Blagoveshensk

Blagoveshchensk is a small city in the Amur region of Russia, located at the northern border of China. The long Amur River forms the border between the two countries for almost a thousand miles, and the city of Blagoveshchensk runs right down the bank of the river. The population is about 250,000 and it was founded in 1858.

I had the opportunity to spend a week there visiting an exchange friend from Mexico (Adrian) when the local Rotary Club invited me. I arrived at what must be one of the world's smallest airports, with an area for the planes about the size of the airport parking lot. Our tiny plane, with about twenty people on it, was the only one on the tarmac. I got my bag from the baggage claim in record time and met Adrian and my Blagoveshchensk host mom.

Driving from the airport, which was a ways from the city, we passed through beautiful birch forests. The leaves were still small, but electric green. The grass had grown up, and it was absolutely stunning. Small houses started to appear, and fields broke up the forest. Eventually we left the woods behind and came out on a bluff overlooking the city. I could see Blagoveshchensk, tucked in a corner formed by the confluence of the Zeya and Amur rivers. On the other side of the Amur River was the smaller Chinese city of Hei Hei. The landscape I could see was mainly flat, with softly rolling hills, and stretching into the distance, hills were sparsely forested with pine and birch. The river disappeared into the hills, where it would continue along the border all the way to Khabarovsk.

The city itself was incredibly normal. There was nothing exciting or special about it. On the outskirts of the city were small dachas and overgrown yards, which then turned into concrete apartment buildings, the closer you got to town. At the center of the city was a large square, and the streets were lined with cafes, schools, offices and more apartments. It was small, but clean and pleasant. It was simply a very typical Russian city.

My host mom was a wonderful woman named Tatiana. The outside of the apartment building looked rundown, but her apartment was spacious and gorgeous. It was one of the nicest apartments I have ever been in. I even had my own room. I really enjoyed staying with her. When I came home at night, we would make tea and watch her huge flatscreen television until all hours of the night. She showed me around the city, and I know she was the one responsible for organizing my stay there.

I spent most of my time in Blagoveshchensk being the shadow of my friend Adrian. I went with him to school and to the city. We walked on the waterfront a lot, and played with his little brother and sister. We went with various people to events, such as the May 9th parade, or to lunch. It was a lot of fun, actually, to hang out with another exchange student. We were perfectly content to sit at Subway for to just talk for three hours at a time, or to watch movies with his host siblings.

Adrian's host family was really wonderful and their house was amazing. They lived outside the city a ways, in a huge four story house. The outside was stunning and the inside was straight from a Martha Stewart magazine. Everything was perfect, everything matched. The living room, dining room and kitchen were arranged in an open, airy style. 

On the first floor was the banya. It was really a glorified bathroom with three rooms. The outer room had a couch, a tv and stereo, a large table, and heated floors. The next room was a room for the shower and a huge bathtub. From there you walked into a narrow hallway. At the beginning of this was a bucket, mounted high on the wall, with a rope to dump cold water over you. The small room at the other end of the hall was the actual banya, with three levels of cedar benches and a space to lay down at the top.

Stairs went down to the basement, and up to the second floor. The kids' rooms were decorated to the last detail. The daughter's room was all pinks, and had a white furniture set. The son's room was blues, and the floor was covered in Legos and toy cars. I was invited to stay with the family a couple of nights. When I was with them, we wore ourselves out playing cars and ping pong. I discovered that I am not half-bad at foosball and we had epic Nerf wars. It was so fun to be with kids again. During my whole exchange I had never interacted once with young children in a home. Even to hear their young boy talk was a novelty.

Adrian's family prepared a Mexican dinner for us, complete with quesadillas and salsa. It was wonderful and strange at the same time, to be in a dining room, at a dining table, with matching dishes, and see the family all eating together. It was like home. They actually have four children: their oldest son is studying in St. Petersburg at University, and their oldest daughter is on exchange to Brazil. They were a wonderful family, but I forgot to ask what the father did. I almost died when he walked down the stairs wearing a Cricket Australia shirt! After getting a bewildered look from him when I asked if he watched cricket, I found that a friend from Australia had given it to him. It turned out he is a hockey fan, so we talked about that.

