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".

The Mountain

I have a confession to make: I skipped school last Saturday. However my excuse is that I went to climb a mountain, and as far as excuses go, I'd say this one was pretty good. The only description I got of the weekend was that we were going hiking in the mountains, from Saturday to Sunday. I was to bring warm clothes and good shoes. That was it, that was all I was told. So I packed a change of clothes, my toothbrush and a book in my backpack, and remembered to take my good camera, the one that isn't my iPod.

We left by noon, throwing our backpacks and grocery bags full of food in the back of their van and driving through the city to pick up Olga, a family friend. Olga is 20 and studying to be a PE teacher in University. Her English was very limited, but she knew more than everyone else, so when I really didn't understand something she could get the idea across to me.

I had no idea how far we were going, I assumed a few hours at least. It was the second time I had been outside the city and I had never been so far out. We hugged the coast for a while, on windy roads bordered by leafy green trees. Turning inland the terrain turned hilly, and the trees were tinged with brown and yellow as the leaves were beginning to turn. Among the hills were small valleys with some fields and tiny villages clustered around the road. The houses ranged from ancient log cabins to brand new constructions. Some of the houses were quite large, but most were very small, and obviously very old. They were odd little towns, some with grocery stores, or the occasional cafe. Remote bus stops sat outside the towns, the concrete shelter crumbling from the harsh weather. Dirt tracks crisscrossed at odd angles between the houses, and small outbuildings sat, surrounded by weeds in the yards. Cows and goats wandered along the roads, and chickens pecked among the gardens.

Between the towns there were honey stands. Most of them were just a single person sitting behind a small folding table, stacked high with buckets of honey. It was interesting to see so many of them, and sitting in literally the middle of nowhere. At one point in time we drove over a creek, and parked in the creek was a very dirty van. The driver was washing it in the water that gurgled past, his passenger standing nearby with shoulders hunched against the driving rain. It was so interesting to see a glimpse of life in rural Russia, not just the city. People still walked about along the road, to and from bus stops. They were dressed much more casually though, no sign of the high fashion of the city.

After driving for about two and a half hours we were deep into the mountains, and had left the tiny hamlets and honey stands behind. At first I thought we were headed to a camp ground, but we had no tent. Maybe a mountain cabin then? Neither, we went to a hotel. The sign happened upon us suddenly, half hidden by the trees. Hotel "Dvor". I couldn't believe there could be a hotel this far out, I mean, there was nothing there, N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Pulling in I could see a few buildings clustered on a little creek, and beyond that in a field was a collection of cabins. We gathered up our things and crossing the creek and walked through the drizzly rain to the farthest cabin. There were two rooms each with three beds, separated by a small room with a wood stove. No running water and no electricity, with a turkish toilet around the back. Putting our things down we went back outside to a picnic shelter in the middle of the cabins. There, some friends of the family were setting up dinner. Kiril and Rita had two young boys, and they were very friendly and eager to try out their English with me.

We put out our food on the table, adding to the wide variety that was already there. Several salads, breads, cured meat, cucumbers and tomatoes, beans and chocolate. An impressive array of alcoholic beverages sat on the ground, and Kiril and Anatoly were spearing chunks of meat onto skewers for shashlik. While we waited for the meat to cook we ate watermelon, spitting the seeds out onto the grass. It was a really beautiful place we were at. The small field was surrounded by steep hillsides, the leaves on all the trees were scarlet, gold, amber, brown and emerald. Mist was still settled over the wet grass, and the creek laughed quietly along the edge of the field. I couldn't tell who ran the place, I only saw a tall teenage boy wearing American flag shorts, carrying armfuls of firewood to each cabin. There must have been a family living there, as there was a larger building by the creek and a massive pile of firewood nearby.

The meat came hot off the grill, dripping with grease. It was absolutely delicious, and we stuffed ourselves. As soon as the skewers were empty, they were filled again with chicken and put back on the grill. After the second course of meat the skewers were again filled with sausages and we ate even more! We sat up well into the night around the fire, sometimes laughing, singing or talking. The adults consumed a rather large amount of beer and vodka and the kids finished off a monster watermelon. Most of the time we simply sat, looking at the fire, thinking our own thoughts. Silence is important here, sometimes conversation isn't needed, and just sitting with everyone, being in each other's company is enough.

We got an early start in the morning, pulling out the of the hotel at 7:30 after a breakfast of hard boiled eggs and cheese. We left Kiril, Rita and the boys at the hotel, and left with another group of people. I didn't really know who they were, and I don't think anyone else did either based on the fact everyone had to introduce themselves. In any case, we were all going to the same mountain, so we drove off together.

