Trying to learn the ropes

Greetings all. I'm still alive! And still in Russia. And still all the more confused and bemused and surprised by this crazy crazy country by the second.

Lessons-wise I'm experiencing infrequent peaks and persistent troughs, as ever. But I can now recite Goldilocks and the Three Bears in Russian so if you're ever in a jam and a Russian Mafia boss is demanding you recite a traditional fairytale, you know who to call. Tatiana is continuing to show herself to be a pretty great teacher. She told me I need to try to read a book in Russian to expand my vocabulary base, so on Friday I impulse bought a copy of The Hobbit (or Хоббит in Russian). Does anyone fancy bribing the lecturers at Durham so that 'porridge', 'Orcs' and 'misty mountains' magically come up on an exam next year? I'd be much obliged.

On Friday evening Andrew, Richard, Dasha and I had a little party in Andrew's flat. I might have already mentioned this, but the uni dorms have an 11pm curfew (just take a minute to imagine the eruption of laughter that would occur if it were to be suggested that British university students should adhere to an 11pm curfew... pahahahaha). Last weekend we arrived back at 11:10pm after a few drinks at bar (and a quick pit-stop to play on some monkey bars) thinking that an extra 10 minutes surely couldn't do any harm. We had to ring a bell and a very large and very menacing lady opened the door to let us in with a steely glare. She was not happy. So we've since decided it's best to play by the rules and thought if we can't go to the party we'll have to bring the party to us. We bought had some beverages and put on some tunes and put the world to rights. We even spoke a bit of Russian. Just a bit though.

And yesterday the lovely Tina, who's in my class in Durham and who also goes to Emmanuel, arrived in Ulyanovsk. Sadly, Andrew and I were not on best form to welcome her with energy and enthusiasm having consumed a little bit too much wine the night before but we managed to pull ourselves together in time to go and meet Ivan, Dasha and another pilot called Aleksei in the centre of town. We assembled by the Lenin Memorial and went in search of somewhere to get some food. Once seated I noticed an old lady wearing a shawl walking around trying to sell roses. Suddenly she tapped me on the shoulder, thrusted a red rose in my face and gestured towards a man sitting behind me who'd sent it over. And the next thing I know she has forcibly pulled me up out of chair (for a seemingly frail little thing she had some scary strength) and is pushing me towards him, telling me that I should repay the favour by kissing him on the cheek. I was torn between terror, mortification and hysterical laughter. No one stepped in at this point to rescue so I was left stood in front of him with Russian eyes burning into the back of my head from every angle. I awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and thanked him before returning to my seat to stare at the table until my burning cheeks returned to a normal human colour. Classic Russia.

Afterwards we went for a walk, which seems to be a popular way to pass time for young people in Russia - just wandering about with no particular destination in mind. Unfortunately (and I'm sure they won't mind me saying, for the sake of cultural observation) the conversation between Ivan, Aleksei and I became quite heated as they began to discuss their views first on the roles of women and then on sexual orientation. I'm not naive about how Russia treats these issues and I fully expected that a lot of my opinions and views would be out of place here but I was still absolutely floored by some of the things that were said, especially coming from people of my own age. Perhaps it was disrespectful of me to speak up when I'm not on home soil . And I understand that their opinions are very much a product of the society they've grown up in. But anyone who knows me would know that for me to have bitten my tongue upon hearing what I consider to be a flippant and baseless denouncement of an entire demographic of people... well... it would have been harder than impossible. Anyway, we reached an amicable conclusion, agreeing to disagree. And the moral of the story for me is that there are certain topics of conversation that I will be avoiding at all costs during my time here.

In other news, I've been using my free time to go running like I used to in Spain. Running around the campus is not quite as inspiring as running along the beach in Gijón but fresh air is fresh air. Also in the last fortnight Andrew has introduced me to the world of Game of Thrones. Yes, I am arriving super late to the Game of Thrones party. But I gotta say it - it kicks butt. So compelling and so relentless and holy moly Sean Bean. Obviously this contributes in no way shape or form to our Russian learning experience but for Sean Bean I would sacrifice anything. And on that note I'll be off.

BYE!

X

English blondey lady

Week two in Ulyanovsk. I'm no longer quite so much of a loner thanks to the arrival of two other Durham students, Richard and Andrew. We'd never met before because they're in the year below and are just setting off on their year abroad adventure so naturally, as a veteran, I will prove invaluable in my ability to bestow upon them all of the wisdom and knowledge I have gained from my year so far. Please, try to suppress your laughter.

