There's a reason I can't drive here

When I signed up for this program, I had to waive quite a few of my most important rights. I can't swim with dolphins here, rock climb, or hang glide (I know the last has presented itself as an opportunity to at least one person in my group), among other opportunities. In addition to various extreme sports, I had to agree not to drive while I'm here. Kazan has “great” public transit (it will get you anywhere, but you might not enjoy the trip that much) and I live in the center of the city, so this isn't a real issue for me. Even if it were an issue, I think a few of my experiences here and well justified that rule.

I was walking down to a cafe after school today, and cut through a pretty narrow side street to save some time. A couple idiots had double parked, and there was barely room for one car to squeeze by. Naturally, just as I walked by two other drivers decided to come by in opposite directions. In America, both would stop and awkwardly look at each other trying to figure out the right-of-way, maybe someone would have to back up, a few rude gestures might be exchanged, but eventually one of them would yield and both would get through in time. Here, drivers don't yield. Ever.

As I watched and chuckled, both drivers tried to shoot for a gap that one car could barely fit through. Miraculously, they didn't crash, but successfully managed to squeeze a third and fourth car where only one belonged. I didn't do very well in eight grade geometry, but I could tell there was no way for either driver involved to get anywhere unless they backed up and tried again, one at a time. That doesn't happen here. As I watched from a safe distance, they both revved their engines a few times, honked, then rolled down their windows and started to yell at each other. With peaceful attempts at communication failing, engines went off and doors opened up. At first they were just yelling at each other and close range, then things got violent. Even in NYC, I doubt you could get punched in the gut for a right-of-way disagreement that didn't lead to an accident. They started to trade blows, and once it was clear things were going to end up on the ground I took my leave. One thing that scares me more than an angry Russian driver is an impatient cop who wants me to explain what I saw, so I was glad to be a safe distance away.

Just to restate, this wasn't the result of a drunk idiot T-boning someone, or someone running down a lady's cat. Sure, this isn't a day-to-day occurrence, but it says a lot about the Russian driving mentality: drive fast, never yield, assume you're in the right, and never, ever ever be American.

Cheap Ballets, Bendy Robots, and Segways

 I'm good at complaining. Very good. I can find fault with pretty much everything, because everyone knows that not thinking anything is good enough is a mark of sophistication, right? So naturally, I have to point out how awful seeing Swan Lake performed by Russians was.

First off, just getting in. Eight Dollars for a ticket. I come all the way over to Russia and go to a world-class show, and they want 8 bucks? That's like six sodas at the magazine by my school. Who cares if it's covered by the program, that's the most ridiculous price I've ever heard of.

Second, the seating. I got the cheap seats for a reason. I had no intention of being stuck in a small private box with a perfect view and only a handful of polite, quiet Russians around me. I wanted to be in the uncomfortable mob with all my friends, unable to see anything or appreciate the show. What do they think I am, a foreigner?

And, of course, can't forget the music. It was so well performed, if it wasn't for the musicians in the pit you wouldn't know that there were real people and potential human error involved. Maybe they were robots? Nobody wants ballet performed by Robots! And the dancers! The lead was so flexible, her arms doubled back in the wrong direction when she straightened them. . . dancers aren't supposed to be bendy, how can bendy people do the robot? If you're played by a robot, at least dance like one! And the swans! All dancing in perfect unison and synchronization, how are you supposed to remember that one pretty ballerina if she looked exactly like she's supposed to? It's an outrage at times.

Perfect, pretty ballerinas give me an easy segue into the topic of Russian women. Face it: I'm in Russia, I have to bring this up eventually. As a rule of thumb, Russian girls are mighty, mighty fine. Gorgeous little critters. Both ends of the “attractiveness” spectrum are represented here: the Tatar girls are the embodiment of “cute” and the Russians of “beautiful.” From what my friends have told me, the guys here are sub-par, but that's not an issue of much concern to me. Russian culture is also more tolerant of flirtation than American; I mean I managed to give one girl earrings the second time I saw her. The niceties I've been shown would be the definition of “hitting on” back home, here it's just people being sweet. Never before in my life has a girl I just met told me I have the most beautiful eyelashes she's ever seen. Not going to complain. I find the heels which put all of them at twice my high a little unnerving, but I think normal guys find that attractive so I won't complain. Just between you (how many people are reading this anyway?) and me, there are a handful who have caught my eye. I'm sure some combination of the interesting American, helpless foreigner, and adorably sweet yet still awesome Alex cards will do the trick. I'll keep y'all posted.

