Willful Suspension of Disbelief

Just got home from the Opera and Ballet Theater, where I saw Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet.  As a rule, I find ballet pretty boring, but I took a chance on this Shakespeare adaptation.  I was definitely not disappointed, and blown away by some aspects, especially the Lady Capulet.  I had never heard the ballet before, and found it positively moving.  The production made me feel sympathy towards characters I had previously disdained, like Tybalt (he was a great big strong Bashkoristani).  I did, however, have two serious criticisms.  1) The dancer playing Romeo was rather limp-ankled, especially compared to Tybalt.  Of course, a great many male ballet dancers are, as we say in Russian, light blue, but I had a real hard time accepting him as a heterosexual love interest.  He was, to be scientific, a Faggotus Maximus.  2) The ending was, incredibly, anti-climactic.  Romeo stabbed himself instead of drinking poison, and everything wrapped up quite quickly and dispassionately.  Then of course came the inevitable synchronized applause.  Overall I found it quite moving, but I wasn’t exactly bawling at the end.

What else can I tell you from the last few days.  Today got off to a rocky start.  I’d agreed to help some high school students who are preparing for the YeGE, Russia’s new SAT-type entrance exam.  This promised to be interesting because the test is very controversial.  Unfortunately, I ignored my alarm clock this morning, and woke up only when the teacher called me.  Whoops!  After that, I was expecting some students who I’d invited over for tea as a make-up class.  Only one showed up, and so much the better, since she’s the only one whose name I know.

Friday night I went to our local Scottish bar to hang out with a couple foreigners doing some sort of hearing-impaired education project.  The bar was a riot.  It purported to be Scottish, but one wall was decorated with the Beatles, another with Elvis.  Most important, though, the house beer was great and all the bartenders were in kilts.  A huge tv projected music videos, and just when I had gotten up to go to the bathroom, they showed Queen, followed by John Lennon, followed by none other than Roy Orbison backed by Elvis Costello, Tom Waits and Bruce bloody Springsteen.  It was a war between my brain and my bladder, and I was the battlefield.  Anyway, I’ll definitely go back to that bar, if only to find out what they wear under those kilts...

Thursday night was Thanksgiving and I was so thankful to be invited to the Consulate General’s home.  As I’ve been reading F. Scott Fitzgerald, I was positively enraptured by this ex-pat scene.  Moreover, after seeing how well the American government provides for its diplomats, I’m now considering a career in the foreign service.  The point, though, is that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and, turkey being hard to find here, I was extremely grateful to enjoy a real Thanksgiving dinner with other Americans.  They had everything: turkey, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, mashed potatoes, corn casserole, goyish green beans, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple crumble, I could go on.  Apparently, as we Fulbright ETAs were allowed to send ourselves teaching materials, so diplomats can send themselves foodstuffs.  Hence the StayPuft mini-marshmallows.  To top it all off, the Consulate General is a Buckeye, and his roommate at Miami University was from Beachwood.  How’s that for the irony of fate?

Well friends, I’m exhausted as you only can be when you oversleep at the beginning of a long day.  Much love.

Turkey in the Straw

On this most holiest of Thanksgiving days, I would like to express my gratitude for the following people and things:

My health, sine qua non.

Mom, Dad, and Zak, for their constant support and humor, and for always indulging my whims. 

My extended family, for more love than I know what to do with.

My friends, for liking me even though they aren’t obligated to.

Corollary: Internet at home, so I can talk to the aforementioned every day.

My teachers and professors at Beachwood and Bard, especially Jennifer Day and Jeff Katz, who encouraged and inspired me to follow this most bizarre of paths.

The Jewish community of Ekaterinburg, the most welcoming and accepting people I’ve met.

All my helpful students and colleagues at the Ped. Institute, for reminding me why I’m here.

My fellow Fulbrightniks, for making me feel I’m not alone in this great big country.

The good people at Fulbright, for paying me to goof off in Russia.

Finally, for the first time, I’m thankful for the American people who did the right thing and elected Barack Obama!

Well, I guess that’s about enough cheese for one day.  I feel like Travis Birkenstock in Clueless, making an acceptance speech for having the most tardies in the class.  “I’d like to thank the good people at McDonalds, for making those little Egg McMuffins, without which I might never be tardy.”

