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.