Mentioning a segue reminded me of Segways, because yes they do have them here. And yes, security guards do use them: some things are the same in all nations. You see them pretty regularly, especially on Baumina. Problem with Baumina is that you can see anything there. Girls in skanky bright pink outfits trying to force adds on you, guys on moon shoes dressed up in sparkly silver hippie-astronaut outfits, Russian flashmob attempts fizzling out, already they have street-art tributes to Steve Jobs. Sure, it's a hyper-commercialized tourist area, but you can have a lot of fun there. I know. I have. 

Behind Enemy Lines, and Quite Happy There

I go to Church. This may should be a shocker to the people who know me, but it's the truth. Here in Russia, I've made a habit of making the Sunday services at the church my friend's host father preaches at. I haven't lost sight of the FSM, but I have learned a lot. I'm probably at the least Russian church in Russia. Founded, inspired, guided, or somehow influenced at an earlier point in time by an American, there's an aura of tolerance there that doesn't go in hand with the traditional Christian image, especially here. Many denominations are represented, covering the full spectrum of protestantism and Christianity, and even a handful of Jews attend. Services are held in a school gymnasium, with a small but incredible band and a lively crowd. People of any faith (including skeptics, atheists, and agnostics such as myself) are welcome; the preach the importance of spreading the gospel, but nobody tries to force beliefs down your throat. When I unintentionally agreed to my first communion, a considerate and English-speaking pastor bailed me out without any hard feelings. I may on the surface be submitting to an institution I've devoted far more time to fighting than appropriate, but in truth I've found a community that is kind, ethical, and welcoming despite my religious beliefs.

The typical service there is really laid-back and fun. The band, especially their Sax/Clarinet player, is amazing. Like, suck it Kenny G amazing (not that I like him, but he's good at what he does). There are a lot of songs, with lyrics projected on the wall so I can read along and jot down words to look up. Some of the sermons are a bit intense for my taste, and I'll admit I get weirded out when I hear people speaking in tongues, but everyone keeps their practices personal and I never feel any pressure. There's always someone bilingual to be found who can translate, and I owe all of the people who have helped me so many favors. They take a collection, and I try to donate, but if I don't theres no scorn or hard feelings. I'm not going to keep this up when I get home, but attending these weekly services has been eye opening, and given a pleasant middle ground between American and Russian cultures. To my fellow FSMists: Christians can be nice people too. To the devout and religious: give Atheists a chance. We can be sweethearts at times.

On Cuba, Spies, and Babushki

 Walking down Baumina street is pretty much a daily activity for me, and every time I'm there I notice the sign for “Cuba Libre.” Today, a group of friends and I decided to check the place out. After blindly stumbling into the wrong building, we were pointed down a dark alley lined with paintings of Che Guevara, Spanish phrases, and quirky art. We stepped in, and quickly became immersed in one of the most satisfying sketchy bars in the city.

Mexican food. Be picky if you want, call it Cuban or Sonoran or Central American, it doesn't really matter. It was spicy. Hell, they even had American Tabasco. At Lecheim's advice, we avoided the burritos, but everything else was fair game. Nachos, guacamole, mass-produced cheese, quesadillas with “Cuba” written on them in what was probably Mayonnaise (can't ever really get away from Russian culture) and English menus combined with waitresses who didn't speak enough English to understand the orders made for the perfect night. Russian food is great, but it just doesn't have the same kick that Mexican does. They had Cuban cigars (kinda cool being in a country where those aren't illegal) but that's an adventure for another crowd. Next week, we're goin' for Indian.

This week went better on the language front. I've had a bit of a shift in my mindset, instead of learning a new language, I'm trying to get better at one which I'm dreadful at. Sounds like a change for the worse looking at it that way, but it's helped. Gotta give props to Rhys and Molly, those two can soak up vocab like a sponge. If any of those government people in charge of watching us are reading this, hire them some day.

There's a bit of a stigma both here and in the States that my program is meant for training CIA Clandestine Service operators and the like. First off, I have to make it explicitly clear that this is not the truth; everyone on this program has their own reasons and I know our group represents students interested in biology, engineering, writing, and politics, not future spies. Nonetheless, this image does lead to a few great comments now and then. Last night, I was chatting with my host mother in a mix of Russian and English about their experiences and views involving Americans. My family hosted an American student once before, and my host mother had the following to say about him:

Wesley, he spoke Russian very well. Best in his group, number one student. He understands that Russians are not emotional on their faces; he was always very serious. He only spoke Russian, and never smiled. (Here she pauses and looks around as if checking for bugs) I think, he was training. . . to be a SPY.

