In the past few weeks I’ve had the opportunity to get to know some Russians. I mean folks who were born and raised here and aren’t part of the ex-pat community. The customs and traditions I have heard or read about I was able to witness in real life.
Two weeks ago we attended a birthday party with Russian females and American males.
Through some translation and grace, we were able to communicate and learn a bit about each other. Since it is lent season, it is said that Russians go without meat, butter, and alcohol. Like American holidays, I figured this was ‘fudged’ over. Not so with some in this crowd. While we enjoyed Beef Stroganoff and Chicken Kiev, they nicely sat with plates of potatoes and greens covered in nothing else but dill.
Dill is in everything here. I haven’t done my research enough to know if it is in great abundance or if it has some medicinal advantage, but it’s in all forms of food; cheese, bread, meat, salad, vegetables, and soups. I like the flavor of dill but it definitely gets old. At the table we had an abundance of dill.
This past weekend, a Russian acquaintance to whom I had kindly remarked “let me know if you need anything” took me up on my offer. Her American friend was ill and she asked if I would go to the Russian pharmacy to get some drugs. This was a weird situation because
1) I have never set foot in Russian pharmacy
2) was this a good idea to get drugs for a Russian?
3) while asking, she made fun of her friend for having only Vitamin C and Echinacea on hand (of course common American vitamins which I have as well).
She laboriously spelled the names of the antibiotics and then pronounced them. I inadequately repeated and she kept affirming my efforts. At one point, she pronounced a word and said, “This is hard even for Russians to pronounce.” Good luck to me right? Then she proceeded to explain that it’s easy, like a Latin word. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that American kids aren’t instructed in Latin in grade school.
Anyway, my husband solved the problem by offering her a ride to the pharmacy. So today I made good old chicken and rice soup (hold the dill) and boxed brownies. I wonder if the American equivalency of dill is salt? Or maybe gravy? Hmmmm. Food for thought.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Sunday Drive
We’ve got our licenses and now we’ve got a vehicle. You may not be able to imagine how much this frees us to live our own schedules! So yesterday afternoon we took a Sunday drive. I haven’t driven at all yet (and haven’t done so since September-yikes) so my hubby took the wheel and headed out of our safely trafficked, gated community into the great unknown of foreign roadways. We weren’t going far, just down a couple of streets, but it felt like landing on the moon of successes.
On roadways in Russia, pedestrians are very common, whether there are sidewalks or not. The gypsy cab is an acceptable form of transportation and so many people walk with their hands held low (about waist-high) in hopes that they may catch a ride. Or, in our particular situation, you may encounter a runaway horse or two on your first drive out. No, you did not mis-read. As we were only about a half mile from our house, there were two saddled runaway horses coming straight at our vehicle. I braced for impact. My calm husband just put on the brakes and sat there so they could pass us. We are always surprised in Russia.
Next we went to the grocery store as a family. We’ve only done this two times here. I have become very accustomed to indifferent looks and limited personal boundaries but I had forgotten that four small children don’t understand---or frankly----appreciate these social norms. I felt like singing a new rendition of the song from Dumbo “pink elephants on parade” (what was that song about anyway?)
We emerged and proudly loaded our items into the spacious back hatch of our
vehicle. Onto another store.
The next store was smaller in comparison, but rarely busy and so we like the process a little more. However, we decided to go up the escalators and see what lies beyond. You also need to understand that every single store is really just an anchor store for several little kiosks. In this one you can get cheap toys from China in a kiosk, sewing notions, batteries, cell-phones, and of course, cigarettes. You never know what you may stumble upon.
But today was a lucky day! We found a clothing store. In fact, it is the first clothing store where there are items for the whole family and for really reasonable prices. I found women’s t-shirts for only 150py which is about $5. I have always hated clothes shopping, but I find that necessity forces me to do it. It’s almost spring and I am running very low on clothes that are appropriate beyond the confines of my kitchen.
We happily drove home anticipating the next time we will need something and will be able to get it for ourselves and maybe even offer to bring somebody else. Of course, I could always catch a ride into town on a runaway horse. Why not? It’s Russia!
