Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Universal body language?


Making out, snogging, pashing...tonsil hockey, frenching, smooching... Many different terms to describe an easily identifiable pastime that takes place in almost every society in one form or another.  The Russian verb is "целовать", but somehow I don't think that the proper verb "to kiss" is appropriate for (i.e. it doesn't even begin to describe) what Russian youth love to do in public areas.

I find it very bizarre to be in a country where it is considered strange to smile at someone in the street, and yet publicly sucking face is so acceptable.

Seriously. Everywhere you go in St Petersburg there are hormonal Russian youth in heat, jaws locked so tight it's as though they're auditioning for the role of a Death Eater in the next Harry Potter film. Normally public displays of affection don't get to me -I think PDA is cute to see in another young couple, and I know I'm guilty of the crime myself.  I've had friends tell me that my beau and I can be sickening when we're together-but I think (or I hope) that it's usually in a "sickenly sweet" sort of way. When we're in public, we generally try to keep the PDA to a somewhat  dignified level at least.
But in Russia some of the public make out sesh's have really...to be honest...grossed me out.   I dunno, maybe I'm aging early, and I'm turning into a disapproving old babushka already, but the way some of the youth here carry on ("rutting" is the term that most quickly comes to mind) is confusing and bizarre, and at serious odds with the slightly less passionate surroundings.  Metro, sidewalk, escalator, elevator -all are potential makeout spots in America as well as in Russia...but not usually when you're ass-to elbow with a crowd of people so tight you can't move.  Believe me, elevators in Russia (at least all the one's I've encountered) are small - but an elevator built for 4 that has 7 people in it already is no deterrent for the youth of Russia when they want to get their game on.

I was sitting on the metro today, and one such young couple was standing right in front of me.  It was like watching a car wreck -awful, violent, and incredibly disturbing, but at the same time impossible to look away from.  Usually I can ignore people kissing in public -I avert my eyes for the sake of their privacy (although I don't know why I bother -they're in public after all and can't be too concerned), but this was impossible.  I think that at one point my mouth may have actually been open in a little "o" of disbelief.  Believe me, Adam Sandler and Judd Apatow could not possibly choreograph a kissing scene like this in their wildest dreams for their most base summer comedy.  I would expect this kind of thing on a Saturday Night Live sketch, I never expected to see such a thing in public.   The Jim and Stifler kiss from American Pie doesn't even hit a bump on the richter scale by comparison (NB: for those adults who read this blog and don't know what that means, I'm sure you could youtube it...but if you're not into what my father would consider "really dumb" humour, I don't recommend you look it up).

The phrase that really jumped to mind was one that is a favourite of my current roommate Heather -"maccing out".  The reason, I think, that this particular phrase stood out to me is because it was like they each had macaroni and cheese smeared all over their faces and crammed into every crevice (and I mean EVERY crevice), and were trying to clean it off each other with their tongues and gums.  I just re-read that description, and it doesn't begin to do it justice.  I won't even TRY to describe the noises that went with it.

What amazed me most was my reaction to it.  Looking back on it now the whole scene was quite hilarious, and hopefully I'll be able to use the experience later in a story or film or something.  But at the time I could practically feel myself pulling my scarf up over my head Nonna style, and my lips and shoulders tightening up in disapproval.  But I got a grip on myself, reminding myself that I'm only 20 and shouldn't be tutting at teenagers just yet, it struck me that noone else had so much as blinked.  Even the real old ladies on the train weren't paying any attention, and strange little old ladies in Russia will yell at you on the street for something as simple as not wearing a warm hat in the winter.

In my musings, as I got off at my station and made my way onto the escalator, I found that despite the crushing crowd of people I had somehow wound up right next to the young lovebirds yet again.  Horror of horrors -now they had elbow room, and were more free to explore.  Maybe they each had hidden candy in their pockets, and were competing to see who could find it all first, I don't know.   I managed to distract myself by keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the picture of the budgerigar that is at the top of the escalator. (NO idea why there's a picture of a budgerigar by the way- a poster of a native Australian parrot in Russia, with no slogan or advertisement on it?  What the?)

Anyway, as I reflected on the strangeness of it all (the public cavity searches, not the parrots)  it occurred to me that there was probably a good chance that these kids (oh god, I'm only 20 and already I'm calling them "kids") both live in a pretty small apartment, and share a very thin wall with a grandmother or some other member of the family (perhaps that's a sweeping stereotype, but stereotypes exist for a reason).

