Wednesday, October 26, 2005

In which I meet cobblestones head on...or alternately...Winter VACATION!!!

Two months in country and maybe perhaps finally feel like yea, hello Russia. It started snowing this morning, yes, take note of the date, it is officially October 26. Temperature is resting around -2-3 degrees celcius, which I believe is like, maybe 28ish fareinheit? I've lost count.

God damn it, must actually bring the journal to transcribe because otherwise I end up staring at the screen and realizing how completely friggin incoherent I actually am.

VACATION TOMMOROW. Night train after the university choir concert tommorow night to Moscow, like one day actually in Moscow, then flying out to Prague and the village...I haven't even let myself think about being back there, my brain has drawn a happy curtain infront of everything that happens after I get off the train in Kostelec, walk up to the center of the town, and ring the bell. Thats all I got, after that I have no fucking clue what will happen, how I will spend five days with these people...No clue. But lord, please dont let me have to speak to them in Russian...I've been so possessed by that lately that I'm walking down the street talking to myself in Czech just for shits and giggles, to see if I can. Yea, loud enough for people to cross the street to avoid having to walk past crazy me. It was fantastic. And then of course I let things come out in Czech in class just cause I've been thinking about it so much, and they look at me like the retard that I am. I'm gonna come back here in two weeks and be...so out of whack. Oh well, new and different...

Speaking of choir concert and new and different, WHERE THE HELL CAN I GET WHITE SHOES BY TOMMOROW. WHO THE HELL REQUIRES WHITE CONCERT DRESS. This is ridicious. I recieved my fabulously heinous white potato sack dress last week, which definitly does not fit, and I'm sure there will be some pics of it at some point. I admit it though, I am getting pysched for this gig finally. Last night at rehearsal they brought in a crap load of ringers, and suddenly, holy shit we were actually good. I love sitting in the middle of it, pretending like I have half a clue what I'm doing, just soaking it in. And then I catch the evil eye from the director and well yea, thats the end of that...

Two months, it feels really weird. I wish I had the luxury of more time here, just because I know that a semester is far from adequate to really lose myself in this life...I think about two months into AFS, I couldn't even leave the house by myself, much less spit out a remotely coherent sentence in the local language. Four months in, I was just barely taking trains by myself, and still missing most of the words people were throwing at me. A semester, its nothing really. So every adventure, every mishap, is both a joy and a sorrow. Happy because I was, sad because soon I wont be.

Lord what a fucked up way to look at things. I'm going to go play in the snow and hope that our power comes on soon so I can have some clean cloths out of the wash with half a prayer of being remotely dry before tommorow night...

Friday, October 21, 2005

Twenty Minutes...Take Two

...Please excuse the untimely interupption of my internet service and attention span...Where was I?

After my night with Noah I was so out of it, so confused, and my one encounter with the councilling center put me back on track. I've never told anyone about it, that I was there, except Jess and Amy, and Riana who dragged me there cause I was such a mess. Sometimes I think nothing really has changed minus the setting, and for the moment this whole abroad thing allows me a fleeting confidence that will dissapate back in real life. But which life is real, which life is a quickly fading illusion?

Gospodi boze mou, this is what I get for wiling away this rainy day writting in my PJ's. And now its almost 7, what good would it to to get washed and dressed?

I had this amazing cultural revelation between nap number three and found this afternoon. The weather is finally changing, and its about 7 degrees Celsius on the street today, so I was cold. My first reaction was to get up and put on a sweater. Then it occurred to me what a strange resolution that is. Americans would just turn up the heat. Russians would rail at the inadequacies of their world for a while, then throw another blanket on the bed. But me, putting on a sweater, so individual, so non-provacative, so...conflict avoidant. Made me think though...

