The Ball

Several weeks ago I was sitting in the kitchen when my host dad walked in and told my sister and I that we were going to dance classes.  The waltzing kind. Despite the well known fact that I can't dance, I was excited.

For the first class I had no idea what to wear, and after going round and round and thinking very intensely about my dilemma, I decided that jeans and a t-shirt never fails. I slipped on my red Keds because I didn't have anything else. That first class was successful. And by successful I mean I didn't fall over or hurt anything and I could follow most of the dances. The people at the classes ranged in age and were incredibly kind. I enjoyed their company and the lessons continued. I think I improved, although I wastold that I needed to dance more like a fairy and less like a horse. But other than that, I learned several dances and figured out how to waltz.

After about three weeks of twice-weekly lessons everyone started talking about a ball. Like, a real ball, with big poofy dresses, elbow length gloves and lace fans. I was excited until I realized I didn't have a dress. Or gloves, or a fan, or even the right shoes. I thought for sure I'd end up going in my super fashionable trusty red Keds. However, I bought the ticket and thought I'd worry about the dress later. After the dance class, Victoria (the one I had tea with) said she had a dress I could use if I wanted. She had made it herself, and it meant a lot to me that she let me wear it. The skirt was a deep blue trimmed in black lace, complete with a bustle and a train in the back. The corset was a marbled pattern of purples and blues. She gave me a pair of elbow-length gloves and a gorgeous fan, both black lace. I felt well prepared for the ball.

The night of the ball we drove out of the city a ways to the Marine University. It was an interesting building, and like most in Russia, had concrete floors and pale walls. We changed in the locker rooms that opened off of the basketball court. In the ladies' locker room, it was quite crowded to begin with, and once you added all the enormous skirts, in a sea of sequins and silk, it was simply impassable.

Eventually we all trickled out and into the ballroom. I don't know what the room would be used for normally. It was big, with a bar, a balcony that went all the way around three walls, a stage, and on the upper balcony a room that resembled the bridge of a real ship. The dance floor was lined with plush chairs, and there were blue and white decorations on the walls. The ball began with a promenade; everyone paired up and slowly walked around the floor. It was quite the sight, with about sixty couples (and everyone said this was the small ball).

The ball lasted several hours, dance after dance went by. Waltzes, mazurkas, polkas and folk dances, the music played by the live orchestra on the stage. It was something straight out of a fairy tale to see such beautiful girls, dolled up with studded hair pins, satin gloves and stunning gowns, swinging round and round the floor, their skirts swirling out as they spun. It was magical. 

They had a game where everyone was given a piece of paper shaped like a heart, the women gave their heart to whomever they thought was the most handsome man, and the men gave theirs to the most beautiful woman. At the end of the ball, the hearts were counted and the king and queen of the ball were crowned. They danced the final dance as small confetti canons let loose, and glittering sheets of silver and blue paper floated down around them.

It was a wonderful evening, something I never thought I would have ever experienced. It was so interesting to me that such a tradition continues and is very important to their culture. Something so novel to me was perfectly normal for them! I enjoyed dancing, watching and chatting,  There are several balls a month in Vladivostok; the others much bigger than this one. One woman said there were over 300 people at the biggest one. This probably wasn't the only ball I'll attend.

We went home tired and foot sore, but the waltzes played over and over again in my head all night long...

Never Drink Tea Alone

Never Drink Tea Alone 

There is nothing more Russian than tea; well, maybe bears dancing in a birch forest or fur-clad Russians playing balalaika music and eating borscht. Those are pretty Russian too, but since they're not very common, tea is the next best thing. 

I went to tea today at the home of a lovely woman named Victoria. She met me at a bus stop and we set off to her apartment. We walked through the swirling snow, leaving crisp footprints in the fluffy white blanket that covered the ground. Kids resembling the little brother in The Christmas Story, bundled to within an inch of their lives, ran (or should I say 'waddled') past, delighted by the snow. We passed an older gentleman who obviously felt the opposite about the snow. As for me, I always become a complete toddler at the first minuscule flake.

