, lest I get confused.  Apparently it went well, despite my best efforts to the contrary, as I've been invited to make it a standing arrangement.

Yesterday, I paid a visit to the American Corner at the National Library of the Republic of Karelia--impressive name, right?--where the coordinator, Marina, and her co-worker Natalya were extremely happy to see me.  I ended up staying for around three hours, which included much tea drinking and cake eating as I was informed it was Marina's birthday.  Natalya was particularly pleased to inform me that we were celebrating as Americans, because it is American tradition to eat cake on one's birthday.  It was a good reminder that Russians are awesome and amazingly hospitable.

After my library excursion, which I should mention included my volunteering to speak at what's destined to be way too many universities and schools in the area, I returned home and received two invitations to two different classes within ten minutes.  Already, today, those two classes have turned into three classes and my participating in the Department of Foreign Language's annual drama  performance.  It appears after four weeks of lying prostrate in the middle of Prospekt Lenina with an American flag draped across my chest that the word is finally getting out.  The American is here.

off to moscow

Now that I've been teaching classes on my own for nearly a month, it seems as good a time as any to attend an orientation meant to teach me how to teach, right?  I'm joking.  Mostly.  However, I am leaving tomorrow night for Moscow and the in-country orientation.  Much like the orientation in Washington, the real deal is on Friday with the ETAs staying for an extra two days of workshops.  I wish I could say I was more excited about this mini-trip, but it feels a bit like I'm being pulled away from my new city and my teaching just as I was finding a rhythm.  

This is compounded by the fact that I'll need to leave Wednesday night.  Since the orientation begins Friday morning, I need to be there by Thursday night; since the regular trains from Petrozavodsk to Moscow are overnight trains, I have to get on a train Wednesday night to be there Thursday.  And lest you think I missed the obvious choice, yes, the Thursday night train would get me to Moscow too late.  I don't want to be a total Debbie Downer, however, as there are aspects of the trip I'm definitely looking forward to.  It will be nice to see most (if not all) of the other ETAs again and swap stories, theirs destined to be cooler than mine.  And despite the fact that it feels a bit like getting safety instructions after already having jumped out of the plane, it will be useful to pick up some new methods during the ETA sessions and hopefully find some solutions to common classroom problems I've encountered.

I'm not taking my laptop with me, as it's large and clunky and not particularly essential to have over the next five days, so I'll be incommunicado until Monday.  I should have plenty to write about then, both about Moscow and about the live reenactment I attended over the weekend (with working armored assault vehicle!).  I've got pictures and some footage from the event to put up; it was actually quite exciting.  Oh and don't worry, the good guys won.

the american revolution (now with fur lining!)

Not much to report this past week.  I'm settling into some semblance of a rhythm, though I've had the added task of gathering all the various documents, photos, etc. required to obtain my visa extension.  While I'm here for ten months, it's easier for the university to apply for and obtain a 90-day, single-entry visa first and extend it rather than get a 12-month, multi-entry visa right off the bat.  So I have my list of a dozen or so things to get turned in to the visa registration office at the university by next week.  The good news is I've taken care of the most complicated portions (including another HIV test, which is mildly annoying seeing as I got one in early August for the first visa, which is technically still usable under RF regulations).

That aside, however, things have been going swimmingly.  As per their own suggestions, I'm currently doing units on American subcultures with my fourth-year students and early American history with my second- and third-years.  We talked about the greasers in class last week, which was fun.  Despite their claims to the contrary, my fourth-years understand English very well and already have a good foundational knowledge of American culture.  It's great because I can have a bit more fun with them, such as teaching them about the important American idiomatic concept of "The Man."  Let's just hope they don't emulate the anti-rebellious creed of the greasers too much and decide to "stick it to The Man" (aka not do their homework).

With the two's and three's I've done lessons on the Declaration of Independence and the Revolutionary War.  It's been a lot of fun because they know just enough to volunteer guesses when I ask them questions, but not so much that they already know all the details of what I'm telling them.  I'm also getting a better feel for what makes them participate and what scares them back into their shells, so that's an improvement.