In such a seemingly passion-less society (and again, that's a sweeping overstatement, not to be taken too seriously...I'm not saying Russians are passion-less, or soulless or anything horrible like that...But they're not going to win any awards for being the most cheerful/colourful population in the world -and they aren't exactly renowned for their raw passion and sexuality)...In a society like this it's seems out of place to see these hormonally vibrant displays on the street.  But keeping in mind that in many living situations in Russia privacy doesn't really exist,  it kind of makes sense.  On the street, where people avoid eye contact (dare I say that they avoid human contact altogether?), is almost as private as you can get.  It makes sense that all the available passion is channelled to these areas, where people are busy with their own agenda's and don't care.  It's almost like hiding in plain sight.


















Or maybe it's just cos they can't dance -there's no other way for them to express themselves sexually.  I've only been out once, and it wasn't for very long, but I tell you what -I have never felt so coordinated and athletic on the dance floor compared to the people around me, in my life.

Still, it may take me awhile to get used to this particular cultural anomaly.  What is the russian equivalent for "get a room"?



PS:  For anyone who doesn't know what a budgie/budgerigar is, it's a parakeet...

Friday, February 20, 2009

Can't get this song out of my head

From a fun film called "Stilyagi", about rebellious anti-Soviet teens, rebelling with their own version of rock and roll. Bright, colourful, fun...and the ending isn't so depressing you want to kill yourself! (Don't get me wrong, it's still not the HAPPIEST ending in the world -it is a Russian film after all -but it's not too bad).




I had no idea where to get the music, but luckily a girl in my class has the soundtrack, so she gave it to me. Probably counts as illegal music sharing, but I prefer to think of it as culturally enriching.

Links to Photos


Just to make things a little easier...for those of you who don't have facebook....

Here are some links to my photos on facebook, so you can see them without getting an account:



And... Link 3 

If you click on the album, and then click on the first photo in the album, you can see the photo as a decent size.  Then simply click on each photo to see the next one.

Loves!
Bimini

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Hoar Frost





















Some photos, and a video, of the fog that came through...and the frost it brought with it.  The photos were taken at about 4pm one afternoon...

PS:  If you click on the photos you can see them in a larger size


Nevsky Prospect For Real


NB:  It has not been that sunny since.  I can count the number of decently sunny days we've had on one hand...and then maybe 3 or four more where the weather has pretended it will be sunny, and then has failed me.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Over a month!


Oh my gosh, it's been over a month.  I can't believe it.  Well, it's like they say... Time flies when you're confused and bewildered, in a strange country...

Or do I not have that right?  Damn.

But seriously, I cannot believe I've been here for so long -almost 5 weeks actually.  Seriously crazy stuff.  According to the manual that Stetson sent with me, now is about the time that serious homesickness is supposed to set in.

And I'm not going to lie, the last week has been kind of difficult.  I've been up and down moodwise, all over the place....  But I've had to remind myself that I've been seriously sick for the past several days now, and being seriously sick can certainly affect your humour.  I shouldn't worry too much about the underlying cause of the momentary bouts of depression, like think that I made a bad decision, or that I'm doing something stupid.  Giving myself mini peptalks has helped... I mean after all, I have been confined to a tiny room, and the weather hasn't been too cheerful.  It's easy to start thinking "I'm so hopeless! I've been in Russia for 5 weeks and haven't done anything exciting!".  Helllloooooo?  You're in Russia!  That IS exciting!  And you've been going to classes every day, and working almost every afternoon, which in itself is exhausting, and on the weekends you've been catching up on sleep and doing more work.  Now for the last week you've been sick, and lying low is smart -you're not letting anyone down. Getting pneumonia won't help anybody.  Besides, the museums will all still be there in the next month, and I can't really venture off to Moscow until I have my new visa anyhow.

On Sunday I was invited to the home of a Mexican girl in my class for breakfast.  I felt lousy for pulling out at the last minute, but I had a sudden attack of really bad coughing, so I figured that sloughing through the snow to visit her wouldn't be a great idea.  Thankfully she of course forgave me (funny how sickness+slight depression can = serious paranoia that Laura would disown me as a friend), and tomorrow afternoon I may go cook blini with her.

So although I feel that I've been off to a sluggish start, I'm doing well in my classes.  Every now and then I freak out that I don't have any spare time with my internship, but that's only guaranteed until the middle of March, so if I can hang in until then I should be ok.  I haven't gotten a huge amount of translations done over the past few days, but hopefully I can knuckle down and do that tomorrow.