Victoria's apartment building was a ways from the bus stop, and stood on the edge of a steep hill. It was in a very quiet neighborhood she described as "the sleepy district." It was completely silent, something you never hear in this city. There wasn't a sound and it was deafening; strange here, but familiar to someone who grew up in my hometown. 

Her apartment was neat as a pin, and had a gorgeous view. I never get tired of seeing other people's apartments. They are all different from each other, but unmistakably Russian. There were big windows, and it was very bright despite all the clouds. As for the tea, like all tea here, it was strong and scorching hot, accompanied by an army of cookies, chocolates and then a plate of cheese. (Never a day goes by in Russia without consuming some amount of cheese). 

Victoria works as a translator, and speaks very good English. We talked and talked, and listened to classical music. She told me about her trip to Moscow, where she saw the inside of the Kremlin and an opera at the Bolshoi Theatre. She talked of how beautiful St. Petersburg is, and about her travels to the Caucasus. She told me her dreams of traveling to Thailand and Paris.  She also talked a little bit about her childhood, about growing up in the Soviet Union, at which time Vladivostok was a closed city. I asked her how life had changed as the city was opened. She said she couldn't tell, since she was a child when the city was closed, and life always seemed the same to her as the city opened. However, she did say that as the city opened, so did the opportunities. 

I enjoyed talking to her, hearing about her life and family. I realized we're not so different, the Russians and us. Our cultures are different and our languages are different, but we're all just people. We have the same problems, the same joys.

Something as simple as sharing a pot of tea with someone is such a huge part of Russian culture. Taking time out of busy days to spend it with friends is very important, but something, I think, that has been forgotten in our own culture, and it's a shame. The Russian culture is all about people. Sure, they all have their hobbies, sports, dance, projects, but those are not the focus of their lives. They don't live to do things. People are at the center of this culture, people are the priority. Relationships are valued, long lasting and meaningful. 

I used to think people here led such dull lives; they weren't always rushing off to the next activity, or booking their calendars for weeks in advance. A lot of times people have nothing to do in the afternoons, every afternoon. The pace of life here is slower. People actually sit on park benches, instead of just jetting by them. They go on long walks for no other reason than walking, not necessarily for exercise, or to get somewhere, but just to walk. They sit at cafes for hours chatting, even when the tea pot is empty and the staff are putting the chairs up on the tables. Life here is laid back and spontaneous. It is still novel to me when people here have "nothing to do." They simply pick up their phone, call a friend, and spend their day with them. It's something so foreign to me. I'm used to any sort of get together being planned out perfectly, with everything short of a coordinated timetable for the day. Here people often don't even know what they'll do as they plan to meet, they just meet and spend time together. 

It's just not the Russian way to drink tea alone.

Why am I here?

I can't help but notice a general confusion about why, exactly, I am here. Many people whom I talk to immediately ask why an American would be in their city. When I say I'm on exchange, they then ask what I'm studying at University. After I explain I'm still in high school they don't understand at all why I'm there. I am always asked these questions: "So, you want to study in Russia later on?," "You want to live in Russia someday?," "This is required for a language program?" It seems that the whole idea of youth exchange for the sake of experiencing a different language and culture is generally misunderstood. They are confused why a foreigner, especially an American, would want to live in their country and experience their culture. 

Last week I called up a friend of mine to come have some tea. She and I sat in my kitchen for hours drinking cup after cup of tea and eating a staggering amount of cookies. We talked until we exhausted all of her English and all my Russian, and at every lull in the conversation she would look at me and say, "Why Russia!? Why?! You are American, why Russia?!" 

Yesterday I went to dance lessons with my mom and sister. Yeah, I laughed too. Me! Dancing! Haha! I resembled something like a drunk orangutan trying to waltz. The poor boy I was dancing with! He's probably icing his feet as I write this. Anyways, it was fun, and they were awfully nice people. However, one lady said to me, "It is strange for us to see an American girl here, learning how to waltz." I wanted to ask, "Am I that bad?" But I bit my tongue and explained what I was doing there. 

