Turkey Day, Azerbaijani Day, "Disney" and a book review...

Thanksgiving (or, to be more accurate, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, when Turkey Day was celebrated in the AH), was a long but fun day. I arrived around ten to find M and K both already up to their elbows in turkey (as K says). They were indeed stuffing four turkeys (imported from Moscow), as Gosha looked on eagerly. (I gave the poor kitty a turkey-heart in order to placate him, although I think all it did was whet his appetite. He was rather beside himself all day, what with the smell of turkey in the air.) I must admit that I did very little as far as the actual cooking. I made corn, which came out of a can... but hey, each to his own skill level. But I did help with the cleaning and the setting up and the running to the store and the looking up of ounces to grams and baking soda to baking powder conversions on the internet. Despite the rather terrifyingly uncooperative oven (which burnt what should have been our gravy out from around the turkeys, necessitating the need to remove the batteries from the fire alarms), the turkeys and all the trimmings turned out to be delicious, delicious, delicious. It didn't taste quite like home-cooked, American Thanksgiving fare, simply because a lot of the ingredients were Russian, but it was close enough. The dinner was a fantabulous success, which fed close to thirty people until they were stuffed. Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce (made by Y from fresh cranberries), corn, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, [insert a brief pre-dessert musical performance by Male B and J], apple crisp, brownies and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies... We were, as one is supposed to be on Thanksgiving, stuffed to the point of immobility. Then we got to clean up the remains of the dinner-for-thirty. Sigh. Following that, the Americans, as well as Galya and Alexei descended to the AH basement for a few rounds of Russian karaoke, before we all stumbled home for a nice tryptophan-induced sleep.

Sunday, I slept until almost noon. I take great joy from sleep. Anyway, after a quick stop at the AH (ostensibly to plan lessons, but in reality to check my email), B, Y, J, M and I met up with L, who took us to her home out to Dobroye (the "suburbs" of Vladimir, where the ice-skating rink is located) for an Azerbaijani feast, prepared by her mother (L's mother is from Azerbaijan). We had deliciously spicy plov (a rice dish) and dolma (stuffed grape leaves) in a rich and yummy sauce. Spicy food!! L's Mom was the hero of the day.

Following our second feast in as many days, we watched the most beautiful and wonderful movie in the world: the French film, Amelie. If you have not seen this film, you need to do so. It was so incredibly perfect and made me feel all warm and fuzzy. (I would have called it incredibly perfect if it hadn't had a Ghost Train... but the addition of a GT into the tale simply made the film perfect in the surreal way that Ghost World was perfect, although this movie was far happier. Not that being happier didn't mean it didn't cause a twinge or more of sadness, but...)

Changing topics entirely: Posters such as the one below are plastered all over the city. For those of you who don't read any Russian, this poster advertises an upcoming musical-theater show called "Shrek and the Heroes of Disney" (featuring, among other things, "giant puppets" and a "grandiose laser show"). How many things can you find wrong with this? I'm guessing you're smart enough to figure it out on your own.

And lastly, yes, another book review. A few days ago, I finished reading The Russian Debutante's Handbook, by Gary Shteyngart. It took me a while to decide whether or not I would write about it, and obviously I came to the decision that yes, I would. This book was recommended to me by my coworker, M. The first thing that I noticed was that the first eight pages of the book consisted of lengthy and glowing reviews. I admit that this kind of turned me off. Does a genuinely good book really need to have eight pages touting its goodness? Or can the reader simply find out for himself? Anyhow, TRDH is the tale of one Vladimir Girshkin, a Russian Jew who immigrated to the United States as a child, and who returns to Eastern Europe halfway through the book. As M moved to the US as a child (from Ukraine) and is currently embarking on his first trip back to Eastern Europe, I can certainly see how he might understand Vladimir Girshkin on a level which I simply cannot. The book was interesting, and it did hold my attention, although my level of incredulity rose at the turn of every page. A lot of the tale takes place in a fictional Eastern European country; I'm fine with that (someone who loves fantasies and who recently waxed ecstatic over Wicked is obviously not going to scoff at a fictional country). The places were wholly believable. The characters (to me) were not. As the plot followed its arc, the main character somehow changed from a shy, bumbling, socially-awkward, self-conscious fellow into a high-powered gangster. To me it didn't make sense. I cannot at all understand how the Vladimir of the first half of the tale became the Vladimir of the second half of the tale. And to be honest, neither Vlad appealed to me as a person; he was rather an ass, and not someone I could find an affinity with. I also kind of think this book is to blame for the fact that so many people, upon hearing that I was moving to Russia, asked in all seriousness, "But aren't you worried about the mafia?" Has anyone else read this book? Obviously, many people (M included) have read and loved it, as it's a "national bestseller" and a "New York Times Notable Book," in addition to those eight pages of glowing reviews... If you've read it, let me know; I'm looking forward to your opinions.

Some Southern Learnin'

I felt a bit of the joy creep back into my teaching today... For the past several weeks, I've managed to keep a good attitude in class, but I haven't been feeling all that great about my lectures, kind of like I've simply been going through the motions. Not just of teaching, of everything, but teaching's what I do the most of... anyhow, I think a bit of the joy that I found in this job prior to the end of October when my world turned itself on its head seems to be filtering back. Maybe it's just that I taught some really cool classes today. Or at least I think so.

In both my ZII (second level) class and my AI (third level) classes, the lectures revolved around my newly adopted hometown of ****. Here are the two passages I had them read. Keep in mind, they are geared toward the levels and the specific grammar (and I have edited out the specific locations to help maintain the anonymity of this blog).

ZII:

**** is in south-eastern Georgia. It is a very small town. It is best to visit **** in the spring. In the spring, flowers bloom and the weather is not too hot. When tourists come to ****, they should visit the ***A, the ***B (a museum), and the historic district. Tourists should visit barbecue restaurants and eat American barbecue. If tourists want to go shopping, there is a very large shopping center in the new region of the city. One very popular and cheap store is called Wal-Mart. People can buy many cheap souvenirs in Wal-Mart. Visitors to **** can also take a boat down the ***C River or go fishing.

AI:

The city of **** was founded in 1870. **** is located at the place where all of the railways in the south-eastern United States cross. From 1870 to 1950, most Americans traveled on trains. They often visited ****, and the city was very popular with tourists. **** had many theaters, stores and hotels, and many wealthy people lived there. In the 1950s, people began to travel in cars. Big roads called interstates were built in the southeastern United States. No interstates went to ****, and few tourists went to ****. Most of the hotels, theaters and stores closed. Many people moved to other cities. Now, very few wealthy people live in ****. Few tourists come to **** now, although the nearby ***A is visited by many tourists every year.

I showed them pictures and road/rail maps, and they all seemed genuinely interested, which was rewarding. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, Amerikantsi! Although we (the Americans at the American Home) are actually celebrating Turkey Day this Saturday with four turkeys imported (no doubt at great expense) from Moscow, and all the trimmings to go along therewith. We're making a T-Day feast for a whopping thirty people. It should be interesting. Or disastrous. We shall see.