The big event while I was in Blagoveshchensk was May 9th, or VE Day. The Russians call WWII "The Great Patriotic War," and May 9th is "the day Russia won the war." All across Russia there were huge celebrations. In Blagoveshchensk there was a parade down the Main Street to the central square. There were tanks parked along the street, and the familiar orange and black ribbon (the Ribbon of St. George) was everywhere. First in the parade was a march of civilians holding photos of relatives who had died in the war. They say that every family in Russia lost someone, whether it was a father, brother or son. It was a powerful demonstration of loss and remembrance. Next, military personnel from all the branches marched, followed by veterans. Finishing off the parade were the cadets, girls and boys in uniform, carrying huge automatic weapons. 

There was a flyby of antique planes, complete with parachutists. The entire city was filled with people all day long, and in the evening there was a huge party in the center square. A very loud concert went on for hours, and the streets and waterfront were packed. At ten there was a very impressive fireworks display, in unison with ones on the Chinese side of the river.

So, yet again, I had my first day at a school. I went with Adrian a few times to class; however, a lot of the time we went for the first two or three classes, then skipped and went to Subway. School was exactly the same as in Magadan. There were three floors, with all grades, amounting to 2000 students. We saw his younger brother and sister there too. There were six classes a day, each forty-five minutes long. I sat with Adrian at the very back, and we spent the classes playing charades. We got numerous dark looks from the teachers as they noticed us acting like dinosaurs and chickens in the back of the room. We smothered the laughter as best we could, but we did get told to just not come to school the next day if we couldn't behave.

The second day there, we were invited to a Rotarian's house, in a small village outside the city. We drove across the Zeya River and out into the flat fields that surround the city. Elena's house was big, and absolutely beautiful. As we opened up the doors of the car, a huge, purebred German Shepherd stuck her head in. "Eva!" our hostess yelled, pulling her out of the car. The dog jumped around us as we walked through the yard to the house. Elena made us tea, and as soon as we had finished, we went out to play with the dog.

"I don't know, it's kind of weird," Adrian said. "She's invited me here before just to play with the dog."

The yard was big. It had a vegetable garden in the corner, a lawn, tool shed, gazebo and banya. We threw toys for Eva, who never seemed to get tired. After about an hour, we decided to take a break and hid from Eva in the banya. It was very comfortable, so we sat in the outer room and watched the flat screen tv and drank tea. Elena came out to check on us, and was pleased to see us enjoying the banya. She was concerned about us catching cold, though, and soon came out with huge coats for us to put on over the fleeces she had already given us. So we sat for about two hours out there, watching tv, before Adrian voiced the thought we were both thinking: "what are we doing out here in the banya?" So we went back into the house and continued to watch tv in the warmth. Elena was delighted to have us join her.

"It's very good for you two to be able to talk to each other in your native language. I know Adrian must get lonely here, being the only exchange student," she said. (Though Adrian is from Mexico, he speaks perfect English since he was born, and lived in, San Diego).

Elena was a wonderful woman. She was absolutely hysterical, loud and energetic. Her questions and comments were so frank, but she was a very wise woman. She talked to me for a long time about what a gift my parents had given me, by letting me go on exchange. Her own children lived far away as well, one in Germany and the other in Thailand. She explained how experiences like these change people, and how I need to use my experience to benefit others. I thoroughly enjoyed my visit with her, and will never forget what she said to me.

I was sad to leave Blagoveshchensk as I had had a really fun visit. The people I met were fantastic. It had the same small-town feel as Magadan. There, the people had been more open and friendly, and it felt very serene. It was the kind of town where nothing ever happens, and life never really changes. It is the kind of place I find the most interesting here in Russia.

Russia: Personal Saftey

I've always wanted to write about the stereotypes I've heard of Russia. However, I've felt like I didn't know enough, or that it was too early for me, to state an opinion. After over eight months here, I feel like I am ready. 