On one occasion, my Australian exchange student friend, Maddy, and I went to buy coats at the huge Chinese Market here in Vladivostok. It's a massive, sprawling building packed with stall after stall of Chinese goods; mainly shoes, clothes and accessories, but you could find anything there, for next to nothing. The Chinese accents are hard to understand to begin with, but near impossible for me. That left Maddy to do the haggling, and she managed to get us some great deals on top of the deal that is the Chinese Market. It was interesting to see the community between the vendors. They hollered to each other in rapid-fire Chinese and were continually running between stalls. It never got old: the reaction of the vendors to find we were not Russian. They were impressed that Maddy was from Australia, but were even more surprised that I was American. One vendor couldn't get over the fact that we were there. I suppose they don't get many foreigners there; it's not exactly a tourist attraction. 

I count myself blessed to be able to go to church here. The congregation is incredibly warm, welcoming and kind. There is an interpreter who is there every Sunday and translates everything for me. She had a hard time understanding how the Rotary program worked and why I would want to come to Russia. The fact that I simply sit in a regular Russian school even when I don't understand Russian confused her, and many other people I talked to. There are plenty of foreigners here studying Russian (mainly from China, Japan and Korea), but they go to the international school, or the University. 

I find other people's reaction to me interesting. For the most part, they are not necessarily surprised, as there are a few other Americans in the city, but more confused. Sure, plenty of Americans visit the city, but few live here. The ones who do live here work at the consulate, or are married to Russians. The Russians, and even some of the Americans and British that I've met, are puzzled why I would choose Russia. Sometimes even I am baffled that I picked Russia, and not a beautiful place like Switzerland, or the Czech Republic. My whole life those were the places I wanted to go, or rather Europe, in general. Then, I had a chance to actually live there, and what did I do? I picked Russia. 

I didn't instantly love Russia, I am falling in love with Russia. It's a harsh place, and it's hard to love if all you see is the concrete buildings and unsmiling faces, and all you hear is a fast, undecipherable language. Now that I can understand more, and I have seen inside those concrete buildings, and I know the people more, I feel a stronger attraction to the place. It has been a lot of work. Quoting my Australian friend Maddy: "Russia doesn't give you anything, you have to take it." I feel a bit like oil in water: I am immersed, but not a part of it. I now realize how hard I will have to work to become a part of their culture. But the Russian culture is worth the work. That's part of why I picked Russia, I think. It's misunderstood and I wanted to see for myself what it was like. Now I am finding that it is a very beautiful place indeed. 

Большой Камень

We were in a small apartment in a city called большой камень, or Bolshoy Kamen. My host mom has an office there, and the family often goes there for a weekend. It was small: a kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom. Anna and I shared the bed in the back room and my host parents took the other room. I fell in love with the place instantly. I can't describe how, but it was what I'd always pictured as Russian. It felt old, like it hadn't changed in the twenty years they had owned it. The floor was linoleum, the wallpaper was peeling, the doors had latches and the lights were dim. It was furnished with pull out couches, Art Deco lamps and water color prints. Old toys filled the shelves, along with family photographs, classic books and knick-knacks they had acquired.

The first night we sat around a small rolling table in the room with the television set. The table was covered in various Russian salads, black bread and cheeses. We toasted to life, love and good health. A Russian sci-fi film played on the tv (that was an interesting movie) and the night turned incredibly black outside the window, as clouds rolled in, promising rain in the morning.

After finishing most of the food on the table, we cleaned up, put on our coats and headed out to the house of a relative, for his birthday. It was black as pitch, but no one brought a flashlight. We carefully navigated the treacherous sidewalks, that are plenty dangerous in the daylight! We passed apartment building after apartment building, all of them grouped in a wide field. It was interesting to see how they clustered closely together, then abruptly ended, while the field continued on empty.

Reaching the apartment, which was the size of our own, we piled in to greet the hosts and other guests. There were already six people there, and we added four more to the party. It made for a cozy atmosphere. We ate cake and ice cream, toasted many times and watched videos of cats on the tv. The apartment was much like ours, with the rooms small and their knick knacks filling every available space. The table was crowded, with cheeses, fruit, cookies, and candy. I was dying to know what they were all saying, but the words flew by so fast, and without pause. No one spoke English, and even if they did they were not eager to try it out.

