I wish every Thursday was this entertaining… (not for the squeamish)

Yesterday morning, Faye came a knockin’ on my door as she does every morning, so that we could head to school together.  As usual, I wasn’t quite ready so Faye came in.  Then I started regaling her with a tale of urinating blood, in order to inquire if she thought it was a problem, or if I should just ignore it.  The look on her face was enough for me to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, I should tell Tom about my current sitch and allow him to take me to the doctor. 

While we were waiting for the elevator, I, having no filter, continued to tell Faye the details of my possible medical problem.  I explained, that I had suspected there was some blood in my urine (either a day ago or a week ago – of course I couldn’t remember, because I can’t remember anything).  Then I told her that the night before I had come home feeling rather, well, shitty, and decided to take a bath.  As I sat on the edge of the bathtub, running the water, I felt the urge to urinate, but thought that I couldn’t (as I’d peed about 8 times in the prior hour and didn’t believe anything was left).  It was then, that I looked down into the white bathtub and saw that a bright red trail of what seemed to be blood was creeping down the side of the white ceramic.  I thought, “did I just piss that out?”  Sure enough, I did.  I thought, “well that’s new.”  Then I rinsed out the bathtub and took a bath. 

At this point in the story, Faye started to feel a little sick and sat down on the stairs.  When she felt better, she stood up, and we boarded the elevator.  About 30 seconds into our downward travel, Faye fainted.  I tried my best to catch her, which wasn’t very successful.  I did however manage to keep her from hitting her head on anything on her way down.  Once she was on the ground, I realized the elevator had stopped.  I don’t really remember what went through my head at this moment in time, I just remember being incredibly calm.  I pushed the button to call for help on the elevator.  Faye seemingly started to seize.  Didn’t really know what to do, and frankly, reacted in a shockingly cavalier manner.  Then a Russian woman started speaking to me over some speaker system.  When Faye came to, she thought that God was a Russian woman.  Hehe.  Ultimately, I managed to explain our predicament to the Russian woman god, and we called Faye’s host mom who came to find us.  She kept yelling, “Faye, where are you guys?”  Which, when we responded, “here, in the elevator,” didn’t really change much.  After about thirty minutes in the elevator, a woman pried the door open and told us to jump.  We were caught between floors.  Once we’d escaped the elevator, I went to class and Faye went home to sleep. 

When I arrived at KORA, I went to the director’s office to ask if Tom was in yet.  I was sure he wasn’t, but I just wanted to make sure someone told him I was looking for him.  Tom seemed a little shocked when I wanted to talk to him about my bloody urine rather than the elevator event.  Then he asked, “Is this what you were telling Faye when she fainted?” I said yes, and we laughed.  It is pretty amusing.  

My adventure with Tom at the clinic was quite amusing.  The Russian urologist did not like that Tom came into the room with me.  He’s like, “you really want this young man in here with you?”  “What does that mean she’s your student? She’s not a kid, she’s a grown up.  She can speak for herself.”  How awkward.  Then he told me to stop taking all of my medications, that my American doctors had prescribed me, and told me I shouldn’t go to Sochi.  I decided, I will keep taking my medications, AND go to Sochi. 

Last night, Tom called me to tell me that I needed to find a jar, wash all of the jam out of it, and bring in a urine sample to the hospital.  This seemed ridiculous to both of us, as we understand the need for the container to be sterile.  Tom joked that they would be looking at my urine and say, “There is a high sugar content in your urine.  Actually, there are blueberries in your urine.” Hahaha.  It couldn’t be because the urine sample I gave you was in a jar that formerly contained blueberry jam? 