Everybody thinks Russia is unsafe. Everybody. Not only people in the United States, but from other countries as well. In talking to all the other exchange students I've met on this journey, we have all experienced our parents/family/friends/acquaintances freaking out when we either chose or were selected for Russia. We are all familiar with this conversation:

Friend: "So which country are you going to?!"

Me: "Russia!"

Friend: "Oh." 

We all got the same comments: "I hope you come back," and "It was nice knowing you." 

I laughed of course, it was humorous before I left, but now I don't find it the least bit funny. We joke about Russia, but we really do fear it, and distrust it. This is obvious because parents are not wanting to send their kids on exchange here. The number of exchange students here in Russia is shrinking, and there weren't that many to begin with. It's sad really, because this stereotype that Russia is scary and unsafe is not true. 

The Russians I've met know what the world thinks of them; they laugh at all the stereotypes. They think it's funny that they are perceived as vodka-drinking, bear-riding and balalaika-playing people. However, the fact that the world generally fears them is not humorous to them. It hurts them. No one wants to be the perpetual bad guy. They watch western films where the Russians are ALWAYS the enemy. They watch all the video clips about "those crazy Russians," and they know what the foreign news says about them. I see that it's hurtful. I get the question a lot: "Does everyone in America hate us?". 

I will never forget the reaction of the Rotary District exchange chairman in Eastern Russia (the woman in charge of the exchange students in our district), when she found out no American students would be coming next year. She was so sad. She doesn't understand why people don't want their children to come here. She doesn't understand why her people and country are perceived as scary and unsafe. She doesn't know how to fix the misconception. 

"Why don't they want to send their children here, when our own children live here? We are not different; we live and work just like everyone else. You have seen Emma, we are not scary, we are not aliens. You need to tell everyone this, this is your job is to tell people that we are just like you." 

Russia is not a scary or unsafe place. It can be, just like in every other country. Accidents happen all over the world. That being said, a big part of being safe is being smart. There are things in Russia that are dangerous, but as long as you avoid them, you will be safe. I feel incredibly safe here, safer than I have ever felt. I walk alone at night all over this city of 700,000 people and I don't feel any fear. 

One reason for this is that there are always people, everywhere. I am never alone on the sidewalk. In the City Center, it is busy day and night. People of all ages are out and about, from kids to grandparents. Even when I'm in one of the sleeping districts at night, and only a few people are out, I feel safe. Sometimes I try to make myself scared when I walk along late at night: I focus on the darkness, the dim lights and the generally sketchy surroundings. However, this evaporates when a little grandma with a bag of groceries in her hand walks by, or a mom and her little boy walk out of an apartment building. There are always people around me.

Russians ignore each other, and it's another reason why I feel so safe. They ignore me, I ignore them. As long as I don't make eye contact, look like I know where I'm going, and don't speak in English, I can walk wherever, whenever, I want. Of course there are areas to avoid, like there are in every city. 

The Russian people are not dangerous, and rumors of mafia and gang violence are not true. Sure, there's a little of that in the bigger cities, but not like it used to be. They say it's gotten a lot better, and now it's almost nonexistent. The mafia was huge after the fall of communism because there was no food. The shelves in the stores were empty and the people had no other option than the black market, which was run by the mafia. However, as the economy improved the mafia disappeared, and now the Russians laugh when I ask about it. 

Another reason I feel so safe is that the Russians look out for each other. They may not seem like friendly people, but when someone needs help, they don't hesitate to assist them. I feel safe with Russians, because I know they have my back when it comes down to it. 

There is also the stereotype that the Russians hate us, and this leads us to think that it might be dangerous for Americans. I can honestly say that the Russians have a better opinion of us than we do of them. Russians hate our government, but love us as people. They admire our culture, listen to our music, and watch our films. Yes, I have encountered some negativity and distrust, but never hostility. In bigger cities, actually, the fact that I am American doesn't mean a thing. I hardly get a glance. In smaller ones, it makes me a celebrity, which is kind of nice. Russians really do like us; in fact, I was recently on a trip to a city called Blagoveshensk; one woman there told me "please go home and tell everyone that we don't hate Americans." 