For now I'm going to go to bed and get some more sleep.  I'm almost completely recovered, but there's still a little bit of a lurgie hanging in there trying to get me, and as my teacher told me today -"It's winter! Winter is for sleeping!"  (She also said the sun wouldn't come out again until at least April, but I'm going to ignore that and hope she's wrong)


Sunday, February 15, 2009

Cold update!


Feeling a little better!  HUZZAH!  Can't tell if it's my body actually healing, or if it's because I went to the Lenta yesterday and bought a new comforter and pillow. Both were a little pricey, but they have made my happiness level triple.  My bed now feels like a bed, more like a happy place, and less like a lumpy, just-adequate-enough-to-not-really-complain-about-but-not-exactly-wonderful place to lie down upon.  Usually I refrain from even calling a comforter a comforter, preferring instead the Australian word "Doona".  But this comforter is indeed so very comforting, that I will have to refer to it as such.

I could probably sing it's praises for a several more paragraphs worth, but in the interests of not sounding a little delusional, I will refrain from writing a mucinex-induced ode to my bedding.  

Hopefully the good feelings continue... *fingers crossed*!

Oh, by the way, my friend Amanda is a finalist for the Truman scholarship.  GO AMANDA!!!!!!!

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Болезнь


I have a cold, and it sucks.  :(  Having an awful cough and constant headaches in sub-zero temperatures is no fun.  I'm not very tough when it comes to this sort of thing, I'm a real sook.

(sook is an aussie word for wuss/someone who's a bit of a crybaby/whinges and complains)

I knew it would happen eventually, Heather my roommate has been sick for awhile.  But I'd been taking vitamins and eating veggies, hoping and denying that I would succumb as well.  But the room is so tiny it was really bound to happen.

Anyway, I've been dragging myself to class in the mornings because supposedly if I miss more than 10% of my classes, my student visa can be revoked (although I don't think our teachers take attendance, so if I haven't improved by next week I might have to wag)...

(wag is an aussie word for playing hookey)

....but I feel really guilty for missing work at my internship.  I've been trying to do work on my computer in the dormitory for them, but god it is so hard to do translations when you have a pounding headache and keep bending forward to hack your lungs out.  

I have some azithromycin I could take, but my roommate is sick too, and has been for about two weeks now.  She says she'll probably be sick for at least another 2 weeks (she has tonsil issues), so I don't want to take the azithromycin and waste it because I just get reinfected immediately.  However, I also don't want it to turn into something ghastly like pneumonia. Le sigh.

I have more to update y'all on, (like the creepy Russian guy yesterday who was trying to get me to go to a cafe with him, and not leaving me alone until I ducked into a shop to throw him off), but my head is pounding and I used up all my energy tonight making chicken soup.  Who woulda thought cutting up garlic and onion, and ransacking a chicken carcass would be so exhausting?  Today my teacher told me to fill a sock with salt and put it on my face, but I looked it up online and can only find that it's good for earaches.  Maybe she recognises the symptoms, and I have contracted a deadly Russian flu that starts out with a cough but eventually progresses to the ears...? I don't know.

A guy in my class who's from SanDiego just switched up to a more difficult level.  I was considering joining him, but I don't want to risk that until I'm better.  I elicited laughs today when I stated "I don't have a hat" when I was supposed to be asking a fellow classmate what time she wakes up.  We're just doing really basic grammatical stuff that I'm fairly sure would make Dr Denner and Olga cry in shame if they saw what a rudimentary class I'm in, but until I can follow what's going on again, I shall remain there.  I like my teacher, she's one of the few Russians that smiles.  Besides, it is good for me, because I'm going over a lot of vocab, and really cementing the basics down.  I used to always screw up my adj.endings for all the cases, and screw up the genitive all the time (which is a very important case) but I don't any more.  At least, I didn't until I got sick.

So send me good vibes and positive thoughts, pray that I recover. I wanted to go to the Zoological Museum this weekend, now I'm not going anywhere.

If anyone wants to chance the Russian postal system (it's not recommended that you try to send anything too valuable -Heather hasn't recieved any of the packages her family has sent her while she's been here), send me some nyquil and other american drugs like that.  I thought I had an entire pantry full, but it looks pretty meagre from this side of a cold.