As the American that I am, I decided to come to the internet bar today and research bloody urine on WebMD.  Possible diagnoses:

UTI (probably not, I’ve been tested for UTI’s constantly over that last year or two and have never had one)

Hemophilia (nope, would’ve bled to death by now)

Bladder cancer (don’t have that, I’ve been tested for it in the last year)

Hydronephrosis/Glomerulonephritis /Supraventricular tachycardia ( I don’t know what any of these illnesses are)

Polycystic kidney disease/Kidney infection

Diabetes, type 2/Diabetes, type 1/Diabetes insipidus/Diabetic ketoacidosis

Aspirin use (haven’t taken aspirin in months – cross that off the list)

Medication reaction or side-effect (distinct possibility)

Bladder stones (think I would be in more pain?)

Blood clotting disorder (doubtful)

Gonorrhea (well, that would be a first)

Interstitial cystitis (wait, I already have this!)

Pre-leukemia (certainly hope not)

Living in Russia, and reacting to medical problems by researching them on WebMD could be potentially hazardous.  I could decide I have 18 different diseases, and then go to the pharmacy, where they sell practically everything over the counter, and buy all the medications necessary to treat all 18 conditions.  Sounds dangerous.  I think, I just won’t do anything.  Well, other than continue to take this “paste for the health of the insides” that the doctor told me to take. 

While on WebMD, I found an interesting article and would like to give you all a little piece of it to chew on, “Unlike sex with a partner, masturbation can't give you a sexually transmitted disease. Nor will it subject you to the muscle strains, pokes in the eye, and awkward moments that can come with partner sex.” Also, “You don't need an expert to tell you that solo sex feels good, relieves stress, and is a terrific sleep aid.”

Las Vegas = Russia or Russia = Las Vegas

15.April

Today, I exposed my bare legs to the Russian air for the first time this year.  Of course, first I had to shave the lovely winter coat I had grown on my legs (for protection from the cold winter elements), which proved to be quite the challenge as I hadn’t shaved since before I arrived in Russia (I’m sure you wanted to know all of the details).  The point is, that the spring air felt lovely on my skin as I walked around Доброе in a dress – without tights (or leggings, or long underwear, or under armor or some combination of layers)!  It was +17 C, which is in the low 60s in fahrenheit.  I didn’t think such weather was possible.  However, it’s supposed to get cold again this weekend, perhaps even -2.  Not looking forward to that L

This evening, I made tomato soup, grilled cheese, and chocolate chip cookies for my host mom.  She loved it.  Not a big surprise though, most women enjoy being cooked for.  Plus, she really likes chocolate chip cookies.  The tomato soup wasn’t quite up to par with my standards, but not bad, it was made from fresh tomatoes. 

Yesterday, Faye came over and we laid on the floor together.  We pretended my ceiling was midnight blue and speckled with stars.  For a moment, I could really see them.  It’s been far to long since I’ve laid outside and watched the universe exist around me.  Then we started talking about rock climbing in Siberia, because I asked Faye if the stars were bright in Siberia.  She told me that she was way slow at rock climbing, and she remembers watching all the Russians who climbed twice as fast as her getting to the top and smoking a cigarette, she said, “Maybe I should start smoking.”  Perhaps it would help.

Which reminds me, a few weeks back, I glimpsed a couple walking down the main street in Vladimir, each clutching their young daughter by one hand (she was walking between them), and a cigarette in the other (holding it away from child).  I’m constantly surprised how common it is to smoke around children here.  It was quite the image. 

In other news, I’ve decided that Russia and Las Vegas are the same.  The evidence:

1.     Smoking indoors is almost universally accepted.

2.     Drinking on the street is common, but technically illegal.

3.     The fashion is outrageous.  Everyone thinks he or she is a rock star.

4.     The architecture is strikingly diverse.  You’ll see a beautifully designed cathedral (or casino) with its back to a street speckled with industrial or shack-like buildings.

I’ve made a few other observations that link the two locations, but they haven’t been fully formulated into points of evidence.  Check for updates in the future.

Faye and I just had a private dance party on my balcony.  It was exactly what we needed. Now it’s time to study for that grammar test I have tomorrow. 