On roadways in Russia, pedestrians are very common, whether there are sidewalks or not. The gypsy cab is an acceptable form of transportation and so many people walk with their hands held low (about waist-high) in hopes that they may catch a ride. Or, in our particular situation, you may encounter a runaway horse or two on your first drive out. No, you did not mis-read. As we were only about a half mile from our house, there were two saddled runaway horses coming straight at our vehicle. I braced for impact. My calm husband just put on the brakes and sat there so they could pass us. We are always surprised in Russia.
Next we went to the grocery store as a family. We’ve only done this two times here. I have become very accustomed to indifferent looks and limited personal boundaries but I had forgotten that four small children don’t understand---or frankly----appreciate these social norms. I felt like singing a new rendition of the song from Dumbo “pink elephants on parade” (what was that song about anyway?)
We emerged and proudly loaded our items into the spacious back hatch of our
vehicle. Onto another store.
The next store was smaller in comparison, but rarely busy and so we like the process a little more. However, we decided to go up the escalators and see what lies beyond. You also need to understand that every single store is really just an anchor store for several little kiosks. In this one you can get cheap toys from China in a kiosk, sewing notions, batteries, cell-phones, and of course, cigarettes. You never know what you may stumble upon.
But today was a lucky day! We found a clothing store. In fact, it is the first clothing store where there are items for the whole family and for really reasonable prices. I found women’s t-shirts for only 150py which is about $5. I have always hated clothes shopping, but I find that necessity forces me to do it. It’s almost spring and I am running very low on clothes that are appropriate beyond the confines of my kitchen.
We happily drove home anticipating the next time we will need something and will be able to get it for ourselves and maybe even offer to bring somebody else. Of course, I could always catch a ride into town on a runaway horse. Why not? It’s Russia!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
March in Moscow
Spring must be near. Today I smelled track season. As I walked along the sidewalk, my mouth got dry and my lungs were filled with something I can’t even name. Outside the windows in my kitchen, icicles are surrendering to the fragrant sunshine.
I grew up on the backside of the high school in my town and you could measure each season by the sounds through the trees. In the fall it was the loudspeakers announcing the football games on Friday nights. In the winter there were sudden bursts of cheers as fans left the basketball games in the clear, frigid dark. And in the spring, it was the crack of baseball bats as well as the scores of children and teenagers outside getting a breath of fresh, clean air---free from curtains of white.
It is March in Moscow. Though it is only 24 degrees Fahrenheit and there are still feet of snow in the fields, I know Spring is coming. The trees across the lake have taken on a dark, almost midnight green instead of their native frosty silver which has adorned them since November. I’ve begun ordering bicycle tubes, rain boots, and water bottles so we can have outdoor adventures in this new land.
This will be the first time in seven years that my husband doesn’t coach baseball at our Alma Mater. I’ll admit, I’m sad about it, but it will also be the first time he has enjoyed the unfolding of this season with us as well. I’m not quite ready to get out my galoshes, but I know there will come a day when puddles enough will be inviting me to step in---the water’s fine.
I grew up on the backside of the high school in my town and you could measure each season by the sounds through the trees. In the fall it was the loudspeakers announcing the football games on Friday nights. In the winter there were sudden bursts of cheers as fans left the basketball games in the clear, frigid dark. And in the spring, it was the crack of baseball bats as well as the scores of children and teenagers outside getting a breath of fresh, clean air---free from curtains of white.
It is March in Moscow. Though it is only 24 degrees Fahrenheit and there are still feet of snow in the fields, I know Spring is coming. The trees across the lake have taken on a dark, almost midnight green instead of their native frosty silver which has adorned them since November. I’ve begun ordering bicycle tubes, rain boots, and water bottles so we can have outdoor adventures in this new land.
This will be the first time in seven years that my husband doesn’t coach baseball at our Alma Mater. I’ll admit, I’m sad about it, but it will also be the first time he has enjoyed the unfolding of this season with us as well. I’m not quite ready to get out my galoshes, but I know there will come a day when puddles enough will be inviting me to step in---the water’s fine.
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