The Director's House

I just sent the girls off shopping without me and I'm home alone in the peace and quiet. They call me mom, just as kind of a joke, but I have to laugh at how mom-like I feel at times. I gave them the money with instructions on what to buy, and as they were walking away they kept asking questions about what ingredients we had left in our cupboards. I didn't feel very good yesterday and today, so I decided to skip out on the grocery shopping to conserve my energy for yet another weekend of touring. And I must say, I'm thoroughly enjoying the alone time. I'm really a very social person, and I missed the girls already when I told them goodbye, but as I walked up our steps and unlocked the front door, I found myself grinning with excitement and the prospects of having the whole apartment to myself. Then I realized I'd left my boots at the school, so I just had to turn around and go right back. But I was glad I did. The director of the school and his family were all there picking up their youngest son. They were teaching him to ride a bike out in front of the school, so I stopped and talked to them and a couple of the teachers for a minute. Only a minute because that's all my vast Russian vocabulary allows. And while I was there I decided it's very important to learn people's names. We can barely communicate to each other, but it feels so good to have people greet me by name as I walk by. Maybe it feels extra good because I can't understand much more than that! Anyway, back to the director and his family. We actually live in a guest house over the garage of his house. They have a guardhouse in the front where the guard lives along with some of the other help. Then in the middle of their grounds is their house, and our apartment (along with two other rooms for the housekeeper and groundskeeper) is in the back over their three garages. They have two houses in Spain, and Oksana, the wife, is trying to learn Spanish. Since I got here she has been wanting to trade me Spanish for Russian lessons, and we actually were finally able to start last week. It is quite an experience.

First, just being inside their house is an experience in itself. I'm at a loss of words to describe it. It is quite large, but it's not the size that gives it its grandeur, but how every room is so tastefully decorated that it just emanates wealth. From chandeliers in every room (even the children's bedrooms) to the china cabinets with treasures they have purchased all over Europe to the handpainted portraits of family members, including one of the husband, Andrey, in his military uniform and Oksana posed over his shoulder in an elegant evening gown. Then there is the theater downstairs lined with velvet walls and two rows of leather recliners for the parents, and a mini version of the same theater across the hall for the two boys. Oh, and we musn't forget the indoor swimming pool and, my personal favorite, the table in one of the front dining rooms where the center of it can be raised to revel the bottles of alcohol underneath.

As far as the lessons go, I'm sure it would be very entertaining to watch one from the outside. We agreed that Oksana should speak Spanish and I should speak Russian, which works pretty well well most of the time. She speaks hardly any English, and my Russian is minimal, to say the least. Thankfully her Spanish is descent—she can't think of how to say a lot of things, but she's very good at understanding. So if I have no idea how to say something in Russian, I revert to Spanish and she can usually understand me. And if she can't manage to get something out it Spanish, she says it in Russian. But if I don't understand the Russian then she says it in French. It's quite interesting to try to “converse” with someone when our common language is not the native language of either one of us. It is surprisingly quite functional, however; I always come away with a page of notes of new Russian words and their Spanish translations and she has her new Spanish words with Russian translations. Basically, it reminds me of this episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy is almost arrested by a Frenchman who can't understand her. But, a French and German speaker, and German and Spanish speaker, and Ricky all show up just in time to bail her out. You can watch it here.

Conference and Red Square

Sunday a great day. We got to go to the central church building in Moscow to watch General Conference. For any non-lds readers, General Conference is held twice a year in Salt Lake, and is broadcast around the world. There are four main sessions, two on Saturday and two on Sunday. It’s a very big deal to us because that’s when the world has the chance to listen to the prophet and his 12 apostles speak to us. You can check it out here (http://www.lds.org/conference/sessions/display/0,5239,23-1-947,00.html). At home it’s no problem to get because it’s available on cable, the radio and the internet. Well, here in Russia it’s also readily available, but the frustrating part is that because we’re about 11 hours ahead, we can’t get it the weekend it’s actually being broadcast (obviously, because it hasn’t taken place yet). So, we had to wait until the following week to go watch it in the church building with everyone else. It was great though. It was fun to meet at the same time as the Russian members. They watched it in the chapel and we had a smaller room in the back with the broadcast in English. I’ll admit I snuck out during a hymn so I could hear them sing in Russian—I just couldn’t resist. I really enjoyed President Monson’s (our prophet) talk about enjoying the journey of life. He said “This is our one and only chance at mortal life—here and now. The longer we live, the greater is our realization that it is brief. Opportunities come, and then they are gone. I believe that among the greatest lessons we are to learn in this short sojourn upon the earth are lessons that help us distinguish between what is important and what is not. I plead with you not to let those most important things pass you by as you plan for that illusive and non-existent future when you will have time to do all that you want to do. Instead, find joy in the journey—now.” I just enjoyed hearing such positive messages from all the speakers. That’s not what you normally get from the radio or TV these days…

After conference we took a Sunday stroll through Red Square. It’s just so majestic and beautiful. At one point we were standing outside of one of the smaller cathedrals listening to Gregorian chant while taking in the scene of the square around us. And I couldn’t help but think about how my time in Russia is so short. Of course I miss friends and family back home, but I’m just so grateful for every day I get to be here. I think I put too much pressure on myself, but I feel like I just want to take in as much as I can from this experience. Yet, trying to take in this people and culture without speaking the language I feel is like trying to taste cake through a straw. I’m using all the wrong tools. I’m observing the culture from the outside. How do I swim with the fish rather than just squish my nose against the fishbowl while peering in? But alas, I will take Pres. Monson’s wise counsel and just enjoy every moment I can!


