Taking the Plunge

Cars were lined up along the road in the city center as we drove slowly past, looking for a spot to park. Ahead of us, and behind us, was a train of cars, also trying to squeeze in. "Wow! Are they all here for...," I asked. "Yep," was the reply. I couldn't believe it. I knew it was important to the Russians, but I didn't know it was this important.  

Anna and I, and our Aunt and Dad, got dropped off. We walked along with the stream of people going down to the waterfront. I could see a throng of people, floodlights, cameras and warming huts. I had no idea it would be so big. I thought it would be a small family affair, with no one else watching. What an experience it turned out to be. 

Anna and I made our way out on to the frozen water and into one of the huts. It was crowded and steamy. There, we changed into swimsuits and with my mind screaming "This is ludicrous!" we stepped out of the hut and onto the ice. There was quite a line, but we joined and it moved quickly. As we approached the front of the line the lights that lit up the center of the crowd grew brighter. The powerful choral music got louder and the cold became intense. Running past us were the people who had already finished. Some were smiling, some were crying. I was at first acutely aware of the television cameras, but when it was my turn, every thought evaporated. I grabbed Anna's hand. "Let's go," she said, and hand in hand, we took the plunge. 

The sheer shock of the water took my breath away. I was only under for a second, but it was completely silent, and with my eyes screwed shut, incredibly dark. It was an exhilarating experience, but one that didn't last. I gasped, as my chest seemed to be crushed by the cold. In the shock, I had forgotten it was the ocean, as I spit out the salty water when I surfaced. As soon as I went in, I climbed out, pulling Anna out as well. Even standing on the ice in bare feet with the cold air, I felt completely warm. I looked back into the water that was alive with people jumping in and practically rocketing back out. 

I couldn't believe I had been in the ocean, in January, in Russia. I remember thinking about how cold the water must be when I was ice fishing a couple of weeks ago. I never thought I would ever be in it. But I was, and what an experience celebrating this Russian Orthodox Christmas tradition. 

Magadan: School

For the second time during my exchange I had "my first day at school." I don't think I've ever been more excited for school, because I was so interested to see how it would compare to my school in Vlad. What I found surprised me.

I attended Gymnasium 13, one of the biggest schools in Magadan with 800 students, ranging from tiny little things to the eleventh form. I had heard horror stories from the kids in my school back in Vlad about the public high schools. However, I was pleasantly  surprised to find a clean building, already decorated for New Years, with extremely friendly people who welcomed me in right away. 

I, once again, knew nothing about bringing an extra pair of nice shoes to wear in the school, and wearing black or grey. I really didn't care that I was in red and wearing the clunkiest boots in the Far East. I was too interested in what I was seeing. The building itself was three stories, with a separate section for the really little ones. There was a gym, a canteen and a small theater. The floor was tile and the walls were either a sickly green or the color of pepto bismal, which made me feel slightly nauseous either way. The lessons were fairly normal, forty minutes, with a fifteen minute break between. The classrooms were equipped with the usual black board and desks, the only difference being that since students changed classrooms here, the teachers did not and had personalized their rooms according to the subject they taught. So the biology room had plants in it, and a hamster. The chemistry room had the table of elements plastered everywhere and lab coats hung in the corner. For the most part, school felt normal, like in America. 

Since there are four Rotary exchange students here, I started with my German friend, Lucie. She is in the tenth form. I guess I was sort of expecting things to be similar to school in Vlad, in the sense that I would be just another student in the other students' eyes. It was completely different. I had a landslide of people coming to me, asking me questions about where I was from, how long I was staying, and generally interested to know me. I was blown away. I actually made friends on the first day of school, something I hadn't really managed in three month in Vlad. I enjoyed my day immensely; however out of place I looked, I felt right at home. We had six classes, and a Russian Grammar lesson (for the exchange students). 

For the rest of the days at school I was in Lucie's or Malo's class. Malo, a boy from France, is in the ninth form. I enjoyed being with the kids, they were so friendly and welcoming. They helped me with my Russian, drew me pictures, braided my hair, gave me their phone numbers, invited me to cafes and to go skiing. I was absolutely blown away. How different it was from Vladivostok! I felt so at home with them, so welcomed. Towards the end I can't tell you how many of them asked me if I was going to stay, and it nearly broke my heart. 