The road was in horrible condition, with massive potholes, and puddles. It was hard to see through the darkness, and the morning mist. While we labored on slowly, the sky lightened and the mist lifted. We lurched through more beautiful forest and plowed through rivers that ran across the road. We made our way deeper and deeper into the mountains, occasionally running across some people camping or out riding their dirt bikes.

We reached the trail head after about an hour, and piled out. It was bitterly cold, and after shouldering our backpacks we set off. Before we hit the actual trail we passed through a remote camp. It reminded me of the huckleberry picking camps at home, with tarps strung between trees, fires smoking and a jumble of cars parked everywhere. The people greeted us and smiled as they went about their business, but what exactly their business was I couldn't figure out. I saw at the center of the camp a huge pile of pine cones. Two at a time they were stuffed into cranks that were bolted to the trees and crushed. The flakes of the cones fell into piles at the base of the trees, which were then sifted. Then I realized what they were doing: pine nuts, they were after the pine nuts. Fascinating.

Leaving the camp behind us we hit the trail and immediately began to climb. I didn't quite understand how hard the hike would be, maybe because they simply said we would be hiking IN in the mountains, not hiking UP the mountains. The hike was long, and steep. There were times I could put my arms out on the trail ahead of me, as if I was about to do a push-up, and be standing almost vertical. We climbed up massive rock piles that were near vertical as well. It was uphill the whole way, and they hiked fast, with short breaks that were few and far between. It didn't help that I hadn't had any substantial amount of exercise since arriving and I made the poor decision of bringing my backpack which was stuffed with  all my overnight gear and Russian textbooks. It was a hard hike, climbing abound 4000 feet in about five or six miles.

It took us four hours to reach the top, and the hike was stunning. We started out in leafy woodlands, with the brilliant fall colors lit up by the rising sun. As we climbed further and further there were more pine trees, then only pines trees, and then bare rock fields with huge boulders covered in vibrantly colored lichen. The views from the top were breathtaking. The mountains continued for as far as the eye could see, rising and falling like giant waves of the ocean. They were blanketed in the golden fall forests, and the sky was the most brilliant blue. It reminded me of home, and I felt a few pangs of homesickness as I stood in the biting wind, thinking of all the times I had seen similar mountains from the top of Sleeping Beauty, or Steamboat Mountain.

The way back down went quickly, my knees ached and all I could think was "I can't believe I hiked up this!". We shuffled, slipped  and stumbled back down the path, through the pine trees, maple woodlands and the pine nut camp. Filling up our water bottles in a stream we squeezed back into the van and set off for home.

We made it back to the apartment at 10:30 pm. I went to bed happy and refreshed from a trip into the mountains. It was a relief to get out of the city and back into the woods. I didn't realize how much I missed a good, hard hike, away from people, noise and concrete. It was an incredible trip and one I won't soon forget.

School: Week One

My first whole week of school in Russia has been quite the experience, and I have found this system of education very interesting. It is quite different from the system in America, and was difficult to figure out at first, but now I enjoy the format.

The school I attend is actually a private school, so it's not a typical Russian high school, though the basic structure is the same as the public schools. Because it is private, it's very small. As it was explained to me: wealthier kids study here, and the school is actually connected with the university in Vladivostok. I study here because the director of the school is also the Rotary Club President, so all three of the Rotary Exchange Students study here.

I am in the 11th form (which is the equivalent of the senior year in America). There are three classes within the form, A, B and V. I am in the B class, and there are about 15 students in the class. The building itself has two levels, with the 11th form on the top and the 10th and 9th forms on the bottom. There is no cafeteria, just a little room where you can buy tea and breakfast items. The building is small, on the top floor is it just a small common area with four classrooms opening off of it. It doesn't have the feel or look of a school at all.

One of the reasons the building is so small is that each teacher doesn't have their own classroom. Instead of students rotating rooms for each period, the teachers do. They bring everything they need with them, which isn't really a lot because the textbooks are very small. It's convenient as a student because there's no hassle of getting all your stuff together and trying to make it to the next class on I time. No chance of getting lost either!

The schedule is the most confusing part for me. All the teachers are from the University, which makes their time limited and expensive, so the schedule is built around when they are available to teach a class. One day school might start at 8:30, and the next day at 11:45. The schedule is different for every class too, so A class is on a different timetable than the B or V classes. Each class period is 90 minutes long and there are two to four every day. They study a wide variety of subjects: English, Russian, Algebra, Physics, Geography, History, Economics and others. There are just one or two classes a week of each subject. It is hard for me to figure out which classes are on which days because that changes too. There is a timetable but it is very elusive and I can never seem to find it. I just ask my classmates what time school starts the next day and play it by ear.