I think the biggest thing I'm realizing about Russian society here is the overwhelming lack of ideology, and the yearning for one. I expected the same old cries from the old guard for societ security, for a return to back in the day when salaries were paid and health care was free, and no one got evicted for not paying rent. I didn't expect the ideological vacuum to be so palitable. People really consider Russia under Yeltsin to have been anarchy, as the aftershock of the fall, the polar opposite of what they had fled. And now, there is whiplash almost, among the young people, who are trying to orient themselves to something not communist. With no enforced set of beliefs and mornals, having to make that choice of what and how to believe in for themselves for the very first time, they fall to drugs and alcohol and street life, or at the very least a mumbling hopelessness, 'cause it fills the time and space. There is nothing to believe in, nothing to hold on to, limited hopes for the future, and its felt in every minute of every day. I think thats the key to Putin, hes solid, he reminds people of their past, of their future, and most importantly does not leave any room for doubt. Its all about the strong arm of the law, people look at the vacuum of money and power and morals after the fall of the USSR, and they recognize thats not the way. They'd prefer the government to make the choices than to have to make them themselves, or no choices at all.

Then I start thinking about ideology in America, and I get nowhere, interestingly enough. American children are raised in as much of a vacuum void of all but commercialism, and we have our own problems, but on much less of a scale. The difference? We are raised with every expectation that we will succeed, that we will grow up and have a productive life of our own. More than that, from birth we are filtered to series of activities that further indoctrinate us that we are better. Scouts, sports, music lessons, the works. They used to have Pioneers here, or just the idea that they were building communism for a better world. Nothing but money and power and escapism has come to take its place in Russian society.

I want to be back at school to get on with my life. Sometimes I feel like this is limbo here, and sometimes I get a kick out of that neitherworldly quality. SOmetimes it makes me impatient as all hell.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

20 Minutes...take one

I'm at that point where maybe perhaps time starts moving fast enough for me to loose track of things, for the most part. Unil I slow down long enough, and fate swings back away fromme, and I'm counting down the days impatiently, instead of tearfully. Thinking about classes got me thinking about next semester, and thats never a happy train of thought. Its that constant theme of always yearning for what comes next, never being fully able to handle here and now. Thinking about school only further confuses and frightens me, yet another jump into the semi-unknown. When I left school last spring I was pretty dead set on giving up Span and giving into my music major cravings. After Monterey and being here, I'm back on travel, back on Spanish, and maybe perhaps Anthropology. I had this brilliant idea a few months back about going and studying Eastern European cultural communities in South America. IT just sort of came to me in the middle of a lecture this summer, and such a perfect answer to everything that I can't get ito ut of my mind. After hitting a few walls with just basic introductory research, I figure maybe the best way to start is to learn how to learn, thus SoAn next semester. I'm not assuming that I'll actually enjoy it, I mean, look what happened with me and politics last semester. But even the small nothion of it is enough to throw off all my plans for education for the duration. If next semester goes remotely well, Anthro or Sociology is remotely intriguing, Spanish doesn't as expected kick my ass, I'm back on more study abroad, and perhaps SoAN as my second major?!?! Its a huge jumpt even on paper, considering I don't even knowthe meaning of the word. But I guess thats classic me- find the answer, find the ends, and then go about finding the means to get there.

And then the more I think about it the worse tangled my brain becomes. If this works it'd probably mean an extra semester or year, and theres definitly no money or financial aid for that. Unless I give up music all together, not even a minor, which I really can't physically do withmy scholarship. Or find a study abroad which fufills some requirements, as opposed to here, which is almost all fluff and fun. And the more tangled my brain gets, the more annoyed I get because I don't have a course book or the list of classes offered in the coming semesters, so basically the whole argument is mute for a good long while. And thats not even saying anything about living arangements, which I dont even want to think about...Oh fuck, if money for the last year comes up I should just apply to be an RA and use the difference for tuition...horror of horrors. That would meen not having to move off campus to save the money for room and board...

This conversation is officially absurd. But I might just walk down to internet and explore some options...

So back to real life, hah...

This week I did finally give in and buy pants, and it was every bit as torturous as I was expecting. In fact, it was worse than I was expecting. Brook and I walked down and back on all of Bolshoi Prospekt, and in every store we went into were uncharactheristically mobbed by store help. Uncharacteristic because this is Russia, and the city hasnt finally magically transformed into a service economy since last week. And becasue their "help" was anything but. In one store I actually pretended to have a phone call so we could leave. The girl just kept bringing me pairs in sizes not even close to what I asked for, it was absurd. And of course the only pair of jeans remotely close to fitting cost more than $100 US. But then in the next store I let myself be seduced by a beautiful Turkmeni, and somehow ended up with a $70 pair of Levi's, which will most definitly get taken back as soon as possible. But I gotta do something about the excercise thing, because I'm really starting to feel it. I'm trying not to pay attention to it, and control the meals when I c an, but I dont put very much faith in small steps. At least this time around I know that it will all come off within a few months of returning home. But how I'm yearning for a good run right now, so much...