Every day at school, the kids are served breakfast in a canteen at the back of the school. There is a very basic kitchen at the back. Peeping in I saw five old, hunched-over ladies slowly moving about, in a tired sort of way. It was sort of comical, to see one peeling potatoes in a lackadaisical manner, another tossing dishes into a sink. The floor was that sickly green; there were some wooden counters, and an oven. It obviously hadn't changed in the many years since the school was built. At the small counter where the food was served, one woman quickly served whatever food they had made onto plates. The food itself sort of made me feel like Oliver Twist, like I should go back, with my plate in hand and ask "please sir, can I have some more?" One day it was a cabbage mush with a stale slice of bread. Another day it was a giant meatball, that disintegrated as soon as you put a fork in it, and another morning it was noodle mush. All the food was cooked in such a way that it sort of all morphed into the "mush" category. Yum!

One day, as I walked into a history class, I felt like I had walked into a Russian museum. The Russian flag was everywhere, there were old posters plastered to the walls, and portraits of military leaders and tsars hung in a row. It was very interesting, but for most of the lesson I was looking at a series of posters at the back of the room. The first one showed a detailed diagram of the workings and assemblage of an AK-47 rifle. The next poster depicted positions of shooting the rifle in combat, and how to use it with a bayonet. The final poster showed several models of grenades, and more about automatic rifle assembly. Later in the day, a lady in the school asked me to follow her. I didn't know what she wanted, but I went along. She asked me if I liked guns, and if I wanted to go shooting. I said I found them interesting and I enjoy shooting. She laughed. We went into a small room, with a curtain cutting off part of it. The woman disappeared behind this partition, and returned holding a real Kalashnikov. She proudly handed to me, and said tomorrow we were going shooting, not with a Kalashnikov, but lighter rifles. I nearly died.

The next day Malo and I, and a girl from the ninth grade class, met in the hall to go shooting. The woman who had shown me the AK-47 came, along with a tall man with white hair and beard. He unlocked a door, and we all descended down a very dangerous flight of stairs to a small, dark room. Passing through it we came to a shooting range; mind you, this was underneath the gym, of the school. In one corner was a cabinet, holding five or six automatic rifles, and several rolls of ammunition. We walked towards a table with two rifles laying on it (not automatics), and we spent a good hour putting holes in the targets at the other end of the room. It was absolutely fantastic. 

On another day, I was with Malo's class, and they had World History. We all sat down, and since I was obviously new, I introduced myself to the teacher. As soon as I said I was an American he made an "ooooohhhhhhhhh" sound, and the rest of the lesson turned into a Q & A session with me about world politics and American foreign policy. I got drilled, in front of the whole class, about Ukraine, the Middle East, Ferguson, "What America thinks" about Russia, Putin and who started the war in Ukraine. He was very interested in why I was in Russia and how I thought of the country. He then began showing a lot of interest in 9/11 and proposed we watch a video about the event, then discuss it afterwards.  I don't know how I felt about it all. I couldn't answer all his questions of course, because of my limited Russian. However, I found his interest very interesting in and of itself. With the situation between America and Russia how it is, especially now, he was curious to know what the American public thought about global issues. While I felt a little uncomfortable and out -numbered, I was glad of the opportunity to show them that, really, Americans are just normal people, like the Russians, and the general consensus in the class by the end of the period was that the tensions between our countries are just political. 

Magadan: My Friends

The main reason for going to Magadan over Christmas was to visit my four Rotary exchange student friends who live there.  Lucie is from Germany, Malo is from France, Mariana is from Brazil and Ryo is from Japan. Together we represented five nationalities and four continents! We had met at orientation in September and I had really been missing them since then. It felt so good to be back together again.



In general, we spoke Russian, but it was fun to hear so many languages. We listened to each other and learned from one another. I learned a wealth of new words in each of their native languages and it was an incredible cultural opportunity. We were all from such different countries and ways of life, but we got along very well. For example, Lucie had a game on her phone which you had to come up with the brand name based on the logo. The brands  were from all over the world but, with all of us playing, we crushed it! Just little things like that reminded me of the incredible journey I was on, and how much I would gain from knowing these kids. I remember Mariana said to me once, "two American girls on the same continent!" So true!