The students themselves are very nice, and are just ordinary teens. They speak slowly for me and make a huge effort to include me, which means a lot to me. Of course, they do have quite a bit of money, so they dress very well. The boys wear suits, and nicer clothes. The girls dress like supermodels with high heels, designer clothes and lots of make up. Every one carries a purse, never a backpack. Even the boys have purses, huge, leather purses with the shiny plaque with the designer name on it on the front. Since the textbooks are small, and we write in small copy books, everything fits in these purses. Then there's me: showing up in jeans and tennis shoes with my supercool backpack, fitting right in with the crowd :)

My schedule for last week:

Monday: school started at 8:30, with classes in literature and PE. Literature was easy enough at this point, in any class where I understand absolutely nothing, I simply study Russian. I wasn't aware we were having PE that day, and I didn't have the right shoes or clothes, so I had to sit that one out. It was still fun to watch the PE teachers snap orders to the kids to walk, run, march, do push-ups... It was like a giant game of Simon-Says.

Tuesday: Algebra, English and Physics. As many of you know, I have a very strong aversion to Algebra, so it's ironic that it's one of the only classes I can actually do anything in. The class runs very much like the ones in America. The teacher collects homework, does some problems on the board, then has students come and do problems individually on the board. Homework is ten to twenty problems. The only major difference: no calculators. English class was not what I was expecting at all. I went in confident that I knew it all, and I left feeling very humbled. The entire class was intensive English grammar study; they should have called the class "grammatical surgery." I had introduced myself to the teacher beforehand, so she knew I was an American. I don't think I should have done that, because she kept asking me questions, and I simply couldn't answer them. At one point, as I was trying to figure out what was going on, the teacher asked, "Emma, can you tell us the peculiarity of a stative verb?" All I could think was, "what on earth is a stative verb!?!" After I mumbled something about not being good at grammar, she moved on. It was a huge blow actually: I don't know Russian, and come to find out, I don't really know English either. Physics was mind numbing. I didn't understand a word, but it was a very amusing class actually. The entire room buzzed with conversation while the teacher just lectured on and on about physics and stared at the upper left corner of the room, occasionally reaching up to scratch something on the chalk board, which everyone ignored. It was funny to see students and teacher so oblivious of each other.

Wednesday: English again, and Geography.

Thursday: more Algebra, English and Literature.

Friday: English and Economics.

Saturday: Yes, there is school on Saturday here, and this is a private school quirk. My host sister, who goes to a public school, doesn't have school on Saturday. Luckily on this day though, the 11th form went to the Russian Island for the day for a culture fair and concert put on by the folks from World School (see previous blog post).

The Russian Culture Presentation

If there's anything I've learned about being an exchange student in my meager two weeks here it's that I know absolute nothing, about anything. I don't know Russian, I don't know when school starts every day and I definitely have no clue about my schedule during the week. So, when anything comes up that I didn't know about I just go with it.

That's why when I was told on Tuesday that the next day I would be going somewhere with some other students I just nodded. On Wednesday I was pulled from class and got into a taxi with the two other exchange students at the school. We drove through the city and over both of the iconic white bridges to the Russian Island.

The Russian Island is just outside the city. The only thing that is there is the Far Eastern Federal University: a brand new campus that sprawls for miles on the waterfront. White, sparkling clean and state of the art, it is an impressive place. I found out what we were doing there as everything happened.

It turned out that there was a group of about 100 students from around the world on a three week visit to Vladivostok, and our school was putting on a Russian Culture Presentation for them. I though 'Cool! Maybe an hour long PowerPoint, some show and tell items and a few food samples, I'll be home for dinner.' Boy was I wrong.

A Russian Culture Presentation meant we turned the lobby into a museum. There were displays of Russian dolls, plates, instruments and traditional costumes. Arches made of balloons swayed overhead, white, blue and red bows were plentiful and TVs played sideshows of Russian landscapes and festivals. Six stations were set up: costumes, music, food and three craft tables. At the costume station everyone put on traditional Russian costume and danced to the melodies drifting from the music station. The women wore long colorful dresses with full sleeves. The men wore the embroidered shirts with a belt.

At the music station two folk musicians demonstrated traditional instruments. The balalaika is the iconic triangular guitar/mandolin, painted with beautiful red, yellow and green flowers. One man played an instrument that was a close relative to the accordion, but had three rows of circular buttons to push instead of a keyboard. The audience joined in on the percussion with beautifully painted wooden spoons that they clacked together.