The “American Spy” image is still a problem here, especially among the older generation. The youth usually see us as we are: students here to learn more about a language and culture. Babushki, on the other hand, sometimes have a different opinion. In a country historically taught to distrust foreigners, the elderly (more later about how influential they are) are sometimes less open-minded than the people who make Kazan such an amazing culture. We've all been asked “but why RUSSIA?” and similar questions, but we try to just say it as it is and describe our interests. As a whole, this city has been tolerant and welcoming, and I believe if Kazan and Tatarstan are seen as models for the country, Russia has a much brighter future than the news of corruption and trouble in Moscow may lead foreigners to believe.  

These are really starting to lose cohesion.

Another week. Lovely. I know it's only Tuesday, but I've had my fair share of adventures already. Whenever you study a foreign language, you expect a couple awkward vocab blunders. Today was my good one for the week. I was talking to one of my teachers, and had a little ADHD moment and zoned out. Next thing I know, she was asking me a question, and I was answering yes. Turns out, I spend my free time smoking in the library. Whoops. Fortunately the verbs for “eat” and “smoke” are close enough that I was able to come up with a decent excuse. Guess I'll be remembering the difference for a while.

Real highlight of the week has been picnicking though. A few friends and I (I won't name Stephanie, Rhys, and Erik) decided we needed to go relax. Soon, we had 1.25kg of chak-chak, a brick of cheese, a communal supply of sausage, and enough juice and kvass (fermented bread sold as a soft drink, don't worry grown-ups its usually less than one percent alcohol), and we were in heaven. Throwing honey-drenched fried noodles to birds, trying to explain where the bathroom was to a drunk, and watching our group's manly-man squeal as falling seeds pelted him, what else could you ask for on one of the season's few nice days?

The language thing is starting to go better, or at least I'm getting better at pretending that it is. I'm at the point where when strangers approach me, I try and fail to answer their questions rather than brushing them off with an “I don't speak Russian.” A few of the FLEX alumni have offered to help me out, I'll probably take one up.

Tatar wrestling was this weeks biggest learning experience. I learned that I'm out of shape. I learned that people smaller than you can still make you very sore. I learned that elderly Tatars can throw sizable Americans (no, I'm not calling myself sizable). I learned that chairs can fly, without anyone there to throw them. I learned that I've completely lost my spin kick in Russia. Sadly, I don't think I learned much Russian there. Oh well, it was worth it.

I'm saying a lot on here. Wonder how long until I start posting things on here I don't want the world to see. Hrmm. Well, it was created to be a blog about my random thoughts. Maybe I'll put out another post unrelated to Russia sometime soon. We'll see.

The necessary complaints about language

 Fact: I suck at learning languages. I love them, once I know them I can use them pretty well, but getting a foreign language into my head doesn't work. So naturally, I'm spending a semester trying to force myself to learn Russian rather than going off to college like normal intelligent human beings. It's frustrating, but my god is this fun.

I actually get Russian grammar. For all intents and purposes it's Latin grammar with a funky accent. Sure, they have different endings following different types of consonants, and I refuse to accept that there's any valid reason to have different endings for inanimate and animate objects in some cases but not others, but overall it makes sense thus far. Speaking is a different story. I've got “I don't understand” down pretty well. Still, there are a lot of pointing, charades, and English going on in my day to day conversation. Oral exams are traumatizing. I smile and laugh, then spend the rest of the day wanting to strangle the next person to speak in Russian. Homesickness isn't a problem for me, but frustration certainly is.

Granted, I'm glad I'm here. I'm going to pick up the language by the time I leave (God help the poor fool who tries to help me). I struggle with memorization. I'm shy and don't like to start conversations in Russian. However, the one thing more frustrating than trying to learn the language is not being able to say no to the disturbingly young girls asking you out on movie dates (more about that in the next post) so I'm getting this language down. Thanks for listening to me complain, more next week =D

Wow. . .

So the last two days were arguably the most amazing time I've had yet in Russia. For a night, I stayed in a small village called Рыбная Слобода just outside Kazan. From the moment we got off the bus we were surrounded by the kindest crowd of students, parents, and citizens I have ever met. Our first school “tour” opened with a crazy dance party, a few rounds of “humiliate the Americans on stage” (square dancing anybody?), and a staged school day for us to see what their art classes are like. We were treated like guests, and while I understand Americans may have been a bit of a novelty, I simply can't grasp how anyone could be happy, kind, and enthusiastic enough to arrange photoshoots, offer a chance to drive a Russian stick-shift, have a “multi-course meal with courses comparable to an American Thanksgiving, and give us adorable gifts including my new favorite ceramic snail. The students there spoke better English than many of the strongest students in the city, which was a surprisingly nice treat. The people I met there moved me more than anyone else I've met in Russia, I hope I see them again. If any of you are reading this, Thank You, I love you.

Still no drunk bears on unicycles in the streets, I'm keeping my eyes out though.