Happy Thanksgiving folks.  Be good to each other.

Thank You: Addendum

Remembered a funny incident on my run.  Generally, I avoid eye contact

with other pedestrians, especially when I'm running/rocking out to my

invisible music.  But today I couldn't help noticing a particular

individual crossing my path, because he looked exactly like David

Polster, the best teacher I ever had who wasn't actually my teacher.

He returned my gaze, so for a minute I thought, "Yeah, maybe Mr.

Polster came to Russia, to my city, to my very street, without telling

me."  But then he started motioning like he, too, was about to break

into a run and cracked up.  Anyway, that's one of the nice things

about having mostly Jewish friends: you can come to Russia, and

strangers will look familiar.

Thank You For Lettin Me Be Myself

A beautiful snow has settled on Ekaterinburg.  It isn’t falling anymore, but there’s a peaceful layer of frost blanketing the trees, and Russians even have a word for that.  I’ve started running again, since I realized that soon the weather will permit me from doing so for a long time.  Actually, that day might have been today.  It isn’t the cold, frost, or sexual suggestiveness that makes it dangerous; it’s the puddles.  I kick up slush as I go, and it falls back through my very permeable running shoes.  My feet got soaked, and I kept thinking of the character in Admiral whose legs get amputated because he falls in a puddle and doesn’t take off his socks.  But I kept going, fueled by Springsteen’s Darkness on the Edge of Town, and now my feet feel warm and secure.

Most of my news concerns food.  Last Sunday I went to my friend Veronika’s for dinner, and what a dinner it was.  Her mom prepared a veritable feast, but then declined to eat with us, explaining that she had snacked while cooking.  They taught me the term khlibni-son, which I think means “bread-dreamer,” and anyway describes someone who loves to feed.  Add that to the list of Russian idioms that describe me, right below Traveling Frog and Disorganized Mary.  Veronika’s mom made salads, blini, kotleti, chicken, and my favorite eggplant caviar.  She also insisted on sending me home with a bagful of blini.  I wasn’t opposed...  In other food-related news, I got an invitation to the Consulate General’s apartment for Thanksgiving.  I’m so excited, not just because this is sure to be a swanky event, but also because I love Thanksgiving and didn’t want to miss it, in every sense of the word.  So I’m going to try to bake something for the first time here (not counting chocolate chip cookies with Katherine in Tiumen).  I got everything I need for oatmeal chocolate chip coconut cookies, with a food necessary alterations.  1) The coconut is dyed orange.  I’ll pass this off as an autumn decoration.  2) No chocolate chips.  I will chop up chocolate bars.  3) No vanilla extract, only “vanilla sugar.”  4) No brown sugar.  I bought what I think is just raw sugar.  Today I’ll look in the big fancy grocery store, but I’ve been mostly disappointed by them in the past.  Anyway, I’ll make the effort, and I’m really looking forward to drinking wine and listening to Journey while I bake.  If only Katherine were with me, the wine and Journey wouldn’t seem so pathetic...

Today, no classes except English for Jews.  I’ll go by the university and try to reschedule a couple of sessions I’ve missed, but I don’t really care all that much.  My 4th year students are beginning a unit on Law, and I was really excited for an activity I’d planned: bringing Raskolnikov to trial.  It turns out I was mistaken in assuming these kids would have as thorough a knowledge of Crime and Punishment as I do.  Maybe it’s just been a while since they’ve read it, but they forgot the second victim and chalked up Raskolnikov’s motives to financial.  As if!  But I’ll try the same activity again with another group, if only because I really enjoyed playing the judge, banging scissors on the desk and threatening to fine my students for contempt.

Ok friends, that’s all she wrote.  Happy Thanksgiving, and please have seconds of everything for your favorite ex-pat.

Show 'Em Whatcha Got

What a satisfying day I’ve had in Ekaterinburg.  I’ll work backwards, moving from the freshest memories to those already growing stale.