LOVES,
Bimini

Monday, February 9, 2009

Just to clarify...


I am having a wonderful time in Russia.  I do like the country, and the food, and life so far is good.  I realised today that all my posts have been about fairly negative occurrences, and I don't want anyone to think that I'm hating it, or that studying abroad in Russia is a mistake.  It's just that all the interesting stories involve something going wrong/a cultural faux pas.

It's like the news -they never start the evening news with "Today was another wonderful day in America.  Everything went perfectly and according to plan, and world peace was established.."  No, that would be boring.  So although most of my posts may seem a little scary or as though I'm overwhelmed, never fear. I'm having a great time, and I don't mean to complain.  There are some kids in my class who complain everyday about the people, the culture, and it really gets on my nerves.  They just keep bitching about how horrible everyone is, and it makes me want to strangle them and somehow get them kicked out of the country.  I may have a few grievances against the way things are run (or the fact that people don't smile much), but I understand and appreciate the culture and nature of it all.  I'm just venting if I've had a bad day, not because I truly hate my circumstances.  Russia is a wild, crazy, beautiful and cold, ancient and cultured country.  I'll try to post happier stories in the future. :)

Sunday, February 8, 2009

An Important Difference


An angry woman threw me off a bus a week ago. She was just trying to be helpful, but still it was very violent and there was a lot of yelling.

Moral of the story: Learn the difference between a trolley bus and a normal bus. And then make sure you always check exactly what type of transportation you are stepping onto.

I thought I knew the difference between the two. A normal bus is...well, a normal bus. It has wheels, seats, those funny little straps that dangle down for you to hold onto when all the seats are taken, a driver, etc. You know –a bus.
A trolleybus on the other hand, while looking very much like the aforementioned normal bus, has a key difference; two big pole/wire thingies that stick out of the top of it, and are connected to wires (not unlike telephone lines, or power lines) which run along the street. Sometimes these wire-poles come off or fall down, causing the trolleybus to stop, and so the driver has to climb up on top of the roof and reconnect them.

I knew the difference between these two modes of transportation before I even came to Russia, as we went over them in class with Dr Denner. But one night when I was finished at the museum the metro station was closed for cleaning (WHY they choose to do this at 6 at night is beyond me), so I thought I would instead catch the bus back.

Now, it took me a little while to figure out the bus system here in St Petersburg. Every time I think I've got it down pat or get cocky, Mother Russia throws me a curveball. For example, although I thought I knew what I was doing after a weekend of exploring the city, I missed my first day of classes because I got off at the wrong stop. Being a girl, I use landmarks to gauge my location (it's been proven that we tend to do this) instead of distances and mathematics like boys do. I had been counting on passing the pretty pink church (shown below in my photos) in order to know when to get off the bus. But on that particular Monday morning, the street right in front of the pink church had been shut down for maintenance (adding tar/gravel, etc), and so the bus took a small detour. Nothing major, just went around the block, but it was enough to get me completely lost. Maybe I would have fared better if it wasn’t still extremely dark outside, and the windows weren’t completely frosted over. By the time I figured out where I was, (i.e. at the end of the line, very close to where I had started) I was 40minutes late for class. Heather had told me that some professors get really pissy if you show up late, so rather than stumble through a terrible and stupid explanation, I just skipped class altogether. I was a little ashamed, but this misfortune was probably meant to be, as it resulted in me meeting Alex, the only other Australian in St Petersburg.
Later that same week, I took my morning bus 5 minutes later than I usually do, and encountered morning rush-hour. (It's very important to time things just right -if I leave just a few minutes too late, the morning bus will be FULL) The bus was literally so packed with people that I could not see out the windows or move, and so I wound up having to walk 20minutes to get to class.

**Sidenote: Being on a bus or on the metro at rush-hour is very much like being squashed in the front of a very angry mosh-pit at a death metal concert, where you're pushed up against the railing so hard you think your ribs will break and you'll be cut in half by the crowd behind you. Only instead of being surrounded by huge hairy guys with tattoos and spikes and piercings and BO, you're surrounded by bad-tempered little old ladies. And trust me, the little old ladies are WORSE.