I had a rattling email from a good friend last week, I'm really still digesting it. Somthing happened, not really sure what, but very thankful that shes now getting the help she needs and feeling better. NOt totally surprised, but I guess that energy and excitement was one of the things that I always enjoyed about her. I'm glad things are improving, but also the tiniest bit scared that I'm loosing the girl that I love so dearly. Weird? I know, I cant know what its like so don't make judgments. And then theres the small part of me who is thinking, "well shit, what does this say about me?!" We were always so alike, mindset, attitude, life style...maybe I should/could end up the same way...And then I think about how close I came, the end of last semester, how close I might still be...Sometimes I think all I need to really loose control is an excuse, for someone to tell me its OK to just let go. After my night with Noah I was so out of it, so confused, and my one meeting...

Monday, October 17, 2005

So I'm lazy. Fuck me. or alternately Updates from the Front

Will post seven page musings of the past few weeks later, for now this shall have to do...

Btw...Anyone else really friggin scared of registration? I just emailed my classes and I feel like I signed my life away!!! God damnit, aren't we supposed to be over this by now?

Date: Mon, 17 Oct 2005 03:35:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: "Margaret Fulda" Add to Address Book Add Mobile Alert
Subject: Updates from the Front
To: rfradkin@umd.edu


Realizing I havent dropped you a line in about a month, and figured it was about time I let ya know whats going on...

The weather finally changed this weekend, and only now am I getting a real taste of Russia in the fall. Its funny, since things have gotten cold and dark and wet I find myself in a much better mood, I cant really explain it. I was walking along the Mojka embankment yesterday, and it was drizzling and cold, and generally unplesant, but I found myself in such a good mood. Its as if I can handle cold and dark, its really the sunshine that confused. Strange, one should not be contented by such an unforgiving climate...but since when do I fit such expectations...

I've come to the grudging conclusion that my program just needs to be endured, classes pass the time, and even occasionally enlighten. I know that I'm learning tons, and now that things are finally picking up outside of school, I can much better tolerate the bureacracy and just general annoyance that is CIEE. Choir is giving our first concert next week, and I dont know which I'm more excited by, the concert or the legitimate excuse to go to Moscow a day later then the group, so as not to end up couped up while 45 americans get roaring drunk and rowdy. You were right though, music is definitly the coolest thing that I'm doing here, theres some truth to the whole universality that is music and art, I think I'm only just realizing. Its doing wonders for my phonetics and my social life, I'll tell you that.

The funny thing, which in retrospect I guess you also warned me about, the longer I'm here and the better I get, the more my Czech really is beginning to screw with my mind. I think its just because when I know that I'll be understood regardless, or I'm tired, or annoyed, or when my brain skips a few steps I get lazy and Czech comes out first. And there are still a few expressions that just feel better to me in Czech than in Russian. My hozjaka has started calling me her ykrainka, because every time I say something in Czech she thinks its ukrainian. Not nearly as many as there used to be, but still, quite a few. I'm going back for a visit during our kanikyli next week, did I mention that yet? THe best thing was, I attempted to email my host family to find out if I could stay with them for a few days, and did my damndest to write in Czech, and I get a note back from the daughter saying "Hi Peggy...be glad that both my parents had 20 years of required Russian, because otherwise we would not have a clue what you were trying to tell us..." Oh well...the thought that counts? Now its just interesting to try to find something I can bring from here as a host gift that does not have any particular russian connotations, kind of an excercise in cross cultural analysis if I've ever encountered one.