Just got home from the musical comedy theater where I saw Catherine the Great.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a musical comedy, even a rock opera, about the Romanov’s (arguably) kinkiest tsaritsa.  It was amazing!  Act 1 dealt mostly with Catherine’s personal character and rise to power, while Act 2 had more to do with Russian history of the time.  Two women played Catherine, younger and older, and when the two interacted, I cried like my mom during the overture of Fiddler on the Roof.  The songs were great, the actors and orchestra incredible, and the costumes were absolutely stunning.  Almost every song was a different genre, from jazz to rock to one questionable rap number, and most of them also had classical motifs.  The set blew my mind, and there was even a lot of multi-media effects.  All in all, I think theater is more alive in Russia than in America.  If our jerkwater town can do a production like this, with tickets for 250 rubles (about 10 bucks), imagine what’s going on at the Moscow Art Theater.  Also, the show is only about a year old, so in America it would still be on Broadway.  In fact, I spent half the show fantasizing about translating it into English (there was just barely too much dialogue for it to qualify as an opera), even going so far as dreaming up next year’s Fulbright proposal...

There is one area where American theaters have it over Russians: the curtain call.  At every show I’ve been to here, including in Petersburg, I’ve noticed two bizarre phenomena.  1) The actors stay in character and do a little dance or mini-skit at the curtain call.  This is weird because we’re clapping for the performers, not the characters.  2) The audience claps in unison.  How can you express your pleasure through forceful clapping when everyone’s beating out a rhythm?  It’s bizarre.

This afternoon I began in earnest my applications to graduate programs for Russian studies.  And yet, I’m already having second thoughts.  For all the applications I of course have to write an essay explaining why I want to continue my studies, and frankly, I don’t know.  In the back of my mind, I guess I’ve been thinking I’ll do more Russian now and eventually go to law school, since I’d rather work in the “real” world than in academics.  Well, now I’m starting to think that if it’s what I ultimately want, I ought to just go straight to law school.  I just really don’t want to come home and have nothing to do for a year, which will be the case if I have to wait to take the LSAT, whereas I could take the GRE and enter grad school right away.  But that’s no way to plan your future.  Right?!?

My day began with a conference at school on the methodology of teaching English.  Now I’m not sure what methodology means, but I was asked to speak, so I wrote a lecture on “The Student-Led Classroom.”  I was pretty nervous for a couple reasons.  First of all, to me, that style of teaching is second nature, so I didn’t think it warranted special attention at a conference.  Second, when I practiced, the speech only took at most 20 of my alloted 45 minutes.  But what can I say?  Baby girl knows how to work a crowd.  As it turns out, the educational system that I’m used to (ie, the student’s ideas are more important than the teacher’s) is very different from Russian tradition.  So for most of the attendees, these ideas were rather revolutionary.  Also, I got a lot of great feedback, not just about my speech, but about my public speaking.  Thanks high school speech teacher Sheila Heyman!  I think I won everyone over when I concluded with examples of educational methods in Anna Karenina.  Who’s the stupid American now?

All in all, a great Thursday.

Tha Shiznit

Good stuff all around.  I’m getting more comfortable with teaching, and even beginning to enjoy my work.  That being said, if the PR department keeps jerking me around, I won’t hesitate to quit.  Still, over all, it was a very good week.  I’ve been teaching a lot of successful classes, and use Langston Hughes’ poem “I, Too, Sing America,” to segue into talking about Barack Obama.  It’s worked out every time, and sometimes the kids even pre-empt me.  Radical.

Tonight my landlords came over for the rent.  They are the sweetest couple you’d ever hope to meet.  They call me “Abigail” instead of “Ebi,” which makes me think they might be on to my semitism.  Good stuff.  Tonight, we even joked around.  Every time they come over, I offer them tea, which most Russians accept if not expect.  But they always refuse and say that they just came from the dinner table.  Tonight I said, “What kind of Russians are you?” and they laughed and said “People are all one!”  When they saw my internet wires running through the house, instead of getting angry as many landlords would, they said, “Tell your parents we said hello!”  Then, to top it all off, after we finished our business, my landlady took an ice cream treat out of her purse as a gift for me.  Seriously, I am so lucky to have landed this apartment.  Even if the place were a shit-hole, landlords like them are, well, hard to describe without resorting to cliches.  As I told my mom, good landlords are a rare breed even in America.  In Russia, they’re like mythical beasts.