The other big news is that I've recently purchased the winter coat that will see me through the Arctic Russian winter.  Tanya and I were on our way to a computer store to purchase a microphone when we passed a coat store.  We went in on a whim and she laughed at me wearing various ridiculous leather/fur combos for about twenty minutes.  Even though about half the coats I tried on were plainly too big for me, the salesman (and what a salesman he was) insisted that they would fit better when I had a sweater on under them.  At one point he even had me put on a light jacket underneath to simulate the look, and looked at me triumphantly when the shoulders fit better.  They did, but I looked like the Michelin man.

On Tanya's thankful suggestion, they steered me toward the down coats, where I quickly found one more my speed (and for less than my month's rent!).  It's a beautiful steel gray with a wolf's fur lining.  Okay, it's not wolf, but that's what I'll be telling people.  Our little secret, okay?  To sum it up, I look like Paul Walker in Eight Below, except for the part where I look nothing like Paul Walker.  Observe:

Paul Walker in Eight Below. 

 Me, in my living room.

I can't wait to break out the sled dogs.  The thing is seriously warm.  Only problem is it takes me about five tries to get the zipper, but I figure it'll be easier when in below-zero weather with enormous gloves on.  I'm not concerned.  I'll leave you with a shot of my favorite feature of the coat, which is it's comically-large hood.  I defy you to put on this hood and not make that face.

 

the internet has arrived

As given away by the title, I finally got my internet connection up and running beautifully in my apartment.  Okay, "finally" might be a bit exaggerated, given that it was only a shade under two weeks, which isn't really that long.  But I'll be damned if it doesn't feel like a long time when it means you get to check your email once a day for an hour.  If I were in the field of psychology, I would most certainly do my research in the psychology of the Internet.  While it sounds a bit silly, I just feel so much more connected to the world now that I can get an email whenever someone sends it to me and actually take the time to look at things like the news and what's happening in the world.  It almost feels like the first time I discovered the Internet all over again.  I remember I was in college at the time, and Al was off with another one of his crazy ideas, but darn if it didn't turn out to be a good one.  Oh, and while we're on the subject, you've probably heard that Al Gore and Tommy Lee Jones were roommates in college.  What never gets mentioned, much to my chagrin and their respective delights, is that it was a triple, and I was the third guy.  It's not my fault I'm not famous, and for the record, it stinks.  It's like being the one Wayans brother who didn't go into acting.

Anyways, classes have been going well.  I'm going right through American history with my group of second-years, and with the fourth-years I think I might skip ahead to the 20th century.  They're fourth-year historical archiving students, so they already know most of what I would tell them.  On the first day of class one of the things they wanted to learn about was American subcultures, so I figured starting with 50s beat-era stuff and then going right into the subcultures-as-mainstream 60s would be good.  Now that I've got the net I can do some proper research for these things, too, and not have to really on my memory.  And trust me, that's better for everybody.

more classes, optimism

Sorry for the lack of updates--I'm currently trying to resolve an ongoing internet access situation.  While my apartment is hooked up to the net, in Russia most people still pay usage instead of a flat monthly rate, so there's no money on my "card."  In order to put money on it, I need the account info, which is proving harder to get than it should be, not because of any technical difficulties but rather...how shall I put this...lack of focus on the part of the girl renting me the apartment.  While it's not a priority for her, it means everytime I want to check my email I have to go to the netcafe or one of the cafes with free Wi-fi.  Not the end of the world, but it gets a bit tiresome and makes it near impossible to coordinate Skyping opportunities with people back home.  Hopefully it will be resolved soon, however.