They have a very laid-back and fun lifestyle in Magadan. They are very involved in school and with the Rotary Club, and have adapted well to their city. They often meet at each other's houses to have tea and to talk. Once, we met at Malo's house so Mariana could bake a Brazilian cake for us. The cake was delicious and we played games and had fun listening to Russian music. Another time we went to the movie The Hobbit (dubbed in Russian with English subtitles) together. We bought a ton of junk food and passed it all up and down the row to each other during the entire movie. We practically waddled out of the theater from all the popcorn, soda and M&M's.



It was especially fun to hear different Christmas traditions from around the world, and this included having a small Christmas party together. We ate German Christmas bread that Lucie brought recently from Germany. Mariana gave us neat Brazilian boxes, and Malo and Ryo made candy sushi from a kit Ryo had brought from Japan. I had brought the Christmas music, so Bing Crosby was in the background, and  we all agreed it was the strangest, but best, Christmas we could have possibly had.



We spent a lot of time with Russians friends as well. We went on walks with them, and to cafes. I had so many more Facebook friends when I left Magadan than when I had arrived!  The Russians were incredibly kind kids, and were so interested in the world and learning about it. I miss them a lot, all of them. I really became part of their community too, and I felt so welcomed. I loved to see how kids from all over the world, representing now six nationalities, could become so close so quickly.

Magadan: The City

For all of the bad things said about it in Vlad, Magadan far exceeded my expectations. I expected a cinder block town, where there is nothing to do, and nothing to see, and all the people go about their life in drudgery and hopelessness. What I found was a beautiful city, with many fun things to do, and people that welcomed me like I have rarely experienced. 

The city itself was compact; everything could be reached by foot. In the center there was a huge, beautiful church, with white stucco and gleaming, golden onion domes. I had a beautiful view of it from my house. There was a museum, a stadium, several sports complexes, several movie theaters, and a beautiful old theatre. There were shopping centers, libraries, fun cafes and beautiful art all over the city. 

On one of the first days I was there, my Magadan host mom took me to the local museum. I was fascinated to learn why this city is out in the middle of, quite literally, nowhere, where everything has to be brought in, by planes or inboats, and there are no good roads. So there is nowhere to go but on an airplane. Why?! 

Gold. This settled region in Russia really only exists because of the gold and silver mines. Historically there were the native Russians, which, looking at the display in the museum, led a life very similar to the Inuit in Alaska. They hunted walrus and seal, and got around by dogsled or the highly valued caribou. In the late 1800's the first outsiders came to the region in search of gold, and they found it in great quantities. The neighboring cities here all have gold and silver mines. Magadan is the only one of these cities located on the sea, thus the gold was brought to Magadan, and shipped from here. Of course, Magadan was used as a gulag in the 1900's. Many of the prisoners who worked to build the "Road of Bones" (the famous road from Yakutsk to Magadan) were from the camps in Magadan. Today, a large monument stands for them above the city: a stone mask, with tears falling from the empty eyes, and in the tears many faces to represent those who died in the road's construction. 

It was very interesting to walk through the museum, learn about the native culture and how the city was formed. My mom told me how they had to bring in cars, and that they were the only way to bring the gold from the mountains. She smiled as she pointed to a picture of a fleet of Studebaker trucks. "Look!" she said, "America helped too!" 

I thoroughly enjoyed the city. It was not very big, so you could walk everywhere. The buildings were quite elegant, however worn. The streets were brightly decorated for New Years, and everyone was out and going about their business. It was fairly easy to navigate, I used the golden domes of the church as my reference point. My dad joked that Magadan was the "Paris of Russia," because there was a tall cell tower right in the center, shaped exactly like the Eiffel Tower. There was the "Seine" river, which flows under the ice, past their biggest supermarket. We enjoyed the joke, and I thought it was quite a beautiful little city. Outside the city, small дерева (villages, made up of very, very small houses) were spread out on the hills in one direction, and in the other, the city went right down the sea, where many locals took their evening walks on the ice. 