We left around ten, handing our gifts to the birthday-cousin, which consisted of a decorative ornament, a bag of candy and a pillow. The moon peaked out from behind the black clouds while we walked back to our building. There really would be rain in the morning.

The rain came in buckets the next day. It gushed down the old water pipes and ran in streams down the streets. The tracks that ran between buildings and through the town were all mud, and a heavy mist had settled in overnight. My host dad and I left the apartment at eleven to go visit my host mom at her office. It gave me a chance to see a little more of the city, not that there was much to see. It seemed to me to be a city of apartment buildings, there were a few administrative buildings here and there, and a sport complex, but most businesses were just on the ground floor of the apartment buildings. There was a "main street" that had most of the businesses and was actually paved, but other than that it was simply a city of apartments.

My host mother's office was on the edge of town, overlooking the sea. It was foggy so we couldn't see much as we dashed through the rain to the door. We walked up to the third floor. The walls were a horrid greenish-yellow pastel color, with spotless floors and black doors at intervals along the hall. We entered her office, which was painted a pink pastel with tall shelving units jutting out from the walls. "Привет!" came her familiar voice from behind one of the shelves. Her desk was tucked back against a wall. A huge map of the Primorsky Krai region hung on the wall behind her.   A huge window was opposite her, and on a clear day, she said, she can see all the way to Vladivostok. (A distance of about forty kilometers). While she made tea I tried to ask her about her work. I was so interested, but I struggled to find words and form questions.

My host mom is an Engineer, and from what I could understand, she fixes ships. When a ship (military or civilian) is broken, it is brought to this city to be fixed. My host mom works mainly on civilian ships, but there is a huge plant here for submarine repairs as well. She served me my tea, along with a hard, lightly sweetened biscuit which she told me were made for the military and were on every submarine. I found that fascinating and ate a second one just because.

We did other fun activities during the weekend. Ice skating was one of them. I learned the Russian word for "fall," nothing like hands-on learning. My pride was left smarting as a tiny girl, who seemed barely old enough to walk and was bundled to within an inch of her life, skated easily past me, as I, sweating and panting, was struggling to stand. However, by the end I wasn't clinging to the wall, and could go full circuit without even touching it. A big accomplishment for uncoordinated me!

We also went walking on the beach, and it went something like this:

Everyone gets out of the car and we walk slowly for about a minute.

Dad: "Are you cold?"

Me: "Well the wind is a little cold." (My hair blasted straight back by the howling baby-tornado)

Dad: "Let's go."

Everyone bolts for the car. Needless to say we took a little drive instead.


My time there, in Болшой Камнеь was a little surreal. I actually felt a little uncomfortable at sometimes, thinking about what it was like twenty or thirty years ago. It felt like a compound, with all the buildings the same, and all the buildings being apartments. The colors all blended together, grays and browns. It was not a pretty place, in fact it was incredibly ugly and stark. The bare, gray feel was made even more pronounced as all the leaves had fallen from the trees, and were turning black and brown on the ground. However, there was beauty to be found there. It was in the tires-turned-planters that were painted bright colors in the overgrown flower beds. It was in the colorful coats and the laughter of kids walking to school. It was in the music drifting out of cars as they drove by. You could say it was "signs of life" that made it beautiful, that people were thriving here in a place where it looked like happiness had long been forgotten.

A Normal Week

I've had a lot of really amazing opportunities in the past days, I went to Swan Lake, attended the circus, celebrated another birthday, went to a BBQ at a remote Dacha (small family cabin) and visited the US Consulate. I really enjoyed the experiences, they were incredible, but what I really want to write about is a normal week.

While there is no such thing as "normal" here for me, I've settled into a routine more or less. I feel much more comfortable in my surroundings, and it has allowed me to relax and observe. I've worked out most of the kinks, like learning how to use the ATM, paying fees for school and my visa, buying necessities such as contact solution and warm clothes etc. so I don't have things that I have to do, just things that I would like to do. It's glorious.

