Adventures in Russia

May 11, 2007
         It’s 8:13 in the morning by Saint Petersburg time. In Iowa, it’s 11:13 PM on the 10th of May, and in North Carolina, it’s 12:13 AM. Everyone that I know, except the 3 others in Saint Petersburg, are sleeping, and most of them have not even finished living May 10. I, however, skipped over most of my May 10, after flying from O’Hare at 7 PM on the 9th, landing in Frankfurt at 1:40 PM on the 10th, and finally arriving in St. Petersburg at 6:40 PM that same day.
         I’ve been here less than 24 hours, just over 12, actually, and it has already been an adventure. First there was the ride in the van from the airport to our homes. Marina sat and spoke to us in Russian, Aaron, Joel and I only catching a word or phrase here and there. Aaron was the first to leave us for his new home in Russia. Joel and I waited in the van with the driver who said nothing to us as Marina walked with Aaron up to the flat where he would spend the next 7 weeks. Aaron is an impressively light packer. He had two carry on bags. One is a beige colored thing he had ordered from eBay that was from Turkey or somewhere from WWII; he thinks that it was used to carry grenades or something like them and has a hard time making sense of the handles, or lack-there-of, on the bag. The second bag is a small, one strapped backpack-type thing that a friend’s girlfriend had made for him. Aaron also checked one bag at the airport, a small black duffle bag. I had been shocked at the airport as I had watched him walk away from baggage claim with such a light load.
         Back to the van ride. After Aaron got out of the van and Marina had returned, Joel and I were off to find our homes. The ride was insane. We flew down streets with no lane markers where drivers seemed to be taking part in a contest to see who could possible tailgate the most. More than a few times, I heard Joel breathe a sigh of relief. The look on my face as we pressed up next to neighboring cars was probably quite amusing, as I attempted to seem comfortable with the high speeds and tight corners. We were not riding in a sports car, but a massive, 9 or 10 seat van. Marina was not even wearing a seat belt!
         The sites, however, were amazing. St. Petersburg is definitely a city in disrepair. It has many nice, new buildings, but also many that need some work. The city looks tired; its beauty is not immediately evident, other than in the old palaces and city buildings that still stand. I know very little about Russian history and facts and feel somewhat odd and a little bit wrong about traveling to a place about which I know so little. That is why I came, however—to learn.
         As we continue to drive, Joel and I glance at each other every now and then, knowing that soon one of us must leave. Both of us will then be at the mercy of strangers who don’t speak our language and don’t know us. Marina and the driver seem confused as to where we are going next. She pulls out her cell phone and begins jabbering away in the harsh sounding tongue of the area. I hear my name—“Katya”. I love the sound of my Russian name, but would have given anything not to have heard it then. I took the speaking of my name to mean that I was the next to be delivered. As we pulled into a complex of apartments, Joel leaned over and said, “Dude, this looks like the Russian version of the projects.” “No,” I said, “That’s not what it is. It’s just that apartments cost so much to rent here.” Even as I spoke to Joel in disagreement, I was silently agreeing in my mind. The blue and white buildings surrounding me did resemble the projects, the nicer projects. There were no boarded up windows and very few spray painted walls. However, the colors of the buildings were dull and worn and the few porches that the apartments had were messy and inconsistently colored blue or brown or white. This was not America. I hadn’t expected it to be, but I had not really had an idea of what to expect.
         The van stopped in front of a woman with a smile on her face. “This is me,” I whispered to Joel. I said it mostly for myself, though, trying to force reality and swallow my fears. He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “Good luck! I’ll have to buy my own Russian dictionary now that we’re splitting up.” I swallowed and smiled back, rolling back the van door and stepping out. I walked to the back of the van where the driver had already begun to haul out my bags. I had backed more than Aaron, a lot more. I had one big, hard-shell Samsonite suitcase and a small black Liz Clairborne suitcase. Neither of the two weighed an ungodly amount, but neither were they light, either.