In more cheery news, I had my first full day of classes on Friday with fourth-years, third-years, and first-years.  The third- and fourth-year classes left me very impressed.  Turns out the second-years I had first are just a wily bunch, as the others were much more interested in and focused on learning and speaking English.  While most of the class time with the first-years was dedicated to separating them into two classes based on their skill level, to their credit they spoke very well for their first college English class.  Both the 3's and 4's had lots of good suggestions for what topics of American culture they'd like me to cover this year.  As expected, holidays and history were both very popular choices (oh, I forgot to mention they're all history students) which is great for me as a teacher as I'll enjoy both subjects.  It looks like I'll be taking over the 4's class once a week very soon, maybe even next week.  I'm sure the same sort of format will emerge for the 3's.  It's still unclear how we'll handle the 1's and 2's.  While I'm certainly not afraid to take on my own classes, I'll probably be best utilized with the more advanced students, as I'm not a trained teacher of English, something I think Tatiana appreciates.

I'm to prepare a short lecture on a topic of my choice for tomorrow.  I decided since holidays were so popular in the suggestions I'd start with the Fourth of July.  It seems a perfect choice for many reasons--it's the quintessential American patriotic holiday, it's got a lot of history tied up in it, and I get to talk about fireworks, barbeque, and Will Smith blowing up aliens.  I'm looking forward to it, and trying to scale the follow-up activity based on skill level.  We'll see how it goes!

first day of class

Well, today was my first day of class, both for the school year and as a teacher.  It's more than a bit weird to be on the other side of the desk with everyone looking at you for instructions.  I'm starting out by just teaching with Tanya as her in-class assistant and resident Superteacher of English®.  The class was made up of second-year students, so they weren't total beginners in their English studies.  It was a little less weird than I had thought it would be being the one in semi-charge, as kids tend to start university a bit younger in Russia and thus there was a larger age difference than I'd feared.

There was a lot of Russian spoken in class (I'd estimate up to as high as 90-95% of the words spoken), but it was the first day back from summer vacation so I'm trying not to put too much stock in it.  I'm definitely planning on running things a bit differently if/when I take on my own classes, though.  Tomorrow I've got three classes, including fourth-years, third-years, and first-years, so we'll see how those differ.  I've been tasked with preparing a 10-minute activity for the third- and fourth-years, sort of an icebreaker type thing, so I'm going with the one where you write three sentences about yourself, two of which are true and one which isn't.  The rest of the class then has to figure out which is the lie.  It's simple, but it'll use vocabulary they know and it'll get them talking.  We'll see how it goes.

In other news, I'm going to have to take some kind of instruction at the university as I'm here on a student visa.  While I'm obviously here to teach, they need some kind of official reason for my having that type of visa, so it looks like I'm going to be getting some private instruction in Russian a few hours a week.  It's fine with me, as it's something I'd wanted to do anyway, and I could definitely use it.  Not much else news as of now, more later.

I did want to say thanks to those of you that have subscribed as followers.  If you'd ever like to ask any questions or anything, you probably know of other ways to get a hold of me, but I will check the comments on any posts and respond as soon as possible.  If you'd like to post a comment, you just need to sign into a Google account.  If you don't have one, it takes about forty seconds to sign up for free.  I'd set it to let anyone comment, but I could do without the automated comments offering me real natural male enhancement.  You understand.

new digs, part two

Here are the rest of the shots of my apartment.  Darina is coming over later so I can pay my first month's rent and she's bringing the information on how to pay for the Internet service, so hopefully I'll be connected at home soon.  

My kitchen.

Another view.  Those windows are actually to my small balcony.

Main living area, view from bedroom door.

Main living area, view from the kitchen.

The enormous bed the sofa turns into.

It's actually quite spacious for one person, though the pictures don't really capture that.  That shimmering curtain in the living room is a rather roomy closet with good storage space.  I haven't included any pictures of the bathroom because, well, it's a bathroom, and they're never really much to look at unless you put a far amount of money in them.  But it's got hot water and a shower head, so I'm happy.

