(my front yard)
Seeing as I’ve been so bad about catching up with pictures, and it seems it will take another 5 months or something until I get up all the pics from this summer, I thought I would post some about my Russian host sister Olya’s time up here in Maine, since it kind of relates to my time in Russia, yet is still about home.
I really miss Russia, and the reverse culture shock was a little bit severe, so it was great to have Olya up here for a weekend to hang out. As you might remember, she got married back in July to her now husband, Jon, who is an American. They came to the states for a few weeks to visit his family in Virginia. Olya got restless and decided to come up and hang out with me for a few days. It felt so good to speak Russian again, even though her English is quite good. We spoke in a splattering of Russian and her version of English, which I unconsciously adopt when around her. (My English is still in pretty bad shape. It will sometimes take me a good half an hour to remember a simple word in English.) We did a lot of shopping in Freeport, since she buys most of her clothes in America (Russian clothes are super expensive and generally very low quality). She bought 3 pairs of shoes at Nine West, among other things.
I took her to the Dolphin Marina, a favorite chowder house around here.
We spent a good amount of time lolling around in the sun in the hammock, drinking tea, in true Russian fashion.
She even went swimming, which I was impressed by. But I suppose if anyone is going to go swimming in the still frigid ocean here, leave it to a Russian girl.
She had lobster for the first time,
we did some gardening,
(deliciousness)
and we went on some nice drives around the islands.
Being a city girl (growing up in St Petersburg and now living and working in Moscow), she was interested in going out. I was going to take her to the Old Port, but it was getting to be too late already, so I decided to take her to the local bars around Brunswick and Topsham. I was kind of worried about what she would think, seeing as Bwick is not exactly the nightlife capital of the world. A good friend of mine, Jordan D., was kind enough to more or less babysit us, as in drive and make sure the locals didn’t get too insistent.
I guess I forgot that one can dress like a bum when going out in Maine, granted, I’ve never really gone out much around here. So Olya and I were probably a little overdressed. Arriving at Joshua’s Tavern, all she had was her Russian driver’s license, of course all in Cyrillic, to get her into the bar. Watching the bouncer’s face while trying to decipher it was a priceless experience. I doubt a Russian had ever walked through the doors of Joshua’s before. I’ve also never been stared at so much in my life. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a bit overdressed and paired with a quite attractive, blonde, young Russian girl. Olya of course went straight for the vodka.
It was funny because she was at first scared of the place—seeing the locals milling about out front (basically a bunch of older rough looking guys smoking), but once she got in, she announced to me, “eto sovsem prikolno!” (basically, “this is cool!” in Russian slang). There was a live band playing. I was getting worried when she said that we should dance. No one really dances in Maine. Thankfully she found the pool tables and proceeded to beat a number of stunned local Maine guys, who’d probably never met a Russian in their lives. I think the fact that we were mostly speaking Russian to each other (very convenient since no one else can understand a thing) got us more attention than we (or mostly I) would’ve liked. Olya also didn’t quite understand that things close down around 1am here, not 6am when the metro opens in Petersburg. We got invited to a few parties, but declined, instead choosing to go home, sit on the deck with the ocean and the stars and introduce her to another American tradition: Corona and lime.
My little Russian pool shark:
The next day we slept in and made bliniy. Olya is the best bliniy maker I’ve ever met. They were delicious, especially combined with the wild berries that grow around my house. Unfortunately there was no condensed milk (our favorite) to eat with them.
We later went out on the boat, which she drove quite well.
Us on the boat:
We also called her mom, my host mom Alla, which was really nice. It was so strange to be talking to Alla from all the way across the Atlantic, rather than just across the kitchen table.
It was sad having to drive Olya back to Boston to catch her flight, but we had an excellent time. It was nice having her here, if nothing else as a way of bridging my time in Russia with my return home. It was a bit surreal seeing her in America though, especially in my own house! I miss Olya already, and hope to see her in less than a year, one way or another.
No comments:
Post a Comment