Hello all,
Once again its been too long, once again maybe its been too long, and once again I'll try to make up for it by giving you three or four minutes of hilarity connected with Old Mother Russia. My roommates are gone for a week and my new landlord just called me to ask for the rent. I live in a new flat if I haven't already told you, not the one with the collapsing ceiling, this place is actually pretty nice. It has a playground in the courtyard with an extremely obese man who wears suspenders and drinks milk a gallon at a time on watch at all hours. So, a hilarious broken conversation ensued between said landlord and me. God knows what I said to her, or what she said to me. But the conversation ended with this old lady saying "Super" about 8 times, seriously after everything I said to her she just said "Super". I was waiting for her to go a bit farther and gimme a "Super-Duper" which I would've then followed up by going right into the Mary Poppins song "superkalifredgalisticexpialidoshish", and then a whole musical would've enfolded, complete with penguin walks and top hat tricks. By the way everybody in Russia knows Mary Poppins. Don't ask me how or why but Mary Poppins is big here. Almost as big is Mickey Rourke, or the song "Runaway" by Del Shannon. You know the one that goes, "And I wonder, I wo-wo-wo-wo-wonder..." That song might have 65% market share on Russian cell phone ringtones. Speaking of Mickey Rourke, Ozzy Ozzbourne will be here next month, Sept. 11 to be exact. Coincidence?
For the life of me I can't remember where I left off from our last email. So, summer came and went. Remember in the winter I told you how it was the worst winter in a century? With record levels of snowfall and whatnot? Well this summer was the worst summer in recent history, with record high temperatures here in St. Pete. Upper 90's throughout July. It was brutal. I've just been lucky (I guess) to experience the worst that Russians have seen on opposite ends of the weather spectrum. Leave it to Russia to get through 8 months of unbearable winter only to be greeted by unbearable heat throughout summer. There's just no winning here. And remember in winter there was a shovel shortage and people were fighting in the stores for the last shovel so that they could walk from their door to the street? Well, same situation in summer except with portable fans. Because there certainly aren't any air conditioning units in most residences and businesses. People were just pouring water over themselves all throughout the city. In one corporate office somebody told me their boss would go into the bathroom every hour, take off his dress shirt, run it in the sink til it was soaked, then put it back on and go about his day. At its peak I was seriously taken about a dozen cold showers a day. And then the MOSQUITOES!! My God. St. Pete was built on a swamp (thanks Peter the Great) so in the summer the mosquitoes are out and they're looking for blood. It's not too bad in the center but go to the outskirts or the woods and its hunting season. Every man for himself, in 3D. I've seen some people come back from the Dacha and their legs look dry Italian Salami aged 10 years. But its all worth it because they come back with buckets full of freshly picked mushrooms. Mushroom picking is the national pastime here. It's almost like a religion. Maybe when the communists did away with Orthodoxy they replaced it with mushroom picking. Whenever you mention mushroom picking to an old babushka their face suddenly lights up with a youthful joy and vigor. I went on one mushroom picking expedition this summer and shit it was boring. We went into the woods with our buckets and just walked around picking mushrooms. After about 20 minutes I'd had enough, but these babushkas can pick mushrooms all day without losing a beat. It's a pleasure watching them work. Just stone-face, gritty, no-nonsense mushroom pickers. Go babushka go! Some people have told me that the mushroom picking craze goes back to the Stalinist times when picking mushrooms was necessary for SURVIVAL. You wanna eat? Then get your ass out there and pick mushrooms. Berries too. In most houses in the summer every meal will have some sort of freshly picked mushroom or berry dish. But I have to admit the mushrooms they pick are damn tasty. My roommates found that out firsthand when they made this delicious mushroom and potato concoction and woke up in the morning to find it all gone with a trail of mushrooms leading back to my room.
Yeah, so summer is dwindling away and Autumn can be felt approaching. Overcast skies and rain are becoming more frequent and the women are already starting to bug their men about a new fall wardrobe (this I also know about firsthand) because its just impossible for women here to wear the same shoes or have the same handbag for summer AND fall. Are you crazy? So what else. I was in America for the month of June, experienced some good old American pride at 4th of July, came back here, went to Rome with the girlfriend, listened to her complain about how St. Peters is too opulent, then came back to Russia and in late July I was greeted by the oncoming of.....kidney stones. Yes that's right I got kidney stones in Russia. It was unbeleivable and unbearable pain. I went to the American clinic here and they fixed me right up. My doctors name was Egor, which was terrifying in and of itself. In my mind anybody named Egor should have a giant hump on his back, have one eye be noticeably larger than the other, not so much speak but drool out his words, and constantly be sweeping something or stirring something in a giant cauldron. But now I can look at Egor's in a whole new way. Did an operation and everything in a day. I now have a self-dissolving tube inside of me. Dont ask where they had to insert it through. Egor now knows me very intimiately. I'm fine now but for a couple of weeks I was out of commission and dreading each time I felt the urge to pee. Too much information? Dehydration was the probable cause of my stones. Due to the horrendous heat, my affinity for walking at least 4 hours a day, and not drinking enough water. Live and learn. Russia makes a tough son-of-gun out of you.