This morning, when I emerged from my room, Nina M. said to me (in Russian, of course), "Happy Thanksgiving!" I had told her that we were celebrating Thanksgiving on Saturday, so I asked how she knew that the holiday was, in actuality, today. Apparently they had a report on the American National Holiday of Thanksgiving this morning on Radio Rossiya, complete with historical info on Pilgrims and Indians. That's one of the things I love about Russia. I mean, when was the last time you heard a long segment on any American radio station (other than NPR) about a national holiday of some other country?

interNYET

So, for the past couple of days, instead of having internet access at the AH, we've had it's cleverly-named cousin, interNYET... as in no access to the web at all. For a self-proclaimed computer geek and internet addict such as myself, such interNYET days are always tough. But, hey, it gives me the opportunity to seek out fodder for a nice, long post...

Friday I received my *second* package in less than a week containing disposable hand-warmers (when you expose them to air, they heat up and stay warm for 8hrs or so, kind of like a ThermaCare Heat Wrap). You'd think it was cold here or something. Thank you, thank you L! And thanks for the little kitty-card because it made me happy, too.

Anyhow, as I said, this is the second time in less than a week that I have received hand-warmers. While the hand-warmers sent by M (in that package containing SPAM) made their journey from the US to Vladimir unmolested, L's hand-warmers were not quite as lucky. Packages sent to Russia run the risk of being searched by Russian customs (or Postal officials or someone...); although before today I'd never received a packaged that had been searched. How do I know? When they search your mail, they tape it back up with this special "hah-hah we peeked in your mail" tape (kind of like how the TSA leaves those lovely "we rummaged through your undies" notes in your suitcase). Not only had the package been opened, but they were obviously flummoxed by what constitutes a hand-warmer, and felt the need first to open one of the sealed, air-tight packages to test one out. Then they decided to descend slightly further in their madness and actually cut open said heat-warmer in order to see what it was actually made of. (And both the packet and the hand-warmer had been neatly sliced open; this obviously wasn't some sort of accidental tear.) This of course means that the package arrived in my hands bearing fancy-schmancy red and white Russian customs tape, and then it opened itself to dump a spent hand-warmer and "iron, cellulose, vermiculite, activated carbon and salt" all over me. But the rest arrived unharmed.

I haven't used any of the hand-warmers yet; I expect it is going to get substantially colder than it is now in the near future, in which case I should save them up for a chilly day... We can compare and contrast "Grabbers Mycoal Hand Warmers" with "Coleman's Disposable Hand Warmers." Man, I am such a geek. But a warm-fingered geek at the least.

Saturday afternoon, Y gave her presentation. (Each AH teacher is required to give an hour-long presentation on something pertaining to America. I gave mine back in September on that cross-country road trip that now I can't really bring myself to think about without getting all teary-eyed and mopey. But I digress...) Y gave her talk on growing up Korean in America, and I found it absolutely fascinating. I would so love to travel around Korea with Y. I can picture it now: bumping into shit with our rental Daewoo while questing for K-socks and scouring Texas Street in Pusan for random dudes with whom to practice our Russian. Y is awesome.

After Y's presentation, two of the Russian students (one is named Nikita, and I have unfortunately forgotten the other chap's name... I'm unforgivably bad with names, really.) invited us to go ice-skating. There's a skating rink out in Dobroye (this region on the very outskirts of Vladimir, where I'd never been before), where skate-rental is available. While I would very much have liked to go ice-skating (I've only done it twice in my life, and neither time for very long, although I seem to remember enjoying myself), my knees are still suffering from whatever inebriated trauma I inflicted on them back in St. Petersburg, and I figured I should probably stay off the ice until I can again walk properly. But, as L doesn't ice skate, and as they don't rent skates in Misha's gargantuan shoe-size, I wasn't the only non-skating member of our group.

So L, M, and I leaned ourselves up against the side of the rink and watched our friends skating, while chatting and slowly turning to ice. Yes, I could have done with some of those hand-warmers... but not having expected to spend a lot of time outside, I hadn't come prepared. Hell, I hadn't even worn my winter jacket (I wear my frivolous lime green purchase whenever I possibly can, even if it is technically a little too cold out there for it). The three of us non-skaters grew so cold we couldn't feel our feet, and eventually took refuge in a nearby produkti (convenience store), before finally giving in and going home. I also saw two of my students at the skating rink. From the looks on their faces when they saw me, you'd swear they thought I wasn't allowed outside of the AH. ("Oh my god! She's doing something Russian!") Come on people, it's not a zoo. The Americans are actually allowed to roam free. We were also, apparently, unbelievably fascinating to a group of brazen schoolkids who very much wanted to practice their English with us. Of course, their English was essentially limited to "What is your name?" and "What time is it?" so having an avid fan base soon got kind of repetitive. Nonetheless, it was amusing, and kind of reminded me of Korea. (Some of you will know what I mean.)

Anyhow, I was unbelievably chilled by the time I got home. And that evening it started snowing. Surprise! Our last few inches of snowfall stuck around for about a week, before melting away into slush. Last night's snowfall stuck throughout the evening, but began melting away during the day, making for more slush. Yum. I met up with B and L outside of Theater Square at noon for an afternoon of shopping. It snowed on us a bit, leading to a spontaneous snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes spewing forth from B and myself, although none of the afternoon snow stuck to anything other than my nose and eyelashes. Ostensibly, my goal had been to find a long winter coat (the winter coat from Nina M is warm, but it barely covers my ass, and my legs are getting kind of chilly down there), but instead I managed to acquire more frivolous things: some really cool dangly earrings with kitties in the middle, an insane winter skirt (yes, they do make such things) and an equally insane blouse (sadly, not designed for winter) which matches the insane winter skirt. Only Annie in Russia could find this outfit.

Cancel the Fourth of July!!!

I have been meaning to write about this for some time now (the past 11 days, actually), but I haven't really felt the muse hit me until today.

If you are an American, imagine that the US Government canceled the Fourth of July. (Those of you from other countries, imagine that the most patriotic holiday of your country was canceled. Those of you from Russia, I welcome your input on this topic.) Imagine that instead of celebrating Independence Day on the 4th of July, instead you were told that you would celebrate National Unity on July 1st. Celebration of National Unity would not resemble past celebrations of the 4th of July in any way. No fanfares, no fireworks, no parades, no mention of the founding fathers. Just a day off work, that's all. Imagine how you would feel. Imagine how the bulk of the American populace would react.

Now let's think about Russia for a minute. For decades, November 7th was commemorated with great pomp and circumstance, in honor of the October Revolution which led to the establishment of the USSR. On one hand, the Soviet Union is no longer in existence, which makes celebrating its birth in glory and reverence every year somewhat awkward for the current, non-communist government... however: There are many Russians (most Russians, probably) who grew up in the USSR, and for whom November 7th was a special day of the year, like the Fourth is for we Americans. Russians continued to commemorate November 7^th every year following the collapse of the Soviet Union, even if the celebration was not as grand as it had been in years previous.

