Catch up time, I suppose. I have to say that the first week of classes has gone pretty quickly and that I feel like I'm speaking better. However, it's slightly discouraging to know that this is only a temporary state on the "W adjustment curve" and soon I'll feel like my Russian has actually regressed and that I never should have come. So I'll take the feeling of accomplishment while I can. Being forced to practice and speak all the time has actually done a lot for vocab retention and even just general facility of speech. Cases and occasionally tenses are still problematic, but even those are getting better.
I guess I should probably describe school for the rest of all y'alls at home. The program that I'm on has its classes in one of the Herzen University buildings behind Kazanskayia sobor, a huge cathedral in the middle of downtown Petersburg. It's an old, pretty run-down building that also has the dorms and university hotel in it. Like most buildings here, it's arranged in a square with a courtyard in the middle. This is actually hugely inconvenient because in order to go to class, I have to enter through the hotel, show my studentchesie billet, and then go outside and through the courtyard to get to the classroom section of the building.
I've got class from 9:40 to 3:10, with at 50 minute lunch break. The way that Russians serve food, this means that by the time you get your food at the cafeteria, you've got about five minutes before you have to be back in class. Anyway, I haven't had this much class all in a row since high school, let alone that many hours of class in another language. I have trouble concentrating for that long when the classes are in English. The whole situation is even worse since I discovered that I can't speak Russian when I'm on my meds. So I've been trading my concentration for speaking practice. Whether or not this is a good bargain remains to be seen, but I'm hoping that it'll work out okay.
I've got five classes: practical speaking, grammar, phonetics, politics, and film. I successfully switched out of the language/culture class, and hopefully the film one will be better. I go to class four days a week, and on Wednesdays, we have "excursions" around the city. This week, we had a brief tour of the university and an incomprehensible tour of the small university library. Then we went to the EuroMed clinic to have blood drawn for the HIV test. Apparently the test that you get in the states to get your visa doesn't actually count in the eyes of the Russian government, because you have to get another one when you arrive. Yay. At least I don't have to worry about being deported. I tested out okay in the states and I haven't slept with too many sketchy guys since... Anyway, this clinic is where Meg has to take me if I get sick or hit by a car, or break my arm or something. They gave us a tour, almost like they were trying to show us that even though this is Russia, the clinic practices Western medicine. "Here are all our machines! Look! It's just like at home! You're totally safe here!" Whatever--I still got a big-ass bruise from having my blood drawn. I'm not sure why they had to use the inside of my arm--it's usually a finger-prick. Whatever. I've given up trying to use logic on most situations I find myself in.
I live on the eighth floor of an apartment building on Vassilevsky ostrov, one of the islands at the mouth of the river Neva (with the accent on the "ah," please) and the Gulf of Finland. I have about a ten minute walk to the metro, maybe seven if I'm really booking it. Anyway, about a half mile each way. On the way, I have to pass through a vacant lot that's undergoing some kind of remont (remodel) that seems to be stalled. The entire city is forever na remonte. In this vacant lot is a pack of dogs. I'm not sure if they're wild or quite what the deal is, but they definitely live in the lot. Now, as most of you know, I don't really like dogs. I'm not an animal person in general, but dogs kinda freak me out. Some dogs are okay, I'm cool with Lennon's dog and Isaac's dog, but that took a while. So having to walk through this vacant lot with a pack of dogs is probably my least favorite part of the day. Especially because these dogs seem to be multiplying. At first there were only four. Today, there were six. That's a lot of dogs. I know it's irrational, but I'm seriously afraid that they're going to attack me one of these days.
Also on Wednesday, we met our Russian tutors. These are people that the university hooks us up with to (heh heh) "use however we want." But with the caveat that the tutor program is not a dating service. Anyway, the tutors are supposed to talk with us and help us with homework and stuff like that. Basically, they're getting paid to be our friends. My tutor's name is Lena, and I actually really like her. She's about my age, maybe a year younger since she still has one more year of university. She's an only child living with mom, and is dating a 38 year old artist, who's divorced with a kid. I should be so lucky. She's pretty cool--she's really into literature, very well read, and speaks good English (but not with me). Some of her friends (which I found out later was actually just one) were putting on some kind of music festival, so we went to a club yesterday and saw a couple bands from Rotterdam. The opening act, Ella Bandita was awesome. Kinda like Peaches and Sara Lafleur. But from Holland. She was endlessly amused by the word narcoman, since it sounds like some kind of superhero, but is actually a drug addict. Anyway, she was cool. Rob, I think you would really like her. If I remember right, her first album is called "Love Juice," referring not to sperm, which tastes nasty, but to female ejaculation. Yay Holland! The second band, Feverdream, was billed as noise, but it was not quite what I was expecting. I dunno. When I think of "noise," it pretty much just means that shit that Eric from Commons does and a lot of screaming. These guys were pretty okay--much closer to whatever crap it is they play on NRK these days. There was a little screaming and jumping around, but nowhere near as much as I expected.