I admit there are dangerous things in Russia. Roads for instance: yes, the roads are in bad condition. But there's more danger from bad driving habits. Yes, there are good drivers, but there is a reason why there are so many car accidents here. In general, Russians drive like madmen. Also, the woods here are very dangerous, and is not advisable to walk alone through them, due to hazardous insects and bears. However, in general, if you ask people if something is safe, and stay smart, Russia is no more dangerous than anywhere else. 

The Day We Almost Burned Down the Dacha

No sooner than I had arrived back from St. Petersburg and Moscow, Natalia (my host mom) and I decided to drive out to her dacha. We packed a few things, stuffed the cat into a tote bag, and shouldering everything, headed for the car. The cat behaved fairly well, though she easily escaped the tote and rampaged through the car. She soon quieted down and we had a very uneventful drive. 

The dacha is in a small town called Artyom, about an hour outside Vladivostok. It was a beautiful day with a breeze and not a cloud in sight. Everything was starting to leaf out, and grass had grown along the highway. We reached the dacha by about two in the afternoon. Her father had been living in it until he died, which wasn't long ago, but just looking at the outside reminded me of a haunted house. In theory, if everything was fixed up, repainted and replanted, it would be the loveliest little summer home. However, stepping through the gate, the piles of junk stood high in the large yard. Splintered wood, old sheet rock, rusting metal and broken glass lay half buried in dirt. Rusting oil cans were filled with old plastic, bottles of all colors and sizes lay everywhere, and stacks of warped plywood lined the side of the house. A rather frightening-looking ramshackle hut stood to one side near the house; I didn't quite know what it was for, or what it was made of. 

The house itself was big, but extremely worn on the outside. The inside...was not much better. The rooms were just filled with stuff. Most of it was old stuff: rusty, moldy, stained, bent, broken, torn or dusty. The plaster on the walls was falling off in chunks, revealing the sheet rock underneath, and even that was crumbling. There was a kitchen, living room and bedroom on the ground floor, but no furniture remained. Climbing up a ladder, we went to the second floor. There were two bedrooms there. Looking out the window, I learned the scary hut was the bathroom. 

The garden obviously hadn't been a garden for a very long time. There were a few rhubarbs growing, and some beautiful berry bushes. The trees were all apple or plum, but the rest of the yard was overgrown and filled with weeds. It wasn't a bad little place, if it were all fixed up it would be an absolutely beautiful garden. We set up a small picnic under one of the trees. I pulled a piece of plywood out from one of the piles and laid it on top of a rusty table frame. We spread out our tablecloth and settled down for a nice lazy day at the dacha. But of course, it didn't really work out that way. 

Natalia had a few chores in mind to do around the place. I didn't mind of course; it felt good to be back working in a garden. She said we would clear up all the dead grass in the yard. We found some rakes in the house and set to work. It was going to be a long day, as the yard was actually quite large. 

"No, no, no! Emma wait! You don't need to rake there!" Natalia hollered, as I had just started to rake at the edge of a plot of grass. She came over, and pulling out a lighter from her pocket, bent down and lit the dead grass. My heart stopped: the whole yard was flammable. However, if Natalia felt safe doing it, I figured I didn't need to worry. I was wrong.

It went alright for the first half hour. We raked some piles, lit them, and let the fire get rid of the dead plant material. Natalia made no attempt to stop it, even when it approached the edge of the yard where dead vines grew on the fence, and piles of wood lay. We had, by now, attracted the attention of the neighbors on the left, who had started pouring water on the ground on their side of the fence. They of course knew Natalia and were chatting, while watching the flames. However, things soon turned sour when it reached the upper right corner and caught a pile of dead plants and wood. With a whoosh, the corner went up in flames, and soon the fence did too. Luckily that side of the fence bordered a small alley, but the neighbors on that side soon popped out of their house too to watch. 