A regular day starts with my alarm going off at 7:00 am. Breakfast varies from a cup of tea to oatmeal to cookies. Whatever I can find or feel like making basically. I put on a sweater, a scarf and the heaviest jacket I have. I squeeze my feet into two pairs of socks and my boots. Locking the door behind me I ride the old, jerky lift down all nine floors, and turning up my iPod head for the bus stop. I have to be at the bus stop by 7:30 to get to school by 8:30. (But school doesn't always start at 8:30, in any case, it takes about an hour to get to the school).

School is the bulk of my day, with two to four classes. On a good day I'm out of school by noon, and didn't have math or English. I usually have the afternoon to myself, unless my host family tells me otherwise. My host sister Anna gets home around 3:00, and my host parents seem to have no schedule whatsoever, sometimes getting home at noon, and other times not coming home at all. All of us living in the apartment have very different schedules, but we all try to be home for dinner by seven or eight.

To occupy my afternoons I usually spend time with my Australian friend Maddy. I ask the kids at school what they do in the afternoons and a lot of them simply go home. A few of them have music lessons, or dance classes, and a surprising amount of them have tutors, and they spend most of their afternoons at extra classes. Maddy loves Cinnabon and the Cinnabon in the center has become a favorite of ours. I enjoy sitting in the center square, and watching the people. It's a popular tourist spot, and it's fun to watch everyone come and go. Maddy and I walk all over, or find somewhere to just sit and talk. Sometimes we go to Maddy's house and watch her very strange collection of films and drink tea. Or we go to my house, watch Monty Python and drink tea.

On the days I'm not with Maddy, I sometimes walk downtown and sit on my favorite bench in the square, or walk in the park near the school. They have really cool waterfront walks. I like watching the city. While the weather was nicer I went to the botanical gardens a few times.

Of course, sometimes I just go home. I get on the bus and ride it (only forty minutes) to my street. I have a nice little walk through a children's park, between some apartment buildings, up some stairs and along a narrow street to my building. Sometimes someone will be home, and we'll eat and watch some television in the kitchen. I enjoy watching television, it's fun to see shows and movies I'm familiar with in Russian. At home I relax, and it's wonderful. I can play their piano, read, study Russian, watch a movie with Anna, go for a walk, sleep... It's good to be at the apartment, I feel at home there.

So that's a normal day, and that makes up my week. I enjoy the flexibility of my schedule, it leaves room for the last minute things that often pop up. I enjoy it even more now because it feels normal. I feel like part of the family, I feel like part of the school. I don't feel like I'm part of the culture yet, but it's becoming more familiar. Every day it feel more and more blessed to be living here.