I went grocery shopping and it was a bit of an adventure, not to say challenge.  They had no olive oil, only brand after brand of sunflower oil.  After frying up a smelly batch of eggplant parmigiana at Katherine’s in Tiumen, I was in no great rush to buy that.  I settled on what I hope is vegetable oil, but may just be sunflower oil that is good for cooking vegetables.  I shopped not without regard to price, but under the assumption that I had enough cash to cover it all.  But then, when I went to pay for my wine (which is like a mini-store within the store), I discovered I had about 200 rubles less than I thought.  So what if I bought two bottles of wine?  One is for my dinner party on Sunday, and one is for myself until then.  As Max Fischer said, “I can write and direct a hit play.  So why can’t I have a little drink to unwind myself?”  A-ny-way, I was really nervous when I went up to pay, because even though the store takes credit card, the machines don’t always work.  The cashier also didn’t believe I could use a MasterCard, even though I swore I’d used it there before.  When the card went through, I said “Thank G-d” in Russian but in a distinctly American south accent.  The important thing is that I made it out with all my purchases, and without anyone asking my nationality.

Plans for this weekend are very low-key.  I had to stay in tonight to meet my landlords, but you’re never alone with the internet!  Tomorrow, temple, then lunch at the rabbi’s.  I have a video-chat date with Jessie at night, so that pretty much takes care of my Saturday.  My student/friend Masha invited me to go to another rock show, but she didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the band.  She explained that my review of the Moy Raketi Verx show was “very sweet,” but she hasn’t been able to put it online.  Also, she added that she saw Moy Raketi Verx again and they told her to tell me hi.  Rock!  Sunday, my friend Veronika invited me over for dinner, but I’d already made plans to have Yulia and Margarita over to my place.  It feels like I have a real social life, even if it rarely forces me out of my apartment.  It’s kind of like living in Tivoli, except without three of my best friends in the adjoining rooms.  Good times.

Reason to Believe

Another Tuesday, another successful session of English for Russian Jews.  The administrative office let me make 40 copies of poems (unheard of at the Ped. Institute) and even gave me a free calendar.  Score!  Besides, I’m growing quite fond of the attendees, especially the three old ladies who have come early for every class.  Even the annoying guy wasn’t too annoying today.  We talked about Barack’s victory, and then read some particularly topical Langston Hughes poems (he, too, sang America, you know).  I was also very happy that the Israeli girls came, purely, I think, as a show of friendship, because they surely haven’t the energy or interest to study American poetry after a long workday.  Incidentally, I invited them to go to the ballet, thinking that since it was non-verbal they would be able to enjoy it.  But they earnestly responded that dance isn’t interesting to them.  Well, it’s not particularly interesting to me either, but in a foreign country I’m down for whatever.  Then again, I’m here by myself, and they have each other, which gives them the luxury of refusing invitations.  Anyway, the nicest part was when I was cleaning up after class.  The woman who runs the library where we meet told me how much she enjoys just listening to our classes.  She said it always sounds very interesting and cheerful.  Thanks lady!

Speaking of which, I’m trying to figure out my winter travel plans.  We have basically the whole month of January free, starting around Christmas and ending a month later at the Fulbright conference in Moscow.  In that time, I want to explore as much of this country, continent, world that I can.  I’ve been talking to two other ETAs about traveling to Turkey with one, to Poland and Prague with the other.  Just to make it harder to decide, my friend Nick will be in Israel until January 20.  I’m tempted to go see him, but Israel is one of the three countries I’ve ever visited, so I think I should branch out.  Also, I really want to get a genuine experience of New Year’s, the biggest holiday in Russia.  The best way to do that seems to go with my friend Yulia to her hometown, Bashkoristan in Ufa.  We’d ride the train, make merry and arrive early next year.  Lauren and Olga, on the other hand, want me to come visit them in Petersburg for the holiday.  But I just don’t know...I’m torn.  To quote Arrested Development, “I feel like the prettiest girl at the dance.”  I promise I’ll post my decisions as I make them.  Meanwhile, if anyone has suggestions or advice for traveling around or from Russia, give ‘em here.

Feelin good, feelin great, how are you?