First class tomorrow, then a full day of classes both Friday and Saturday, so I'm sure I'll have more to report then.  For now, I'm just relaxing and enjoying the beautiful weather.  It's been sunny and in the high 60s (F) since I arrived, so I'm trying to soak it in while it lasts.  It's going to be a cold winter.

new digs, part one

The move in was a success, and I've finally been able to unpack my bags eight days after packing them.  I'll never take the drive from Columbus to Toledo for granted again, I can tell you that.  As I already described it in my last post and don't have much new to report, this post will mostly be some photos I took of the place.  Unfortunately, as I started uploading them, I realized that for some reason about seven pictures I took of the main area of the apartment weren't transferred to my computer.  I'll make this a two-parter, then, putting up the ones that did make it now and posting the others later.

The entrance hall...

...complete with coat and show rack.

Entrance to my bedroom, with fish tank on left and standalone freezer full of fish (dead) on the right.

Bedroom.  Not much to it and nnot very large but it does what it needs to (and there's a real bed!).

Stream of consciousness interruption: as I'm sitting here uploading photos in the Neubrandenburg Bierstube on Prospekt Lenina, a Russian guy my age just came in wearing shorts.  I'm sorry, but this is a first for me and I thought it worth mentioning.  Where were we?  Right...

 My desk in the corner of the living room.  I'm probably going to have to buy a proper chair.

My dresser/bookcase.  

The top of that dresser actually unfolds to become a changing table.  Thankfully, I won't need it, because my Depends give me all-day dryness protection.  The desk and dresser are both in the living room area, but are unfortunately the only photos of that room that made it onto my computer.  It's really quite spacious.

As far as other developments, my first class is on Thursday afternoon.  Looks like I'm going to be teaching a healthy variety of everyone from beginners to advanced speakers.  Tatiana took me to the university yesterday to meet everyone.  For some reason, everyone thinks I'm British, presumably because they get more Brits than Americans around here and I have bad teeth (apologies for that generality, Your Majesty).  I'll have more to report after that, but for now I'm just continuing to settle in to my new digs and enjoying the lovely weather before classes start.

a place on railroad street

What a difference a few days make.  My host contact and her friends and family have been extremely gracious, going above and beyond the call of duty to make me feel at home.  With their help, it's been extremely easy to get situated in town.  It may have been aided by my international travel woes, but it took me all of three minutes to fall in love with Petrozavodsk.  It's a very nice little town, much smaller geographically than Tomsk (where I studied last summer), but I regard that as a plus because I can walk most anywhere.

The weather's been very good overall.  It rained on and off the first two days but it's been a very nice autumn temperature pretty consistently.  Yesterday I was invited to dinner at Tatiana's, and ate so much that I'm planning on having my next meal, say, October 3rd or so.  Maybe a light snack around the 20th, we'll play it by ear.  After touring the town's hotels (I had to move from my original hotel because the only rooms it had available after yesterday were the über-expensive suites), we went to see "Daughter of the Yakuza," a Russian comedy about a Japanese girl that gets lost in southern Russia and needs the help of a young prison escapee to outrun the various people chasing her for the reward on her head.  It was quite funny, and I followed the vast majority of the dialogue, which is encouraging (I find dubbed American films easier to follow than authentic Russian-language films).  Afterward, the four of us (me, Tatiana, Kolya, her significant other, and Kostya, their friend and comedian philosopher) went to grab a beer and Kostya regaled me with stories of ancient Novgorod and Kievan Rus'.  It was a genuinely good time.  Kostya and Kolya both have cars, which is a new thing for me when in Russia.  It's actually quite nice just to be able to zip around town, especially one as small as this with relatively uncrowded roads.

 

I had been getting increasingly worried about locating an apartment.  Tatiana, the saint that she is, had been making phone call after phone call and sending email after email scouring the city for available apartments.  Petrozavodsk, like the rest of Russia, is in the midst of a prolonged housing shortage, and since the vast majority of people still buy rather than rent apartments, it can be difficult to find one short-term.   She said she knew of two that would become available on the 12th, but that would mean a full week in a not-so-cheap hotel.  We were able to look at one today, however, and I was hoping that perhaps after the torment of the past week's travel the universe owed me one.