A Very Russian Weekend

I love the Russians. They are incredible: so kind, fun-loving, funny and warm. While it was evident to me from the beginning that they are special, this last weekend I realized just how wonderful these people are. I was invited by a girl from my class to go hiking with her family. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to get back out in the woods. I found myself, once again, driving through the stunning Fall forests of the Primorsky region. Sveta and her parents were kind while they patiently listened to my baby-talk Russian and tried to help me understand more. Our friend Maddy, from Australia, came too and so we sat and talked the whole two hours to the foot of the mountain.
We arrived at about nine in the morning and met up with the group we were to hike with. There was a young couple, whose anniversary we were all celebrating that weekend, and their son. The couple's parents and three other couples were also there. It was a fun group, and they were thrilled when I tried to speak Russian. We set off immediately for the mountain (another steep and long climb).
To get to the trail we first hiked through a ski resort. I was fascinated. It was a tiny little ski area with some cabins and a cafe way out in the mountains. We actually spent the night in one of those cabins. There was one chair lift and one run. Not much of a ski area by our standards, but I loved it. It made me think back to all the happy trips to Mt. Hood in the mighty Subaru, with our thermos of hot chocolate and Johnny Cash cassette tape. I hope I can go skiing there this winter. To make things even more fun, there was a race going on. Contestants ran to the top of the mountain and back, then did some mountain biking. We were dodging the participants the whole way up.
It was another stunning hike, as the leaves were at their peak of color. When we took short breaks we would go and find the giant pine cones, crack them open and eat the nuts. They were wonderful raw. This trip we hiked much slower, Sveta and I staying with Maddy, as she was sick to begin with, and hiking up a mountain wasn't helping her. We still managed to have a good time. While the hike didn't help Maddy, it did wonders for me and I plagued my poor Australian friend with horrible jokes and "inspirational songs." She enjoyed it though, and soon we were both singing"Old McDonald," mimicking each other's accents and making quite the racket. Trying to translate some of jokes was a challenge, and just me trying to speak in Russian made Sveta laugh.
On top of the mountain we had lunch, boiling water for noodle bowls and instant potatoes. The way back down was an interactive Russian lesson with Sveta. We talked in Russian while we slipped and tumbled our way down the slicktrail. Everyone fell at least once. We even tried sliding down one stretch on Maddy's jacket.
Everyone was happy to be back, and from the top of the ski run we could see the celebration going on for the end of the race. A small disco party took up the road to our cabin, and a makeshift podium for the winners sat to the side.
The cabin though: it was the coolest little place. It was a tall, skinny building, with three floors and a compact floor plan. There was a kitchen and bathroom on the bottom floor (with a flushing toilet, thank goodness), with a few bunks and a table for eating at. The second floor, where most of us slept, was filled with one giant bunk bed and some beds made under the rafters. There was a small attic space above this that could sleep two. Maddy, Sveta and I squeezed into one bunk on the second floor, and spent quite a bit of time up there, talking and laughing.
I talked mainly in Russian the entire weekend, even with Maddy as she is very fluent. She translated for me when I needed it, but I was surprised by how much I was understanding. I really enjoyed it, talking with people, following conversations and being able to laugh at jokes because I understood them. It helped that everyone was very patient, and nothing but encouraging. Of course, I caused a lot of the laughter with my mistakes and horrible grammar, but I learned so much at the same time.
That evening was very special. I got to go to the Bannya. The Bannya is basically a Russian Sauna. This one was in a small cabin behind ours. When we entered I instantly started to sweat. We were in a small room made of cedar planks, with some benches, and a table. There was a small area for rinsing with a cold water spigot. Everyone changed in this room, putting on swimsuits and special shoes and hats. Then we entered the Bannya...
I pulled open the heavy wooden door cautiously and ducked in. That's when the heat hit me like a blast furnace. I felt like I was choking and every time I inhaled my throat and nose burned. The room was small, and almost completely black, because there was only one tiny light. In one corner was the stove radiating heat so intense that when I went near it my skin felt cold with numbness. I sat on a bench next to Sveta, and counted, because I had promised her I'd sit there for at least one hundred seconds.
I lost count after fifty because I found I rather enjoyed it. I adjusted a little bit to the heat and it felt like a heavy blanket, so thick I could almost snuggle into it. I sweated until it ran down the backs of my legs. I couldn't figure out why, but it was amazing, and felt so good. After about two minutes Sveta and I ducked out and went outside with a bowl of ice-cold water. I had heard about the whole Hot-Cold thing, so I prepared myself for some splashing. She got me with the whole bucket and I screeched with the shock. Sveta laughed, but I got her back with a refill.
So it continued like that: Bannya, bucket of ice water, Bannya, bucket of ice water...  In the winter, Sveta said they run out, roll in the snow, then run back in. I managed three rounds of the Bannya, and got many congratulations, and"well-done's" from people. I felt pretty weak and light-headed after the third go-around, but I had enjoyed it immensely. Not because of the heat maybe, but just sitting there with the Russians, listening to them talk, thinking about how old this tradition was. What's more Russian than going to the Bannya? Drinking Vodka? That came next.
After returning from the Bannya, everyone sat around a low table on the second floor. They toasted many times with glasses of Vodka, and ate bread, cheese and sardines. Someone had brought shisha, a type of tobacco that is burned on a tall stand and smoked through a tube. The mouthpiece was passed around the table, each person taking a few puffs. They were very interested in America and Australia, and we talked for hours. They asked Maddy and I to sing a song, and I joined her in "Waltzing Matilda." They sang us a song and we talked, and talked. Sveta and I went to bed at around midnight, but when I woke up at 2:30am for some water, I could still hear them laughing and talking.Did I mention? I love the Russians.