It got worse when the dead vines were soon on fire, and the fire raced down the fence to the scary toilet hut, which was only a few meters from the house. Natalia and I sat at the table, just watching it unfold. Natalia's calm kept me calm. Though we never said anything, we were both thinking that this was getting a little out of hand. 

"Natalia!" yelled a neighbor. "It's time to call the fire department!" 

The hut was now ablaze, and we discovered there was a pile of sheet rock in it too. The wood popped loudly and small explosions sent plumes of smoke high into the air. The most concerning part was we had no water with which to put it out. They had no hoses there, and the only water we had with us was what I had put into my water bottle before we left. To put out the fire with that would take a miracle rivaling that of feeding the five thousand. Natalia stood up, and I followed her out of the gate and around the road to a well. A good old-fashioned well stood at the end of the alley where the fire was. We grabbed what buckets we could find and set to work. I hauled up the water from the well and filled up the buckets. Natalia walked up the alley a ways and threw it on the flames.

It was almost comical how calm everyone was. Neighbors had begun to take notice and simply stood around watching it and chatting. Soon, a few of the neighbors were wandering down to the well with their buckets and lent a hand. No one was running, no one was yelling, no one was doing anything in particular. The people walked from the well to the fire, emptied the buckets and waltzed back, sometimes stopping to pet a dog or to chat with a friend. It had turned into quite the spectacle, and with all the onlookers, we could have sold tickets. 

The only indication of concern was that one of the neighbors had actually called the fire department. Soon, a monstrous fire truck pulled up and was expertly backed into the alley. Two men hopped out of the cab and walked around towards those of us gathered there. They grinned, shook hands all around, and stood with us watching the flames for a bit. Then, with the swiftness of a sloth, they unrolled a hose, hooked it onto the truck, and began hosing the flames. The man actually dressed in a fireman's uniform hosed down the hut, while the other one, dressed in a standard police uniform, stood with us and smoked a cigarette. 

The fire was soon extinguished, and the neighbors gradually dispersed. Natalia and I stood with the two firemen, watching the smoldering pile. Our chests were heaving, small holes were burnt in our shirts from sparks, and sweat beaded on our foreheads. It had been an interesting episode. The two men chatted for a while, delighted to find I was an American. They knew Natalia, as she had been a translator in their department years ago. They were invited to our barbecue on May first, and we parted ways. 

A little overwhelmed and extremely tired, we sat at our little table. We peeled hard boiled eggs and speared slices of sausage with knives. We ate and silently surveyed the yard. If possible, it looked even worse than when we had started. Everything three feet or lower was blackened: tree trunks, fence posts and (now) dead bushes. The grass was all burned away, and most of the fence posts along the alley had burned over, or had been hollowed by the fire.

A while later another man in a fire department uniform, sporting a clipboard and chewing gum, wandered round. He came in the yard, and sitting at our table with us, he asked some questions. 

"If he asks, I'll tell him I was smoking and that's how the fire started. If he finds out I started it myself there will be a huge fine," Natalia had whispered to me before he was within earshot. 

"So you were in the house..." he began. 

"Yes" Natalia replied.

"And the fire started..."

"Yes"

"And by the time you came out it was too big." 

"Yes, exactly." 

"My, how I seem to know everything!"

"You're a smart man." 

"You'll need to come into the office in the next week to fill out some paperwork."

"Of course."

He left, and a few minutes later called back to say everything was fine and taken care of. There was no need to come to the office. And to have a nice day. 

Natalia laughed. 

"They know me. I used to translate for them."

"Thus, everything is okay?" I asked, smiling.

"Thus everything is okay," she replied, smiling back. I laughed. 

"I think the second man came round just to see an American. There was no need for that paperwork," she said. We laughed some more and finished the sausage. Gathering up our things, and stuffing the cat back into the tote, we drove home. And that was how we almost burned down the dacha.