Lessons have begun and so far it's off a rocky start. We have two teachers - Tatiana and Ulsa - and my first impression is that they are both pretty darned fantastic. The first lesson was on Monday and it was actually... dare I say it... enjoyable. Tatiana complimented me a whole lot on my accent, saying that the English twang is practically undetectable. The years of imitating bond villains have clearly paid off. And there wasn't an awful lot that flew over my head, which is almost unprecedented in my Russian learning experience. The second and third lessons were somewhat trickier. In Durham, our lessons often consisted of a group of about 12 of us sitting in sort of semi-circle and we'd be asked questions from a worksheet or grammar book one by one. I developed a tactic to always sit in the middle so that I'd never be asked first. I'd count down the line to see which number I was, then count down to the corresponding question and frantically (but subtly) whip through my dictionary and my verb tables so that, by the time it was my turn, I could produce a seemingly spontaneously correct answer to my question. This is one of the reasons why the teachers at Durham didn't cotton on to the true extent of my ineptitude until it was probably too late. Unfortunately, this tactic doesn't fly when applied to a class of three students. There's no time to look anything up. There's nowhere to hide.

On Thursday the ladies in the university office organised a trip to a plane museum so we jumped in a mini bus together with the students from Belarus. We arrived at the museum which looked more like the sprawling back yard of an expert plane thief. I didn't understand a word the guide was saying (partly because I was so distracted by the massive hammer and sickle on his belt buckle) so I made do by making interested 'mmmhmmm' sounds at regular intervals. But the sun was shining and we were surrounded by freakin' massive planes and helicopters so it was still a very enjoyable afternoon. Due to a terrifying lack of health and safety regulations we were more than welcome to climb up onto the wing of a Concorde-esque jet and run around like small children with our arms out like wings. Naturally, we obliged.

Upon leaving we were stopped by the owner who was very keen to know what we thought of the museum and to test out his English on us. He told me that he was very pleased to meet a 'real English blondey lady' and that he saw his dreams reflection in my eyes. So that's nice. He then gave me his email address and told me I should email him when it's raining and I'm bored because he has an extensive LP collection which he'd like to show me. Who says the Russians aren't friendly?!

On Friday Andrew and I ventured to the beach, which I'd been reluctant to do on my own because it involves catching a Marshrutka. They're basically like a massive white van that's been gutted and then had some chairs bolted to the floor. You jump on and find a space to lodge yourself into (seats are not always for available) and then hand your fare to a complete stranger so it can get passed down to the driver who takes it and counts out your change as he drives. They drive at break-neck speed and you have to shout at the driver to get them to stop when you want to get off. Sounds safe, doesn't it? But we braved it and we made it there and back almost totally unscathed. Score 1 to us. And yesterday we did another brave thing - we went to the cinema. I had all my fingers and toes crossed that it would be subtitled but because it was an animation (Monsters University no less) it was dubbed. My heart sank and I donned my 3D glasses, expecting a boring and confusing couple of hours but I was pleasantly surprised by how much I understood (this can probably be put down to the fact that the film is partly aimed at little children, whose native language ability has only developed about as far as my Russia. But I'm still counting it as a victory). 

It's been a far more active, far less lonely week. I met a couple more very friendly pilots who took me to try some traditional Russian borcsh (beetroot soup) and kvass (a drink made from fermented bread) both of which were (surprisingly) ridiculously tasty. And Richard introduced Andrew and I to his very lovely Russian friend who he knows having already spent time in Ulyanovsk in the spring. Yay, friends!

I'm still very unsure about how this Russian malarkey fits in to the bigger picture and what I should do in the long run but the plan is to take every day as it comes and hopefully an answer will present itself naturally in due course. 

До встречи!

X

And so it begins...

I'm in Russia. I've pinched myself a few times but this would appear to be real life. Oh my.

Mum, Dave and I set off at 4am on Saturday morning. At this point I was still so firmly rooted in denial that I just kept thinking to myself "we really are going to a lot of effort to make this ‘Russia’ plot seem convincing" This thought prevailed right up until the moment when I had to say goodbye and make my way through to security, when it was all too real to deny any longer. And my reaction was to burst into tears. Unfortunately, the tears were as persistent as my denial had been, which was more than a little awkward for the lady who checked my passport, the woman who had to pat me down after I set off the buzzer, the young man who sold me my bottle of water in WHSmith and the couple who I sat next to on the plane. Thankfully once we took off I managed to regain control.

We landed in Moscow at 2pm local time only two spend 2 horrendous hours stuck in a mob of people trying to fight their way through passport control. The only time I can recall being stuck in such a sweaty, crowded and rowdy group of people is at Glastonbury except this time there was no Beyonce to make it all worthwhile. I made friends with a chatty Australian fella in the midst of the chaos which numbed the pain a little. Finally, we were through and I went to collect my suitcase and head for the express train. Coming above ground really surprised me - from the train window everything looked so... normal. Lots of normal green trees and a normal-looking motorway and normal buildings and things. I suppose I was expecting absolutely everything to be unfamiliar and strange. Russia-ified somehow.