But not this year. This year, following a presidential decree, the November 7th holiday was abolished, and replaced by a holiday on November 4th, to be called National Unity Day (or People's Unity Day). November 4th is supposedly (the date is debated by historians) the day in 1612 when the Polish usurpers to the throne of the Russian Tsar were overthrown and sent packing back to Poland. According to Russian President Vladimir Putin, "At that time, people of various creeds, ethnicities, and social strata united to save their homeland and to defend Russia's statehood." [text]

On November 3rd, I was in St. Petersburg. M, Y, G and I were in the Peter and Paul Fortress, visiting the various museums therein. The museums normally stayed open until 6:00 (I think), but around 4:00 we were turned away from the Commandant's House on account of it closing early. Misha asked the babushka at the door why it was closing early. Her answer? "Because of the holiday tomorrow." Holiday? That was the first we'd heard of any holiday. So M asked her just that: what holiday? The old woman all but rolled her eyes at him, and mumbled something about unity. At first I thought she had rolled her eyes at the ignorance of foreigners; however, when pressed to explain, she seemed at a loss to say much about the day. It wasn't until the next day when we snagged a copy of the St. Petersburg Times that we learned about National Unity Day. So there we were, in St. Petersburg, the second largest city in all of Russia on National Unity Day, and what evidence did we see of this new holiday? Ummm, well, there was that article in the St. Petersburg Times, and I suppose the Hermitage was busier than usual on account of so many people having the day off work... But other than that? I didn't notice anything special going on.

On November 7th, I was back in Vladimir. In my factory class, my students made a point of telling me that it was the anniversary of the October Revolution. For some reason, I asked them if they wanted to sing me a song. They exchanged quick glances, and then all of them burst out in a rousing, if rather outdated, patriotic Soviet tune. When they had finished, they all laughed. Good times, great oldies. Later, I came home from work to find Nina M's niece (a woman in her forties) visiting. She and Nina M. had wine, candies, cookies and food, and had me dine with them. They told me that even though the government had changed the holiday, and even though there was no longer an official commemoration of November 7th, they were honoring the holiday. After all, this had been one of the most important days of the year for the bulk of their lives, and it seemed disrespectful to act as though it were simply another day. I wonder how many other private commemorations were held that evening.

Some other commentary on National Unity Day:

Russia celebrated a new national holiday Friday, though many people did not even know its name or what it stood for, the Associated Press reports. President Vladimir Putin signed an order last year establishing Day of People’s Unity, designed to commemorate Moscow’s liberation from Polish invaders in 1612 and to replace the longtime Soviet holiday marking the Bolshevik Revolution. State-run television led newscasts with explanations of the holiday and showed footage of people performing traditional music and dances, followed by broadcasts of classic Soviet-era films. In a recent poll conducted by the respected Levada Center, however, 51 percent of respondents did not know what holiday would be celebrated and only 8 percent referred to it by the correct name.[text]

As I see it, there are two reasons why official attempts to find a national idea in the country's history are doomed to failure. First is the highly contradictory and complex nature of our history - all the great movements forward rested primarily on the absence of personal rights and freedoms. Secondly, today's Russia is a state that arose not out of an idea, but out of a conflict between two political rivals: Mikhail Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin. Instead of being vanquished by the ideals of democracy, communism committed suicide. Gorbachev, the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, laid the foundations of the market economy while the Soviet Union still existed. More than a decade after the failed coup of 1991, most of the population sees it as more of a farce than as a great battle between good and evil. [text]

Out of the Hole - or - Why Money Sucks - or - Why M is Awesome

Okay, I admit that perhaps I have been a little self-involved lately, and other than documenting my awesome trip to St. Petersburg, I haven't been too on-task with the blogging about Russian life and the AH and all that. I apologize. It's been a rather crummy few weeks, but I'm going to try and pull myself at least halfway out of the pit of self-absorption.

My more advanced A1 (third level) class is made up of students who are all in their 20s and 30s, and all of them are very motivated to learn English for various personal reasons. I really enjoy that class because not only are they motivated to learn, but they are also willing to participate and practice their English. (My "slow" A1 class is made up mostly of teens who only in class because their parents have sent them, and most seem to have little to no interest in learning English. My Z2 (second level) class is about 50/50 when it comes to who is motivated and who isn't, and they're all painfully shy. Getting them to speak in English is definitely a challenge.) But back to my advanced A1 class. One of my students is in her 20s, going to college and working, in addition to studying at the AH. She has been one of my best students this semester, always working hard and excelling. At the beginning of our last A1 class she announced that it would be her last class at the AH. I asked her why. Her answer: Money. She stayed through the remainder of class, taking notes, asking questions, doing assignments, participating in discussions. This young woman is obviously very interested in learning how to speak/write/read English. But she won't get to finish out the semester. I know that the AH does its best to keep the cost of tuition down so that as many people who can afford to attend can, but the AH is a business, and as such it must bring in enough money to pay the bills and the salaries of its employees. Nonetheless, it sucks that a hard-working, dedicated and motivated student must leave, while my class full of disinterested yet well-off teens continues to attend. I love the AH and the services it provides, I only wish that it were more accessible to the average Russian.

Lastly, I have received the coolest Thanksgiving present ever (actually, this may be the first Thanksgiving present I've ever received, but it is still pretty damn cool). Take a look at what M sent me. In addition to a big ass box full of chocolate, Thanksgiving stickers, and hand-warmers, I got Turkey SPAM, dried cranberries and a pumpkin scented candle (which for some reason M labeled "not edible" - as if I would think to eat it...). Of course, I'm kind of wondering if the SPAM should have been labeled "not edible" as well, and I haven't really decided if I'm brave enough to munch on it... We shall see! Thank you M!! :-)

A Study in Contrasts

Does anyone else remember AB? It's odd that after so many years I still remember his name. AB was the first (of many) detractors who spoke out against me regarding my tale of my first Korean experience. Perhaps I remember him because he was the first. Perhaps I remember him because he was so prolific, repeatedly posting over and over in my guestbook. Perhaps I remember him because he was just so incredibly wrong in what he wrote. He was the first of many, yet his is the only name I remember. Back in the day, when his inflammatory posts appeared in my guestbook, I deleted them. At the time, I found the posts ludicrous and offensive, and I felt that as it was my guestbook, I had the right to delete things that offended me. I now wish that I had left his posts in place, simply so I could quote him now. Instead I'm going to have to paraphrase him.

As From Russia With Blog is a weblog about my experiences as an ESL teacher in Russia, let me give a little bit of background for those who are unaware of my first Korean experience, or what people have said about it over the years. In 2001, my friend M and I graduated from college. We hadn't yet decided what we wanted to do with our futures, and were interested in doing something adventurous. We were offered jobs teaching English as a Second Language at a school called Seodaegu Wonderland, located in Daegu, South Korea. I must admit that we accepted the position without doing much research, and as a result, the experience was quite horrific. Our employer repeatedly violated the terms of our contract, treated us as sub-human, didn't pay us for all of the hours we worked, and often expressed blatantly anti-American views. Additionally, the owners of Wonderland blatantly ripped off both teachers and students in order to make a profit. The place was so bereft of education that calling it a school is simply a disgrace to all legitimate institutions of learning. The experience was terrible... and it was made worse by the fact that many native English speakers move to South Korea every year to teach English and have wonderful and fulfilling experiences. I met many other ESL teachers when I was in Korea, and learned that while my experience was not unique, having a good teaching experience in Korea wasn't rare either.