I got to the place about an hour early, it taking me much less time to walk there than I'd thought it would, so I surveyed the area.  It's just off one of the main thoroughfares, so there's plenty of grocers, cafes, and banks.  The immediate surrounding neighborhood is very peaceful and quiet, and best of all it's about a five minute walk to the university/central downtown region, so say goodbye to the bus!  At this point, I was already sold, and just crossing my fingers that the apartment was nice.  In Russia, the exterior of most buildings (except those that are extremely new) look more or less the same, and the quality of the apartments inside varies wildly depending on how much each owner wants to spend on them.

Turns out the universe did owe me, because the place is great.  I had assumed it would be a studio, but instead it's a one bedroom with a large combined living room/kitchen space.  Now let me tell you all the incredible perks it comes with:

• An actual bed (usually such an apartment will have a couch/futon type sleeper)
• A large and very cushy couch
• Refrigerator and standalone freezer
• Gas stove, oven, microwave
• A dishwasher(!)
• A washer(!)
• Internet(!)
• And, for good measure, a very large fish tank with live fish(?)

The fish thing isn't a joke, either, Darina (the girl who showed me the apartment) told me all their names.  I did ask that they be removed.  It's not that I don't like fish, it's just that I've never kept fish and thus know that I'd forget to feed them, and the last thing I want is to be responsible for the death of Leon Troutsky (Running Terrible Pun Count: 2).  While I know you're never supposed to go for the first place you see, I couldn't imagine finding a better place in a more advantageous location if I looked for a month.  Plus, there's a housing shortage on, man!  I've already got my key and will be moving my stuff in a bit as soon as Kolya can pick me up.  Thus, in but a few hours I'll be living on Ulitsa Zheleznodorozhnaya (Railroad Street).  I'm withholding the building number and apartment number because while I really love that you're reading my blog, the last thing I need is you showing up announced at my door hocking some new long-distance plan (my apologies to those readers who are not door-to-door salesmen, but you understand I need to play it safe here).  Girl scouts selling Thin Mints are acceptable, however.

I've got more new information, including some details on my actual teaching responsibilities, but this is already a ridiculous long post (and there's not even a poem this time), so I'll save it for tomorrow.  I need those daily hits for my ad revenue, see.  I knew you'd understand.

estimated time of departure: tbd

Sheesh.  I don't even know where to begin.   Prepare for a massive post, there's simply no way around it.   The good news is it contains an original poem (I'm not kidding).

If you're wondering why it's Saturday and I'm just now posting, it's not because I've been having too much fun in swingin' Petrozavodsk (though I am now).  Remember that 40 hours of travel I told you about?  Yeah, make that 96.  You see, all was going well until I landed in New York.  I knew it was going to be a little close, as the flight was scheduled to depart about 45 minutes after my flight from Columbus landed, but I got there in plenty of time.  So we're sitting on the plane ten minutes...thirty minutes...one hour...two hours.  The A/C isn't working properly in the cabin.  Of course.  So they move us off the plane and into the terminal for our comfort, handing out the $6.00 meal vouchers that can buy you approximately 2 and a half packets of ketchup at JFK.

They end up delaying the flight until 11p.m., at which point they inform us that the plane will not be flying.  Perfect.  Not like I need to make a train that I've already bought tickets for the next day.  Luckily, my sister lives in Brooklyn, so after the short HOUR AND A HALF wait it took to get rebooked on the flight the next day, I grabbed a taxi on Delta's dime.  Naturally, I was already in the cab before I realized I should have demanded a voucher for the ride back the next day.  You stay classy, Delta.