Anyway, I digress. On the ill-fated night the metro was closed, I knew that I needed bus no.7 to get back to the dormitory. It was freezing cold, and I dunno, maybe the poster for a new Russian film coming out distracted me, but I stepped onto the first number 7 bus that came by.
It took me about 15minutes to realize that the bus I was on seemed to have less seats than usual, and was moving quite slow. Also, we passed over a bridge I didn’t recognize, and the PA chimed an almost happy little tune everytime the doors opened. Soon, I was the only person left on the damn bus, when I finally decided I should ask the ticket-lady. I began by explaining that I didn’t speak much Russian, and that I was from Australia (sorry to say it, but saying I’m a foreigner from Australia has worked out far better than admitting connection with the US) and was this a trolleybus or an avtobus? She told me it was a trolleybus, to which I pantomimed despair, but in a good-humoured “oh isn’t this funny, how silly of me!” laughing-at-my-own-misfortune kind of way (Russians don’t seem to mind if you laugh at YOURSELF, just as long as you in no way appear to be laughing at THEM). I smiled in a “well I’m a fool” manner, and asked her what I should do now. She was very friendly, and explained that I could wait until we got to a station on Vasilievsky Island, and then gave me directions that I couldn’t quite understand. I asked if it was ok if I waited on the trolleybus until we did a full circuit, and then I would just get off on Nevsky Prospekt and start over again. She was ok with it, and so I sat down to wait, and wound up taking the metro home.

Now, this story should end there. I should have chalked this up as a somewhat comical anecdote, and important learning experience. But of course, being the stupid DURAK (fool) that I am, two nights later I did it again. Somehow I failed to notice the two giant wires sticking up out of the bus, and once again I found myself on trolleybus no.7, instead of avtobus no.7.
This time, instead of realizing my mistake and shutting up until we did our circuit, I thought it would be polite to tell the conductor why I wasn’t getting off at any stations. She proceeded to tell me in a really fast stream of jabbered Russian a whole set of instructions that involved getting off the bus right now, walking several blocks, getting on the other side of the street and taking another number of trolleybus back across the bridge and more, NONE of which I could follow. I was trying to tell her that I didn’t understand any of it, and if it was ok could I please just stay on until we got back to Nevsky Prospekt? She wouldn’t have any of it, and started yelling at me when I didn’t immediately get off at the next stop. I told her “excuse me, I want to wait” but she had marched up to the front of the bus and was hammering on the driver’s window, yelling at him to stop so the stupid foreigner could get off. I was yelling “EXCUSE ME” at her, (not to be rude, but because there was no way she could hear me over her own screeching) and thumbing through my dictionary to see if I’d screwed up the verb “to wait” (like if it could only be used for “to wait for someone”, not “to wait for something” or some stupid rule like that), and tried laughing self-depreciatively to indicate that I realized I was a fool, and maybe lighten the mood. Apparently she thought I was smiling at her (unforgivable!), which led to more screaming at me, especially the word “DEVYSHKA!” (“girl!”). Her face was very red, and I realized that I had probably just insulted her when all she was trying to do was help me. What a rude and insolent foreigner I was being! The bus was now stopped awkwardly on the side of the road where it wasn’t meant to be, and the conductor was pointing wildly out the doors, still yelling and now advancing on me. Rather than continue the drama or be manhandled, I jumped through the door offering a weak “cpacibo!” and found myself on a dark street I’d never seen before.

Charley picked that moment to call me, and –poor thing –got a freaked out and blubbering girlfriend on the other end, talking about being in a dark part of town and horrible women yelling. I felt reeeeally stupid for crying and letting it get to me, because in the grand scheme of 'scary things that can happen in a foreign country', being told a better route home hardly even ranks a 2, no matter how much yelling may have been involved. But I really hate causing that kind of fuss, and had probably somehow insulted the woman, and it had been a really long day.

After walking around a little bit, collecting myself and reminding myself that I had more than 5 hours to find my way home so I didn’t have to worry about the bridges going up for awhile, and that it wasn’t as though I had been mugged or caught in terrorist fire, I found a metro station (metro is easier than bus –if all else fails there are pictures and maps!, Plus I hadn’t wanted to risk the bus system incase I found myself in Peterhof) and eventually wound up back at the dormitory. I nursed a little bitterness against Russia for about half an hour; “Why would they have buses and trolleybuses with the same numbers come to the same bus-stop?!”, and “Stupid women don’t need to YELL! Who does that help?!” but soon let it all go, because I am enjoying myself here after all, and it was my own stupid fault.

Now, finally, I think I have a better grasp of the public transportation system. And I’ve certainly learned to check the roof of any bus I step onto. But I know that I’ll be yelled at plenty more times before I leave.