After returning to the United States, I decided to write a detailed account of my experience at Wonderland, which I entitled Prisoner of Wonderland. I posted my tale online in the hopes that other individuals thinking about going to Korea to teach English would not only avoid Seodaegu Wonderland, but would be able to ask legitimate and informed questions of other schools in order to assist them in landing a good job. However, AB didn’t see it that way. For some reason, he seemed personally offended that I had had a bad experience in South Korea, and he seemed even more offended that I had shared my tale with the world. What sorts of accusations did he level against me? (Again, I'm paraphrasing here):

1. That I was greedy and lazy. I had accepted the position in Korea because I thought I could get a lot of money without having to work for it, and that when my boss tried to get me to work, I got upset.

2. That I was anti-Korea and anti-Korean, and that the purpose of my site was to keep Westerners from going to South Korea

3. That I was unworldly, and had obviously never been outside of the US before. I obviously expected Korea, Koreans and Korean culture to be just like the US, Americans and American culture. The reason why I had so many problems with my job in Korea was not because of the job, but because I could not handle the cultural differences.

4. That Prisoner of Wonderland was a lie, and that none of the things that I wrote about actually happened.

5. That I was a bad teacher. Disagreements with my boss were merely a result of the fact that I could not teach.

I'm sure there were other accusations in there (I seem to remember being told that I was a bad person because I didn't like to eat kimchi... but I guess that's beside the point), but those were the main accusations. Accusations such as those have resurfaced again and again over the past four years, although in contrast, I have also received numerous emails from people whose experiences at other Wonderland franchises were nearly identical to my own.

In the Spring of 2004, my employer at the time sent me on a two-month long business trip to South Korea, and I had an incredible time. Absolutely fantastic. During my return to Korea, I remember thinking about AB, and all those other people who for some reason were convinced that I was some sort of deranged Korea-hater. I would have loved for them to have seen me clambering around the waterfalls at Neayunsan, climbing the mountains at Gatbawi, exploring the temples at Donghwasa, exploring the various Korean marketplaces (and no, I don't mean the ones designed to rip off tourists), navigating my way around the country, working with Koreans, making friends, and even eating a little kimchi here and there. And oh yeah: I was working a minimum of 50 hours a week to top it all off. I must admit, I wanted to track down AB and his compadres and say Hah! So there!

It is now November of 2005, and it has been a little over four years since M and I fled South Korea, leaving Wonderland behind forever. In the past four years, I have done a lot of things, including designing websites for hotels in Costa Rica, working with a wildlife biologist in North Florida, and working for the US government in San Diego, CA. I had some great experiences during those four years, and some unpleasant ones as well, but such is life. During those four years I never ceased to wonder what would have happened in my life if my first trip to Korea had not been such a disaster. 

After paying off all of my debts (student loans, credit cards, a new car...), I decided to leave my cushy government job and return to the world of ESL. This time, I selected Russia as my destination of choice. (Ideally, I would like to work for a non profit organization that facilitates international relations and development in Russia and the states of the former Soviet Union. I studied Russian in college, but since my graduation, I had little time to practice it, especially considering the time I spent in Korea and Costa Rica! Choosing Russia as my destination seemed like a good idea, as I could rebuild my Russian language skills while living and working abroad.) 

This time, I did a lot of research before selecting my school of choice: the American Home in Vladimir, Russia (http://www.serendipity-russia.com/), where I have been working now for the past three months. Aside from the fact that no one could ever accuse me of taking this position out of greed (I receive roughly $200/mo), or laziness (I am working at least 40 hours a week), I am having a fantastic time living in Russia, working side by side with Russians and teaching EFL. No, it is not easy; I never expected that it would be. Not all days are fun and games; some days are incredibly frustrating, as in any job. But I am happy, having a good time, working with wonderful people (Russian and American), and I am helping my students to learn something. Seeing my students actually use the English that I have taught them is incredibly rewarding. I hope that my writings thus far in my blog express these sentiments.

I would like to track down AB. I would like to ask him to read not only Prisoner of Wonderland, but the other content on this website. I would like him to read about my experiences in Russia, my travels in Costa Rica, my return trip to South Korea in 2004... Why should I care what AB or any other individual thinks? I know that I should not, but it is simply human nature. No one wants to be perceived as a greedy, lazy, xenophobic liar, and a bad teacher to boot. Additionally, traveling is an integral part of who I am. When people ask me what my hobbies are, traveling is always at the top of my list. Seeing the world from the view of others who live so differently from the life that I am used to is very important to me. From my first trip overseas when I was 13, my travels have changed me for the better and have helped to shape my views on life. I think that bringing different cultures together is one of the most rewarding things anyone can do. It bothers me that there are people out there who assume that I am the opposite of who I am.

A Few Days in St. Petersburg: Tales and Photos

I returned to Vladimir at 5:00 Sunday morning, and I am still in the process of trying to recover from lack of sleep, so if there are some bizarre anomalies in this post, please forgive a tired Annie. St. Petersburg was wonderful, even if I am exhausted and suffering from a damaged knee and blistery feet. I took nearly 200 photos, over 40 of which are (in my estimation) internet-worthy. However, as I have limited space for posting photos while I am overseas (not to mention an unforgivably slow internet connection), I am limiting the number of images I'll be posting to around 9 or 10. No worries, the rest will all be online eventually, just not right now. That being said, let's hear about the trip:

On Tuesday night, after classes finished, J, Y, G, M and I made our way to the Vladimir train station, and caught the night train to St. Petersburg. It was a long (nearly 12 hours) and rather uninteresting train ride, although watching the early morning sunrise was nice, and not really something I often find myself doing, being so big on sleep and all.

Y, me, J

Morning view from the train

Returning to St. Petersburg for the first time since my seven-month stint there back in 2000, was both strange and wonderful. It really was like running into an old, close friend, whom I had not seen in many years. True, there have been some changes: Dom Knigi is in a new location, there are more giant advertisements covering the beautiful facades along Nevsky, some pedestrian-archways (including those into the courtyard of my old apartment) are now blocked by locked, wrought-iron gates, and while the buildings that were hidden away by scaffolding back in 2000 were now uncovered for all to see, different buildings are now shrouded in scaffolds. But these changes were merely superficial. The soul of St. Petersburg has remained the same, rich and vibrant, ready to pull me in and welcome me home.