The food booth was easily my favorite. Tea, of course, always tea. Next was Блини, the traditional crepe-like Russian pancake, filled with delicious honey or apple butter. Candy overflowed from bowls, and special chocolates that are made only in Vladivostok were offered again and again. Traditional circular crackers were strung on ropes to form beautiful, edible garlands.

At the three craft stations they made dolls, flower garlands and painted whistles. The dolls were very traditional, made from folded fabric and string. They had no faces, and it was bad luck if one was drawn on them. The flower garlands were very tricky and I epically failed, but it was fine because I was busy talking to a wonderful woman from India who happened to be a Rotarian and had been to The States many times. At the next table we painted little whistles. They were clay and shaped like chickens, and were very unique because to play them they are filled with water which makes the note sound like a bird tweeting. I know they are filled with water because when I picked one up at the music table I spilled water all over the floor.

After two hours or so of milling around at the booths I thought it was about to be over, but I should have known better by now. Suddenly music was blasted from loudspeakers and a traditional Russian dance party commenced. Over a hundred people moved to an open area, grabbed partners and started dancing. It was a crazy, beautiful thing as people from all over the globe skipped around the hall and laughed together.

Then the Russian games.

Two ladies in traditional Russian costumes lead the games and dances. Everyone was squeezed into a massive circle and we played three or four games. The first was the Russian Kissing game. In this game there is a men's cap that is passed to the left in the circle and a women's shawl that is passed to the right. When the music stops the girl with the shawl and the boy with the hat must go into the middle. They stand back to back and on the count of three they must turn their heads to the right or the left. If they  turn their heads the same way they must kiss three times. (On the cheek). Only one couple had to do it. As for me, the shawl never even got to my side of the circle, so I was safe.

Another game involved one boy in the middle of the circle with a hat that was supposed to resemble an eagle (but it looked more like a rooster to me). As he stands in the middle everyone else must walk around slowly to the music. When the music stops everyone must rush and find a partner (a girl and a boy) and the boy in the middle must grab a girl before they are all taken.

After all the dancing, eating and festivities had stopped everyone was handed balloons which they promptly let go of, thus leaving a colorful mass of them on the ceiling of the university lobby. The evening was amazing, and I felt like I had made a lot of friends that night, plus it was fun to see my normally stern teachers dancing and singing. That night cemented the fact that in Russia, nothing is ever as you expect it to be, and that's the best part.

The Saturday Beach Resort

This weekend was the inbound orientation for every exchange student going to district 2225, or all of Eastern Russia. There are 10 of us. Only seven made it to the orientation, two more Brazilians had delayed Visas and another American is coming later this week. It was a small, quite group: one student from Mexico, Germany, Japan, Taiwan, France and Brazil. I, of course, was the student from the USA. Their laid back attitude and general silence was due mostly to exhaustion from travel, and the shock of entering into another culture, but they were a fun, easygoing, friendly bunch, and it was such a great weekend.

The orientation was in a small town/resort. It was on a small ocean cove about an hour outside of Vladivostok. It is the strangest place I think I've ever been to. There were two hotels, right next to each other. The one street (dirt track) was lined on one side with small buildings, which looked like plywood nailed together to form small shacks. Some were shops, others were completely empty, and others, well we had no idea what they were. One sorry looking place that could have been a barbecue/picnic shelter was blasting zippy Russian music, but the place was empty and dark. There were hardly any people, maybe one or two on the beach. There looked like some remains of restaurants. One faded bill board had a take out Chinese menu with a phone number, but no restaurant in sight. The paint was peeling, buildings falling down, weeds and trash chocked the small flower beds. The beach was covered in seaweed, and on the hill sides, stark concrete buildings with gaping open windows. They were empty. It was like a ghost town, but obviously a beach "resort". It had an eerie feeling about, walking through an empty town while accordion music drifted from one of the buildings.

The hotels and the town were straight out of the 1950's. Whitewashed brick walls, balconies with stunning views of the sea, and a long board walk out over the sea with white, Art Deco style railings. The canteen had salmon colored walls, rounded doorways and old tables. An overgrown playground sat empty in the yard. No TV, no internet. I could almost see people on the beach in the quaint, striped bathing suits of the fifties, and ladies in frilly white, with parasols, strolling on the boardwalk.

However Saturday was another story. We woke up and the beach was full, the sun was bright and everything seemed alive. The hotel had filled up overnight while busses pulled in from the city and beach goers piled out. Barbecuers, picnicers, swimmers, tanners, sandcastle builders and all manner of rubber rafts filled the beach and the waves. On Saturday, it was a beach resort.