Today, we were supposed to go see a play together and we were going to meet at the metro station at 6:30. But, one of the other of us was not in the right place (probably me), so at 6:50, I decided to try to find this place by myself. But I went the wrong way and got lost and then it started to rain. Not just a little rain (which would have been unpleasant since I forgot that before snow, you get RAIN and didn't bring a raincoat), but a lot of rain, and really fucking hard. And because I'd been in a hurry to get out the door, I'd forgotten my zontik. This is one of my favorite Russian words because it sounds funny. Also galstook (neck tie) and skripka (violin). I'm pretty much opposed to zontiki to begin with, being from Oregon--c'mon, a little rain's not going to kill you!-- but I was fucking soaked by the time that I realized that I'd gone the wrong direction entirely, and that by the time I got to the theater, I'd be 45 minutes late if I could find it at all, and being cold and wet, I decided to go home.
It was not a good adventure.
But it does make a good story, and I even knew all the words so that I could tell my host mom what happened without any help. That may not sound like much, and I feel like I'm back in kindergarten, but it's a pretty major accomplishment for me to be able to tell a story. Of course, my speaking ability depends a lot on how much I've thought about what I'm going to say and how tired or hungry or distracted I am, but it's getting better. And despite still being maladjusted and most of the time not being able to understand what people are saying to me, it makes me feel a little better about my decision to come. Especially since given the right circumstances (that thankfully never arose...) I would have stayed in a heartbeat... But I'm moving on with my life, I think at this point I've more or less successfully picked up all the broken pieces of my heart and glued most of it back together. I'm happy that I feel like I'm going somewhere with my life, that I'm coming closer to doing what I want to do, that I'm not stuck in Portland still working 70+ hours weeks at two or three crappy jobs just to make rent and have enough money to drink myself stupid every night so that I don't have to think about how miserable I am... I'm out of all that. I know I left a bit of a mess behind, but I'm out, and I'll be gone long enough that it should take care of itself before I come back. And if not.... I'll cross that bridge when I get there. Nine months is a really long time.
I guess I should probably describe school for the rest of all y'alls at home. The program that I'm on has its classes in one of the Herzen University buildings behind Kazanskayia sobor, a huge cathedral in the middle of downtown Petersburg. It's an old, pretty run-down building that also has the dorms and university hotel in it. Like most buildings here, it's arranged in a square with a courtyard in the middle. This is actually hugely inconvenient because in order to go to class, I have to enter through the hotel, show my studentchesie billet, and then go outside and through the courtyard to get to the classroom section of the building.
I've got class from 9:40 to 3:10, with at 50 minute lunch break. The way that Russians serve food, this means that by the time you get your food at the cafeteria, you've got about five minutes before you have to be back in class. Anyway, I haven't had this much class all in a row since high school, let alone that many hours of class in another language. I have trouble concentrating for that long when the classes are in English. The whole situation is even worse since I discovered that I can't speak Russian when I'm on my meds. So I've been trading my concentration for speaking practice. Whether or not this is a good bargain remains to be seen, but I'm hoping that it'll work out okay.
I've got five classes: practical speaking, grammar, phonetics, politics, and film. I successfully switched out of the language/culture class, and hopefully the film one will be better. I go to class four days a week, and on Wednesdays, we have "excursions" around the city. This week, we had a brief tour of the university and an incomprehensible tour of the small university library. Then we went to the EuroMed clinic to have blood drawn for the HIV test. Apparently the test that you get in the states to get your visa doesn't actually count in the eyes of the Russian government, because you have to get another one when you arrive. Yay. At least I don't have to worry about being deported. I tested out okay in the states and I haven't slept with too many sketchy guys since... Anyway, this clinic is where Meg has to take me if I get sick or hit by a car, or break my arm or something. They gave us a tour, almost like they were trying to show us that even though this is Russia, the clinic practices Western medicine. "Here are all our machines! Look! It's just like at home! You're totally safe here!" Whatever--I still got a big-ass bruise from having my blood drawn. I'm not sure why they had to use the inside of my arm--it's usually a finger-prick. Whatever. I've given up trying to use logic on most situations I find myself in.
