Week 1

This week I learned as much about North American culture as Russian. As infrequently as the canadians use "eh?" as a universal suffix, does the Californian from Bezerkeley use "dude" in every conceivable grammatical mode. I've seen only two black people during this week in Moscow, and when the conversation happened to turn to gay rights at Esther's dacha this weekend, none of the Russians knew any gays in Moscow (I later learned this was not true, but the line of questioning wasn't very tactful. Especially in a place where just holding hands with a bloke in the street could land you in a hospital). Aside from appearing to be thirty years behind in terms of civil rights (and fashion! mullets and plaid, everywhere!), these initial impressions hardly speak for Russian culture at large, and even less for individuals.

Some of the most important people for the weeks to come are Lisa, Anya, and Esther. They are three wonderful Russian students who work for the Math in Moscow program who showed us around our neighborhood the first day, and have been accompanying us on trips around Russia. Lisa, as you may remember, was the one that picked me up from the airport, but together with Anya, I didn't see much of either until Питер/St. Pete. and whose stories will be told in week 3 (stay tuned!). Esther's story and that of my first weekend in Moscow follows.

Esther, born in Moscow, raised in Israel, a five foot fewer-inches-than-feet tall, bundle of contagious laughter, and world traveler. During the week she mentioned that she was going out to her parents dacha in Pokrovka that weekend, so we invited ourselves along. Sleeping bags underarm we make our way out to the trainstation. We're no sooner than 10 minutes on our way out of Moscow than every sense becomes aware of the difference in air quality. You can see, feel, and taste the cleaner air.

The dacha is like a home away from home (and certainly a home away from the dorms), and there we pass on the beutiful tradition of smores. Most of the other students go off and play cards, and Daniel and I get to meet two of Esya's friends : Kirill and Vova. Both in the philology department, studying Estonian; though Kirill has graduated and Vova is writing his disertation. Vova heads to bed, and Daniel, Esya, Kirill and I hang out around the campfire in the backyard, under the stars, braving the biting cold. An amazing weekend in Russia. The following morning we spend a few hours picking apples from the trees, with them patiently telling me how to less awkwardly construct my thoughts in Russian.

We'll get to the apple pie making another post for it was done in another week. I'll end on a little saying that I picked up from a textbook last year : "Лучше поздно, чем никогда" This entry was typed up piecemeal, and I think it shows... I'll try to be better about timely writing these things up when they're fresh so I can be just as late in posting but have more time to edit. However, "Better late than never".

-M