We had Navy Day here where all the men dress up in ridiculous navy outfits (kinda like what Donald Duck and/or Popeye wears), drink all day, and watch 50-yr old warships and submarines parade down the river. I was hunting for the Red October in my backyard. I don't know if there's anything cooler than an old giant submarine with USSR (CCCP) insignias on it. Also there was something called Paratrooper Day, which is the day to celebrate....paratroopers. Those guys who jump out of planes into warzones. Yes, there is a day to celebrate them here, and its one of the most hardcore days of the year. This is the real man's man day. Where everybody acts tough and shows their military pride (drunk of course). Numerous fights and acts of vandalism happen. People have actually told me to try not to speak English near big groups of these belligerents. Most people prefer to just stay home on this day. And its a funny story, the mayor of Moscow, who's name is Yuri, is a well-known homophobic who had banned gay pride parades in Moscow. After numerous demonstrations against this policy Yuri finally relented and said there could be gay pride parades but on one condition. They could only be held on one day of the year....PARATROOPER DAY. hahahhahahahha. Sorry I can't help it but that's just funny. Needless to say there are still no gay pride parades in the city of Moscow.
Well getting up to date here I was just at my girlfriends sister's 25th birthday. In Russia all birthdays ending in a 5 or 0 are very important. And at this birthday, one of the many toasts, was by her boyfriend, so I was listening, not understanding a word of what he said, when all of a sudden every woman in the room simultaneously burst into tears, and I had just witnessed a marriage proposal and acceptance. Everybody was jumping around, hugging, congratulating, making impromptu toasts, and I was just sitting there having absolutely no idea what I should do. The word for congratulations in Russian might be the hardest word ever to pronounce - Pozdravlyayu - and I didn't even want to attempt it. And of course in a drunken moment of inspiration I invited everyone at the table to California. I hope they just forget about that. And in another drunken moment of inspiration Olga's (my girlfriend) father invited me to come to his dacha (country house) the next morning to help him fix the roof. Apparently most of the roof had just blown off from some heavy wind. This isn't the Hollywood Hills here. Roofs blow off in wind. Of course I said yes with enthusiasm, thinking it would be forgotten like most things during this drunken evening. But I'll be damned if I didn't get a call the next morning from Olgas sisters (Inna) new fiance telling me its time to go work on the dacha. So we left for the dacha in a big van full of family members (not Olga though, I was alone on this journey) and headed out into the country. Everybody was hungover and I was at first unpleasantly but then pleasantly surprised when the first thing all the passengers did when we were in the van was break out a beer and chug it. That set the tone for the rest of the day. When we arrived at the dacha we unloaded the van then everybody....took a shot of vodka (this is around 11am). So we started working, prying off metal sheets from the roof of a nearby shed, to be later put on the roof of the house. After about 20 minutes everybody stopped and....took another shot of vodka. Back to work prying off metal sheets and getting them ready to be shackled up on the roof. 20 minutes later when all the sheets were off the shed we....took another shot of vodka. By this time lunch was ready and you know what that means....more vodka. There weren't enough chairs for us all so we put a long wooden plank across a few tree stumps. A homemade bench! To make a long story short (if its still possible) lunch never really stopped. Lunch turned into dinner and lasted the rest of the day and on into the night, with vodka shot after vodka shot being soaked up by smoked fish (skin and head still intact), pickles, mushrooms, and borsch. The roof became a distant memory as the table became merrier and merrier. This is how Russians do yardwork and I can get used to it. One of the guys even told me that working without drinking is for women. hahahahahha. Again sorry but I can't help it. Now I understand why Russians don't always make the highest quality products and how such a big and resource rich country can be so inneficient and materialistically poor (relatively speaking). I also understand how the Chernobyl accident probably happened. Well, when you live in a country with weather like this, with government like this, with institutions like this, with infrastructure like this, merry-making becomes more important than doing a good job or even getting the job done. Unpleasant surprises are around every corner in Russia. Eat, drink, and be merry while you can. So that's what we did. As an aside one of my students gave me a description of the Russian soul which I think sums it all up: the Russian is a cross between a poor, drunk writer and a bear who's just been awakened from a deep slumber. Have a good day everyone.