Then it was on to the metro. Let me tell you... Navigating an extremely busy and dauntingly unfamiliar metro system in 30 degree heat dragging 35kg of luggage behind you is an unpleasant task to say the least. I ended up basically throwing my suitcase down a few flights of stairs to avoid having to lift it. The Russians weren't that quick to help a damsel in distress either. I had the route planned out but it turned out to be slightly more complicated than I expected - more stairs and much more walking. Plus all of the signs were in Russian. Bloody Russian. At one point I squeezed onto a crowded train and practically collapsed against the door absolutely drenched in sweat and a nice lady took pity on me and helped me to prop my cases up against the wall. When we got off the train she leaned in to ask where I was headed next. Unfortunately I slightly misread the situation and thought she was just saying a friendly goodbye so I kissed her on the cheek. Needless to say, that was awkward.

Eventually I made it to the main station where I was to get the train to Ulyanovsk. I've been told that Russians love ice cream but it was still a strange sight to see nearly all of the commuters and businessmen and travellers stood around the grey, muggy station eating ice-cream cones as if they were on holiday in Blackpool. The train was a very novel experience. I found my bunk (yep, bunk. That’s how we roll in Russia) pretty easily and managed to jam my cases into a corner with the help of two very nice ladies who had the bunks under mine. The stewardess clocked me immediately and came over to help me make the bed - my look of helplessness probably said it all. I was so knackered from the journey so far that I climbed up onto my bunk and spent the next 15 hours in various states of sleep.

The train arrived in Ulyanovsk at 9am and I was met at the station by a lady from the university called Inna. We got in a taxi and came straight to the campus, which is a little way out of town. My dorm is... interesting. Ulyanovsk ain’t got nothing on Collingwood that’s for damn sure. Three girls live here during term time but you wouldn't know they'd gone home for the summer judging by the fact that all of their stuff is still here. Food, clothes, toiletries, pictures and decorations and even rubbish. It made me feel like a squatter at first... Like I'd just snuck into someone else's flat and made myself at home. And then on Monday one of the girls came back unexpectedly for a few days and walked in to find me sitting in her bedroom listening to the Les Mis soundtrack in my PJs. Awkward is not the word. I was like a rabbit in headlights and mumbled something along the lines of "Hello, I'm English, I live here" and then ran to the uni to get help. There's no washing machine and apparently I have to ring a lady to come collect my laundry when it needs doing but I don’t like making phonecalls at the best of times so I'll be washing my clothes in the bath tub I reckon. And the toilet is like some kind of torture chamber. The view ain't bad though...

Ulyanovsk as a place has definitely surpassed my expectations. For one thing the Volga River is pretty spectacular. It's freaking massive! So big that they've made an actual sandy beach which is just as big as any beach I've ever been to. You wouldn't know you weren't on the coast. Until you go for a dip and you emerge with a slightly green sheen from the ever-so-slightly slimy water. But beggars certainly can't be choosers - a beach is a beach and I spent a lovely afternoon there on Sunday with some boys from Belarus. I even had a cold beer in the sun. The boys didn't speak a lot of English and I don't need to tell you how my Russian skills are, so we heavily relied on gesture and facial expression. It's amazing how much of a rapport you can strike up via a game of charades. In the evening we went to a bar at the top of a 28 storey building with a dazzling view out over the city. Strangely, a lot about Ulyanovsk is reminding me of my time in Costa Rica - the same climate (sweltering heat to thunder and lightning in 0.01 seconds), the same little wooden shacks oddly sandwiched between big concrete towers and the same the lack of brand names and franchises. The public transport is similar too - trams that look like they should have been taken out of service decades ago (and which cost 24p per trip) and taxi drivers with a terrifying disregard for safety.

On Tuesday a lovely Russian boy named Mark came with me to help me get a Russian SIM card and ended up showing me round a bit. My hopes were high that I'd made my first Official Friend. But unfortunately he left Ulyanovsk yesterday and won't be back until after I'm gone again. Mark told me that Russians can be like closed boxes - if you walk past someone in the street you'll be lucky to get a smile and there's something of a hostile vibe but if you have the chance to engage properly they can't do enough for you. From what I've experienced so far and the people I have had a chance to engage with - the few ladies who helped me along my journey, the friendly cleaner who came to my dorm this morning and certainly from Mark himself, that seems to be a pretty accurate appraisal.

Overall it's been a quiet week. My classes don't start until Monday so I've had to occupy myself, which is harder than it sounds given that there aren't many students around and there isn't an awful lot to do. But I've been getting my bearings and exploring and preparing for the learning to commence next week. It's been lonely but not dreadful. The next few months are pretty uncertain. I'm hoping for a language epiphany but if it doesn't come who knows what will happen. For the meantime I'm trying to keep an positive mindset. Verdict so far: Russia is interesting and strange and scary and kind of cool.

X