10.28.2007

What's not to understand?

The temperature began dipping early this month. The days of warm 80deg sun cooled into days of a crisp 60. Cooled, but by no means cold. So you can imagine my surprise to see women busting out the fur-lined parkas, boots, and hats. Surely, these Russian folks are aware that it's only fall-- that there's a long winter yet to come. Surely, it's silly to be wearing full winter gear for a slight autumn chill.

Last weekend, it began to rain-- a nice, dreary October rain. The Friday night korean food crew bundled into a city bus to 1-ая речка (first river) per the usual... just as the rain began to crystalize into little pockets of slurpee-like goodness. We feasted on galbi-jim, pa jun, and fried chicken to celebrate one of the girls' birthdays... until the power went out. Entirely. Once we finished our impromptu candle/cellphone light dinner, we scurried outside to find the cosmic 7-11 machine gone absolutely beserk, spitting ice and snow with alarming ferocity. Back in the dormitory, the power had, of course, gone out too. So Vladivostok sat in the dark and waited to see what the morning would bring.

Saturday, the snow swirled down in a heavy flurries, uncertain of which way to fall. Sunday morning, it finally settled down like a white sheet neatly covering every street and hill. Up in the hills, the snow sat at least a foot or two thick. On the way up the hills to church, we saw little kids gleefully sledding down snowy slopes on plastic trays and a few snowmen in the making. On the way back down the hills, a warm burst of sunshine had already washed away the snow entirely.

By Monday, the green slopes and golden leaves and 60deg days were back. And the wise Russian women continued walking up and down the streets of Vlad in their fur-lined parkas, boots, and hats.

The weekend weather seemed to set the crazy and unpredictable pace for the week that followed. Up until last week, my schedule had been far from full-- my sole task was to teach 5 hour and a half English classes a week and hold one office hour. All at once, I've become responsible for three hours of morning Russian lessons on days when I don't teach, three more English classes in the evenings, a number of lectures and presentations at the American Corner, and putting a rather pricey gym membership to good use. Throw in the
craziness of daily life in Russia-- e.g. being stopped and harassed by the police for being Asian, being stopped and harassed by student teachers for being American, unannounced schedule changes, pickpocketers on the bus, inexplicable traffic on the streets, random power outages, and the freakish inconsistency of weather-- and, believe me, it was ALL thrown in this week-- and you have my first real Russian meltdown. The effects were thankfully mitigated by all the goodness of daily life in Russia, no doubt-- the comforting tea and chocolate chats, some super enthusiastic students, and the general kindness and generosity and support from colleagues, hallmates, and friends all around.

During all of this, I had exclaimed to a Chinese friend here that I just don't get this weather. She laughed, patted me on the back, and repeated a sentiment I've come hear over and over in the past few months: "Что ты не понимаешь, Ира? Ето Россия." ("What don't you understand, Irene? This is Russia.")

10.05.2007

Asian Russia

I live and teach on the humanities campus of DVGU, where the department of foreign languages, the Oriental Institute, and the Russian School for foreigners are all located. And though I encounter it regularly, I’m always quite startled to come across Russian teens spouting rapid-fire Japanese or Mandarin or Korean with the foreign students— or each other. But then spending my evenings chatting in Russian with students from Korea and China and Japan is just as delightfully odd, I suppose!

Last weekend, two Korean girls took a group of us from Russia, England, Japan, and the U.S. to an amazing Korean restaurant here in Vladivostok. The food was certainly good, but the most remarkable thing about this place was that it was actually the inside of a good ol’ Soviet block apartment belonging to an older Korean couple! No advertisements, no signage—just a non-descript apartment buzzer for those in the know—ie: the entire Korean population of Vladivostok.

Sunday night, some of the Japanese students on my floor organized a sushi party. Sanai and Yuko, two incredibly sweet and enthusiastic girls who embody the notion of “kawai” better than any wide-eyed cartoon character I’ve ever seen, coached me and two Russian girls studying Japanese at the Oriental Institute in the art of rolling and slicing sushi, while others deep-fried chicken (a staple food of folks from any nation, I’ve come to realize). We spent hours eating together and playing countless Russian and Japanese card games whose rules I still don’t think I know.

A few days ago, my friend Lena and I saw the Китайский Цирк (Chinese Circus) at the local circus theatre. Sitting in the giant, dilapidated Soviet concrete complex was a bit of a trip in and of itself—watching young (too young?) Chinese acrobats bend and twist and flip in a number of unthinkable ways was just insane. (Watching the Russian audience watch the Chinese acrobats was pretty interesting too. But more on that later?) Every once in a while a random Russian duo would appear on stage to swallow knives, whip each other, and taunt crocodiles for good measure, too. Not quite the shrooms and Cirque de Soleil combo a la Knocked Up, but it was really almost as weird.

Last night, I tried my hand at making Korean pancakes. While I was painstakingly translating and following the instructions on the mix, a few of the girls from down the hall swooped in and rescued me from culinary disaster, throwing in an impromptu egg and some salt and mixing up a storm. These same girls taught me how to make kimchi jiggae a few weeks ago. At the end of my year here I might not be able to speak or read or write in Russian properly, but I bet I’ll be able to make a mean Korean dinner!

I realize that a lot of this post has centered on food. For those of you know me well, I’m sure you’re not surprised! But really, it’s pretty remarkable to consider the kinds of goods that are readily available at the local markets. I was resigned to a year of frozen blini and pelmeni, when behold— the ChocoPies on the shelf… the tubes of wasabi… the rice cookers and sushi mats… even that crazy aloe jelly drink stuff from the Taiwanese super back in California! One of the Japanese teachers even suggested that I try eating my pelmeni with a bit of wasabi: “О! Вкусно!"

My students might not ever have been to the U.S.—might not have any desire to go to the U.S.—but they’ve all done a ton of shopping across the border in Sufenhe or vacationed for weeks at time in Harbin or Seoul. I’ve done my share of late-night reading with the Lonely Planet: China guide I borrowed from a friend here to plan for my own winter vacationing (and by the way, I would love any tips or advice on travel throughout China/Korea/Japan? if you have any!). For all of the strange xenophobic tensions (and they, no doubt about it, do exist), it seems there’s also a palapable fascination with East Asian culture. And fascination or no, there's no denying that glorious box of ChocoPies on the supermarket shelf.