Anyway, we arrived in St. Pete a little before 10:00am, and made our way to the hostel. We had arranged to stay at Hostel Zimmer Freie, and I am glad we did. The hostel is a reasonably short walk from the center of town, and (in the winter season at least) costs $12/night/person, which was wonderful for those of us on very tight budgets. Our rooms were large and clean, and we had access to a communal kitchen and bathroom. We could come and go as we pleased, and there were no restrictions on in-hostel imbibing as there are in some hostels in which I've stayed. The main office of the hostel also has a large and inexpensive internet cafe (I only used it once... talk about restraint!), and the staff was great. I highly recommend this place to anyone looking for a cheap spot to crash while in St. Petersburg.

After checking in to our hostel, M called Ina. (M's sister has some Russian friends who live in St. Pete. Even though M had never met any of these people, they were quite willing to meet up with us and show us around the city. Ina was one of these people.) We met Ina and her friends Vika and Natasha in front of the Gostiniy Dvor Metro Station, and began our walk around the city. Ina was phenomenal: she gave us a tour of the historical center that was as good as, if not better than, some of the paid city-tours I've been on in the past. As only J and I had been in Petersburg before, this was definitely the best way to start out the trip. And the day was beautiful: cold but sunny, and perfect for taking all sorts of photos.

Palace Square: Military General Staff Building

After Ina and her friends left us, we spent some quality time in Dom Knigi (a huge bookstore called House of Books, for you non-Russian-speakers), and then explored some CD shops as well. (I desperately must reconfigure my miniscule CD collection. I carefully selected my twenty-four favorite CDs to bring to Russia; however, due to recent events, I have found that I can only listen to 12 of those 24 without totally losing my cool, and even those 12 to which I can still listen have been tainted somewhat. This is why opposites really should attract: after the relationship is over, you can sit back and wonder, "How the hell could I have been with someone who liked to do/watch/listen to *that*?" Instead, everything I am/have/do reminds me of things about which I don't want to think right now. So maybe I'll stop typing about them.) I purchased a total of six CDs: two Zdob si Zdub albums (one with two disks) - they're a group out of Moldova whom I saw last time I was here, and they rock. I brought their first CD with me (it being one of the "safe" twelve), and I hope these three are as good as Tabara Noastra. I'll let you know. I also snagged a double-disk Chemical Brothers set, and the new Gorillaz album, which is, at the least, a start.

After leaving the last of several CD and book stores, we made our way to a Chinese restaurant. One of the things we had all been looking forward to was the opportunity to have good ethnic food while in St. Pete. Traditional Russian food is somewhat bland, and after a while, one's taste buds begin aching for something stimulating. I do not remember the name of the Chinese restaurant, but it's on Nevsky, in between Liteiny and Mayakovskogo Prospekts. The food, while priced by Western standards, was delicious, and we all ate an incredible amount, savoring every mouthful, and enjoying the sensation of spices, in all their intoxicating goodness.

After leaving the restaurant, we walked back to our hostel, purchased some vodka and pomegranate juice, and began preparing for the night out. After becoming rather silly, we headed off towards Griboedev, a dance club located underground in a bomb shelter, where I spent many an evening back in 1999 and 2000. (It was along the rather lengthy walk to Griboedev that I discovered that some of the cross-courtyard shortcuts had now been gated off: slightly disappointing. It was also along the rather lengthy walk to Griboedev, or so I suspect, that I managed to somehow damage my knees. Didn't notice it at the time though...) Anyhow, Griboedev is essentially the same, although the entrance fee seems to have gone up exponentially, and they seem to be building some sort of annex topside. It was strange being there without any of the people I had always gone to Griboedev with. Same place, same types of people, no one I knew other than the Americans I came with. Weird. Russian dance parties tend to start late, and as we had arrived around 10:00pm or so, we were there fairly early. The girls and I got some dancing in just as people were beginning to make their way to the dance floor, but then we had to head out. The boys, having imbibed a bit too much, needed to return home.

The next morning, my feet and knees really hurt. A few days before leaving Vladimir, I had purchased a pair of Russian winter boots. They’re leather, lined on the inside with fur, and have the ubiquitous Russian high-heel, albeit a reasonably short one. These were the only pair of shoes I brought with me, which probably wasn't the wisest decision as I had not yet had time to break them in fully. But, I bandaged up my blisters, popped some Excedrin, and ignored the odd twinges in my knees as we headed out for day two of our city-exploration. It was another nice day, weather wise, although a little cloudier than the day before. We walked down Nevsky to the Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood (Lovely name, isn't it? The church was built on the site of the assassination of Tsar Alexander II, hence the appellation.), and took a bunch of pictures both outside and inside. I had never been inside of the CSSB before, and it was definitely impressive. Yet again I feel the need to state that if I were a religious person, so many of these places would mean so much more to me, although agnostic that I am, this cathedral was impressive. The interior is completely decorated in the most intricate and beautiful mosaic I have ever seen. We all pretty much stood there with our mouths open for a while, stunned. Any other church or cathedral interior tends to pale in comparison. Wow.

Cathedral of the Savior on the Spilled Blood

Mosaics inside the cathedral

After leaving the CSSB, we lunched at Teremok (a Russian fast-food establishment serving the most delicious bliny (like a pancake or a crepe) that I've ever tasted. I got one with caramel and apples. Yum, yum. I do not understand how McDonald's can stay in business over here when it has to compete with Teremok. I kind of want to open a Teremok franchise in the States. It would pummel the competition.

From there we decided to go to the Hermitage (for those who don't know, this is one of the best art museums in the world, and it is located in the old Winter Palace of the Tsars), although that didn't quite go as planned. Apparently, the Hermitage offers free entry on the first Thursday of each month. This seemed great - free entry, woohoo! - but that meant the place was packed. You aren't allowed to enter the museum without checking your coat as the coat-check, and the coat check was full. We would have to wait in line with hundreds of other people until enough free spaces opened in the coat checks for all five of us to enter the museum. We decided to give up and come back the next day. We left the Hermitage and walked across the Neva to the Peter and Paul Fortress, the original settlement at Petersburg. Historically, this is quite an important place, although it is not the most exciting. We toured the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul (impressive, but not as much so after having spent the morning in the CSSB), and I dragged the group to the space museum, being that I am somewhat obsessed with the history of space flight. The first time I came to the Peter and Paul Fortress in 1999, I was able to get my picture taken inside a genuine Soyuz space capsule for the cost of a mere five rubles. The space capsule is still there, although the entry-hatch is sealed off with Plexiglas, and you can only get your photo taken next to it. So I did, of course.

J, G, Y, me - along the bank of the Neva

Me next to the space capsule.

By the time we left the Peter and Paul Fortress, I was hobbling like an old woman. Whatever I had done to my knees the night before had gotten far worse, especially in my left knee, and the blisters on my feet weren't helping matters. As much as I had been looking forward to four straight days of raucous partying, I instead found myself looking forward to a long hot shower and my bed. We walked/hobbled back down to Gostiniy Dvor, where we met up with Ina, and offered to take her to dinner, as repayment for the day before. We took her to the Kavkaz Bar, a wonderful Georgian (as in Eastern European Georgia, not the American South) restaurant I first discovered back in 1999 (it's a block off Nevsky on Karavannaya ulitsa). I am so happy this place is still around as I love, love, love it. The food is absolutely incredible. After a few glasses of dry Georgian wine, some orgasmically delicious eggplant stuffed with Georgian cheese, and some hachapuri (Georgian cheese-bread), I was perfectly willing to hobble my aged self back to the hostel and crash for the evening, which I did.

