Life thus far

Here I am, finally. The plane ride was horrible (no sleep at all, and getting really irritable and sore). Orientation felt ridiculously long, even though it was only two nights in DC. I kept getting frustrated with the orientation since I felt as if they just kept saying the same things over and over again in slightly different words. We were coddled a lot more this time around. I didn’t actually feel like I was in Russia till I moved in with my host family, despite being in the city two days. We lived in the dorm/hotel at the school for the first two days, which kind of sucked.

Our dorm room. My bed is the one in the upper left.



The dorms were really nice, and there was even a café downstairs, which was clean. Dorm life was ok, but like orientation, it felt like being in limbo. It sucked living out of a suitcase for so many days. Heidi (a girl I roomed with in DC) almost burnt down the place when she tried to plug in her 3 pronged surge protector into a two pronged outlet converter. Stroke of genius. The whole suite stunk for hours. I’m surprised no one died. We also didn’t really have hot water, which was bad enough in the summer. So there was hair washing under the cold spicket and then about 30min of shivering. Sometimes no water at all would come out when you turned it on, sometimes it would trickle out, then turn a blackish gray color, and then start to work. I got one luke-warm shower, which was awesome. There’s not too much else exciting to talk about with dorm life.

For whatever reason I think the orientation either freaked people out or exhausted them, because it seemed to take the kick out of coming to Russia for some people. The other students in my group just didn’t seem as excited as I remembered being. Having orientation in DC two nights and then staying two nights in the dorms before moving in with host families was incredibly frustrated.

I felt really depressed during orientation. It was this strange feeling of being homesick for the very place I was going (which is odd since you’re usually homesick for a place you’ve left or are leaving, rather than going to). I guess I was homesick for the summer, for all the people who were here with me, and sad about how coming to this city once again would completely alter my memories from summer. I guess the sensation it comes nearest to is if you’ve ever returned to your old house after someone else has moved in. That sense of things being off, disconcerting--of something being yours but not yours at the same time. Perhaps you know what I mean. That’s what the thought of returning to Petersburg was like, but now that I’m here and there’s so much to do and see I haven’t had as much time to be moody. But in DC I just kept wishing that at least Prof Dorontchenkov were in Petersburg this semester, or one person from the program before, or thinking about my old host family and how I just wanted to go straight back, walk through tavrichevskii sad, ride the coffin-like elevator up to my old room with its blue glass bottles on the sill, to chat in the kitchen late into the night and eat amazing ice cream. There was so much enthusiasm and instant camaraderie between the people this summer, such openness even from those of us that probably wouldn’t seem to be that way—things that are lacking with this new group, for whatever reason. It is winter, so that might be part of it, but I also think people from Brown might just be a different breed altogether. I think people are just nervous too, I don’t know.

I’m sure I’ll get to know and make friends with a lot of the people on the program, but it’s definitely not going to be even close to the same (which I knew). People here just aren’t as open or ready to try new things; they are extremely reticent about the culture (despite our in depth orientation, which we didn’t have for the brown program, and we had people who knew not a word of Russian!). I’m not sure what it is. I also miss having my professors Volodya and Svetlana here a lot. They were both so excited to share Russia and this city with us. We have a resident director here (an American who speaks Russian fluently) who’s kind of that liaison, but she doesn’t seem as interested in doing things with us or helping us out even with simple things like Volodya was (taking us to the market, finding good bread, etc. etc.). I think some people on this program simply have a bad attitude going in, and they won’t appreciate this place until it’s too late.

Alex, Daphne, myself, and Carlos along the Neva:



But I’m very excited to be back here. It was nice flying in, even though I didn’t have a window seat, to see everything that I remember being so green in June, now all black and white and gray. It was funny too to look out both windows on either side of the plane: one side faced the city and the other the burbs and country side, and the city side had a thick blanket of brown smog hovering over it, which was sandwiched by blue sky above, whereas out the other window it was just blue. We took a bus from the airport to the school. The first breath of Petersburg was pretty foul. I don’t remember it being this polluted over the summer, but then again I probably acclimated to it more easily since where I was living this summer was not a polluted region, whereas Nevsky is full of traffic. I think the cold somehow makes it worse too. I’m pretty used to it now though, it only took about an hour till I stopped noticing it.

Moika (I think):



Enough whining. In any case, it was interesting flying in to Petersburg this time around, and to see everything that was before so green in June be black, white, and gray. It was funny too to look out both windows on either side of the plane: one side faced the city and the other the burbs and country side, and the city side had this thick blanket of brown smog hovering over it, which was sandwiched by blue sky above, whereas out the other window it was just blue.

I’m more jetlagged this time around. There was something hypnotic about white nights perhaps that prevented any jetlag from setting in. The excitement of the whole city was too much to be tired. I think part of the reason for people not being as enthusiastic is the weather. It’s pretty cold (although it doesn’t feel that much different from Maine) and the streets are rather icy and snowy. The weather is as such that it’s harder to soak up the city and see everything around you since you’re so bundled up, with hats and hoods, and you always have to look where you’re going so you don’t kill yourself.