Right outside my house was an ice sculpture display. When I arrived they were still working on them, but a week later they had finished, and every evening people would come to see the beautiful ice art, lit up by strings of multicolored lights. There were many sculptures by native Russians depicting traditional stories, or just their way of life. There was a comical piece, labeled "Bureaucrat" that was a face on the bottom of a foot. Some were nature scenes; one was themed on world peace. At the very end was a very interesting sculpture of a political prisoner breaking out of chains. However, my favorite was of a bird, featured often in Russian fairy tales. It was made of exceptionally clear ice, with many swirls and curls as the ice bird was just spreading its wings to take to the sky. Ribbons of white sliced through the sculpture, where the ice had cracked slightly. The light reflected beautifully off of the white, and highlighted the exquisite curves carved in the ice. I almost expected it to rise up and take flight, it was so real. 

As it turns out, I fell in love with the city everyone told me not to go to. Sure it was cold,  but that was the only drawback. Everyone in Vlad who warned me of Magadan had never been, and I can't wait to tell them that a jewel sits tucked in the mountains of Siberia. 

Magadan: The Cold

Everyone I talked to in Vlad was sure I was going to come back an ice cube, and they seemed to take great pleasure in telling me it was going to be fifty below. However, the temperatures in Magadan were quite nice. They were much colder at the beginning of the trip, an average of thirty below in Fahrenheit, but by the end we were roasting in minus seven or eight Celsius (19-22 Fahrenheit).

The first few days were a shock, the cold was intense. Being outside went something like this: first, you go out and feel just fine, because as long as there isn't much wind, and you have the right clothes on, it's not so bad. You start walking, and any tiny puff of wind slices right through any jacket you have and it literally takes your breath away. Your hands are the first to go; your fingers becoming stiff and white, even in the warmest gloves. Next, your toes start to go numb and you feel like there are five marbles attached to your foot. It takes longer for your face to freeze. Of course your nose instantly becomes the color of a tomato, but after a few minutes your cheeks are so cold they feel hot. Then your lips freeze so that your speech becomes a bit slurred and smiling for a photo looks like you're in intense pain. Perhaps the worst part are your legs, especially your thighs; they freeze within minutes and every time you take a step hot bolts of pain shoot up and down. Within ten minutes you are frozen solid, but the good part is that once you can't feel anything, it's all the same anyways. The longest we lasted outside was an hour. We had walked to the sea, to walk on the ice. On the way back we had to run from shop to shop, where we would warm up for a few minutes.The freezing process would begin again as soon as we stepped outside. However it seemed to get faster and faster each time. 

But, overall it wasn't as bad as I had thought, and the temperatures never seemed to keep anyone indoors. There were always people out and about. The city was so compact we went everywhere by foot anyways, so I spent quite a bit of time outside. 

Taking photos was a problem. Taking your hands out your gloves was a painful practice. Even if your fingers did work well enough to take the picture, the camera often died in the cold. On one particularly cold day there was a parade of people all dressed as Santa Clause. They marched through the town to the theatre, where a huge Christmas tree was set up (well, it was actually for New Years). There was a small marching band that played. I don't know how they played without their lips freezing to their instruments. However, they all had covers for their instruments. The tuba was all swathed in a wool bag-thing, with the golden horn sticking out. The clarinet player actually had a sock for his that he could put his hands into and play. The trombone slide was covered, and the trumpeters wrapped their hands up with their trumpet. It was quite funny to see.

Going to Magadan

(The Rotary Club in Magadan invited all of the district exchange students to come visit for Christmas. There are only ten of us from the Ural Mountains to the Pacific Ocean, and four are located in Magadan. Of the remaining six, two of us were able to make the trip. I flew from Vladivostok to Magadan on December 15 and stayed there until December 28.)

We had to wake up at 3:30 in the morning. It was still quite dark, and no one was awake enough to get any breakfast. I think I had a cookie, maybe. I had packed my bag the night before so there wasn't much to do. We shuffled through the fresh snow to the car and were on our way to the airport. Dad was driving, and I sat in the back, next to Maddy, my dear Australian friend who had decided to come to the airport with me as it was the last time we would see each other since she was going home in a couple of days. We cranked the iPod to our favorite songs, as the snow swirled around the car. 