Friday morning, feet and knees still aching, the gang and I met up with Ina and made a second attempt to hit the Hermitage, and this time we were successful. Now, I must admit that I am a bit of a philistine. I can appreciate good art, but I tend to appreciate it quickly. I know there are many people out there who can spend hours in front of one painting, but I am not that kind of person. And I tend to mainly appreciate art with which I can form some sort of personal connection... and as I am rather a weird person, I tend to like weird and random things. And whenever I have visited the Hermitage, I have always been far more in awe of the architecture of the Winter Palace than the masterpieces contained therein. As this was the first time I'd ever been inside the Hermitage with a digital camera (for which read unlimited photo-taking capacity), I was very excited. The rooms are so incredible and the sheer opulence is simply overwhelming. I was excited that this time I was able to tour not just the art-rooms, but some of the rooms decorated as they were during the time of the Tsars.

Me on the staircase in the Winter Palace

Inside the Winter Palace

Inside the Winter Palace

The luxurious sumptuousness is simply astounding. Room upon room of vast halls, all covered in gold leaf - I cannot even comprehend how people lived like this. Such wealth is mystifying.

The title of this painting is something along the lines of Christian Martyr Drowned in the Tiber. You would thing that with me not being a Christian, this painting wouldn't have done much for me... although I know there are several of you out there who will completely understand why I had to take this picture.

After leaving the Hermitage, we went to Tandoor, and Indian restaurant on Voznisensky, near St. Isaacs Cathedral. The food was excellent. I had another eggplant dish, and while its taste was wholly different from that of the Georgian eggplant dish from the previous evening, it was equally pleasing to the palate. The staff at the restaurant was incredibly helpful and friendly, and come to find out... Vladimir Putin has eaten there! (We saw pictures - we sat at the same table as he did!)

Again, following dinner, I hobbled back to the apartment, while the rest of the gang went off to enjoy the Petersburg nightlife. Luckily, I'd had the foresight to bring along an escapist Robert Ludlum book, which kept me pretty occupied. Besides, I've had plenty of St. P. nightlife fun in my day.

My last day in St. Pete was incredibly uneventful. As the knees were still a wreck, I figured that I should probably take it easy. Besides, it was raining, and I did not really want to be out hobbling in the rain. So, while the rest of the group went out to spend their last day in St. Pete sampling sushi and shopping for souvenirs, I spent some quality time on the internet and then camped out in a cafe near the train station with Robert Ludlum. Uneventful, but relaxing.

Off to St. Petersburg!!

Crazy internet people, ex-boyfriends, and evil, non-refunding travel agencies notwithstanding, I'm off to St. Petersburg for the next six days. I'm quite glad that our fall break has arrived, because what do I usually do when I'm upset and have no money? Leave the country! Well, I've already left the country, so I suppose the next best thing is to go to St. Petersburg, my favorite city in the world. Anyway, I won't be blogging for a while, although hopefully once I return I'll be back up to snuff, and can regale you all with cool photos and fantastic tales. See you Monday!

as the russians would say, blyadt!

Okay, so that's a rather strong bit of profanity... but dammit, my Expedia plane ticket is both non-refundable and non-transferable.

dresden dolls

I am so very glad I brought this CD with me. Check out some of the lyrics. I'm not really sure what it means when psychotic punk cabaret fits one's mood, but I'm glad I have it with me. Must go try and cancel a plane ticket. Wish me luck!

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain

Despite the fact that I may be feeling very much like casting a Certain Someone in a villainous light, the title of this post actually refers to me. No, I do not consider myself to be a villain, but this phrase popped into my head yesterday and simply wouldn't leave my head. Forget that nonsense about how everything you need to know you learned in kindergarten. Everything you need to know came from Hamlet, for Shakespeare was a wise man. Yesterday was our Halloween party. Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday of the year (with the only exception being those times when my friends and I have gotten together and celebrated the Solstices in our own, weird way), and I have been looking forward to the AH's annual Halloween Party since the moment I was accepted into this program. Unfortunately, I haven't been feeling quite so up to snuff lately. No, it isn't something that I care to air to the masses in the form of a blog post, so let's just say that I haven't been particularly happy. It's as though the ability for me to feel joy has somehow been taken from me in the space of about fifteen seconds. I'm no longer crying, in fact, I'm smiling. I'm doing things that I know in my mind are fun, but in my soul there is nothing. I guess this is a weird post. See, our Halloween party was quite a success. We had costumes and decorations and an absolutely wicked haunted house, which engendered many legitimate screams from our students. I should be glowingly pleased. The pictures from the party are pretty cool. Our costumes were great, and I brought out my fantabulously cool space-alien costume, in which I know I look damn good. But I kept thinking about Hamlet. One may smile and smile and be unhappy. I look at the photos and I can see it in my eyes. The pictures are cool though.

this was going to be a happy post

It started snowing yesterday. The arrival of snow made all of us extremely happy, and we ran around playing in it and taking photos. Yesterday was a happy day. Today is not, but hell if I am going to talk about it here. Let's just say that the one vestige of faith I had in the goodness of humanity has been destroyed. Oh well. Yesterday was happy.

First Snow!

As I type, we're having the first "snow" of the season. I put that in quotes, as it's just a light, moist snow that turns to slush as soon as it hits the ground. I'll start photographing as soon as it starts sticking. I expect that should be any day now. Sadly, at this point the temperature has fallen below "fall coat" weather, so the beautiful green coat (a Kristy, if any of you are interested, not that it's a great website or anything) has been relegated to the closet after only two days of wear. (I would like to add that all of my factory students loved the coat, and when they learned that I had purchased it in Vladimir, they were very surprised and they all wanted to know where I had gotten it!) Anyhow, we seem to have entered the season of the crazy blue coat from Nina M. If only it were full length... It's remarkably toasty inside that thing.

Absolutely Wicked.

My apologies. This post has nothing to do with Russia, other than that I am in Russia as I write it. Last Thursday I received a package from a friend, containing (among other things) a copy of Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire. I started it Friday night, and finished it Sunday evening. Over four-hundred pages, and they just flew by. This book was incredible, and I now count it among one of my favorites.

I had never heard of this book before Thursday, although somewhere in the back of my mind lurked the knowledge that there was some sort of Broadway musical by that name (apparently based on the novel, surprise, surprise). When I pulled it out of the package, B and K were watching intently. The receipt of packages at the AH is definitely a communal affair. Is there something in there that can be shared? Oooh, candy. Mmmm, macaroni and cheese. Aha - a book. We can read it when she's done with it. K was disappointed to discover that the book in my package was Wicked. She immediately told me that she had read it and had disliked it thoroughly. She said her boyfriend, with whom she shares tastes in literature, hadn't even finished the thing. But she also mentioned that Wicked seems to be the sort of book that people either love or hate, and perhaps I would love it. Later that day, when I looked up Wicked in amazon.com so that I could link to it over here, I scrolled down and took a peep at the customer reviews. K was right; the book seemed to either score 1 star or 5 stars, love or hate.