         I grabbed the handles on both bags, thanked the driver with a Russian “spaseebo”, and began to wheel them to where Marina stood with my new “mother”, Maria. The two were speaking in Russian, and as I stood and listened, I could somewhat grasp their conversation, and the problem which they seemed to be discussing. As far as I could tell, Maria had to work the following day, and would not be able to take me to Nevsky. Both women were biting their lips, and I could tell that they wanted a solution, but weren’t sure how to come about it. After a few minutes of discussion, with me standing there, wide-eyed, confused, and extremely tired, the discussion ended. I waved goodbye to Marina, thanked her for her help (again in Russian), and began to follow Maria into my new home. As we walked past the van, I smiled. The windows were extremely tinted and I could not see Joel, but I was hoping he could see me smile.
         Maria led the way, and we heaved my suitcases up a small flight of stairs into the building. Just inside was a small elevator, which seemed far below American standards. I was hoping it could hold us both with my two bags. Maria pointed to a button, and I nodded, saying “Shetire”, acknowledging that I understood that we were going to the fourth floor. She smiled and nodded, and pushed the button.
         Seconds later we arrived at the fourth floor. Not only was this elevator scarier than any American elevator I had been in, it was also faster. We wheeled my bags out of the elevator and turned left. Maria stuck on of her many keys into the lock on one of the doors, and turned it. As she opened the door, I saw a second door immediately beyond this one, which was unlocked and slightly opened. We walked through it and into the small apartment Maria, and I now, called home.
         She led me briefly around the apartment, showing me the living room, small kitchen, and the 2 bedrooms. The one on the left, facing what I would later learn to be “zapad” or west, was mine. There was a bed, 2 chairs, a wardrobe, a desk, and two bookshelves. We dropped my bags in the room, and Maria motioned for me to wash my hands, and follow her into the kitchen. Once there, she began feeding me.
         I wasn’t particularly hungry. I hadn’t been since the first flight on AirIndia. They had fed us Indian food, obviously, that had been filling and slightly upset my stomach. I had also been fed on the Luftansa flight from Frankfurt, and had eaten, although I had not been hungry. I knew the food would be tossed, and didn’t want to waste any. When Maria offered me soup and tea, I knew not to decline, for it would seem rude, and definitely did not want to seem rude ten minutes into my stay with my new mother. We sat at the table, and she informed me that it was “reebu” soup, or fish. I don’t like fish, but smiled and nodded and accepted her meal. I am glad I did, because the soup, although it looked less than appetizing, was good, as was the tea. We sat together and ate; she spoke to me all in Russian. I smiled at her and listened intently—trying to pull out the few words I knew and form an idea of what she was talking about.
         After dinner, we watched TV. The show must have been funny; Maria laughed every now and then quite heartily. Even I was able to get a few laughs out of the show, although I was guessing about what was happening. Maria asked me if I watched TV, and I nodded yes and told her that I was able to understand a little of what was going on. I then told her that I was tired, trying to explain that the plane ride had been long. I said “samoleote” or plane, hoping that this would convey the message I was going for. I’m still not sure that it did, but at about 15 past 9, Maria asked me if “tee hochesh cpat” and laid her head on her hands. She didn’t really need to act out her question, as I knew that she was asking if I wanted to go to sleep, but I greatly appreciated her effort, taking it as a signal that she would be willing to work with me in the future in different ways than just through speech. I nodded and told her in Russian that I would indeed like to sleep. I left the room, unpacked my beds and went to bed.
         Sleeping at first was difficult. The sun hadn’t gone down, although it was already almost 10, and I knew that it was probably not going to go down at all. It is currently the time that Saint Petersburg has its “white nights”, when the earth is positioned in its orbit around the sun in such a way that the sun never sets. I got out my iPod and was about to listen, when I realized that the music on it would probably make me homesick, and I did not want to deal with that on my first night in Russia when I was exhausted and slightly jet-lagged. Instead, I laid in bed and journaled a short recap of my journey and then went to sleep.