This is the church building. Nice, huh?!


And our Sunday stroll through Red Square...

Olga and piroshki

Saturday morning we went to the mall to go coat shopping. It’s already starting to get pretty cold, so my down jacket just isn’t going to cut it much longer. We walked to the bus stop, took the bus to the metro, the blue line to the purple line, then crossed the street to a shuttle that took us to the mall. It was crazy, but worth it because this mall actually had reasonably priced items. It was weird because it felt like we were just back in the US. Until I went to buy something and I remembered I can barely communicate. But I did end up getting a pretty sweet coat. The last foot of it zips off horizontally so it can be a regular hip-length coat that I’ll actually wear again, as well as a Russian winter coat that goes a little past my knees. I was proud of myself for finding it and for being able to talk to the salesclerk well enough that she could help me find the right size!

After the mall we went to Gulya’s apartment. That was especially exciting because she has a really good job working for ILP, her husband has a good job, she’s well educated and has traveled all over the world, and yet she lives in a tiny cement apartment like everyone else. I’ve wanted to see the inside of one since we got here, mostly because I wanted to see what Russia is really like! I’m sure anyone who has spent any amount of time in Europe knows what their tiny apartments are like. When I walked in my first thought was that I was in a motor home! The bathroom only fits a tiny shower barely as big as a person and a sink big enough for one set of hands. Then there’s another tiny closet containing the toilet. The kitchen could fit about 4 people in it, but only one or two comfortably, and it has a fridge, oven, stove and tiny washing machine with a little microwave on top. There are two bedrooms, one doubling as an office, and the other disguised as a living/dining room with a couch that pulls down into a bed. But the best part was that besides inviting us into her apartment, Gulya taught us to make piroshki. They’re best described as a Russian pastry filled with meat, cabbage or potatoes for dinner and then cream cheese, cinnamon and sugar for dessert. They were divine! I can’t wait to go home and make them for my family. And most of all it was just nice to be in a home with a family. I’m not too big on apartment life. Our apartment is beautiful, but it feels like a college dorm with 5 girls living between two bedrooms. Yuck!


Just call me Olga.

No worries, it's convertable so Olga can stay in Russia.

Gulya's front door.

The living/dining/bedroom.

The picture doesn't do it justice. These mashed potatoes are actually dough filled with raisins, cream cheese and sugar, topped with butter and cinnamon.

Three of us squished into the one-man elevator.

one month!

In honor of having spent one month in Russia (as of today), I’m listing some of my observations. These are tallies I have made around town (mostly on buses, in the subways and grocery stores). Only a few are exaggerated.
Pregnant Russian Women: 7
Russians wearing sweats, torn jeans, or yoga pants in public: 0
Russians with tattoos: 2 (and very small)
Russians with multiple piercings: 2
Russians with gold teeth: 800
Russian men with hard liquor in hand: 550
Couples kissing passionately in public: 684
Russians smoking: 100,000,000
Overweight Russians: 20
Russians in wheelchairs: 2
Russians who are mentally/physically handicapped (excluding those in wheelchairs): 0
Children in our school wearing Dolce and Gabbana apparel: 80%
Children wearing Burberry or Dior: 20%
People who consider deodorant optional: 980

Happy Teachers' Day!

Teachers' Day is October 5th in Russia. Our school celebrated it today by letting the parents know they needed to pick their kids up by four and then having a full-blown party during regular school hours. That's my kind of celebration. I think my school should do that...cancel classes so the teachers can party. And it was no small party. As you can tell from the pictures we had tons of food, and yes, the teacher that's unpacking glasses is unpacking shot glasses. When we came down to eat she had them on the table. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. I think this is an evening that needs to be recounted chronologically so I don't miss anything.

First we dismissed our kids an hour early. Then we went down to the cafeteria and found some of the other teachers assembling platters of food. We offered to help, and they actually let us. It was stressful because our Russian teacher was giving us orders right and left, and she'd just taught us food, so we felt like we should understand everything. Somehow we managed to slice the right fruit the right way, and then we were directed upstairs where they had some games for the teachers. It was set up like a game show, and the teachers competed against each other doing things such as eating a small container of yogurt faster than their opponent with a popsicle stick instead of a spoon. They gave out amazing prizes, too, such as a bar of soap, wet wipes, or Q-tips. I’ve never seen those teachers laugh so much.