Nizhny Novgorod

What happens when you put four American girls and 60 Russian soldiers in one train car? 

Chelsea, Faye, Kimberly and I solved this riddle on our trip to Nizhny this past weekend.

Once settled into our hotel, we caught a bus down town.  It cost 12 rubles.  Random price.  Some buses were only 11, and the trolley was only 9.  I prefer Vladimir, where everything is 10.  It’s a nice even number. 

Chelsea and I walked approximately 384 stairs down to the Volga, and then… back up the hill.  Then we ate at a Czech restaurant, where the  “15 minute” soup took 37 minutes to arrive.  After which we walked the ped walk and decided Vladimir is like living in the clearance rack of Russia.  We missed our inexpensive, provincial город.

Best part of the evening… Phantom of the Opera.  The prose was in Russian and the songs in English.  It was like watching a more sexual version of the show, in which Kristine is really quite whorish, and the Phantom is just a creeper.  I still haven’t figured out if any of the Russian audience understood what was going on, as most of the action of the play exists in the songs, which as I said were performed in English.  Oh and did I forget to mention that the theatre was located in some kind of police station?  Who could forget that? 

Wednesday

8.April

This morning, over breakfast (which had been prepared an hour early so that I could go in early to make up an exam), my host mom told me that I looked pretty and serious.  I thought, good, that’s exactly what I was going for, pretty, but serious….

About an hour later, I was sitting on the bus, listening to some jams, and I looked up and out the window and standing right there was Tatiana Mihkailovna.  She smiled and waved.  It was kind of startling, but nice.  When we got off the bus we walked to the institute together, and had a nice little chat along the way.  Then she gave me a grammar test, which I successfully bombed. 

Random note about Tatiana Mihkalovna, the other day in class, she said, “Ciao, bambino!”  I laughed for a good five minutes.

In other news, WWII history is somehow significantly sadder in Russian. 

I was in Coffee Bean with Lilit this afternoon, when a Russian man approached us, and proceeded to ask me to give him English lessons.  He said he'd paid me.  Lilit gave him my phone number, and then told me not to go over to his apartment (I'm not that stupid, do I look like I'm interested in being human trafficked?).  Then two of his friends came over and wanted me to teach them English too... I think I'm becoming a language whore...

Hey, remember that time, I went to meet with some Russians at the American House, and they asked me why I studied Russian, and I said, "because I love the literature."  Then they asked what time period.  I responded, “Soviet era.”  One of them looked at me quite strangely and said, “There wasn’t any Soviet literature.”  Touché. 

April is not Spring, just a monkey in a zebra outfit!

3.April

I love Friday mornings!  I can wander and dance around the apartment barefoot, and only eat if I want to.  It’s been lovely not having class on Fridays. 

What we do have on Fridays are excursions.  However, congratulations to me, I was the first to finish all eight excursion essays, and now I am free to enjoy the excursions without feeling the impulse to take notes. Ура!

So a little bit about the weather…

This morning the sun was shinning, the weather was warm - it was lovely.  I took my shoe to get repaired, and on the walk back I was actually sweating, and I was only wearing a lightweight coat.  Get this – I even saw a man beating a rug clean outside while wearing – shorts!  Then I noticed a couple preteen boys chasing one another and only wearing t-shirts.  It must be spring!

Several hours later…

I’m shivering uncontrollably outside Успенский Собор while we wait for our tour guide, who is 45 minutes late.  Even inside the cathedral, which is incredibly beautiful by the way (there is a wood carving of God holding the world in his hands, that I thought looked peculiarly like Zeus, at the top level of the cathedral, which I found particularly impressive), I couldn’t get warm. On the walk between Успенский & Дмитриевский собор the wind was vicious.  I thought my fingers might fall off. 

Just a couple hours later…

It began to snow.  Lots of snow.  Very cold, windy, and snowing.  I thought it was spring!