We made it to the airport at 5:00. I was interested to see how grueling security would be, and how long I would have to wait in registration. Everything was relatively painless. For registration, they took my passport for a few seconds, threw my bag onto the conveyor belt, I was handed my ticket, and that was that. Security was even faster. I put my coat and belt into a tub, put my purse in another and there was no line whatsoever. 

The airport was small, just the one terminal with seven or eight gates. I found my gate (not that it was that hard) and waited to board. The flight was relatively full, which surprised me, because based on people's reactions to hearing I was going to Magadan, I expected there to be just myself and a few political prisoners on the flight. We had to wait a few minutes for the plane to be de-iced, then slowly coasted through the snow to the runway, which was also covered in snow, and under that was ice. The plane jerked from side to side as it roared down the runway, the bumpy ice grabbing the wheels. It was no smoother in the air, but the turbulence was gone in a few minutes. 

After a few hours' stop in a city called Habarovsk,  we landed in Magadan. We all got off the plane and boarded a bus that took us to a tiny airport building across the tarmac. There I was met by my Magadan host family, all four exchange students and three Rotary members! It was quite the welcoming committee. I was so excited to see the other kids. They walked through the door on the other side of the hall, and we all ran towards one another and collided into one big hug. It was so good to see them. 

I knew it was going to be a great trip.

Ice Fishing

I had no sooner gotten back from Magadan than I got a call from Vincent, the Taiwanese Rotary exchange student, inviting me to go ice finishing with him and a friend of ours. I jumped at the chance, and was the most excited about going fishing than I have ever been.

I had to wake up early, before it was light. I stumbled about, rubbing my sleepy eyes, trying not to wake everyone else. I filled a thermos with hot tea and bundled up with two sweaters, two pairs of socks, padded pants, several pairs of gloves, a scarf, my hat, and then my coat and boots. I had to wait forty minutes for the bus to meet my friends in the city center; thus by the time we even got to the ocean my feet were freezing. There were four of us going:Vincent, his host brother Andrey, and our friend Denis, who was the one who actually had the equipment. 

We made our way across the ice to about fifty meters out, where we drilled our first holes. Denis was equipped with a fishing box and the drill. The drill was a hefty thing, about as tall as Denis himself, shaped much like an old fashioned hand-powered drill. He drilled four holes in the ice, each about two meters apart. He leaned on the top of the drill, and cranked the middle handle. The snow and ice was brought up and out of the hole, and was churned into a soft moundaround the drill head. The ice at the first spot was about six inches deep, but farther out where we fished later, it was almost half a meter. 

After sinking the holes, Denis opened his box and pulled out four fishing poles, each about a foot long. They were electric green plastic, and had fishing lines with six or seven hooks, each six inches apart, with pieces of bright, colorful plastic stuck onto them. Each of us dropped our lines into our holes and lightly bobbed them up and down. We repeated this process in two places, and we would have continued, except for the fact that we weren't even getting bites.

It was a beautiful, cold morning, with not a cloud in sight. Across the ice there were figures, maybe fifty in all, of other ice fishermen hunched over on their boxes, bobbing their poles up and down. The bay was completely frozen, and you could walk all the way across to the islands on the other side. "About an hour's walk," said Denis. Ships plowthrough the ice to get to the open sea; the paths they cut freezing over, creating slick, blue rivers through the snow-covered ice, which we slipped across to get  to the good fishing spots. 

The city was spread along the shoreline, and I could even see my apartment building a ways away. Turning in a circle, I saw my city: the white expanse of ice dotted with ice fishermen, out across that, the snow covered islands,and finally the break to the open ocean. My sight was lined with the fur on my hood, and I felt quite Russian.

The only drawback was the cold. The temperature wasn't too bad, and the wind was hardly noticeable; however, no matter how thick the soles of your boots are, the cold from the ice seeps through to your feet, and there is no relief. My feet suffered the worst, my hands were swollen by the time I got home, and towards the end, the cold even seeped through my coat, sweatshirt and sweater. I couldn't feel my legs, so I don't know how they felt. I don't know how Denis sits on the ice for hours fishing, as he goes quite often. He didn't seem to be affected by the cold as he layon the snow, texted with bare fingers, and drank coke, slushy with ice. 

We returned frozen and empty-handed, but it was a fantastic experience. I limped home, as I forgot money for the bus, and was happy to finally be here, with a hot cup of tea.