It’s funny now to watch the snow fall outside my window after being accustomed to the summer snow of poplar pollen. The poplar pollen may be allergy inducing, but at least it’s not disgusting like the snow gets once it hits the ground. It’s incredibly tiring walking around the city. They don’t do an awesome job shoveling the streets, especially any smaller streets, so you’re feet are always half slipping. My hip flexers and thighs are really sore. It’s pretty sad. The snow turns into this brownish paste that clings to everything, and the wetness crawls halfway up your pant leg, drying to leave streaks of salty white. The city is a completely different city in winter. It is still beautiful, especially the canals, but it has completely transformed itself. All the colors are diluted. The people are different, it smells different, sounds different. It was especially shocking to see the church of spilled blood, since it is so dull looking from what I remembered. Although I think it looks a little less obnoxious this way. The canals are frozen over, and the Neva is quite a sight—full of shifting plates of cracking ice crowded against each other. It was weird to think that just a few months ago I was boating on that river in a thin sweater at 1 in the morning, watching the bridges rise and the sun refusing to set.

The unfrozen center of the Neva:



The first night in the city we walked around a bit to buy phone cards and exchange money. Thankfully my Russian cell phone from this summer still works, many thanks to my prof (Volodya) who gave it to me to use for the semester. So all I had to do was buy a phone card for it (it’s a pay as you go deal) and an international calling card. A few of us walked to the church of spilled blood at night, which was fun, but bitterly cold with the wind off the canal.

I’m glad I was able to see the city in the summer, because I think my vision of this city with all its beauty and magic during white nights carries over to grim, grimy winter (although winter certainly also has its charms). Once May rolls around I think people will start to fall in love with Petersburg, but by then it’ll be too late. I’m going to have a good time, though. The other day, after more orientation stuff, I took a few people to see some of the big sites around—such as to the Hermitage, the Rostral columns, the admiralty, the Bronze Horseman, and St Isaac’s. I kind of thought our Resident Director and her assistants would give us a brief tour of the city, but oh well. Maybe we will at some point. After all the ridiculous over-orientation in DC I thought they’d be more involved once we got here. All the sites don’t seem to be having as big an effect on my fellow classmates here as they did on me. Maybe because our group was staying right off Nevsky (in the dorms) and saw these things immediately, it wasn’t as spectacular. Over the summer we certainly didn’t take it for granted, even on that day when it felt like 100 degrees in that little minivan, when most of us most likely just wanted to sleep. But then again we also had Ohara to amuse us by chasing down old Russian men in speedos. Or perhaps I’m just a bad tour guide.

Chris trying St Petersburg snow (he's a brave young man):



Typical Russian scene. Wedding traditions never change even in the bitter cold. This is by the Rostral column representing the Neva:



It was neat to see all the sights I feel like I just left. It was nice to remember everything so exactly, like where all the busts of Lermentov, Gogol, and Glinka were in front of the Admiralty. Everything is so familiar and yet changed. It’s quite true that you can never really go to the same place twice (in a Salinger like way). It was weird to be visiting all these places and imagining Tania posing next to Lermontov, or how it felt to walk the streets in a skirt rather than long johns and feel a warm breeze off the Neva. I remember the thrill of seeing the Admiralty after hearing so much about it. It was disappointing that all but one of the people I was showing around even knew what it was. Everything here calls up a memory if I just wait for it. It is tingeing everything, forming layers--I wonder if they’ll just keep piling on every time I come back. And I wonder how it will be when my two friends from the summer, Ohara and Zack, come visit, and then over that, people from home. The first moment it really hit me that this was all the same city was riding the metro and hearing the man’s voice telling you the doors are closing. It was one of those little holes in the fabric of this city that keep appearing, without my even noticing it. I can only imagine what this city might feel like for those who have seen it (and no doubt themselves in relation to it) go through so many metamorphoses over the past decades.

The Admiralty:



Myself and Gogol in winter (you might remember my summer shot):



The obligatory Bronze Horseman shot:



The snow here is nice though. It had been unseasonably warm. Really just rain up until this past week when it finally turned cold. It’s been snowing nonstop the last few days—although not very heavily. I don’t remember seeing as well formed snowflakes as the ones I saw tonight, which had gotten stuck in my hair. They looked just like the ones you make out of paper as a little kid. Perfectly flat and gorgeously intricate and tiny. I’ll have to start noticing more details. It’s impossible for whatever reason to notice as much in winter—somehow the clothes are too constricting.

Random picture:



The other night I took a few people out to Propaganda (a bunker looking ex-pat restaurant along to Fontanka that I went to a few times this summer). It changed names (Lenin-jeev) and is now half internet café, half restaurant. We ate there anyway. The food wasn’t as good, and was far more Russian, but it was decent enough. Later that night a bunch of people went out to a club, but I was too tired and wasn’t up for going out with a big group of drunk Americans who didn’t yet know the city. I’d rather wait and give Tima (my prof’s godson and a guy we hung out with a lot this summer) a call to hang out with us this weekend. He’s a safe person to take gypsy cabs with, and he sometimes brings his own car.