Yes, there are children in the flat, two daughters and a boyfriend. And for the moment three cats and two kittens. They're all actually really good about talking to me, my host mother and I end up having pretty regular heart to hearts, which I appreaciate, though sometiems I think she assumes I understand better than I actually do. On the off chance that I do stop her and ask for clarification she thinks its absurd that I dont know something, and then I explain to her that yes I have in fact only been here for less than 2 months, and have only been learning russian for 2 years. Two weeks ago it was one of the daughters birthday, one of my first tastes of celebration. I lost count after toast number 4 or 5, but I figure thats the point, right? Seeing the whole family and just being in the middle of the attmosphere was one of the coolest things so far, and sitting and talking to the aunts and uncles and grandparents. I have come to the conclusion though that my host family definitly speaks, shall we say, a more colloquial language than is generally accepted. I got into an argument with my grammar teacher today about when and how you can use "chevo". My family uses it almost exclusively instead of "chto" and my teacher thinks that this is demeaning and only low class and uneducated, and why would I ever want to know how to speak in such a manner. I calmly tried to explain that its neccesary to know the usage so you can understand people on the street and real russians outside of academia...this very much did not go over so well. She said that Russians have a different relationship to language than americans do, which I"m sure is true, and that speaking in such a manner will have people think that you are rude and unmannered, and they might even be offended. THat I find hard to believe, and very much wanted to tell her that she probably thinks that because shes an academic living a high class life with an appartment off Nevsky...but I refrained.

Now the interesting experiences start right? Now that I can get past the definition and into the meaning.

Thoughts?
N

Sunday, October 02, 2005

I so win. (But warning...translating russian = not winningness)

What an amazing day this turned out to be!!! I'm so thankful that I finally spent an amazing day, it was so more than neccesary for me and my mood...Endorphins are my friend...but first homework to be finished, and then more to update...But I'm so glad that we decided to loose our symphony tickets and go on the outting, it was so more than worth it...

I so dont want to do homework right now...Oy. But two hours, with a break for tea and cake. Its only rarely that I ever have legitamate work to do, and everytime it does happen and I start hearing myself bitch about it, I just remind myself that in four months I'll be back in real life, and this is nothing. It's sad that my semester abroad is probably going to end up being the easiest, academics wise, of my college career.

So this morning I met Fred at my metro stop, we headed down to the trains, and then the fun began. We were supposed to head from Gorkovskaya, my stop, to Teknologicheskoy Institute, then switch to the red line, and then just one stop to Pushkinskaja where the train station was. Then, for some unknown reason, the metro we were on magically eneded up on the orange line, completely skipping Gostiny Dvor, the transfer point downtown of all the lines. They probably said something about when and why, but I eather didnt hear or didnt understand or both. But at any rate, we arrived at Sadovaya, the first stop on the orange, and had no friggin' clue how it was that we got there. Only about 20 minutes later of arguing with a map did we figure out where we were and how to get the the train station, not bad in Peggy land. After that no more huge issues finding the train station, not even finding the part where local trains leave from. Only that we didnt know how to buy tickets to Pavlovsk, but it was still a good half hour early from the time we were all supposed to be meeting, so we just stood and waited, hoping to look conspicious enough to catch someones eye from the group. Thankfully some girl recognized us, and starts waving frantically for us to come and join her in line. With out here, yea, we'd have stood around for a while more, and than probably given up and gone home. Later she told us that most of the choir kids were just going to leave from Kuchin, a stop at the end of the blue metro, because there you dont have to have proof of ticket, you can just hop the train and hope the controller doesn't come through. Even if he does, you can just slip him 10 rubles (like...30 cents...) and not a problem. Her name is Yulia, I think she sings soprano two, so I hadn't met her yet in rehearsals. In the train we found another guy from the choir, Artur, John, and later on Masha in Pushkin where she lives. We had one of those random ass train conversations, but it lasted all the way to Pavlovsk, so I was happy. The whole crew met us on the platform at Pavlovsk, and we set out for the park. It was a beautiful day, gorgeous fall folliage, warm-ish...Once we got to the gates of the park the fun began. Everyone decided that paying the entrance fee wasn't really worth it, so we started off around the fence line looking for another way into the grounds. Keep in mind this fences is maybe 6 feet tall, rusty, and pointy looking. People started scalling it, but I decided I didn't think I'd make it up and over with no footholds or nothing. We walked for a hile, trying old locks to see if one would crack for us, but no luck. Eventually the group had dwindled to just me, Fred, John, Ania the head alto one, Yulia from the train, and some soprano girl I don't know. After walking for 20 minutes or so we got caught by some babushki gate guards at a second entrance, and it was obvious we were trying to break in that we had to give up and pay them, but atleast finally actually made it onto the grounds of the park. Then we wandered for a while trying to find the rest of the group, who had scattered in all directions trying to make it over the fence without paying. THey had all set up this huge picnic by the time we got there, I mean huge, like 40 people were sitting around all the food spread out on newspaper. As we sat and ate they started singing folk songs, which somehow everyone magically knew but the Americans of course, so I sat in awe and listened. The spontaneity of it was just awesome, one person would start a song and everyone would instantly join in. Or some songs Edvard the director would lead, or Vitja the pianist, but mostly it was just people throwing a song out there for the world. After we ate, it was proclaimed sports time. It felt so good to run around and get disgustingly sweaty, so much more than I was expecting or remembering. Soccer was eh, but running around acting stupid was a decend compromise. Somehow any game that pits girls vs. boys usually ends up like that? Then in good russian spirit we ate again, sang some more, and gradually people started to leave. In the end we stood in a big circle, the last 20 or so of us, and sang like ever folk song or piece that they'd performed in the past five years. We drew a crowd, it was fantastic. Everytime we tried to stop and leave, they'd shout "Brava Brava! More more!" Granted I use the word we loosly, since I didn't know any of the songs, but some I pretended, some I picked up relatively quickly, some I sang without words. It was nice just to be in the middle, even if I really had no idea what was going on for most of the day. What a cool tradition though, every year on the first Sunday in October they meet in the same place of the same park. SO all the former or inactive members of the choir know about it, and alot of them came. It was so friendly...just plain...merriment.