When I was young I read all of L. Frank Baum's Oz books (or at least I think I read all of them; I read all that I could get my hands on). Yes, in case you don't know, there's more to the story of Oz than the tale of Dorothy and the Wizard. It has been ages and ages since I've read an Oz book, and my memories are vague, but they're there: images of the Nome King, tales of Ozma, the workings of Tiktok, and of course the classic tale of Dorothy and the Wizard that everyone knows thanks to the wonders of Technicolor. Maguire is definitely a connoisseur of Oz, and the culture thereof that he creates is deftly interwoven with the Oz of Baum. I would like to reread Baum's works in conjunction with Wicked, simply because I am certain there's a lot more reference to Baum than I was able to pick up on.

A simplistic summary of Wicked can be found within its title, for it truly is the tale of the life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West. When you read (or watch) The Wizard of Oz, the WWOTW is the archetype of evil, there solely to thwart the innocent heroine Dorothy. The reader/viewer never really thinks about *why* the WWOTW is so evil, she just is, and evil has to be fought, resisted, destroyed. But Elfaba, the WWOTW of Wicked is far from evil. She's, well, a green-skinned human... and we humans all have the capacity for good and for evil. She defies rules and regulations, attempts to commit murder, joins a secretive terrorist cell in a plot to overthrow the government, practices witchcraft, and commits adultery. But she's also a champion of the rights of minorities, she fights to defend her friends and family, she works for seven years in a religious hospital, she goes above and beyond to atone for her sins, and she attempts to befriend the one person who has been sent to kill her. This passage, taken from roughly the middle of the book, makes for a nice summary of the point it seems Maguire is trying to make:

"Surely there is a handful of nursery marchen that start, 'Once in the middle of a forest lived an old witch' or 'The Devil was out walking one day and met a child,'" said Oatsie, showing that she had some education as well as grit. "To the grim poor there need be no pour quoi tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is at the very least a question of definitions."

Now let's look at this love-it-or-hate-it dichotomy. Obviously, I love it, but I can understand why there are people who avidly dislike it. For starters, it's a fantasy novel. True, it's an educated, allegorical fantasy, geared towards an adult readership, but many people simply do not do well with fantasy stories. These are people require a "real world" setting in order for a tale to be believable. As my favorite books include The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, The Mists of Avalon and The Master and Margarita, I've already firmly established myself in the fantasy camp, and thereby am somewhat predisposed to like this novel. Then there's the sex and religion. Yes, the book has sex scenes. They are not particularly graphic, but they are frank. There's also a bit of discussion about genitalia. There's a lot (a *lot*) of discussion about religion(s) - and of course these religions are Oz religions, not Christianity, although the religion of Elfaba's father definitely contains some similarities to the Christian faith. Essentially, I see this book turning off a lot of closed-minded Christian conservatives. And lastly, there's the terrorism factor. Wicked was published in 1995, long before September 11th, Bush Jr administration, or its need to refer to people/entities/countries as "evil." As mentioned above, Elfaba joins a secretive terrorist cell in a plot to overthrow the government of Oz (yes, the Wizard). I remember numerous discussions in PolySci classes back in college about how and why some groups are classified as "terrorists" while others are considered "freedom fighters." If you support the actions of the group, you consider them to be brave heroes, while if they are targeting you and or the people/society which you hold dear, then they are the Enemy and they are Evil. I can see how this segment of the book could be a turn-off to certain readers (quite possibly the same group turned off by the sex and religion talk...).

I haven't yet decided how I feel about the sequel to Wicked, Son of a Witch, which came out this month. For one thing, I can't remember if there's anything in Baum's Oz lore pertaining to progeny of the WWOTW. I'm not sure why that's important to me, but for some reason it is. Then I worry about the inevitable disappointment of sequels: think about Star Wars or The Matrix, where they really should have just left well enough alone. However, I flew through this book in little over two days, and would have gladly continued reading had the story not been so inconsiderate as to end. So we shall see.

"People always did like to talk, didn't they? That's why I call myself a witch now: The Wicked Witch of the West, if you want the full glory of it. As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention."

Green on, Elphie!

Russian women in politics and business

"Russian political elite is made up of men, said Yekaterina Lakhova, chairperson of the parliamentary committee for the affairs of women, family and youth, on October 7 at the international conference entitled "Women and Democracy." Women hold 56% of state and 70% of municipal posts, but the higher the decision-making level, the fewer women are involved, added Lakhova, who also heads the Women of Russia movement. Out of 450 deputies in the parliament's lower chamber, only 44 are women. In the 180-member Federation Council, the upper chamber, there are only nine women. The only female governor is Valentina Matviyenko in St. Petersburg, the former deputy prime minister for social issues and ambassador to Malta and Greece. This statistics prompt feminists to speak of a patriarchal political culture in Russia. They lament that women are responsible only for a limited range of issues, such as family, healthcare, maternity and child welfare, and education. Is this sufficient for a country where women comprise more than half the population, and where 30% of women earn more than their husbands?"

Read the rest.

Lime Green Splurge

Splurging is not in my nature, nor is going out and spending the bulk of a month's salary on a fall/spring coat right as the temperatures are about to take a dive into winteriness. But, when I accidentally stumbled into the perfect coat (yes, the perfect Anie coat is lime green), I couldn't help myself. When I tried the thing on and it fit, there was no turning back. I may have even been hopping up and down, cackling with glee. But I’m weird like that. Let's just say I'm doing my part to support the Russian economy. And when I return to the milder winters of the United States, I can and will wear this thing every year for the rest of my life. Yes, B, J, and I went shopping this morning. We went to a big indoor market-type-place (if it'd been a true Russian market, we could've haggled over prices, but the quality of the goods would've been poorer). I was not looking for a coat, as I already had two fall/spring coats, plus the crazy winter coat Nina M gave me. I was on a quest for some winter boots. Needless to say, I failed in my quest, and will be suffering from cold toes until I can save up enough dough to shell out for some knee-high, pointy-toed, spike-heeled, fur-lined, Russian winter boots. Sorry for the absolutely pointless consumer-post.

Nina M is a wise woman

Last night on television there was a Russian-produced documentary on the lives of Russian "mail order brides" in the United States. I missed the first part of the program (being in my room, sewing buttons on that crazy coat Nina M gave me), but I saw about 3/4 of it. I was surprised at how many different points of view were shown (often such Russian shows tend to be heavily biased, either wholly for or wholly against something). The show mentioned success stories, mediocre marriages, and the case of Anastasia Solovieva King (about which I have written before), who was murdered by her American husband whom she met via the internet. After the show, Nina M and I sat and talked about what we had just seen, and she had some very interesting and rather conflicting opinions on the subject.