         I awoke this morning at 6:35 with no alarm, but stayed in bed until 6:57, three minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I got up, made my bed, and stepped into the kitchen where Maria was fixing breakfast. She asked if I would like to eat, and I nodded. She had made tea again and also “kasha”, which is very similar to oatmeal. I told her the word for it English, and she seemed happy to learn. Following breakfast, I took a very fast shower, or “doosh”, and got ready for my day. Maria tried to explain to me what would happen that day, but I couldn’t understand very well. I think that there are two different people that will be taking me to school today. There names are Julia or Tatyana. I am not sure what time they will be here or if this is even what Maria said, but I am hoping it is. Maria went to work at around 8 and told me that she will be back around 5 PM. Now, I am alone in the apartment, with little to do and hoping that my Russian mother made plans for me that I will understand. I am not homesick yet, but feeling kind of uncertain about what I was thinking when I decided to go on this trip. I am excited, though, to learn and share this experience when I go home.
                                                                                                                                   May 20, 2007
         We’re a week and 3 days into this thing...and I love it. Most of my insecurities and uncertainties have disappeared. I am thoroughly enjoying my time in Saint Petersburg. The only thing that makes the trip slightly difficult is the fact that it’s not a vacation and that I have to go to class :’(. Remembering that has been somewhat challenging, and doing the work for these said classes has been even worse. Other than that, it’s been great.
         The first few days were insane, seriously. We rely entirely on the Metro and our own legs for transportation, and with no cell phones, finding a way to successfully meet up took a long time and a lot of mess-ups. All of these mess-ups, after the fact, are somewhat amusing.
         On my first full day here, I had to go to Nevsky to turn in my documents and complete registration for the program. This was the day on which I wrote earlier, when I had no idea what was going on. I laid down for a nap at about 10:00 that day, slightly jet-lagged and just generally exhausted from flying halfway around the world from home. At 11, I was woken up by the sound of the door buzzer. Feeling slightly foggy and very confused, I stumbled to the front door, where I struggled with the lock. After realizing that I first had to lift it and then pull to the right, I swung open the door to find our next door neighbor, Tatianna, who I had met the night before. Behind her was a young girl, who Tanya pushed towards me. Tanya mumbled something, shook my head, and left.
         Following the abrupt departure, I introduced myself (in Russian) to the girl standing before me. “My name is Yulia”, she said, and I breathed a massive sigh of relief. I could not believe how amazing it was hearing someone speak English, and I told her how excited I was that she could speak English. I asked her if she was the one that was taking me to Nevsky. She nodded and I began running around the apartment, knowing that I must have looked ridiculous, with messy hair and sleep line all over my face. She smiled lightly, and asked if I would like her to come back at 12 so that we could leave. I thanked her and nodded, and then showed her to the door.
         Yulia took me to Nevsky, where we also met up with Joel by chance. I don’t think that I had even been so happy to see Joel before that. We spent hardly any time at Nevsky and then walked home. It was a long walk, but both Joel and I were confident that we could walk it everyday and save a few rubles on transportation. Joel and I spent the afternoon, enjoying the sound of our English language and each other’s company. We spent two hours walking around, searching for the apartment which Joel had left earlier that day and to which he had paid no attention. He was unsure of the color, the size, everything. Luckily, his mother had written the address down, and we were able to navigate the foreign streets…sort of (it was probably more dumb-luck than anything that we actually located his home). Joel walked me home and we parted for the afternoon. I promised to call if Yulia decided to take us out, and he headed back to his apartment, a 25 minute walk.
         Yulia showed up at my door later that night, and we walked down to Finsky Bay, which opens up to the Baltic Sea. We walked along most of the bay and then got on a bus. The bus took us to Nevsky Prospect, a huge street on the central part of Saint Petersburg that cuts through town. It’s a huge tourist place, where everything’s way expensive, but still fun to walk around. We had tried to call Joel earlier, but he was asleep. When we tried again, it was around 8:30, and he decided that he would head down to Nevsky Prospect to meet us at 10:30 outside of an internet café that I had found in my guidebook. At 10, Tanya called Yulia, and said that Maria (my mother) was demanding that I be home by 11. This seemed largely unrealistic to me. Joel was walking to Nevsky Prospect, which is at least an hour from his apartment. It was also his first time to Nevsky Prospect, and there was a huge likelihood that he would get lost or not take the fastest way to the street. I felt bad having Yulia negotiate for me, but her Russian is far superior to mine, and I needed her to explain why I wanted to stay out later.