But it wasn't all bad, got to hang with my sister on the roof of her apartment building and take in the Manhatten skyline.  I arrived back at the airport the next day only to find that the plane had been delayed again.  Weather?  Nope.  A/C again?  Nope.  Flight crew mix up?  That would only make too much sense.  No, my dear readers, we were informed by the captain, WITH A STRAIGHT FACE MIND YOU, that a baggage cart had HIT THE PLANE.  Just drink in the insanity of that statement (I felt it demanded bold, underlined italics).  I'm fairly certain that this has happened, like, never in the history of aviation, so it's fitting that this once-canceled, ten times-delayed God forsaken flight to Moscow should be the inaugural occasion.  This is when the yelling started.  As the impromptu mob seemed to have the shouting fairly well covered, my frustration manifested itself in the form of a 36-line poem in the fashion of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Paul Revere's Ride."  Hey, what can I say, that's what my frustration does.  Criticism, as always, is strictly prohibited, and keep in mind  wrote this in twenty minutes leaning against a trash can at JFK airport.

"Delta's New Punching Bag"

Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of a desperate traveler without hope or beer.

From the Glass City he set out early

To board that sky bird white and pearly;

His first connection troubled him not

As he came to the airport of Camelot.

And climb he did into the belly of the beast

Ready for restless legs and a cart-bound feast;

But 'lo! Fly the beast did not

The broken A/C made the cabin too hot.

Fix it they tried as he waited and waited

And hour upon hour his excitement abated;

'To the terminal we'll move you, for comfort' they said

And hour upon hour the beast remained dead.

Six hours, seven hours, 'fore they canceled the flight

And our haggard young traveler lamented his plight;

As he surveyed the rebooking line his shoulders did sag

For he knew he'd become Delta's new punching bag.

Having suffered the perils of this logistical twister

He cabbed it to Brooklyn and the refuge of dear sister;

With the aid of Sam Adams he worked through the rigor

And the next day returned with vim and with vigor.

Yet no sooner did he enter that a dull voice did herald

Yet even more trouble in the House of John Fitzgerald;

Incredulous news came just 'fore the scheduled flight:

In the vast field of machines had occurred a great sight!

A mere baggage cart, the least among least

Did rise up in anger and slay the great beast!

'Just one half an hour for inspection' they said

Then surely you'll be off to the Square oh so Red.

But minutes turned to hours in the true Delta fashion

And passengers of all creeds did yell with a passion;

Collapse 'gainst a trash can he did with a wail

With naught left to do but record his sad tale.

And there he still sits as the desk jockeys nag

For he is none other than Delta's new punching bag.

Two points for anyone who caught the Airplane! joke in there.  The plane did finally get off the ground, some four hours later than expected.  When I finally got to Moscow, it took me so long to get through passport control and baggage claim that the driver hired to take me to the Fulbright Office left.  As the payphones at Sheremetyevo airport aren't really payphones at all but in fact post-modern wall art, I decided to take the express train to the metro rather than risk getting ripped off by the gypsy cabs.

Though it took me more than an hour, it was surprisingly easy to navigate the metro with all my luggage (though I wouldn't recommend it).  I ended up getting to the Fulbright Office too late and too mentally and physically exhausted to try to make the evening train to Petrozavodsk.  I slept the rest of the business day at the office and stayed with Anthony, the Director of the Fulbright Program in Russia and Moscow IIE office, as well as all around awesome guy.  We went to the 1950s Americana-themed Starlight Diner across from his apartment and then watched the season one finale of White Collar on DVD.   It was all quite surreal.  I'm sure I started to annoy him with my 'thank you's, as he thought the whole thing was no big deal.  I think it's a real testament to the Moscow office that its director would go out of his way to help somebody on the lowest rung of the Fulbright totem pole like me.

I was able to make the train the next day no problem, and settled in for my long winter's nap (again, fifteen hour train).  There were only two others in my four-person second-class cabin, and they both disembarked by about 2a.m. so I had it to myself from then on.  Can't complain about that.  I was able to meet Tatiana, my host contact, seamlessly at the train station, the first thing in ninety hours that could be described as "seamless."  I'll include more impressions of the city in my next post, as this is already pushing the word count record in the "greatest monument to self-pity" category.  At least I'm here in one piece.