After the games we went back to the cafeteria to eat. And that’s when we noticed the shot glasses next to the wine glasses. Oh, and I must mention that we set the table, but were immediately corrected. Apparently in Russia they put the fork on the right and the glass on the left. I guess that was so they could put the shot glasses on the right. Interesting. We sat down to eat and everyone filled their glasses first. Luckily they had pineapple juice on the table. Everyone else just used it to mix with alcohol, but we were just glad they had it because I’m sure it would have been very rude to ask for water. Anyway, the principal made a toast, we toasted, and everyone started eating. We felt like pigs, though because we filled our plates and then dug in. Then we noticed the Russians were just taking small portions and eating them slowly. We pretty much cleaned up our platters and they were just still picking at the food. But that wasn’t the most embarrassing moment of the evening.

This was:

After eating they asked us if we’d like to sing a song for everyone. Well, we figured that since they’d been playing silly games all evening, and now they’d all had plenty of alcohol, we could sing a silly song. So we decided to sing “Princes Pat,” the camp song. We had two girls in the middle leading it, and the other three did the echoes. We got all into it and did the dance moves and everything. And the Russians just stared at us. I think one or two may have cracked a smile. It was humiliating in the least. So, I recommend that if you’re ever at a Russian school party, even if they’re serving hard liquor, don’t break out into a chorus of “Princess Pat” no matter how much you hope to win a box of Q-tips.

Trinitiy Monastery of St. Sergius

Yesterday we saw one of the gems of the Golden Ring of Russia. Just northeast of Moscow there are a number of old towns that before the current capital were the heart of Russia. They form a loop of old towns that contain some of the area’s most beautiful art, museums and architecture. We visited the Trinity Monastery of St. Sergius, which was founded by Sergius (surprise, surpise) in 1340. He is buried in the trinity cathedral where they have an ongoing memorial service for him during the 8 hours a day it is open. There’s a constant line going that sprawls into the courtyard of people who come from miles around to light candles there and kiss his grave. We saw a procession of townspeople marching toward the monastery carrying banners, crosses and candles. I asked a Russian lady who they were, so needless to say I’m still not sure because I only understood about two to three words per sentence, but she said something about them walking from afar and stopping in different towns gathering more and more followers. There is more than one cathedral, but only the one where St. Sergius was buried was open when we went. I must say I got a little cathedralled-out while living in Latin America, but this one was so different that I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was very small, but astoundingly beautiful. The inside was covered with murals, mostly individual paintings depicting various scenes of Christ’s life. Of course it was lit only with candles and dim hanging lanterns, but what made it so amazing was that there was a little line of nuns softly singing Gregorian chant. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, so I’m posting pictures of the outside of the cathedral and the grounds of the monastery. Apparently the Bolsheviks closed it during Soviet times, but it was opened by Stalin (who had a higher tolerance of religion) and used as a museum and monastery until 1988, when the patriarchs there moved to Moscow. It still functions as a monastery to this day, but on a smaller scale.

After our tour we spent some time shopping in the town. It was so beautiful. It was really nice to walk up and down the streets and get a feel for what Russia's really like. We live in such a weathy area that I feel like we could be practially anywhere. It was nice to see the tree-lined streets and quaint little houses and talk to some of the townspeople who were there selling their goods. They get a lot of European travellers, so a number of them spoke English. It was funny too, because they kept giving us prices in euros. Isn't it obvious I'm not European? Anyway, among other things, I bought this cute little apron there, which you will have to tilt your head to view because I don't have time to save it to my computer and turn it. I apologize for the neckache.

Swan Lake

Last night we did my favorite activity so far. We went to the ballet. Normally I’m not so much the ballet type. I mean, who wants to look at men leaping around with dead squirrels in their pants? But we saw Swan Lake—you just can’t beat seeing Tchaikovsky performed in his own country at a theater in the middle of Red Square. It was unreal. We had to go up two escalators to get to our seats, but it didn’t even matter. We had a great view of the stage, including the orchestra pit, which was my favorite part. Two of the girls in our group are dancers. They were sitting on either side of me, their mouths gaping open while they were shaking their heads from side to side in disbelief. I’ll admit I even shed a tear our two during some of the violin solos. We have tickets to Snow Maiden in a couple weeks, and we splurged for better seats on that one. I’m counting the days...

Attending the ballet made me think even more than normal about communication. Well, and about human nature in general. I mean, there we all were, Americans, Asians, Western Europeans, but mostly Russian, all enjoying the same production together. Some of us speak languages with umpteen million declensions (can you tell I’m a little frustrated in learning Russian?) where others favor word order variation, but it didn’t matter. We cried together, we cheered together and we shouted bravo (which I particularly enjoyed). It just amazes me that so much can be communicated without speaking. I realized not long ago that in my career I’m basically a professional charades player. I don’t enjoy playing charades when its purpose is for the entertainment of others; I’m horrible at it. But in my career as a Spanish teacher, I spoke the target language as much as possible, and just used gestures to help my students fill in the blanks. In those circumstances it served a very useful purpose. And I never realized how much I would use that talent until I came to Russia and couldn’t speak well enough to communicate everything I needed to. I mean, today alone I had to use those charades skills to ask our groundskeeper for new lightbulbs (that was pretty funny—I pretended I was screwing them into my make-believe ceiling), and I had to ask the lunch lady for more bowls—I could only remember the word for plate. I guess my point is just that no matter what country I’m in it just never ceases to amaze me how similar the people are. And how fun it is to laugh together.