My host family situation is going well. There was so much lead up to the actual meeting of our host families that I think it just made it worse. Over the summer, coming directly to my family, being jetlagged, exhausted, grubby, and rather delirious almost made things easier. I suppose I prefer baptism by fire. I also had Volodya there with me to make the transition go a little smoother, I think my host mother, Alla, and I will get along well. She seems very open and is quite talkative. I can understand a lot of what she says, thankfully. I don’t think I ever understand every word (unless it’s a fairly simple sentence), but I’m just relying on my old tricks of anticipating vocabulary words I know in order to piece stuff together, watching gestures and facial expressions, guessing how conversations move from certain topics to others, etc. etc. I should probably tell her more when I don’t completely understand something, but she’s not as good as my host father from this summer about rephrasing things I don’t understand, she just kind of says it again more clearly or loudly.

My host mother is very friendly. She’s hosted a number of times before, so she knows how to keep conversation going and to demand that I tell when I don’t like something (at least I don’t have to worry about offending her). It seems like she likes to go out and do a lot of things, such as go to exhibits and the opera and ballet. So that’s great. Hopefully she can get us Russian priced tickets. I’m excited she likes ballet so much. She said she always dreamed of being a dancer, and hoped that one of her daughters would become a ballerina. Now her granddaughter dances some, but I don’t think very seriously. She was very excited about that though. Alla knows almost no English. A word here or there. Eena, my host mother over the summer, knew a bit more.

I’m still adjusting to the food here (my host mom isn’t as good a cook as the last one), but luckily I haven’t been sick yet. Going to the market with my host mother was a little disconcerting though. You’d think since Russians tend to be so worried about you getting sick from having wet hair, not wearing a hat, drafts, doing this or that, they’d be concerned about the cleanliness of their food. Nope. The women at the meat shop was not wearing any gloves (which wouldn’t bother me much), but she was sick and kept coughing into her hands, rubbing her nose on the backs of them, and even licking her fingers to pick up the bags she put the meats and cheeses in. Yum. I think I’ll probably be getting sick at some point. Haha.

My room:



Like some of you already know, I live near Pionerskaya metro stop (4 stops up from Nevsky on the blue line). It’s a rather “new” region—about 25 years old (I think, from what my host mother said). It’s soviet block housing, like I’d guessed. Every building looks exactly like the one next to it, so I made sure to find the few distinguishing features about mine in order to make sure I don’t go up to the wrong apartment building (for example there’s a restaurant called “Enjoy” on the first floor of mine). If any of you have ever seen the soviet film Ironiya cydbii (the Irony of Fate—it’s like the Russian version of It’s a Wonderful Life) it looks just like the beginning of the film. Pretty funny. Of course it’d be nice to live in an old historic part of the city again, but I’m glad I’m getting this experience, and seeing the other half of Russia’s history, so to speak. The only things to remind you you’re not in the Soviet Union are the few neon lights and advertisements that mark the intrusion of capitalism. The main street my apartment is on (bogatirskii prospect) is lined with tiny shops (more like unheated, falling apart wooden shacks linked together in a row) selling meats, fruits, vegetables, shoes, coats, phone cards, cigarettes, etc. etc. But it seems like a safe enough region, not scenic or anything, but nice enough. The apartment is quite big and modern. The toilet and shower are in the same room, and there’s no hot water heater thing you need to light with a match whenever you want to take a shower. There are three bedrooms, a spacious living room/dining room and a pleasant kitchen overlooking the street. My room is smaller than over the summer, but very comfortable. I think there’s only one outlet in the whole room, but I have a desk, bed, chair, and chest of drawers. I was surprised how warm the apartment is, especially my room. The heating is centrally controlled, so there’s no way of really controlling it. My host mother told me to open the window some to control the temperature, which I was surprised about since last my host mother was so freaked out about the slightest draft (even in summer). It’s open right now, despite it being in the single digits. Snow sometimes blows in through the curtains, which is a tad surreal. I guess I won’t be needing all the super warm clothes for around the house that I brought. My room overlooks a small park, a television tower, more soviet style apartment buildings, and two smoke stacks constantly spewing some form of pollution. This is a different Russian reality from the bashnya and the smolniy.

Crazy sunset out my window. Pollution does amazing things.



Well this is getting a little long (sorry Pat). There’s always more to talk about, but I’ll be emailing again hopefully sometime soon. Things are busy here, and my host mother doesn’t give me that much time to myself (which is good for my Russian). Tonight she wants to take me to Planeta Fitness with her (she goes everyday and is quite the modern woman), so I guess I’ll be getting a work out in too. Sorry there aren’t more pictures. I haven’t been taking very many so far because my cameras fog up with the cold (esp the changes in temp), and I worry more about them getting stolen since the streets and transportation are more packed than in summer and my new camera especially cries “steal me.” So yeah. I’ll try to take more in the future.