It’s Saturday night and I’m perfectly happy to be sitting at home in my leggings and Cleveland Browns sweatshirt.  I’ve been having almost too much fun the past few weeks, so I’m thrilled to have a night to myself.  Right now I’m listening to the Boss and doing some prep-cooking for a mini-dinner party tomorrow night.  Nerd?  Maybe.  Content?  Definitely.

Today I had to do something rather difficult: cancel private lessons with a very sweet young woman.  It felt like breaking up with a boyfriend, or so I imagine, having never had a boyfriend.  The problem was that when we first met, we agreed that there needn’t be any money exchanged if we spent half the time talking in English and half in Russian.  But as it turned out, the conversation was always in English, and when I asked her Russian questions, she couldn’t explain.  If nothing else, I learned that being a native speaker doesn’t qualify one to teach the language, so I guess I must’ve brought something else to Fulbright’s prestigious table.  Anyway, I took a passive-aggressive tact, telling her that my program forbade such lessons (almost true), and referring her to Yulia, who’s an experienced English teacher.  I also invited her to my JCC classes, which was uncomfortable because earlier she had made some vaguely anti-semitic comments.  Still though, it was the best meeting we’d had, and I was having second thoughts about my decision, but I think I did the right thing.  We promised to stay friends, and man, this is sounding more like a break-up with every sentence...

So.  Here are some accomplishments from the last couple days:
An administrator asked me to move from vi (formal “you”) to ti (informal, friendly “you”).  This is the Russian social equivalent of a romantic interest asking you to go steady.

I helped two people edit their application essays to American graduate schools.

Had a jolly good at Yulia’s birthday party last night, but kept my wits enough to walk home and get up for temple this morning.

All that didn’t keep me from spilling ketchup-mayonnaise sauce (called Russian dressing in America, French dressing in Russia) on my beautiful wool dress today.

I’m also getting more Russified every day.  For example, I can’t stand it when I get mud on my leather boots.  I’ve made an important decision: it’s not that streets in Russia are necessarily dirtier than those in America.  Russians just get more upset about the dirt than we do.  In any case, I’m now the proud owner of both shoe cleaner and polish, different but equal products.  Now I just have to start wearing makeup and stop sitting on the ground.  It freezes your ovaries, you know.

That’s all for now.  Tune in next week for adventures in wacky world.

Journey to the Center of My Mind

Well it’s been almost a week since I left for Tiumen, and I’m hoping I can remember all the good times I had there.  Over all, I would say that if I did plan to stay in Russia for another year, I would definitely want to live there.  It’s a rich, clean, European city (I think the first one led to the other two).  I was met at the train station by Katherine, her gorgeous department head Svetlana and her cute husband Artyom.  By the way, if you ever travel within Russia, all the trains run on Moscow time.  This is a lesson I learned the hard way.  The first night, Katherine, or Ketrin, as she’s called in Russian, and I went into the city center and found a fancy restaurant that we decided was probably a mafia hang-out.  When we were approached by two creepy young men, we were convinced.  Still, it was a great meal, and my first time eating out since our breakfast in Moscow...

The next day we went with Katherine’s friend Lena to a celebration of German culture in Russia.  I was cynical at first, but when traveling I try to be open to anything.  It turned out to be great; a bunch of speeches I couldn’t understand, alternating with folk dancing, singing and questionable pop songs.  It was really fun, until the “awards ceremony” at the end, which felt like a high school graduation where you know no one and barely understand the language.  After that, we went to a cool rustic restaurant (where I almost ate a fish eye) and then I finally bought my warm, yet cool, sexy boots.  That night we went to the talent show at Katherine’s school, which was really entertaining, but again included a lot of lame-o awards.  After the show, we went back downtown to find a bar, a surprisingly difficult enterprise.  The German pub was closed and we even peeked into a “gentlemen’s club” that turned out to be even seedier than we had guessed.  Much to her embarrassment, we came out to hear a university student calling, “Hyello, Ketrin!”  Finally we ended up at an Uzbekistan restaurant, and I was sorry I wasn’t more hungry.  All I could get down were two mulled wines and an order of chak-chak.  Fatty!