         In the end of it all, I asked that Yulia wait with me until 10:45 and then we headed home. Joel had not arrived yet, and we had no way of letting him know where we had gone. Yulia and I took the Metro home. It was the freakiest thing I had ever seen. I had no idea what the Metro was, and had actually thought that it was the tram system that runs above ground. When Yulia and I stepped onto the escalator and I realized that I was not able to see to the bottom of it, I gripped onto the rail and held on, really not sure if I would be willing to let go even if we reached the bottom. After two minutes on the escalator (no exaggeration…we timed it), we finally reached the bottom and I was able to pry my fingers from the rail and follow Yulia and the hundreds of other Russians onto an old train car.
All of this might have been more impressive had worry and guilt not been attacking me. Joel and I had been in the city just over 24 hours and already, had to worry about whether or not he would get home alive. When I arrived home that night, I apologized to Maria for being late and went immediately to bed. That night, I hardly slept at all, until I woke at 5:30, read a little bit of War and Peace and finally realized that there was nothing I could do about Joel’s predicament. Unfortunately, I could not imagine him making it home alive, and had to go to sleep imagining what it would be like to call his apartment later that morning.
                                                                                                                       May 24, 2007
So, journaling this trip is apparently going to take a lot. Maybe I won’t be able to record every little detail. Okay, well, obviously Joel made it home okay. The next day, we (meaning Aaron, Joel, Tom, and I) met up with Maria to get a little tour of Nevsky Prospect. After spending the day with Maria, we all went home with plans to meet again later and maybe catch a movie or food or something. Ahh, more Metro troubles. I waited at the Metro station for a while, but was unsure of where Joel was going to be. We had all failed to specify where at the Metro we would be waiting, and considering there are three major possible meeting places, this was an issue. The individuals that needed to be meeting up could meet either outside of the station, right inside the station, or down at the platform. Once you go down to the platform, you can’t come back up without paying to go back down again.
Anyway, I waited right inside the station for awhile, but then went down the escalator, hoping that Joel would be down there waiting. I waited for three trains to come and go and, not seeing him, boarded the fourth to ride it one stop and arrive at Tom’s station. Joel wasn’t at Tom’s stop either, but Tom was, so we waited together for awhile for Joel, and then boarded the train again, taking it one stop to Aaron’s stop. Maybe Joel had gone all the way through to Aaron’s stop. We arrived at Aaron’s stop (or what we thought was Aaron’s stop) and waited for awhile before realizing that this wasn’t Aaron’s stop. We were, in fact, on the wrong line and would need to make a few connections to make it to where Aaron was (maybe). Finally, after much deliberation and carefully thought, Tom and I decided to head over to the Nevsky Prospect Metro station which was to be our final meeting place.
We arrived at the station and decided to wait outside of the station, as waiting on the platform didn’t seem to be amounting to much. As we were riding the escalator up and out of the Metro, we glanced over and there, directly to our right, was Aaron, riding down the escalator to the platform that we were just leaving. We called to him and he waved. Minutes later, the three of us stood on the top platform of the Nevsky metro. All of us were tired and bored with our goose chase that had so far lasted a little more than an hour. We were all ready to go home and cancel the plans for the evening, but I was not especially willing to ditch Joel for a second night in a row. The boys called me overly optimistic, and decided that Joel could get himself home. We crossed Nevsky Prospect to the second metro station (confusing, yes) and paid for yet another ride home. Aaron’s platform is one level below ours so Tom and I said goodbye to Aaron at the escalator, and he descended to his train home.
As Tom and I waited in front of the doors to get onto the next train, I glanced over and saw a tall guy with big curly hair in a black Iowa State University sweatshirt walking off of the escalators and heading to the same train as the one that Tom and I were about to board. Yay, it was Joel!