Luckily, Kimberly, Faye, and I were able to seek refuge in a restaurant named after Elvis.  It just opened yesterday (which at the time we didn’t know, because things come and go so quickly and quietly in Russia that we barely even notice).  When we walked in, there was no one there.  We wandered around thinking, “perhaps it isn’t open.”  Ultimately, right before we were about to leave, a girl showed up and took our coats.  We sat in a very comfy booth and had a lovely (and relatively warm) time. 

Somehow funny at the time, but perhaps not now, Faye said, “I like the word кальян better than hookah.  Hookah sounds silly – like foosball!”

Miracle? Or just an unexpected cultural rarity? On the way home to Доброе on the bus, a man stood up and told me to sit down in the seat he had been sitting in.  He proceeded to stand, beer in hand, for several stops (the bus was crowded as usual).  When a woman stood up and exited the bus, he tapped a girl on the shoulder and asked her if she wanted to sit, and didn’t sit down himself until she had said she didn’t want the seat.  Toto, I don’t think we’re in Russia anymore!

04.April

On my way into the center today on the bus, the man sitting next to me said, “Excuse me,” as he stood up to get passed me and exit the bus.  Was that English?  Did that just happen?

On my way home from the center, I noticed that Успенский was looking extra lovely due to the sunset.  I took a detour to take some pictures.  Vladimir can be so beautiful. 

Then I waited thirty plus minutes for a bus to come.  It was cold.

05.April

Sometimes Tatiana serves me a plate of beets.  I think beets taste like dirt, but not in a bad way.  Actually, in the best possible way.  And they do have a lovely color. 

Moscow…

Perhaps my last time there this semester, unless I decide to go for Victory Day, which would be a bit insane, but possibly worth it.

Chelsea, Kyle and I went to the market in order to shower our loved ones back home with gifts upon our arrival.  Having already been to Russia and done the bringing back souvenirs thing, I wasn’t entirely sure what to get (or whether to get anything). However, I do get quite the thrill from haggling.  I’ve gotten quite good at it.  What I’ve learned:

 

1.     Start to wander away to another booth selling the same product.

2.     Act as if you don’t even want what they’re trying to sell you.

3.     Be a pretty girl.

I also really enjoy conversing with the sales people.  They’re a barrel of fun.  Today, one guy wouldn’t stop talking to me.  Kept asking me about where I was from, asking if it was difficult to learn Russian – the usual.  He complimented my Russian, but said it wasn’t as good as his, which I found hilarious and said, “of course it isn’t, I’m not Russian!”  When I started to wander away to look for Chelsea, he asked me where I was going.  He wasn’t even trying to sell me anything at this point, just for some reason, didn’t want me to leave.

My favorite encounter of the day…

I approached a booth where a man said something to me in what must have been really terrible English (because I didn’t understand it, which also may have been because I was in “Russian mode” and I have quite a hard time switching back and forth).  Then he asked if I spoke Russian and I said yes, and he said good and we proceeded to converse in Russian.  However, at one point, he tried to get Chelsea to come over to by calling her “Senorita,” because he knew she was with me, and assumed that because I didn’t understand his English that we must be Spanish.  We laughed and I told him we weren’t from Spain.  He asked where we were from.  I said, “America.”  He said, “You’re Canadian.”  I said, “Yes.”  Then he told me a lot of people in Canada speak Russian.  I said, “not in my part of Canada.”  He asked me what the weather was like in Canada right now, and I said I didn’t know because I’d been living in Vladimir, but that presumably, it was cold.  In response to my comment that I was living in Vladimir, he said, “but you have an accent.”  I said, “of course I do, I’m Canadian!”  Then he asked me why I don’t speak English.  I said, “because I’m in Russia, not Canada.”  In retrospect, I should have said I didn’t speak English because I am a French Canadian.  Perhaps that would also explain why so many people in Vladimir are always insisting that I look French (it could also be the haircut and the beret).  This was an incredibly amusing experience.  Maybe you had to be there.