The next day we were invited for dinner at Svetlana and Artyom’s, which happens to be right across the hall from Katherine.  Her university hooked her up with a gorgeous apartment in the faculty building.  So we just spent the day going to the impressive open-air market, drinking wine and baking cookies.  For dinner, Artyom made plov which put mine to shame.  They also invited another man who works at the department, with whom they seem to be trying to fix up Katherine.  Too bad he’s fat, balding, over thirty and, if that weren’t enough, said stupid things about both women and America!  If he thinks I lost my femininity, he can suck my dick!  

Monday and Tuesday were Russian holidays, some sort of Russian Federation attempt to reign in the Day of Revolution.  Similar, Katherine noted, is the Russian Federation national anthem, which is just the Soviet Union anthem, minus the references to Lenin and Stalin.  Anyway, we were planning just to walk around the city, but were got no farther than the circus square.  Outside was a huge crowd of people singing along with a live concert.  City dignitaries were there, as were young flag-waving members of Yedinaya Rossiya, Putin’s political party.  We rode the carousel at the year-round mini-amusement park, then joined in the fun, despite Fulbright’s warning to avoid organized masses of patriotic Russians.  But how could we resist such a joyous celebration?  The funny thing was, it struck me that a similar demonstration in America wouldn’t attract the same following.  Sure, we have the Fourth of July, but it’s hardly a display of pure nationalism.  Here were performances songs about “How I love you, Russian earth,” and the crowd, young and old, singing along.  It was really a remarkable thing to witness.  So was the life-size pizza in the audience, who obliged my request for a friendly photo, and then got a little too friendly.  When we’d had enough of the concert, we stumbled upon Tiumen’s hilariously Soviet-themed restaurant.  Come for the romantic nostalgia, stay for the borshch!  That night we made eggplant parmigiana and watched silly American movies dubbed into Russian.  All in all, a perfect day.

Wednesday morning, we learned the most amazing, least probable, most important thing in the world happened: Barack Obama won the American presidential election.  Even writing it now, I can hardly believe it.  For the first time in my life, I’m extremely proud to be an American.  I was so glad to be able to share that moment with Katherine, and we both almost cried watching his acceptance speech, despite the Russian language over-dubbing.  A minute later I got a text-message from the ETA in Vladivostock with one word: OBAMA!  My thoughts exactly.  It was also the first I really appreciated the Russian custom of congratulating people on holidays.  Many people have been congratulating me on our new president, and I couldn’t be happier to thank them.

In the afternoon, I got to watch Katherine in action.  I don’t know how she was a year ago when she was in my place, but let me tell you, that girl can teach.  I learned quite a bit from observing her, and already used one of her lesson plans today.  In addition to teaching the students at the Tiumen Technical University, she also does bi-weekly American culture/English language classes with the other teachers.  Great idea!  If I weren’t so lazy, I’d suggest the same thing at the Ped. Institute.  My train back was inexplicably two hours longer than the train there, but it was ok because I rode with Danielle Steele.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, after 22 years of good literature, I’m enjoying the hell out of Palomino.  Actually, I picked that book for my trip because she’s a very popular author in Russia, so unlike other English-language books, it wouldn’t single me out as an American.  Still, I did bring the book from the states, and now I can see why she’s a best-seller.

Now I’m back home, and it really does feel like coming home.  Tiumen was great, and in some ways a nicer city, but it’s a good feeling to return to a routine.  I taught four successful classes today, all of which were well-attended, and even took care of grocery shopping and paying for the all-important internet.  In the evening I helped a young man with his Fulbright application essay, and can’t help feeling rather self-satisfied.  Of course, hubris is one of my biggest fears, so I’ll take care not to be ambitious tonight.   I guess the morals of this story are my great respect and fondness for Katherine, and the unexpected return of my faith in the American people.  Danielle Steele couldn’t write it any better.

Two Maniacs in Tiumen

Hey fans!  I just got back from the greatest long weekend in Tiumen.  It was an incredible time, not least because Katherine and I shared an unforgettable moment: the vbictory of Barack Obama!  For the first time ever, I'm proud to be an American.

Here are some pictures from my time in the capital of Siberia.  I'll write more details about my adventures when I have time.  Sufficient to say that we witnessed a celebration of the Day of Remembrance and Forgiveness (formerly Day of the Revolution), I look skeeved out because that pizza was trying to get to second, and yes, that is a fish's eyeball on my fork.