Living in Russia is exhausting. Russians seem to be convinced that the more you eat, the warmer you will be. However, I find this to be completely untrue. When I am forced to eat pounds and pounds of food several times a day, my body is constantly busy digesting food and becomes completely inept at heating itself. Moreover, food makes me tired. When I eat a lot, I want to sleep a lot. Unfortunately, that isn’t possible. I’m too busy eating to sleep.
I was on the bus the other night, on my way home from dance class, with Alec, a fellow American student. We were speaking English, which isn’t generally wise after dark, but for some reason he doesn’t like to speak Russian (help me figure out why he is in Russia since this is the case?). Anyway, an incredibly intoxicated (ah the stench of the alcohol was so strong) Russian man sitting behind us smacked Alec on the shoulder and started reprimanding us for speaking English. He said, “this is Russia, you should speak Russian,” and then proceeded to go off on a tirade about how he hates it when people don’t speak Russian in Russia. I understand his irritation, trust me, I live in Vegas where everyone is foreign, but we were only talking amongst ourselves, not trying to purchase an item or get a library card. Eventually, he even stood up and moved next to Alec (I’m not quite sure how he managed this in his inebriated state) and continued to try and get us to speak Russian as we were clearly ignoring him. He didn’t leave us alone until he got off the bus. It was rather entertaining, but reminded me why I try not to speak English on buses.
It seems to me that all Russians do is kill things. The host mother of one of the girls in my class has drowned to death ten newborn kittens since we’ve been here. When she killed the first six, the mother cat spent the entire night crying and searching for her kittens so that Sarah wasn’t even able to sleep. How horrifying. Then a few weeks later, one of the other cats had four kittens and she drowned them as well. Supposedly, it is cruel to spay and neuter your pets. However, I just don’t get how the alternative (murdering babies) is less cruel. As a matter of fact, it is absolutely 500% worse, and I don’t even like cats. It isn’t only the animals that take a hit here. Seven out of ten pregnancies end in abortion, and the men drink, smoke, and eat themselves to death by the time they’re 56 (on average). What a lovely place to live, when the odds are so against survival.
Apparently, there isn’t much value for faithfulness here. First, a Russian boy professed his love for me, knowing full well that I am married, even having seen pictures of my husband. Then, my friend Laurie’s host mother told me that if I go back to America my husband is going to have a new woman. I know he won’t, but she just couldn’t comprehend such loyalty. In Russia, it is just expected that men are going to misbehave. The women here continue to treat them like little boys their entire lives, because they know they are going to screw up. We watched a movie in class today, «Анкор еще анкор,» for those of you who may have seen it, which only perpetuated my belief that people in Russia completely disregard fidelity. It isn’t something they expect, and that doesn’t even appear to bother them much. In this film, the main character, who has a fiancé/girlfriend, falls in love with a girl who is the second wife of an older man. This mans “real wife” lives elsewhere with his children, but he lives with the younger, second wife on the army base. The two wives know about each other. Another female character is constantly caught sleeping with men other than her husband supposedly to help him advance is his career. It’s all utter nonsense, but somehow you can’t help but want to two characters (who are both technically being unfaithful) to genuinely get together. At least I couldn’t.
I went to Moscow to find America. I ate buffalo wings at TGI Friday’s. They were de-lish! American cuisine has never tasted so good, and I have never loved Moscow so much. Then I got a happy meal with a super-fab toy “for girls,” and it made my world a better place. The Макдоналдс workers found the act of me purchasing a happy meal very humorous, apparently, it isn’t something that adult, childless women frequently do. I was just overjoyed to see that they have the same wonderful slogan here, вот что я люблю! Then I got on a train back to my beautiful provinicial city of Vladimir, sat down in the kitchen and ate a giant bowl of borsch. Yumm...
Riding the bus in Vlad is a lot like being a sardine. Or so I would imagine. I haven’t actually asked any sardines about it. Getting off the bus in Vlad at the right stop is like a game. You can’t see out the windows for one of three reasons: 1. There is ice covering all the windows, 2. There is condensation covering all the windows because everyone is sweating to death because there are so many people, 3. The windows are mysteriously covered in mud. Therefore, you have to “sense” when it is time to get off the bus and begin to shift your way through the mass of people and out the door as if you are a piece of some sort of jigsaw puzzle or some such.
I have officially seen the sun on four different days now. It is a miracle. I forgot that the sun existed. I walked outside one day, squinted my eyes, looked up and thought, what is that bright light in the sky? I’m surprised it didn’t entirely render me blind.
26. Feb In America, I don’t like pickles. In Russia, I love pickles. Perhaps its because they are cold, and juicy and posses a familiar flavor. It’s always nice to bite into something and have it taste the way you expect it to. Also, the lack of cold beverages has strongly increased the cold, juicy benefits of the pickle. Mmm. Pickles. I wonder if I will eat them in America now?
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