Oh, and in case you were worried I walked away from my troubles empty handed, I got a $200 dollar voucher from Delta that can only be used to purchase more Delta tickets in the next year.  

You stay classy, Delta.

5714 miles, 40 hours, 1 wicked case of jet lag

My bags, as of four o'clock today, are packed (to the gills I might add).  I'm probably taking **TERRIBLE PUN ALERT** weigh too much, but it's amazing how quickly things start to add up when you consider everything you think you'll need for ten months in a foreign country, including one hell of an Arctic Russian winter.  The good news is that a lot of the weight (books, clothes, my teacup pig Jerome) won't be coming back with me.  The bad news is that I'll probably more than make up for that difference in various gifts and shirts with wolves on them.

I've had a good last week in the good ole' U.S. of A.  Got to spend plenty of time with the family and see all my friends a last time before I leave.  My mindset has been pretty good overall, though it is tough at times to fathom being away for nearly a year.  Mostly I just want to get on with already; what with finding out in March, going to orientation in July, and trading emails with my host contact up until the present date, this departure has been a long time in coming.  I feel like I was ready to go about a month ago, and all the time since I've just been in a state of limbo.

But tomorrow my emo whining gets forcefully jammed back inside my diary where it belongs.  As the title intimated, it's going to be quite a trip.  If you're interested in the specifics, my itinerary looks like this:

Plane leaves Columbus for JFK in New York at 1:05pm, August 31st.

Next flight leaves JFK for Moscow at 4:05pm, August 31st, arriving 10:00am September 1st (the flight isn't as long as it seems from those figures; Moscow is eight time zones ahead).

Finally, my train leaves from Moscow at 5:00pm, bringing me to my final destination of Petrozavodsk at 8:00am, September 2nd.

At approximately 8:13am, I will be pronounced dead on arrival at the nearest hospital.

Well, okay, maybe not.  But it's going to be a rough one.  The only good thing I can say about such a long trip is that, in my experience, my internal clock will be so screwed up by the time I get there that it won't take too long to adjust to local time, as it will believe anything it's told.  I imagine my first day or so will be pretty busy (or pretty "me fast asleep"-y) so it might be the weekend before I update again.  But who knows, the hotel I'm staying at temporarily while I look for an apartment has wifi, so when the inevitable insomnia strikes I might just write something.

an irish pub in chinatown

Today I arrived in our nation's capital for the very official-sounding Fulbright Program to Europe and Eurasia Pre-Departure Orientation.  Even the abbreviation they put on all the documents (PDO) is official-sounding.  Presumably this four-day meeting will answer all of my questions and allay all of my concerns.  And the last two days will teach me how to teach English, since I've never done it before.  Yeah, I think two days should be enough, right?

I was able to fly directly from Columbus to Warshington.  It was easily the best flying experience of my short flying career.  The jet was a rather small 50-seater, but we had probably only 18 or so passengers, so the flight attendant let us fill out the unused rows.  I ended up sitting in the first row with the extra leg room next to the window.  Nice.

Got in plenty early and had no problems with baggage claim or snagging a taxi to the hotel.  I was even able to check in to my room right when I got there despite the fact that it was two hours until check-in officially started.  I used the hours I had to kill before the opening reception to grab some food and tour the Smithsonian Museum of American Art just two blocks down the road.  I must admit, though I knew theoretically that access to all Smithsonian museums is free, I felt a little weird just walking in and heading down a hallway toward the exhibits.  Gotta love those national museums!

The reception was actually quite nice and not the giant ball of awkward I'd feared it might be.  Most of the Fulbright students going to Russia found each other and got acquainted.  Everyone was extremely nice and genuine, though it got a little tiring having the same "where are you going?" exchange a dozen or so times.  After the reception most of us headed out the door to the heart of Chinatown, where the hotel's located.  Being in Chinatown, we naturally opted for the Irish pub.  Why not get the authentic experience, right?