The Grocery Store

I have an abnormal interest in grocery stores. Don't ask me why, I have no clue and yes I think it's strange too. I've just always been fascinated by them, especially when they are in other places. I love walking the aisles, comparing prices and brands to those at home, finding odd food items and reading labels. Is "Grocery Store Surveyor and Analyst" a job? Well it should be.

 However, if you don't really want to read about grocery stores, feel free to skip this blog post.

I walked into the store "реми", a commonly found grocery chain, similar to our Safeway. This store is probably the biggest size grocery store you will find here, and it was about half the size of a regular Safeway. There were eight aisles, split in the middle. Walking into the store I first saw the produce section. There was one row of produce, on one end was fruit and on the other vegetables. The fruit section was predominantly apples, and all the apples were from New Zealand. I don't know if this is simply because of the growing season or the agricultural sanctions. There were several varieties of pears, some very ripe plums, lots of kiwis, and some sorry looking oranges. No bananas, I have only had one banana since arriving, and I never see any being sold.

The vegetable section was mainly potatoes, a huge tub of them. There were some plastic wrapped lettuce, a few head of broccoli and lots of cabbage. There were a surprising amount of bell peppers and some corn. That's it, that was the produce section, which explains why everyone buys their produce at the outdoor markets.

I next noticed the wall of oil. All kinds of oil, stacked almost to the ceiling, stretching half the length of the wall. It was very impressive. Next to that was the yogurt room. It was the only refrigerated section in the store, not frozen, but refrigerated. It was all yogurt, kefir and sour cream.

I found it very interesting that they don't refrigerate milk. It simply sits in the aisle, next to more yogurt. There was an amazing variety of milk, ranging from 50 to 100 rubles ($1.30-$2.70) for 1450 grams (a little less than half a gallon). Across from the milk was the dry cereal, and there was not much of it. Only two brands of cereal: Kellogg's and Nestlé. There were a lot of hot cereals, but not so many dry ones. One box of Nestlé was between 100 and 130 rubles ($2.70-$3.50).

There was no fresh meat in the store. Everything was frozen. They didn't have a meat counter or deli or anything like that. They had one frozen aisle, one side was fish and the other was everything else. They had whole frozen fish, and frozen fillets. A whole fish, that looked like a cod cost between 165 and 200 rubles ($4.50-$5.40). However a frozen fillet of salmon cost more than 600 rubles ($16.20). There wasn't a great variety of fish, and hardly any shell fish, only imitation crab and a few scallops. On the other side there was mostly chicken and some frozen hunks of darker meat, mostly beef.

I haven't had any dark meat since arriving, only chicken and fish, and lots and lots of breaded meat patties. These patties are always chicken and are in the frozen section of the store. There is one frozen aisle. On one side there is about one shelf of frozen desserts and the rest is either meat patties or pelmini. Pelmini is a very traditional Russian dish, which is ground meat inside a pasta pocket, much like a ravioli, but it's so very Russian. There are an unbelievably large variety of sizes and flavors, and I don't know how people know which kind to buy. The other side of this frozen aisle was vegetables, lots of them.

I was amazed at the amount of cheese being sold there. It's truly incredible the variety and volume of cheese. They had one side of an entire aisle just cheese and half of the counter in the back was cheese. They had every kind of cheese imaginable, from the funny little flavored cheeses to monster cheese wheels. (Next to the cheese wheels, and also worth mentioning, was a spread of sausages like I have never seen. I couldn't believe it, it was like the entire meat section of Safeway but sausage. Fat sausage the size of a football, long ropes of little links, and heavy logs of it, piled in the cases).