Until next time.
Once again its been too long, once again maybe its been too long, and once again I'll try to make up for it by giving you three or four minutes of hilarity connected with Old Mother Russia. My roommates are gone for a week and my new landlord just called me to ask for the rent. I live in a new flat if I haven't already told you, not the one with the collapsing ceiling, this place is actually pretty nice. It has a playground in the courtyard with an extremely obese man who wears suspenders and drinks milk a gallon at a time on watch at all hours. So, a hilarious broken conversation ensued between said landlord and me. God knows what I said to her, or what she said to me. But the conversation ended with this old lady saying "Super" about 8 times, seriously after everything I said to her she just said "Super". I was waiting for her to go a bit farther and gimme a "Super-Duper" which I would've then followed up by going right into the Mary Poppins song "superkalifredgalisticexpialidoshish", and then a whole musical would've enfolded, complete with penguin walks and top hat tricks. By the way everybody in Russia knows Mary Poppins. Don't ask me how or why but Mary Poppins is big here. Almost as big is Mickey Rourke, or the song "Runaway" by Del Shannon. You know the one that goes, "And I wonder, I wo-wo-wo-wo-wonder..." That song might have 65% market share on Russian cell phone ringtones. Speaking of Mickey Rourke, Ozzy Ozzbourne will be here next month, Sept. 11 to be exact. Coincidence?
For the life of me I can't remember where I left off from our last email. So, summer came and went. Remember in the winter I told you how it was the worst winter in a century? With record levels of snowfall and whatnot? Well this summer was the worst summer in recent history, with record high temperatures here in St. Pete. Upper 90's throughout July. It was brutal. I've just been lucky (I guess) to experience the worst that Russians have seen on opposite ends of the weather spectrum. Leave it to Russia to get through 8 months of unbearable winter only to be greeted by unbearable heat throughout summer. There's just no winning here. And remember in winter there was a shovel shortage and people were fighting in the stores for the last shovel so that they could walk from their door to the street? Well, same situation in summer except with portable fans. Because there certainly aren't any air conditioning units in most residences and businesses. People were just pouring water over themselves all throughout the city. In one corporate office somebody told me their boss would go into the bathroom every hour, take off his dress shirt, run it in the sink til it was soaked, then put it back on and go about his day. At its peak I was seriously taken about a dozen cold showers a day. And then the MOSQUITOES!! My God. St. Pete was built on a swamp (thanks Peter the Great) so in the summer the mosquitoes are out and they're looking for blood. It's not too bad in the center but go to the outskirts or the woods and its hunting season. Every man for himself, in 3D. I've seen some people come back from the Dacha and their legs look dry Italian Salami aged 10 years. But its all worth it because they come back with buckets full of freshly picked mushrooms. Mushroom picking is the national pastime here. It's almost like a religion. Maybe when the communists did away with Orthodoxy they replaced it with mushroom picking. Whenever you mention mushroom picking to an old babushka their face suddenly lights up with a youthful joy and vigor. I went on one mushroom picking expedition this summer and shit it was boring. We went into the woods with our buckets and just walked around picking mushrooms. After about 20 minutes I'd had enough, but these babushkas can pick mushrooms all day without losing a beat. It's a pleasure watching them work. Just stone-face, gritty, no-nonsense mushroom pickers. Go babushka go! Some people have told me that the mushroom picking craze goes back to the Stalinist times when picking mushrooms was necessary for SURVIVAL. You wanna eat? Then get your ass out there and pick mushrooms. Berries too. In most houses in the summer every meal will have some sort of freshly picked mushroom or berry dish. But I have to admit the mushrooms they pick are damn tasty. My roommates found that out firsthand when they made this delicious mushroom and potato concoction and woke up in the morning to find it all gone with a trail of mushrooms leading back to my room.
Yeah, so summer is dwindling away and Autumn can be felt approaching. Overcast skies and rain are becoming more frequent and the women are already starting to bug their men about a new fall wardrobe (this I also know about firsthand) because its just impossible for women here to wear the same shoes or have the same handbag for summer AND fall. Are you crazy? So what else. I was in America for the month of June, experienced some good old American pride at 4th of July, came back here, went to Rome with the girlfriend, listened to her complain about how St. Peters is too opulent, then came back to Russia and in late July I was greeted by the oncoming of.....kidney stones. Yes that's right I got kidney stones in Russia. It was unbeleivable and unbearable pain. I went to the American clinic here and they fixed me right up. My doctors name was Egor, which was terrifying in and of itself. In my mind anybody named Egor should have a giant hump on his back, have one eye be noticeably larger than the other, not so much speak but drool out his words, and constantly be sweeping something or stirring something in a giant cauldron. But now I can look at Egor's in a whole new way. Did an operation and everything in a day. I now have a self-dissolving tube inside of me. Dont ask where they had to insert it through. Egor now knows me very intimiately. I'm fine now but for a couple of weeks I was out of commission and dreading each time I felt the urge to pee. Too much information? Dehydration was the probable cause of my stones. Due to the horrendous heat, my affinity for walking at least 4 hours a day, and not drinking enough water. Live and learn. Russia makes a tough son-of-gun out of you.