Thus far, I have been mistaken for French, German and Canadian.  Actually, today, one of the sales women Kyle bought something from said to him, “Oh you’re with a Russian girl (in reference to me).”  She must not have heard me say much.  Do I really look that un-American? Which, frankly, isn’t the right term, because as I realized today, Canadians are also American and so are Mexicans for that matter.  Do I really look that un-United States Citizen?  Better?

In other news…

“You know, Russia is known for its peace loving abilities…” – Chelsea (Context: conversation about the meaning of the word Владимир/Vladimir, which comes from власть (power) and мир (world) – which also means peace)

Ruslan showed us a picture of him in uniform with a gun. 

I asked: What do you shoot with this gun? Pigeons?

He said: Of course not, Japanese people & Chinese.

This is somehow more humurous because he is studying Chinese at the military academy, and because earlier in the day Chelsea, Kyle and I had been talking about how irritating pigeons were, and I had said I was going to go pigeon hunting with my foot (but clearly, Ruslan's gun would be a more effective, but possibly less entertaining weapon than my foot).

 

April is Spring, right?

It seems especially dark in here today.  When I get back to the states, in order to use the internet, I'm going to have to turn off all the lights, and play the soundtrack that is always playing here, or it won't feel right.

Today, we had visitors from Westpoint in our history class.  They're here to do an inspection of some sort because two of the guys on the program are from Westpoint.  They didn't say much, but how much is there to say about Stalin?  He had a very nice mustache?  ;)

30.March

Tatiana pulled out a stone and started cracking nuts open with it.  I suppose the nutcracker is one of the few luxuries yet to be invented in Russia.  Let’s add it to the list with the Ziploc bag, and the street drainage system.  I'm still unsure what kind of nut a фундук is in English.  Thus, we started to discuss them.

M: What kind of tree do фундуки grow on?

Т: A nut tree.

М: HAHAHA.  Of course they do…

Next, Tatiana dragged a bag of stones in from the balcony, that she apparently brought home from the sea.  She proceded to stand on them and look up at the light as if it were the sun.  I joined in by making sea noises.  It was very peaceful.  For just a moment, she was transported back to Sochi. 

We laid on the floor in the main room with all of the stones sprawled out before us for almost an hour.  It’s incredible how much each stone differs.  Some are smooth, or rough, or green, or black.  Some have stripes.  Some are round.  Each is an individual.  A beautiful individual whose appearance makes sense.  I rolled some of the stones around in my palms.  So calming.  So beautiful. 

Tatiana asked me if I’d ever seen a shark.  I told her I grew up in Delaware and that it’s a coastal state, so I went to the beach every summer.  She was jealous.  She told me to tell the next shark I saw that she said hi.  Now I miss the beach L

Saturday was quite the day.  The morning started off with a lovely all girls excursion to the banya.  We rented out our own room, ate food, sweated, beat one another with branches, and relaxed in the little pool.  Yay for naked girl bonding time!  I’m sure we’ll be back soon!  After banya, I went home to Tatiana’s birthday party.  It’s crazy how much they can drink.  After every toast (there were eight, one of which I proposed of course), Tatiana took a shot of vodka. She certainly can hold her liquor, which actually surprised me, because she never drinks when it’s not a holiday.  I’d never been to a Russian birthday before, and I’m glad I can say that I have now.  It was interesting talking to her Dad and her brother-in-law.  I don’t have much exposure to the older generations of Russian men.  Sergei, the brother-in-law, was hilarious.  He sang happy birthday in English, and told me that if I don’t start eating mayonnaise, then I can’t stay in Russia because Russian girls eat mayo.  I insisted I didn’t need to because I’m an American girl, but he refused to conceded, telling me that if I stay here much longer I will be a Russian girl, and Russian girls eat mayo. Below is a pic of (almost) everyone sitting around the table during the party.  There was so much food!