I live on the eighth floor of an apartment building on Vassilevsky ostrov, one of the islands at the mouth of the river Neva (with the accent on the "ah," please) and the Gulf of Finland. I have about a ten minute walk to the metro, maybe seven if I'm really booking it. Anyway, about a half mile each way. On the way, I have to pass through a vacant lot that's undergoing some kind of remont (remodel) that seems to be stalled. The entire city is forever na remonte. In this vacant lot is a pack of dogs. I'm not sure if they're wild or quite what the deal is, but they definitely live in the lot. Now, as most of you know, I don't really like dogs. I'm not an animal person in general, but dogs kinda freak me out. Some dogs are okay, I'm cool with Lennon's dog and Isaac's dog, but that took a while. So having to walk through this vacant lot with a pack of dogs is probably my least favorite part of the day. Especially because these dogs seem to be multiplying. At first there were only four. Today, there were six. That's a lot of dogs. I know it's irrational, but I'm seriously afraid that they're going to attack me one of these days.
Also on Wednesday, we met our Russian tutors. These are people that the university hooks us up with to (heh heh) "use however we want." But with the caveat that the tutor program is not a dating service. Anyway, the tutors are supposed to talk with us and help us with homework and stuff like that. Basically, they're getting paid to be our friends. My tutor's name is Lena, and I actually really like her. She's about my age, maybe a year younger since she still has one more year of university. She's an only child living with mom, and is dating a 38 year old artist, who's divorced with a kid. I should be so lucky. She's pretty cool--she's really into literature, very well read, and speaks good English (but not with me). Some of her friends (which I found out later was actually just one) were putting on some kind of music festival, so we went to a club yesterday and saw a couple bands from Rotterdam. The opening act, Ella Bandita was awesome. Kinda like Peaches and Sara Lafleur. But from Holland. She was endlessly amused by the word narcoman, since it sounds like some kind of superhero, but is actually a drug addict. Anyway, she was cool. Rob, I think you would really like her. If I remember right, her first album is called "Love Juice," referring not to sperm, which tastes nasty, but to female ejaculation. Yay Holland! The second band, Feverdream, was billed as noise, but it was not quite what I was expecting. I dunno. When I think of "noise," it pretty much just means that shit that Eric from Commons does and a lot of screaming. These guys were pretty okay--much closer to whatever crap it is they play on NRK these days. There was a little screaming and jumping around, but nowhere near as much as I expected.
Today, we were supposed to go see a play together and we were going to meet at the metro station at 6:30. But, one of the other of us was not in the right place (probably me), so at 6:50, I decided to try to find this place by myself. But I went the wrong way and got lost and then it started to rain. Not just a little rain (which would have been unpleasant since I forgot that before snow, you get RAIN and didn't bring a raincoat), but a lot of rain, and really fucking hard. And because I'd been in a hurry to get out the door, I'd forgotten my zontik. This is one of my favorite Russian words because it sounds funny. Also galstook (neck tie) and skripka (violin). I'm pretty much opposed to zontiki to begin with, being from Oregon--c'mon, a little rain's not going to kill you!-- but I was fucking soaked by the time that I realized that I'd gone the wrong direction entirely, and that by the time I got to the theater, I'd be 45 minutes late if I could find it at all, and being cold and wet, I decided to go home.
It was not a good adventure.
But it does make a good story, and I even knew all the words so that I could tell my host mom what happened without any help. That may not sound like much, and I feel like I'm back in kindergarten, but it's a pretty major accomplishment for me to be able to tell a story. Of course, my speaking ability depends a lot on how much I've thought about what I'm going to say and how tired or hungry or distracted I am, but it's getting better. And despite still being maladjusted and most of the time not being able to understand what people are saying to me, it makes me feel a little better about my decision to come. Especially since given the right circumstances (that thankfully never arose...) I would have stayed in a heartbeat... But I'm moving on with my life, I think at this point I've more or less successfully picked up all the broken pieces of my heart and glued most of it back together. I'm happy that I feel like I'm going somewhere with my life, that I'm coming closer to doing what I want to do, that I'm not stuck in Portland still working 70+ hours weeks at two or three crappy jobs just to make rent and have enough money to drink myself stupid every night so that I don't have to think about how miserable I am... I'm out of all that. I know I left a bit of a mess behind, but I'm out, and I'll be gone long enough that it should take care of itself before I come back. And if not.... I'll cross that bridge when I get there. Nine months is a really long time.
posted by hillary at 7:51 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home