The weirdest thing was the trip there and back though, so much deja vus. The train was exactly like the trains out to bumfuck, exactly my trains from Kostelec, and the landscape, all the nature and the villages, everything might as well have been exactly the same. Even the people in the train, just so very familiar. I think this trip back to Czech Republic in November is going to be more difficult than I'm expecting, and I think I'm only just realizing in which dimensions. Particularly if Bruno does actually end up coming with me, it'll just all the more expose everything that I've lost. I sat with my russian-czech dictionary the other night, just reading words, looking up things I'd like to be able to say, but just keep coming out in Russian instead of czech. Sometimes I feel like going back there speaking Russian is an even greater insult than just plain forgetting all my Czech...So much right now I'm praying is purely and simply the influence of here and now...so much.

I want to Break Free

I think I had the first break through day today, the first one where I found myself walking down the street and could actually look around me and completely without novelty or irony appreciate where I am and what I'm doing. I was walking down Nevsky this afternoon after wandering around town on like take 189373 of the great shoe quest, headed towards the metro and home. I crossed the bridge over the Fontanka with the four horsemen, passed the sushi bar on the corner, an italian restaurant, a book store, a church, and within the six or seven blocks to the metro heard almost eight foreign languages I couldn't make even begin to make out, and it made me so happy, just that moment. For the first time since I've been here, things lined up right, and I understood, even just for a moment. A taste of...regularity, even perhaps...contentment maybe. Fleeting, but in that moment all I could think of was now, right now. No distractions, no regrets, no nostalgia, just presence purely, missing nothing and no one. The feeling passed, of course, unfortunately, but the taste of it was enough to keep me going.

Why I'm sitting up past midnight watching "Rosemarie's Baby" I do not know. We're going early tommorow to Pavlovsk with the choir, though I'm not exactly sure why. Some tradition that got lost in the translation. But I'm pysched regardless, all I heard was train, soccer, and campfire, and that was more than enough convincing. I'm just trying to convince myself that fighting for the conversation is worth the effort, though I'm more than sure that it is. Theres just always a small part of me that refuses to live in the world, that wishes hiding locked in my room was all that was asked of me. But its not, it can't be, I wouldn't want that. So once more I rattle on...