Moving on from the meat section, I ran into a lot of juice, so much juice. Like the oil it took up an entire wall, and there were such a variety of flavors. Pineapple, apple and grape or kiwi, apple and orange. Berry, pomegranate, peach, pear, grape, orange, apple, melon and many other flavors. Next to the juice was water, lots of water. Staying with the drinks theme, there was also a alcoholic beverage section, which was actually quite small. However here there are separate stores for different kinds of alcohol: beer, wine, liquor and vodka. (I'm just kidding about the vodka). There were surprisingly few soft drinks but a whole lot of energy drinks.

There was a small bakery, which is where you would buy cakes, pastries and all your bread. There is no section where there are loaves upon loaves of normal bread in white, wheat, potato... Only one kind of sliced bread, lots of artisan breads, little rolls and lots and lots of black bread. Sliced bread isn't really needed so much, I haven't had a sandwich since getting here and I've never seen a sandwich in a menu anywhere because they don't really have sandwiches. That was one thing I recognized as missing from the store, lunch meat, sliced cheese and sliced bread. No deli. But the bakery had some mean looking desserts and so many sweets. A little pastry from the case was around 30 to 40 rubles (around $1) and a cake was about 500 rubles ($13.50).

I found it interesting that the chip section was only about one quarter of an aisle. Come to think of it, I haven't eaten any kind of chips since I arrived. They had all kinds of Russian brands, but most of the chips were Lays. A few cans of Pringles sat on top of the shelf and there were some Cheetos on the end of the aisle.

There were plenty of canned goods, with a can of beans or corn costing about 30 rubles (a little less than one dollar). They had a great variety of pickled items, mainly vegetables and fish. What I found myself missing were the cans of spaghetti o's and jars of salsa.

Next was tea and coffee. These staples took up one whole aisle. The coffee selection was predominantly Nescafé, but there were plenty more brands as well. What one needs with such a large selection of instant coffee (never fresh ground) is beyond me. The selection of tea was even larger. The brands and flavors were uncountable. It was incredible. The main brand is Greenfield, but there is an amazing amount of Lipton here too. They never drink ice tea, it is always hot. An average box of 25 tea bags cost about 65 rubles ($1.74).

But the crowning jewel of the grocery store, the highlight of my day, the trophy, the pride and joy, awesome to behold was the sweets section. Two and a half aisles of sugar, in the form of cookies, candy and chocolate. They love their sweets here, and this was simply the selection in the grocery store, they have stores devoted to candy all over the city. The first aisle was half chocolate. All kinds of chocolates, mostly European and Russian. The only brands I recognized were those made with Mars chocolate, so snickers, twix, etc. there were very large boxes of European chocolates in beautiful packaging with elegant gold script on the front. There were giant bars of chocolate, Russian chocolate and European. On the other side of the aisle were smaller candies, some with chocolate some without. My favorites are the fruit flavored jellies covered in chocolate, and the chocolate and wafer balls. I have my work cut out for me if I want to try every kind of candy here. The cookie section was equally impressive. I couldn't describe to you the variety, I didn't recognize any of the brands. There were waffle-like cookies, traditional Russian gingerbread cookies, cookie rings and cookie sticks, cake-like cookies, cookies with fillings, cookies with dried fruit and large flavored marshmallows. I couldn't believe my eyes, I just wandered up and down, wishing sugar was it's own food group and that it was actually healthy for you.

The check out aisles were pretty normal: the conveyor belt, little stands of chewing gum and plastic bags. There was a small coffee stand just inside the door, and a cart return. I don't know why, but I enjoyed myself immensely. Like they say, it's the little things in life. I suppose I enjoy the grocery store so much because it's away from the tourist scene of downtown, it's where regular Russians go. It's in places like the grocery store where you see what life is like in a different place, it's the normal, mundane things that make up life. I liked seeing not only the different foods and prices, but the people, who are just going about their lives. As a foreigner it was special, to just be in a place so ordinary and uninteresting as a grocery store, surrounded by the locals, not poking through the souvenir shops on the waterfront. It might get old, but then again it might not. The surreal feeling of "I'm in Russia" hasn't worn off, and it may not ever. It's a culture that has everything we do, but nothing is the same, I can only describe it as "Russian".