I retired back to the guest room (they're not hotel rooms at the Renaissance, they're "guest rooms") early because I felt pretty drained after the travel, heat, and walking.  Tomorrow starts the actual informational portion of the PDO--it feels like it should be written PDO--the PDO, but it's at least off to a promising start.  And hey, for the regional politics session we got Anders Åslund, man!  Anders Åslund!

phonetics and other fine pursuits

I haven't written much for this blog, as I haven't had much to say.  Despite all the information I've been given, there's still a lot that I don't know.  Things have been getting clearer in the past few days, as I've finally established communication with who I presume will be my main contact at PetrSU, Tatiana.  I assume I'll learn a lot more at the pre-departure orientation in Washington in a few weeks.  Including how to teach English, presumably.

Anyways, Tatiana, in the two emails I've gotten from her, certainly seems nice and was able to answer some of my most burning questions.  Apparently I'll be starting off as an assistant to a teacher of English at the university, and if all goes well I'll likely take on some of my own lectures/classes.  The students at the university range from beginner to advanced proficiency, and most are either studying law, business, or tourism.  All three specialties of mine, fortunately.  I'm particularly looking forward to giving a lecture on the various "World's Largest [insert random item]s" I've seen.  A chair as big as a house, I tell you!

She also said she'd like it if I conducted a course on phonetics, as she explained that is an area where there are "big problems."  I naturally have no idea what phonetics are, so that should be no problem.  Are phonetics the same as phonics?  Because I'm hooked on those.  Any help is appreciated.  Basically, she said the most important thing will be that I participate in conversational practice, which shouldn't be too difficult because I, like, talk English good.  Kinda.

Perhaps most importantly, she said there shouldn't be any problem finding an apartment near the university, and gave me a website where I can check listings.  To paraphrase my good friend Tony, that's grrrrrreat!  I think I'd go mildly insane if I were forced to live in a dorm again.  And for those of you wise guys out there thinking, "what do you mean, go mildly insane," that's a relative statement.

off into the wild snow-covered yonder

First, let me welcome you to the blog and explain the general idea behind it.  When I studied abroad in Russia last summer, my main means of contact with people back home was through email.  As I was writing to multiple parties and these emails inevitably contained a large amount of new events and experiences, it got to be a fairly time-consuming process.  Furthermore, I know that an impromptu email forwarding chain came about through the efforts of my parents so that my extended family could stay informed of my exploits.  To make things a bit more efficient and easier on everyone, I've conceived this blog as a means to keep interested parties informed of my exploits and whereabouts in the next academic year as I pursue a Fulbright grant in Russia.  While there will be much more to come, I might as well give some additional info as to what exactly I'm doing and where I'll be doing it.

So what is the Fulbright Program?  According to the website, which is much easier to quote than explain myself, "The Fulbright Program is the flagship international educational exchange program sponsored by the U.S. government and is designed to increase mutual understanding between the people of the United States and the people of other countries."  The Fulbright Program is open to all sorts of people, including recent graduates, graduate students, university faculty, and others.  My own grant is a special program within the Fulbright Student program, the English Teaching Assistantship.  Essentially for the 2010-2011 academic year, I will be living in Russia and teaching English at a Russian university.

That university, as I've only recently learned, will be Petrozavodsk State University located in, as you can probably guess, Petrozavodsk, Russia.  Petrozavodsk is located in the Republic of Karelia, in the extreme northwest of European Russia, only a few hundred kilometers from the border with Finland.  I won't include too much more information on the city or the school now, as I'm planning on them devoting separate posts in the near future.  For now, I'll just say that I'm very excited about my placement.  Having studied in Siberia last summer, and given the excitement over this fact shown by the Russian Fulbright Officer that interviewed me, I was reasonably certain I would be stationed there again.  While I did genuinely like living in Siberia, I wanted to experience another region of the country (and preferably one with slightly better access to necessities like internet).  So I'm very excited to be stationed in the European north of Russia.  It's an area with a lot of history and culture that I can't wait to experience firsthand.  I'm still learning about Petrozavodsk, and as I do I'll be sure to share that information here.  More to come!