She talked about her life, how when she was young and in college (back in the days of the USSR), she knew that when she graduated, she would have a job. Period. This was never something she ever doubted or questioned. She knew that she would be working as a German teacher in Vladimir several months before she earned her degree; she did not have to worry about finding work. She said that even though her salary was small, it was enough to live on and it was enough to purchase everything she needed and to have a nice, decent life. Nowadays, when Russian students graduate from college, they have a very, very difficult time finding work, and many end up in unskilled, low-paying jobs, such as trolleybus conductor (person who collects the money from passengers). Due to inflation, it is next to impossible to survive on such low-paying jobs, much less live well. She said that she cannot blame young women, with all of their lives ahead of them, for looking to other countries for opportunities to live well. She completely understood their motives; however, she said that when these women leave behind their friends, family members, and their culture, they should not be surprised if they are unhappy in their new lives.

One of the women interviewed on the program was still with her American husband, but was unhappy. She seemed thoroughly disillusioned that her "wealthy American husband" lived in a dirty, low-quality trailer. Nina M said that many, many Russians are convinced that all Americans are wealthy and that life is easy and happy for all Americans. (I too have heard this from many Russians.) We discussed some of the problems in the US - like the fact that many Americans do live in such poor-quality mobile homes, or in public housing, and that many Americans also have a hard time finding work. (I told her about the deer job. You know, the six months I spent ripping jaw bones out of dead deer for minimum wage. Glamorous.) I completely understand that life in Russia is a lot harder on average, although the point wasn't to say that our problems were equal, but that all countries everywhere have problems. Nina M went on for a good while about the importance of realizing that societies everywhere suffer from different ailments, and that anyone who travels to another country thinking that life there will be perfect is simply foolish.

There is simply no way that any sane, rational person can view the story of Anastasia King without revulsion. I had read of her murder (which led to the International Marriage Broker Regulation Act, which has yet to be passed by congress), although watching the segment on it last night was simply horrifying. Aside from the creepy fact that the beautiful young Russian woman had married an overweight, unattractive fellow who was at least twice her age, he made all of these creepy videos of her (which were shown on the program), including sections where he was forcing her to kiss him in front of the camera, obviously against her will. Both Nina M and I were in shock after watching the footage and the tale of her murder (Russian TV tends to be a bit more graphic than American TV).

Anastasia was King's second "mail order bride" - his first had left him and filed a restraining order against him. Before coming to the US, any criminal history Anastasia might have had would have, by law, been told to King; however, King's criminal history was not revealed to Anastasia, because there is no law requiring that such information be passed on to potential spouses. The IMBRA would change that, although its passage seems unlikely. Nina M seemed to think that it was only fair that if the Russian is required to undergo a background check, the American do the same. She did not seem to see why anyone other than a criminal would oppose such a law.

As I said, the show was fairly well rounded, and they interviewed a couple (young Russian wife, middle-aged American man) who were happily married. The man (the author of a book entitled To Russia For Love, which is not listed at Amazon.com) made a point of saying that if you marry a Russian woman, you have to realize that she is from a very different and very rich culture, and that it is important to understand and appreciate her culture and to incorporate parts of her culture into your life. Nina M seemed to think that such marriages were rare, although she reiterated her comment that given the current situation in Russia, even an unhappy marriage abroad might be preferable to life here, happy marriage or no.

Ground Control to Major Tom

So David Bowie works really well in class. I used Space Oddity, two classes in a row (we did half the first day, and then finished the song out on day two), and the students really enjoyed it. I would definitely recommend this to other ESL teachers out there. As you know, my groups are all lower-level, so I had to translate a lot of the words for them, but the song tells a story that is easy to understand. Additionally, the slow tempo of the song and the clearness of Bowie's voice helped with comprehension. On the first day, after we had listened to and read through the lyrics, I asked them, "So what is Major Tom? What does he do?" and both classes immediately said "cosmonaut" without a second of hesitation. Usually they have to spend time pondering basic meanings. I like songs that work clearly. Of course, when I asked them what "cosmonaut" was in English, both classes told me "spaceman." I found that interesting... As a kid growing up during the latter years of the cold war, I knew that we (the US) had astronauts and they (the USSR) had cosmonauts. I thought everyone (in the US, at least) knew that. Or maybe it's just those geeky ones of us who had an over-dorkified interest in spaceflight. Anyhow, none of my students, neither the post-soviet generation nor the soviet/perestroika generation knew the word astronaut. I don't know about you, but I found that interesting. On the second day, several of my students seemed genuinely disturbed by the ending of the song, and we talked about different reasons why it might have ended the way it did. Definite recommendation!

The Russian Bookworm

I finally finished reading Anne Applebaum's Gulag, and I must say that it is one of the best - if not the best - nonfiction work I have ever read. It is certainly the best nonfiction book concerning Russia that I have read. I recommend this book to everyone. It is fascinating, incredibly detailed and well-researched, and it is well written. If you think that you already know a lot about the Russian Gulag system, and therefore don't need to read this work, I'd advise you to think again. I studied Russian history and politics in college, and I certainly knew more about the Gulag system than the average American; however, what I knew would not have filled half of a chapter of this book. Everyone should read it. Everyone. I had meant to write something about this book: what I had learned, what opinions I had formed, what quotes I felt were poignant enough to repeat, but I simply cannot. Anything I could say would merely serve to lessen the impact of Applebaum's text. Buy it, go to the library and borrow it, something, but read this book.

Moving on, but still on the topic of books: Now that I've finished with the Gulag, it seems that I've exhausted the AH Library's supply of Russian-history books. (It's chock full of books about the US to benefit the Russians, but that's not really what I'm after here.) I snagged two escapist thrillers from the library - a Sue Grafton and a Robert Ludlum - but while they'll entertain me, they won't really hold my attention for an extended period, nor will I learn much of anything from them. So if any of you feel, for some reason, like sending me a book off of my wishlist, I would be most ever grateful. Okay, so I don't actually expect anyone to send me anything, but it's worth a shot, right? But in all seriousness, if any of you have any suggestions as to Russia/USSR/Eastern Europe books that you think I might find interesting, please drop me a line and let me know.

And speaking of books, I haven't done too much with the one I'm writing since coming over here; it's hard to get into the mind of a sixteen year old north Florida country girl from a Soviet-era apartment in provincial Russia. However, I have started translating it into Russian as part of my Russian class. Let's just say that's easier said than done. I've managed to translate what amounts to less than one full page (single spaced) of a tale that is, in English, currently hovering right around fifty pages. Today I got to play Stump the Russian Teacher. Any of you ever tried explaining the concept of a Band Geek to a Russian? Well, you should try it some time. It's definitely an experience.

And now for something totally unrelated: Tonight, after leaving the factory, I rode home on the trolleybus, seated next to one of my students. We were talking about the weather (what else? Russians *love* to talk about the weather), and she asked me if I thought it was cold. I told her that it is as cold as a north Florida winter right now, and then I moved on to explain how unnerving it was to fly out of Florida in February and land in St. Petersburg in February, which is obviously vastly different, climate-wise. She laughed and said, "Here in Russia we say, in St. Petersburg, they haven't winter. It is much colder here in Vladimir." Maybe Nina M. was right in giving me that coat after all.