We had Navy Day here where all the men dress up in ridiculous navy outfits (kinda like what Donald Duck and/or Popeye wears), drink all day, and watch 50-yr old warships and submarines parade down the river. I was hunting for the Red October in my backyard. I don't know if there's anything cooler than an old giant submarine with USSR (CCCP) insignias on it. Also there was something called Paratrooper Day, which is the day to celebrate....paratroopers. Those guys who jump out of planes into warzones. Yes, there is a day to celebrate them here, and its one of the most hardcore days of the year. This is the real man's man day. Where everybody acts tough and shows their military pride (drunk of course). Numerous fights and acts of vandalism happen. People have actually told me to try not to speak English near big groups of these belligerents. Most people prefer to just stay home on this day. And its a funny story, the mayor of Moscow, who's name is Yuri, is a well-known homophobic who had banned gay pride parades in Moscow. After numerous demonstrations against this policy Yuri finally relented and said there could be gay pride parades but on one condition. They could only be held on one day of the year....PARATROOPER DAY. hahahhahahahha. Sorry I can't help it but that's just funny. Needless to say there are still no gay pride parades in the city of Moscow.
Well getting up to date here I was just at my girlfriends sister's 25th birthday. In Russia all birthdays ending in a 5 or 0 are very important. And at this birthday, one of the many toasts, was by her boyfriend, so I was listening, not understanding a word of what he said, when all of a sudden every woman in the room simultaneously burst into tears, and I had just witnessed a marriage proposal and acceptance. Everybody was jumping around, hugging, congratulating, making impromptu toasts, and I was just sitting there having absolutely no idea what I should do. The word for congratulations in Russian might be the hardest word ever to pronounce - Pozdravlyayu - and I didn't even want to attempt it. And of course in a drunken moment of inspiration I invited everyone at the table to California. I hope they just forget about that. And in another drunken moment of inspiration Olga's (my girlfriend) father invited me to come to his dacha (country house) the next morning to help him fix the roof. Apparently most of the roof had just blown off from some heavy wind. This isn't the Hollywood Hills here. Roofs blow off in wind. Of course I said yes with enthusiasm, thinking it would be forgotten like most things during this drunken evening. But I'll be damned if I didn't get a call the next morning from Olgas sisters (Inna) new fiance telling me its time to go work on the dacha. So we left for the dacha in a big van full of family members (not Olga though, I was alone on this journey) and headed out into the country. Everybody was hungover and I was at first unpleasantly but then pleasantly surprised when the first thing all the passengers did when we were in the van was break out a beer and chug it. That set the tone for the rest of the day. When we arrived at the dacha we unloaded the van then everybody....took a shot of vodka (this is around 11am). So we started working, prying off metal sheets from the roof of a nearby shed, to be later put on the roof of the house. After about 20 minutes everybody stopped and....took another shot of vodka. Back to work prying off metal sheets and getting them ready to be shackled up on the roof. 20 minutes later when all the sheets were off the shed we....took another shot of vodka. By this time lunch was ready and you know what that means....more vodka. There weren't enough chairs for us all so we put a long wooden plank across a few tree stumps. A homemade bench! To make a long story short (if its still possible) lunch never really stopped. Lunch turned into dinner and lasted the rest of the day and on into the night, with vodka shot after vodka shot being soaked up by smoked fish (skin and head still intact), pickles, mushrooms, and borsch. The roof became a distant memory as the table became merrier and merrier. This is how Russians do yardwork and I can get used to it. One of the guys even told me that working without drinking is for women. hahahahahha. Again sorry but I can't help it. Now I understand why Russians don't always make the highest quality products and how such a big and resource rich country can be so inneficient and materialistically poor (relatively speaking). I also understand how the Chernobyl accident probably happened. Well, when you live in a country with weather like this, with government like this, with institutions like this, with infrastructure like this, merry-making becomes more important than doing a good job or even getting the job done. Unpleasant surprises are around every corner in Russia. Eat, drink, and be merry while you can. So that's what we did. As an aside one of my students gave me a description of the Russian soul which I think sums it all up: the Russian is a cross between a poor, drunk writer and a bear who's just been awakened from a deep slumber. Have a good day everyone.
Until next time.
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