He and Tom decided to grab a beer together on the way home so we rode the Metro to the next stop, to Tom’s stop. There was a small beer kiosk across the street from the Metro so he and Joel bought one and we hung out next to the kiosk, keeping an eye on the time, as the Metro closes at 12 AM.  As we stood talking, a young guy (maybe barely over 18) came over to us and cheered with Joel and Tom in Russian. He was holding a massive bottle of beer that was nearly empty and was obviously drunk, as were the three or four other guys with him.
Upon discovering that we were American students (thanks a lot, Joel), the guys decided to hang out and practice their English with us, while teaching us some “valuable” Russian phrases. I was extremely nervous, recalling the few horror stories I had heard about trips to Russia. I stood back from the group, trying to grab Joel’s attention and let him know that we needed to go. Joel, in all of his trusting nature, seemed to be enjoying himself, even as the guys stumbled into him and spoke with broken English and slurred Russian. We found out that they were Russian marines, and I was soon even more uncomfortable as I glanced down and saw that one of them had a hand with bloody knuckles.
         I nudged Joel’s elbow and showed him the time, letting him know that we had to go or we would miss our Metro. I whispered to Tom and asked him if he would be okay walking home alone. He said that he would be, but that he was going to walk to the Metro with us first so that the guys wouldn’t follow him. The guys ended up crossing the street before us, so we said goodbye to Tom before we reached the Metro, and he turned towards home. Joel and I rushed to the Metro doors, mostly because I was hugely nervous and well aware of the fact that the drunken Russian teenager marines were only a hundred feet or some from us.
         Joel and I reached doors, only to find the lights off inside the Metro and the doors locked. It was our third night in Russia. Of the five ways to get home by public transport, we knew only how to use the Metro, and that our Russian was too poor to trust ourselves to get home the other ways. So we were left to walk. It was an hour and 45 minute walk at 12 in the morning. We were in a city where we hardly spoke the language, didn’t know the streets (we had to ask a couple of older women (they looked safe) for directions), and were from a country that some Russians had huge problems with and were not afraid to show it. We alternated sides of the street depending on where large groups of drunken Russians were, and Joel and I traded off sides to keep me and my purse farther away from individuals.
         I finally got home at 1:40. Joel walked me home and then walked back to his place. I was hugely nervous for him (again) but figured that if he could walk for hours around Saint Petersburg at night, he could make the 20 minute walk from my house okay.
         Looking back at this part of the trip, I am kind of glad it happened. It makes for a kind of good story and also taught us a lot about safety in the city. I stay away from younger Russians now, as we have had a number of awesome experiences with older Russians.
         To write everything that has happened since would be insane. It is the 24th of May, and this all happened on the 12th. Wow, the days have flown. Ann and John arrived that Sunday, the 13th and we were all able to hang out. We started classes that Monday, and that was a huge wake up call. This trip is no vacation. We spend two hours everyday commuting to and from class via the Metro (up at 7, on the Metro by 8, and at school by 9). We get done with our day at varying times and get home each day anytime from 2 to 8.  They’ve taken us on three excursions so far that have lasted 3-5 hours apiece. Add this to 2-5 hours of class a day and it gets to be a lot.
         My legs are killing me! Today I purchased an Ace bandage for my knee. This trip is definitely testing my physical strength.
         I am loving this experience more than I had imagined. Maria, my “Russian mother” (as we’ve come to call them) is amazing. She is so kind and funny and patient with me. She corrects my grammar and works with me on stuff that I am learning in class. I leave here in 5 weeks and already I am sad to think about it. I can’t wait to get home, though, and share the experience with my family. I have taken over 400 pictures already (!!!) so they’ll have a lot to look at. Maybe I’ll show them this…what seems to be turning into a book of my experience. I will write more later, in detail, but right now, I’m tired and ready to go to bed. Tomorrow’s Friday and we have it easy…one class!!! Woo-hoo! Saturday is Saint Petersburg Day (or something like that). Twelve museums in the city have free admission, so we have another school excursion. I should begin resting up now so that I am not exhausted. Oh, we also have exams every Monday, so that leaves the weekend free for studying (haha). Once again, this is not a vacation. But it’s so amazing!